Like many small Italian towns,San Michele,a small village in Calabria (provincia di Catanzaro) is a shadow of what it used to be. We often joke that the sheep and chickens outnumber the people and since I estimate there are 20-30 permanent residence that currently live there,it’s more than likely. It swells slightly in summer as people return to their family homes for vacation. My father was born there in 1950 and left in 1968 for greener pastures,like many of his family and friends.
A large group gathers on the church steps in San Michele (Date and photographer unknown)Summer Afternoons:
The clock in the piazza would toll every 15 minutes and tell all who heard it the time. Each deep toll would mark the hour and each higher pitched toll marked increments of 15 minutes. This happened day and night 365 and as you can imagine 12:45 was annoying. I would wake from my afternoon nap,walk up the street past the piazza and glare at the clock tower with a look that clearly expressed my thought (stupid clock tower.) I vividly remember the scene of Italian men playing cards as I entered the town’s only bar. The room with cement walls and tiled floor was a cool retreat from the summer sun and there was always a chance that one of dad’s childhood friends or cousins would recognize me,and instruct the barista to get me a gelato of my choice. There was a colorful picture menu of the gelato selection on the wall,most were 200 lire but the good ones were 500. Beyond the chatter of the smoke filled card room and past the pinball machine was a back door that led outside to the bar’s bocce court where I would find the real action. I would carefully and quietly enter,find a spot on the bocce court wall and crouch down to watch. It was a completely different world to me. The fig trees created a boarder around the court and beyond them were walls,so that the only entrance was the only exit. The vegetation among the figs was allowed to grow at will. To me it seemed like a small jungle as I watched the lizards pop in and out of cracks and holes looking for a sun spot. Figs and fig leaves were scattered on the playing surface and would become part of the game as clearing them would only take time that no one seemed to have. The smell of cigarettes would mingle with those of flowers and herbs from beyond the walls and bestemmie would fly from the mouths of unhappy players. The bocce balls would make a loud crack as they slammed each other or the wooden boards that formed the boarder of the court,and teammates would give unsolicited advice on what each should do with their remaining balls. I would examine each player,how they looked,how they played,who they might be…. a cousin or a friend and then wonder how many times they played there before. After a few rounds however,I would bore…. maybe I’ll head to the piazza to see if there’s anyone to play with. I hope I get a gelato on the way out.
A photo from the window of my father’s family home (circa 1987)
I was right there with you in that bocce court,Joe because of your lovely description and all the sights and sounds –great stuff.
Ciao Joe,
1968 must have been a lucky year because my parents &I also left our paese in Sicily to come to the States. I can’t believe it’s been 40 yrs.
I enjoy reading your postings especially the one about the dialect.
Carole in KC,Mo.
Great post Joe,I could almost feel the sun on my back and smell those fallen figs. I love watching the old guys play bocce,from across the square sipping my (red) aperativo while the kids gorge on gelato,it’s a state of bliss. Amanda
PS Love the old photos,you were so cute!
Great post Joe,the “FIL”and his buddies still play bocce every afternoon in the summer!! It’s amazing how little Italian traditions change though the years,sounds pretty much the same as Atina these days but the gelato is a little bit more expensive:)
A nice story! So,did you ever develop the passion for bocce?
Joe,
What a lovely story and I am sure it is a wonderful family memory for you to treasure
I like this post,Joe
I just found your blog and I’m so happy. Italy is a huge part of my heart. I got engaged and married there and I’m 3rd generation italian0american. Your description of the night in the piazza was beautiful. THIS is why I love Italy. the simple things –the sounds,the way they socialize,the tastes…it’s all amazing.
Thanks Sally!
Carole,it goes by so fast doesn’t it?
Thanks Amanda…sipping on an aperitivo (I’m with you on the red) sounds like a good time:) is it Friday yet?
Lorraine,much more expensive…I remember a 200 lire coin would get me one back then…not today,just noticed that the Euro is at $1.60. Damn the dollar!:)
Homebody,we play in the back-yard when we get together for holidays or get togethers…not on a true bocce court though.
Robin,it’s just so sad to see the town shrink…My cousin’s 2 kids (teens now) are the only young people who live there. The school was closed years ago,so they travel to another town for school.
Thanks Maryann!
We are never full:Thanks for stopping by,I just visited your blog and got really hungry:) plus since your latest post is on my favorite Italian city…. well,you had me at hello;)
It’s been too long since I visited you,Joe,and when I came back I was smitten by your lovely recollection of your youth in Italy — beautiful! — and the gorgeous photos of the doors;they really tell a story. Just by looking at them I can imagine the many souls who passed through. Ciao!
It is always so wonderful coming to a foodie site and then WAM..getting hit with the nostalgia of my heritage. I have been doing research on my Calabrian families side. (the other half is Roman and Abruzzi) My grandmother is from Satriano (provence of Catanzaro) and my grandfather is from Badaloto,also Calabria.
Thank you for this well written post!
I just stumbled on your post while looking for San Michele. My great grandmother was born in San Michele (Comune Serrastretta). Her last name was Scalise,and her mother a Mazzei.
Thanks for sharing this amazing information about the town.
The Persian,small world…that’s the same town. I visited your blog…looks like many San Michelari settled in this area. You should go…interesting place.
Ciao,
I am an italian girl,my mother was born in san Michele in 1955 and my grandfathers lived there until their death fwe years ago-
I went on holidays in san Michele several times when i was a child,i have so many memories…when I have read your post i felt very sad,because everything has past away…
if you want we can be in touch,tell me maybe the name of your father or of your relatives still living there,maybe my mother know them. My grandfather “nick.name”was PIETRO E LUCA,try to ask your father!!!!
Ciaooooooo from Castelfranco Emilia (Italy,near Bologna)
So,Joe,I am finding out that I have the following names of ancestors,Maruca,Cianflone,Mascaro,and Pettinato,all of which came from Calabria,and I believe from San Michele. I wonder if we are related? I would certainly like to find out more about the family tree.