Roman Holiday: Thoughts on Fear, and a Trip to the Eternal City

“No one here gets out alive.”

On just another Sunday, I was sitting in my cousin Filomena’s apartment, sipping coffee during the weekly brunch that is a standing appointment here.

I had my normal seat next to her brother Anthony, talking about the trip to Rome that my wife and I had recently taken.

I’m not certain which one of us quoted the Lizard King, aka Jim Morrison, iconic leader of the Doors, but it regarded all the fears I had taking that trip, before I even looked at a single flight.

We embarked on this trip recently after initial plans were shut down by the pandemic and to be honest, being a little on the paranoid side in rescheduling in any of the subsequent years.

Fear has a way of making a potentially magical life event seem like a hazardous trip into the unknown.

Self defeating dialogue may go along these lines:

I’ve never been to Europe – it’s so far. What if something happens?

What if we spend all this money? The price looks excessive. What if I can’t make that money back?

I can barely sit still for an hour – how do I plan to sit for a nine hour flight?

You probably know the drill.

Paranoia was all on my end, and I’m sure my wife was wondering why I was putting off a goal I’ve had since I was young.

In the end, it was a mistake to delay this trip, on any level.

In the grand scheme, our time here on Earth is short. We’re, as you’ve no doubt heard, “a speck in the eye of the universe.” Hell, even with a long life, we’re here for the equivalent of a cup of coffee.

“No one here gets out alive.”

As our Delta flight lifted off from JFK, we made our escape as political discord (in our country) was reaching another zenith with a comically lengthy government shutdown.

Seriously. It was time to be immersed in another culture.

It was an escape to a more relaxed and chill vibe, and a road traveled where getting lost isn’t inconvenience, but instead discovery.

As tourists, in front of the Spanish Steps

Just Another Tourist?

Once in Rome, we were easily recognizable as tourists – “solo un tourista” – but didn’t want to be just another American tourist. We wanted to be more than self aware and respectful to this local culture that was opening a brand new world to us.

Regardless of our American roots, we wanted to blend with locals as much as possible.

Yes, of course we did the touristy things – photo opp at the Colosseum, coins into the Trevi Fountain, staring wide-eyed at the sun beaming through the Pantheon’s oculus.

We spent a crisp, autumn-like Wednesday morning in St. Peter’s Square where the sky was such a deep blue you could wonder, “Is this the closest place to heaven on earth?”

As that thought transpired, the new American Pope rode through the Square, blessing an infant within an arm’s length of where I stood.

Truly a life changing experience.

Pope Leo, a rock star in St. Peter’s Square

When the tours were over, the transformation began, from tourist to “blending in,” taking a walk on the Roman side.

We dressed in our best, and made note of the casual ease of Italian hospitality.

It was a vacation that surpassed any built up expectations that we had.

Somewhere along the line, this thought bubbled up: is this what I had experienced anxiety about?

When delaying what may become a life altering trip (or any similar event), we can’t subscribe to the belief that there will be a “better time” later – it can be a time that frequently never arrives.

Time and circumstances can be wildly unpredictable. Health, responsibilities, finances, and global conditions (pandemic, anyone?) can change, making future travel harder.

Waiting for ideal conditions? You could miss your one opportunity.

You could also miss a chance to reshape identity and priorities. Stepping outside familiar environments challenges your assumptions and creates clarity about what really matters.

I’ve always identified as “Italian,” but born in America. Being in Rome, I felt reconnected.

I wasn’t home, but I felt strangely at home regardless.

I knew I was retracing the footsteps of my family before me. An emotional reconnection, for sure.

You also realize that while money can often be earned again, time, youth, and certain life windows cannot.

Delaying the trip as we did felt responsible at the time, but as another calendar year approached, I didn’t want this window to close.

FEAR = False Evidence Appearing Real

Fear and anxiety, whether bothersome or crippling, rarely take a day off. When it was time to depart, the nervousness I felt resulted in a cappucino spilled onto the gleaming floor at the airport near our gate, and I got one last dose of Italian hospitality: a quick clean-up by shop workers, a pleasant exchange, and a replacement coffee at no charge for my troubles.

My worries were unfounded. The nine hour flight back to New York was the smoothest I’ve ever taken.

Touching down after the flight, the breath I exhaled was one not just of relief, but of immense gratitude – I never forget the privileges afforded to us to travel, to take the journey that I had contemplated since I was a kid – when posters of Rome adorned the walls of my bedroom, right alongside the sports and rock stars that I idolized.

To make that reconnection to loved ones long gone on that foreign soil, on the cobblestones that they had walked so many decades ago: let’s just say Rome did change me – it changed us. Our perceptions had shifted, and reassimilation into life in America proved to be a little more of a challenge than we thought.

The cure to that would always wait for us, if we ever want to return, only a little over 4,000 miles away.

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7 Italian Concepts That Can Change Your Life

No question about it – as I was mentored and shaped by my Italian family, on my dad’s side, the more entrenched I became in the culture: that way of simple living, traditions, and style that they brought with them from the motherland.

As I’ve grown older, and almost all of those family members have passed on, I now find myself obsessed in the thought of holding that way of life, although in our modern life it’s a challenge to do so.

Hanging around my Nonna on such a frequent basis – usually sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee – gave me much exposure to her creeds, her frequent sayings: some of her favorites were “Life is precious,” “it’s later than you think,” and “life is worth living,” among others.

She was a font of wisdom and common sense for me growing up, and as I moved through my 20’s and 30’s, no doubt molding me and forming my own values without me even realizing it.

For that reason, quaint old school, Italian sayings have a special place in my heart and more than likely always will. I recently discovered some others that resonated with me, shared with me by those who have a similar proclivity and passion for Italian culture.

I’m happy to share with you.

Chi va piano, va sano e va lontano.

“He who goes slowly, goes safely and goes far.”

Be patient. Take things at a steady pace. Success, happiness, and wellbeing can be yours in the long-run. Consistency is more important than intensity.

L’appetito vien mangiando.

“Appetite comes with eating.”

Sometimes you have to start something to find the motivation to continue.

Begin, and it will come. Don’t wait for enthusiasm to strike.

Non tutte le ciambelle riescono col buco.

“Not all donuts come out with a hole.”

Not everything will go according to plan.

Accept the things that turn out differently than you hope.

Situations are not always perfect – most are less than perfect.

But even donuts without a hole can still be damn good.

La vita è bella.

“Life is beautiful.”

You don’t need life-changing milestones to experience joy. All of my older relatives that emigrated here lived, and enjoyed, a simple life.

They noticed the little things: that first sip of coffee, a long laugh with loved ones.

Italians know how to savor the moment.

Chi dorme non piglia pesci.

“He who sleeps doesn’t catch fish.”

Successful people always show up-even on the days they don’t want to.

Rewards are earned, not given. You can’t expect results if you’re idle.

In this realm, my grandfather was my greatest role model.

Meglio soli che male accompagnati.

“Better alone than in bad company.”

(Choose wisely.) You are the average of the 5 people you spend the most time with.

The surest sign of confidence is someone who is comfortable being alone.

A tavola non si invecchia.

“At the table, one does not grow old.”

(And time seems to stop.) The best meals are cherished and savored in the company of others.

The quality of your relationships determines the quality of your life.

Good food and conversation will keep you young.

That last one, a tavola non si invecchia, resonates with me more than the others. Gathering around the table for a shared meal or glass of wine is a sure fountain of youth – flashes of my childhood, adolescence, and beyond are abundant at table, whether sitting with family and friends.

Depending on the dishes served, especially when we host, our table resembles that of a decade that is long past, with it’s flourishes of love, comfort, and abundance.

Credit to my colleague Mark Friedlich, who was good enough to share what I’m sharing with you.

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Two Years Later, And The Best Is Yet To Come

I published my first post here two years ago, On Writing, With A Comeback Twist not really knowing what to expect. I thought the internet was a magical thing that, with a wave of a wand, would bring me a flood of readers.

What it did bring, in the words of my friend Marcus Sheridan, was crickets. That sound you hear late at night, when nobody’s around and it doesn’t look like any one is coming.

But that was OK, looking back. I wrote and hit “publish” just because it was something I wanted to do. I wanted a little project outside of my paid “work”. Something that gave life a little more juice.

In other words, I wrote for myself first. If someone found me and wanted to read, awesome. But I was writing for them second.

Things have changed a bit, and I’ve learned how to share my writing, as well as others’ work, through social media. Readership has grown, and I have made some friends and connections from writing here at this site.

I hate to use the word “passion”, as it’s a term that seems so overused these days. But I knew I was on the track to something when I hit publish and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

I’ve deviated at times from the subjects that I set out to write about in the beginning. You need a new topic every once in a while to keep things fresh. The original goal is still the same, however.

I’m a child of the 70s and 80s. My biggest influences growing up were Italian immigrants who came to America in search of a better life. My grandmother, grandfather, and my godmother. Old School inspiration.

Nonna & Pop — My Dad with my grandparents, Rose and Sebastian DeGiorgio, circa 1946

It is my very firm opinion that the America of 2011 could learn a lot from the immigrant generations that preceded those of us that were just getting started twenty or thirty years ago.

If you have known me for any length of time, my job here is to remind you of these cornerstones of my life, and make sure you don’t forget them.

If for some reason you are brand new, then let me make the introductions. If I do my job right, they are people you won’t soon forget.

From the last two years, here are some of the best:

The Last Sicilian, And The Gift Of Tradition

Reflections on Memorial Day And A Salute To A Soldier Long Gone

Thoughts On Work Ethic, My Grandfather’s Hands, And Stone Cold Winters

Absolute Requirements of the Italian Kitchen

“Life Is Precious”, Epilogue

Memories Of My Grandfather

I’ve really enjoyed myself posting to this site for the last two years. I think, with the help of Gabrielle the guest poster, we’ll have much more content ready to go in the months to come. Although I began just “writing for myself”, nowadays I appreciate new readers stopping by to check it out. You can help with this by sharing on Facebook, Twitter, etc. to spread the word. Thanks!