Throwing overboard the Dead and Dying — Typhon coming on.

The Burning of the Houses of Lords and Commons, 16th October, 1834.

—> Link to the Nat’l Gallery website

—> excellent article about the show in The New Yorker
—> accompanying slide show

Skateland.

Sometimes Steve and I find the surrounds of Verona a little bleak, but I forgot about the Southside of Richmond. We saw the strip mall trifecta —OTB, the Virginia ABC, and All Checks Cashed— but couldn’t get a good shot of them. Here’s the old Skateland instead.

The ticket stub in my wallet says ‘DEC 13, VRN/FRA’, it’s the first leg of our return trip to the States. We actually almost miss the flight, can’t get a cab in AM Verona to save our lives. It’s La Festa di Santa Lucia, the first big December holiday for the Italians, and the town is upside-down busy. We actually roll up just as they’re boarding. The Verona to Frankfurt leg is less than an hour, a “bright flight” (to borrow D. C. Berman’s phrase) over the craggy Alps. In Frankfurt you wait for the connection, then you hunker down for that long, cramped stretch ‘cross the Atlantic.

As usual for me this time of year, I’m just dazzled by the Christmas spirit. Verona is done up to the nines. There’s a million lights strung across the streets, elaborate nativity scenes in every shop window, vin brulee’ and roasted chestnuts from vendors in the piazza. We kinda hate to leave it, though we’re psyched to see the family. For the first time in a few years, the whole Ingham clan will be together. Mom came up with the idea of renting a big RV and parking it in the driveway to cope with the overflow of bodies. Strange to say, I’m really looking forward to cleaning Casa Spera with that awesome “central-vac” they have. Then there’s the football….

Mom is waiting to greet us at Dulles Airport, looking fantastic. Jet-lag coming this direction is never too bad for me, so I’m right out of bed that first AM. Lawren and I start up the massive job of raking Mom’s yard. Ah, the smell of wet leaves, the pull of the rake, the feel of sweating and breathing in the cold air. Mom takes Lawren and me for caffe latte at Hyperion in downtown F’Burg, then we hit the Roxbury Mills for a tree. This year, more than last, we are feeling less dis-placed, less dazed. Maybe we really miss our home.

Casa Spera is great as ever. It’s all about those boxes and boxes of Peg’s decorations, setting up the trees and trimming them out, Lawren helping with the baking, trips to Short Pump Mall. This year, Peg has a temp. job as a gift wrapper at Williams- Sonoma so she’s forced to cut a few elements from the usual program. No matter; her home is truly The Land of Christmas. In the AM I go for a run in Camp Hilbert, stumbling along the hiking trails with my heart soaring. I do love these scrubby Virginia woods in the wintertime, all bare of leaf and earth-smelling. After my shower, Mr. Spera and I take a few minutes to catch a caffeine buzz and discuss politics, then it’s on with the day.

First to arrive are the California Inghams. We meet up in Short Pump where Jim and I have a good chuckle at Shopping Mall America. Leslie looks good, seems in fine space. Strikes me that she and Jim are on some nice wave the two of them, breaking into each other’s sentences, eager to turn me on to the current stuff they dig. They have left the girls in F’Burg, accompanying Mom to pick Lawren and me up for the pre-Christas Eve Day sojourn. Back at the house, I am re-united with Rosemary and Emmy for the first time since they hopped a cab for Catullo Airport, Verona ‘06. They look fine and happy though too grown-up to believe at times. Rosemary is drawing a long scroll of Manga-style characters, quite nice really. Could it be that Emmy wants to get involved with the theatre? Has she learned nothing from her paternal grandparents? Seriously, though, she has a sweet singing voice, hits the note dead-on.

Just two days before Christmas Eve Day, the Porter/Inghams arrive and the holiday is on, full force. Bachelor brother Rich rolls in from D.C. full of Christmas cheer. Ted has brought his banjo and is picking better than ever. Alice seems blissful with her family and her home and her work. I’ve never seen her so happy. Nate will finish high school this year and is the slouching, lanky image of his uncles and his old man, back when we were skwonky adolescents. Harriet is full of life and ideas, helps keep us all young. We bumble around the house as is our fashion, drifting in and out of conversations and diversions.

In keeping with tradition, Lawren and I return to Casa Spera for Christmas Day. There is an explosion of infants. Chuck and Miranda had twins in October, Ken and Cindy had their second boy back in June. Il cognome di Spera will be marching on into the future with all these boys; Lawren and I are totally off the hook. Chris and Johnna’s kids Corey and Cameron are charming. Corey is just a prince, so well-spoken and considerate and Cameron is turning into a lovely young woman. Ken and Cindy’s older boy, Matthew, has come out of his shell since last year, is much more engaging and involved. Everyone seems to be in a good place this side of Lawren and my family sphere. Really is nice to hang with these folks- I got myself a second family. Wouldn’t it be Hell to not get along with one’s in-laws?

We make it to C’Ville for a day visit where I get the chance to hang with Sarah in her funky old wooden house, play guitars and get the latest rock n’ roll news. I wish somebody would pull their head out of their ass and hand her a contract! Gate and Darby throw us a party at their crib in Fifeville which is fun. The food Darby fixes is just unreal. There’s five different kinds of meat and almond cookies like I never ate before. See John Allietta, Jim Ryan, Jeff and Deb, Jen F. and Jessie the Hackensaw boy, Collette, all the kids as well. Darby and Gate are knocked up with their second, Jeff and Deb will be visiting us in Verona with Arden and Asher this coming June. Funny about going “home” for a visit. You can’t escape a vague sadness at being outside the circle. Part of you wishes you could jump back in there like before, move events and re-take your spot. Thing is, it can’t be done, you just gotta leave it be and deal with that little ache.

See Didi and Jennings on Dundee Street, eat that awesome Vietnamese noodle soup. One thing about Verona- your choice of take-out cuisine is severely limited. It’s pretty much pizza or Doner kebab. I mean, you can get a donkey-meat ragu at any of a hundred places, but a snappy spring roll with spicy mustard or even just a basic fried rice is not to be found. Surely it’s different in Rome or Milan, but here in Verona there’s not much call for foreign cuisine. I just love Didi and Jennings, love their Richmond house, love the City of Richmond. To Lawren and me, C’Ville looked kind of messy and falling down the day we were there, a town with no heart or center. But Richmond is beautiful. That wide, rocky river, the old downtown, Cary St. all lit up for the season, those funky pre-WWII neighborhoods. It’s a city I could return to.

For New Year’s Eve, Lawren heads back to Richmond to party with Didi while I chill with the family. It’s fun but sad too. Just before sunset, Jim, Leslie, Rich, and I pay a visit to the cemetary at Sunken Road, site of some of the Civil War’s bloodiest hand-to-hand fighting. Remember how Lawren and I spent a Fall afternoon here with our first dog Kitchen, years ago, before we were married. We took these famous photos of her bounding over the low stone grave markers. Lawren had her back-length dreds, was wearing that cool white leather jacket. I was pudgy in those days, with a head full of curly hair. How did I get so old?

I hate to see the holiday come to a close, and this one was particularly warm and enjoyable. I didn’t want it to end. Before leaving Verona, we had touched base with all our Italy friends, Josh and Audrey, Roberta and Michael, Ugo, Charlie, Lucca, Giorgio and Flavia, Rosa, Catalina and Vassily, Mariella and Le Dame Dei Cani, Fede, ‘Cesco and Rebecca, the ragazzi of Scala Colore. We really had the sense of taking a break, un stacco, from our great new life to visit the one we had left behind. But after three weeks here, I feel reluctant to leave the embrace of family and familiar things. Plus, I know the jet-lag is gonna kill me. One great thing, we’ll be able to see Mary the Dog after an almost intolerable seperation from her. Arrivederci , America!

The last time we were at Frankfurt Airport, we had a bad impression of it. Maybe it was because we were so rushed and it smelled like an ashtray. This time we had a six hour layover; they had great lounge chairs and really nice soap in the bathrooms.

When I was a eight or nine, I went to a little street carnival in Frankfurt with my mother. We were stuck on a ferris wheel (at the very top) for what seemed like hours. The carriage was old-school, a large, flat circle, with half-couches facing each other. You could stand up! I don’t remember being particularly scared, but I think of it every time we fly here.

We almost missed the plane (5 minutes to spare).

There was more snow in the pre-Alps this year than last year. Pshew.

All of this roba has to fit in the suitase.