We are home. In Italy. We live in the rural Lunigiana when we're here. It is a place where folks make their own food (salami, honey, polenta, olive oil and the like) and where door locks are considered a proper nuisance and keys are left in them so they don't get lost. It is a world apart from what we experience in California. When we drive up, Tim the dog jumps to greet us, and Francesca comes flying out the door. "Are you here for Easter! Do you want to eat together?" Of course we do. Anyone who knows Francesca's cooking would be nuts to pass up an invitation like that. It is unthinkable to Francesca that people with no place to go for a holiday or a feast day should spend the time alone. We eat with them often. There is a concept of togetherness, a social stickiness, that we...
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