La mia conversazione con Brunello Cucinelli ~2007

Intervista con Brunello Cucinelli  30 luglio 2007- by Ester Paris Mauro

Il sogno della mia vita era di rendere il lavoro dell’uomo piu umano

Volevo lavorare per abbellire il mondo

Per una forma di supremo bene a cui sono stato educato dai miei grandi maestri; pochi ma importantissimi
Filosofi, imperatori; Alessandro Magno, Socrate, Aristotole e Marco Aurelio. Imperatore Adriano.
Santi – San Benedetto e San Francesco
Le regoli benedittine  sono abbastanza rigorose
Concetto di fondo- per non recare danno all’uomo – meglio… recarne meno possibile
Vengo da un’esperienza bella della vita
Non ho mai visto i miei genitori  litigare
Mio padre e’ andato a fare l’industriale in una fabbrica normale degli anni ‘60
Non e’ una questione di pentimento
Non e’ una questione di esperienza
Si cercava di andare a stare meglio
Lui e’ andato a lavorare in una fabbrica dura, cemento armato, spesso veniva offeso
E’ questo
Quando lui ritornava spesso a casa aveva qualche volta le lacrime agli occhi
Trattato come una bestia
 A me mi dispiaceva moltissimo
Vedere il babbo umiliato al lavoro
Qualsiasi cosa che farro’ nella vita  farla per non recare danni all’uomo, per rendere il lavoro piu’ umano, per migliorare l’umanita’
Le basi sono queste
Io mi considero uno stilista
Vorrei dire anche industriale, perche la parola industria mi piace molto
Noi facciamo “industria” vera; abbiamo 500 persone
Mi piace unirmi – stilista/industriale/filosofo- che significa?- prendere la vita in una maniera diversa- vivere con filosofia

Volevo fare quasi le cose immortali – Ho un concetto della vita un po particolare
Questo e’  anche quando ero bambino
Mio nonno e mio babbo mi parlavano sempre di cose che tu puoi  lasciare a chi viene dopo di te
Quindi l’eredita’
Quando ho incominciato a conoscere il cashmere ho pensato che il cashmere si potessi lasciare in eredita’ o per lo meno ..abbiamo tanta roba- dobbiamo buttare via un po di roba- regararla- e’ molto difficile che butta un pullover di cashmere
Lei puo buttare un piomino di nylon che magari costa due volte, ma lei non butta un pullover di cashmere- c’e; qualcosa di verita’
La verita’ qual’e? che ci sono certe cose che vanno al di la’ della materialita’; sembra quasi come se fosse fatto per lasciare in eredita’
Un regalo di una coperta di cashmere pensa di lasciarla ai suoi figli, nipoti
Vedo che le mie figlie mettono qualche pullover mio per stare intorno a casa – a me quello fa estremamente piacere- I miei pullover che hanno 18-20-25 anni
Io volevo innovare non facendo qualcosa che si distrugge

Non sono un’amante della plastica. In azienda noi mangiamo nei piatti di ceramica, bicchieri di vetro, con le posate vere- non plastiche. Perche mi dispiace un po. Non volevo fare qualcosa per recare danno al mondo
Io ho sempre pensato che certe cose, per esempio la plastica, la distrugge dopo 200 anni ; Il cashmere sia come tutte le cose di moda- se e’ fuori forma non lo mette piu, se e’ fuori coloro non lo mette piu, ma non lo butta

Qui e’ la differenza; ho 50 maglie personali da quando ho incominciato ma io non le butto nessuna, ma questa giacca da vento- quante ne ho cambiate?
Poi, cominciando a fare e capendo alla fine da dove arriva cio’e I veri sacrifici che il pastore mangolo cinese con le sue 50 caprette, e che guadagna 2-300 dollari all’anno e produce ogni capretta 2-300 grammo, ci vuole una produzione di due caprette di un anno per fare un pullover-a allora si da un po di peso. Sono stato a Mongolia. Se si torna si e’ migliore . questo e’ sicuro. Ci sono questi  pastori con I quali siamo diventati amici, ci vediamo ogni due o tre anni . Ogni anno io li porto le foto dei pullover con le loro caprette
Gente che ormai parla piu poco vivendo da soli con le caprette. Non riescono- non hanno la possibilta’ di parlare con la gente; perdono l’abitudine di  parlare ecco qui c’e di fondo un sacrificio per produrre una cosa cosi importante. Il cashmere e’ piu bello qaundo e’ piu’ freddo. Piu’ e’ freddo e piu’ madre natura li da un cashmere cosi’ particolare che si possono proteggere- vede come e’ il mondo?

Chi lavora alla fine , guadagna- che cosa posso fare io in piu’? Volevo dare un po piu di soldi al mese, lavorare in un ambiente s’era possibile abbastanza bello perche si possa lavorare in condizioni spirituali, estetiche e anche ambientali migliori
Volevo che una parte del profitto servissero al territorio
Io dico, se un ragazzo lavora per me e conosce 2 o 3 lingue, che cosa gli posso raccontare io? Come posso trasmettere un po di passione? Non glielo posso trasmettere solo con le chiacchiere. C’e un problema di fonso al lavoro. I ragazzi che lavorano per me conoscono tutto della mia azienda; conoscono I profitti, la proprieta’..Credo che deve cambiare il rapporto tra il proprietario e il lavoratore
Non solo fiducia e passione.
Io siccome vengo da una famiglia operaia- contadini prima- operai dopo, ho visto I miei fratelli mangiare dalla famosa garetta
Io volevo fare una fabbrica un po diversa- dove si lavora c’e un roseto, un fruteto; dopo l’intervallo del pasto puo andare a fare una piccola passegiatta- sempre pittorato ogni anno in una certa maniera
Volevo investire molto nel territorio; una parte dei soldo devono andare per il territorio. In un azienda ci sono dei progetti di 3 a 5 anni. Io volevo fare come gli antichi- I progetti a 3 secoli a 5 secoli
Noi stiamo facendo un teatro a Solomeo. Sara’ pronto un forum delle arti, un teatro, un ippodrom vicino
Spero che fra 200 anni qualcuno possa venire nel teatro di Solomeo- Allora questo per me rientra nel progetto a 3-5 secoli
Se lei lavora con me dove la fabbrica produce un po di soldi per Brunello, un po di soldi per la fabbrica per mantenersi bene, qualche dollaro in piu posso averlo per chi lavora in questa fabbrica, e forse posso pagare il muto della casa anche con un pocchino di facilita’. E una parte dei soldi serve per una Chiesa, per una piazza, per un teatro- per l’umanita’
Credo e spero di poter avere vicino a me tantissimi soldati come Alessandro Magno- Tantissme persone che condividono la stessa filosofia

Io non mi sento proprietario di cio che ho. Io mi sento custodio. Questo e’ il vero tema. Io lo dirigo da proprietario perche questo e’ il mio compito, io sono maggior responsabile, devo diriggere quest’impresa da vero capitalista. Vorrei essere un capitalista leggermente diverso, leggeremente piu’ umano, leggermente piu’ illuminato
Dice una bellissima cosa San Benedetto. “ Io devo riuscire ad avere il coraggio di darti cio che io vorrei se fossi al posto tuo.”
Che e’ molto difficile a fare. Ci provo. - se lei si sente padrona, proprietaria..e’ dura, no?

Volevo essere un custodio
Che io sono passato su questa terra con la fortuna di fare un lavoro. L’impresa finira’ perche e’ la regola di ogni essere umano- piuttosto che di ogni impresa- di ogni cosa, ma pero’ per quel periodo hai partecipato ad ammigliorare l’umanita’
Noi viviamo in un paese che e’ stato costruito tra 1300 a 1500- dove noi adesso lavoriamo 700 anni dopo. Pensi il piacere avrebbero coloro che l’hanno costruito pensando che a 700 anni di distanza invece di produrrre grano e olio si produce cashmere
Non e’ cambiato il paese- io non voelvo cambiare niente; perche l’azienda passa, lei puo rimanere a vivere nel paese per altri 500 anni  come e’ successo nel 1300,1400,1500
Penso che il 90% delle imprese fatte e costruite dall’uomo di prima generazione- ma cosi e’ il mondo
Quello che mi sentivo il primo giorno quando ho iniziato l’impresa e ‘ la stessa sensazione che sento oggi
60esimo collezione?.. L’emozione non te la da la quantita’; l’imperatore Aurelio m’ insegna  “Datti pace; vivi cio che ti da il mondo”
I miei primi 43 pullover di cashmere venduti valevano come di oggi. Non c’e alcuna differenza nell’animo mio umano
Lavoro con la stessa direzione, con le stesse paure, le stesse gioie; non e’ cambiato niente nella mia vita personale
Se si riesce a lavorare pensando che ogni giorno e’ l’ultimo giorno della propira vita, e progettare come se vivesse in eterno, tutto secondo me diventa piu facile
Noi smettiamo di lavorare tutti alle 6. Si inizia alle 8, si smette alle 6. C’e la pausa pranzo molto importante per noi
Pero nessuno si puo trattenere dopo le 6; perche bisogna andare a casa, bisogna curare lo spirito, l’anima, la famiglia e allora secondo me, il giorno dopo si puo essere migliori
Non puo essere l’ultimo giorno della vita? Quando si va a casa nell’impresa, nelle tavole dove si lavora, tutto deve essere ordinato perche domani nessuno di noi puo essere al lavoro- perche la legge divina e’ cosi

Allora perche ci dobbiamo preoccupare di cio che non e’ di  nostra competenza?
Noi dobbiamo progettare come vivessimo in eterno . San Benedtto dice una bella cosa, ” Durante il giorno tu devi lavorare, studiare e pregare”
Io lavoro, studio e prego. Che in realta la preghiera e’ la nostalgia dell’anima. M. Ghandi ha detto “E’ qualcosa che la sera ne hai bisogno.” Per preghiere intendo parlare con te stesso
Forse riusciremo a curare quel male che per molti uomini e’ eterno- E’ il male del  vivere; che nessuno ti puo curare- solo tu lo puoi curare. L’anima ha bisogna di mangiare tutti I giorni. Ecco perche penso che bisogna dedicare tempo all’anima
Io non voglio rubare l’anima per chi lavora con m. Io voglio che quelle 8 ore che si lavora  devono essere di altissima intensita’. Secondo me ci sono delle cose fondamentali di qualsiasi impresa ; dobbiamo essere coraggiosi come erano I nostri padri, dobbiamo avere grandissimo rispetto per l’uomo,dobbiamo essere fortemente rapidi
Negli ultimi 40 anni questa e’ l’unica cosa che e’ cambiata – il mondo e’ piu’ rapido
Io non voglio che lei lavora 10,12,14 ore..assolutamente; pero’ quelle 8 ore che lavora lei mi deve dare il massimno. Intendo..il massimo efficienza, velocita’ , massima creativita’, la maggior ispirazione

Sono un’ amante della spiritualita’. Non credo che in questo mondo ci sono molti Dii- c’e un solo Dio forte sopratutti .
Il futuro, il mondo, il lavorare per il mondo
Io voglio migliorare il mondo . Credo in una grande spiritualita’ Credo nel veramente prendere cio che abbiamo ogni giorno della vita- Sei lei e’ in continuo contrasto con se stessa non apprezza mai cio che ha
Ma quando trova la sua suprema felicita’…
Dante Alighieri dice “Io ho fatto una vita intera alla ricerca della suprema felicita’ umana che alla fine ho trovato solo in Dio”

Quindi, io nel mio lavoro volevo lavorare si- ma prima di tutto curare l’anima; perche un’anima che sta bene poi sta bene anche il fisico ; Questa storia della proprieta’- di possedere. Tanto se ne possede 100 ne vuole 1000. Diventa una caccia continua

Vorrei vestire non classico- un uome che porta cose fatte molto bene, di grande qualita’ pero’ combinate in modo molto moderno; pantaloni di colore, cargo spiritoso, bellissima giacca di cashmere.
Sportivo, chic di lusso- Alla fine e’ la mia definizione
Vorrei andare a una reunione di business-man ma non vestito super classico. E un uomo di 30 o 60 anni non c’e differenza- solo come le combina . Volevo un uomo fresco. Con dei bellissimi materiali, con delle bellissime lavorazioni artigianali, quasi che fossero fatti esclusivamente per te . in questo credo. Nelle cose fatte molto bene, Non abbiamo bisogno di molte cose; abbiamo bisogno di cose fatte di altissima qualita’, pero’, moderne. Non credo nella qualita’ vecchia. Non credo in una grandissima qualita’ di stilo vecchio , lo stile dev’essere contemporanea. E’ vero , vorrei essere leggermente piu’ fresco, meno classico, meno vecchio. Anche se ho un’abito che costa 10,000 o 15,000 euro ma che mi rende vecchio io non lo porto

Io volevo dimostrare questo; che si puo fare industria, impresa anche nel rispetto dell’uomo. Con le regole piu classiche dell’uomo. Volevo un’azienda normale, molto, molto speciale ma nei rapporti umani talemente speciale da considerare normale
Credo moltissimo nell’uomo. Abbiamo le stesse macchine che hanno I miei stimati Indiani, I miei stimati Cinesi- Che cosa posso dare io? Posso dare la mia creativita’ la mia artiginalita’ la mia rapidita’- il mio gusto ma se non investo nell’uomo…
Se la macchina c’e l’abbiamo uguale ai cinesi agli indiani, dobbimao fare una differenziale. Una differenziale nella nostra creativita’. Il nostro  modo di vivere, il nostro modo di combinare la roba altrimenti come facciamo ad essere diverso?

Noi non cerchiamo piu l’uomo- il problema. I padri avevano ideali; la politica, la famiglia, la religione. Ideali che li hanno fatto pensare, li hanno fatto gioire e ce li hanno inculcati
Adesso nella politica non ci crediamo piu’, la famiglia non c’e piu’ rapporto, la religione, intendo- abbiamo il male dell’anima
Non trovo differenza fra un’ islamico, ebreo, Cristiano o buddista.  Cosa c’e di piu’ del cashmere?- c’e l’uomo.
Il modo di lavorarlo lo puo fare solo l’uomo. Solo le mani dell’uomo possono fare questo. Non lo puo fare la macchina. Tutto dev’essere un po particolare- questo lo puo fare solo l’uomo
L’uomo geniale. Ho questa impressione; Siamo 500 persone che lavoriamo e ho l’mpressione che noi siamo 500 piccoli geni. Ogni essere umano ha una quantita’ di genio che porta con se- di vario tipo e varia intensita’. Io devo essere solo l’organizzatore del genio. Questa cultura ci ha portata a pensare che in una fabbrica come la mia, ci sono 500 persone geniali il resto contano niente No- c’e il valore dell’uomo Anche la persona che fa il lavoro piu umile

Sopra il cashmere ci sta il rispetto per l’uomo. Se noi coltiviamo il rispetto per l’uomo noi non avremo paura di niente. Se noi avremo un tasso di toleranza altissimo..
L’uomo non e’ venuto al mondo ne per giudicare tanto meno per condannare ma per conoscere. Mi piacerebbe se fossimo leggermente migliori. Voglio fare la mia parte- vorrei provare a lavorare in un modo molto molto normale

Sara’ quello che Dio vorra’. Sara’ Madre Natura – che cosa possiamo fare noi? Prendiamo cio che Madre Natura ci ha dato, ma se investiamo nell’uomo avremo grandi ritorni.
La cosa bella della mia impresa penso di aver 500 mini condottieri che stanno vicino a me insieme
Se non si ha la paura che quello vicino a te e’ piu bravo di te, abbiamo risolto il problema. A l’ultimo le dico, Accontentiamoci. Accontentiamoci di cio che abbiamo. E’ sempre l’anima che conta
San Benedetto: "Che Dio illumina il nostro cammino”
Tutti abbiamo bisogno di essere illuminati

"..Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita..”

 

 

"Do you take this bridezilla to be your lawfully wedded..."

Time and time again I get asked how I "do" weddings every day. (no pun intended)
Truthfully, it can be challenging sometimes but for the most part it is exciting, rewarding and simply..a lot of fun.
It's a time in a couple's life that is very unique. They may have experiences that repeat themselves as they plan out their life; they may buy more than one home over the years, they may have more than one pet as time passes, they may travel to the same place over and over again...but planning their wedding day comes around only once to the two of them.

And it is in fact, a journey of sorts. A journey that becomes a learning experience like no other. It can be tough for them especially when purchasing the large quantity of products and services required for one single event is a task that most have never had to do. It can be scary and stressful for some trying to juggle their full time jobs, seek out a new home, appease both sets of families...and at the same time... be happily in love the whole time.

I find myself often discussing "the wedding" in its entirety with my clients rather than just talking about the flowers and décor. Being a certified wedding planner, I am always very interested in other aspects of their wedding day as well and connecting with the couple on a personal level tends to help relax them a little bit. Most come to me feeling quite overwhelmed and insecure even before we get started because let's face it, most people no very little about flowers and to think they have to put a plan together for a whole wedding day of flowers can be extremely daunting. I definitely try to keep it real, straight forward and frankly as simple as possible. I figure it's certainly not in my best interest to make them feel inadequate, unprepared or unknowledgeable when they are already nervous. No one needs to become a floral expert in one day and no question is a silly one. Validate them, their concerns, their questions and you will gain their trust. Which, by the way is what I am really selling. Trust. And many so desperately want to trust their vendors because they know they can't pull this off without their help and the help of so many others. Taking advantage of their vulnerability is certainly not cool in my books and definitely not my style at all. That's just cruel.

You're probably thinking, "Ah c'mon Ester, I've heard about those bridezillas.." Let me just put that terrible branding to rest once and for all. If a client who happens to be a bride, tends to be difficult or choosy or seemingly not happy with any suggestions you make, it's not because they are a bride necessarily. Believe me, I have several customers who are like that all the time. So more accurately the term should be customerzilla. If you are in any type of service industry, you will understand what I mean and you know the ones. Labeling brides so distastefully is a real shame. In my opinion, it's not a bride thing..it's a customer thing. and if you can't handle that kind of client, then you're not right for your industry. I take those moments as a challenge to overcome. Usually killing them with kindness and bringing down the stress stirring within them, allows their guard to soften and in the end, they are not as bad as they may first come across, brides, grooms and regular customers alike.

Weddings are special. For a couple, for a family, for friends, it's an event that stirs the deepest of emotions. There is something magical about them. I am not typically a froo-froo kind of person with my head in the clouds but I am admittedly a hopeless romantic. And perhaps that is exactly why I do weddings. I'm the one that waits for the big kiss at the end of a movie. I absolutely love that kind of ending.

For me, weddings mean more than just two people promising themselves to each other. Weddings signify hope in a cynical world, they signify honour in a deceitful world, they signify altruism in a grossly selfish world and they do signify love in a hateful and angry world.

As long as their are people willing to get married and maybe even plan a wedding celebration, there is hope for humanity.
My name is Ester and I do weddings.

The roses have thorns

Over the years that I have spent in the floral industry, I have learned there are many misconceptions about what it is we actually do. This business is by no means an easy one despite the general idea that "wow, you must love working with beautiful flowers all day". Which in large part is true, we do love it, however it is also very true that the roses have their thorns.

Like many other businesses, we never know what kind of day we'll be faced with when we turn the key to open the doors. Believe it or not, it's not the actual floral work that makes any given day more difficult then the previous one. It's all the "other" stuff going on around us that becomes the "bastone fra le ruota"; the stick between your wheels. The chaos of life.

Sometimes when the work day begins...the internet randomly goes down, you get a call from the school that your kid just got hurt at recess, one of your best customers is on hold waiting to speak to you personally, an email comes through from your accountant that he needs you to sign some papers, the delivery van won't start, the supplier forgot to send important materials needed for that order, your car is ready to be picked up from the mechanic, you just remembered that you forgot to take out the chicken for dinner and that you ran out of dog food.

So, you push all that aside for the better part of the day, why? Because the grieving family needs the flowers to arrive on time for their loved one's funeral, the bride's wedding is tomorrow so she needs her bouquet in the morning and not next month, the centerpieces for the sweet 16 birthday celebration party are needed tonight and you know failure is not an option for any of it.

I think we sometimes forget that behind every business there are actual people making things happen. And when I say people I mean men and women who are also fathers, mothers, husbands, wives, brothers, sisters, sons, daughters, friends. And it makes no difference if it's a small, medium or large business; one that does 100 thousand dollars a year in sales or one that does 100 million, they are still run by people.

Our flower shops are a great example of that. Real people working hard at what they do and also working hard at juggling a whole lot of other stuff you wouldn't even imagine. It is a privilege to work in the flower business. A family business no less. We are reminded often of that privilege by the constant messages of thanks we receive from so many happy customers. And thank goodness for the positive feedback because truthfully it's hard sometimes. The pressure is always on and when we succeed at pleasing our customers, it makes it all worthwhile. Sacrifices are made, patience is essential and the commitment to never quit defines who we are.

Roses have their thorns yes, but they also have the most exquisite perfume unique only to them and they come in a multitude of stunning colours. Simply beautiful, thorns and all.
Let's not forget to smell them from time to time.

Nostalgia ~Ital Florist

Come non ricordare,

“I cipressi che a Bolgheri alti e schietti…”

“L’albero a cui tendevi la pargoletta mano…”

“Nella torre il silenzio era gia’ alto”

“Sempre caro mi fu quest’ermo colle…”

“Ti amo, o pio bove;”

“Ei fu. Siccome immobile…”

“D’in su la vetta della torre antica”

“Ne piu’ mai tocchero’ le sacre sponde”

“All’ombra dei cipressi e dentro l’urne…”

“Silvia, rimembri ancora quel tempo di tua vita mortale…”

“Settembre andiamo. E’ tempo di migrare”

“Cantami o diva del Pelide Achille l’ira funesta che…”

“C’e’ qualcosa di nuovo oggi nel sole…”

“La donzelletta vien dalla campagna”

e tanti tanti altri versi ancora che sono stati l’inizio e il centro della nostra formazione culturale.

E’ un vero peccato, un sacrilegio che certe cose non si indegnino piu’,

Ho 73 anni e da 50 vivo in Canada dove insieme al diploma e la mia gioventu’ portai entusiasmo, ambizione e il ricordo di tutte le poesie che avevo imparato nelle elementari, nelle medie e nelle superiori. Mi sono state sempre di sprono e spesso hanno colmato quei vuoti nostalgici che di tanto in tanto colpiscono chi vive lontano dal paese natio.

Io vendo fiori e il giorno di San Valentino e’ un giorno veramente importante per la mia azienda e durante la settimana che precede la festa ho sempre ricordato la poesia del Pascoli: ne ho usato I primi versi pure negli spots pubblicitari: “O Valentino vestito di nuovo come le brocche dei biancospini”… l’ ho fatto  conoscere pure ai figli e nipoti perche’ sono convinto che la conoscenza della lingua italiana insieme a belle poesie accresce il loro bagaglio culturale.

~Eligio Paris 

Ital Florist, Toronto, Ontario, Canada 

"Valentino" di Giovanni Pascoli ~ Ital Florist

In their childhood, my parents learned this beautiful poem about a small peasant boy, his new suit and his bare feet. From time to time, especially during the Valentine's Day rush, my father would randomly begin to recite this poem. I was reminded about it recently and asked Dad about it.
The poem by Giovanni Pascoli is certainly bitter sweet and I wanted to share it with all of you. I hope you enjoy it. The English translation follows the original Italian.

~Happy Valentine's Day to you and your loved ones

"Valentino” di Giovanni Pascoli

Oh! Valentino vestito di nuovo,
come le brocche dei biancospini!
Solo, ai piedini provati dal rovo
porti la pelle de’ tuoi piedini;
porti le scarpe che mamma ti fece,
che non mutasti mai da quel dì,
che non costarono un picciolo: in vece
costa il vestito che ti cucì.
Costa; ché mamma già tutto ci spese
quel tintinnante salvadanaio:
ora esso è vuoto; e cantò più d’un mese
per riempirlo, tutto il pollaio.
Pensa, a gennaio, che il fuoco del ciocco
non ti bastava, tremavi, ahimè!,
e le galline cantavano, Un cocco!
ecco ecco un cocco un cocco per te!
Poi, le galline chiocciarono, e venne
marzo, e tu, magro contadinello,
restasti a mezzo, così con le penne,
ma nudi i piedi, come un uccello:
come l’uccello venuto dal mare,
che tra il ciliegio salta, e non sa
ch’oltre il beccare, il cantare, l’amare,
ci sia qualch’altra felicità
____________________________________

Oh! Valentino clothed anew,
like the blossoms of the hawthorns!
Just, your little feet tried by the brambles
you wear the skin of your little feet;
you wear the shoes mother made you,
that you haven’t changed from that day,
that didn’t cost a penny: but
the suit she made for you is expensive.
It’s expensive: mother already spent
that jingling moneybox:
now it’s empty: and for more than a month,
the whole poultry pen sang to fill it.
Remember January, when the burning log
wasn’t enough for you, you were shivering, pity me!
and the hens were singing: An egg!
here here an egg, an egg for you!
Then, the hens brooded, and March arrived,
and you, thin little peasant
remained half finished, with plumage,
but barefooted, just like a bird:
like the bird come from the sea,
which hops around the cherry tree, and doesn’t know
that besides pecking, singing, loving,
there could be another happiness.

My brother, the hopeless Romantic ~Ital Florist

The other night sitting around the dinner table like we often do, and with Valentine's Day around the corner occupying all our minds,we start reminiscing about funny and memorable Valentine's Day stories. My brother starts to tell the kids about the time he organized this great surprise for his then girlfriend, now wife at Valentine's Day. If you've ever heard Italo tell a story you'll understand me when I say he had us all in stitches thinking he was the best romantic dude out there...
I asked him if he would be my "guest" blogger on my next entry... so here you go folks in his own words... ~Italo ...The best romantic dude out there~


We were young and working our asses off at the flower shop.
My girlfriend (now my wife) used to go to Florida always in February
I played it like I didn’t get her anything for Valentine’s Day.
I took time away from my busy day to meet her at the airport to see her off…I think it was maybe the day after valentine’s day…can’t remember.
When I went to the airport I saw she was a bit upset and I purposely made it worse. I didn’t get her anything, my excuse was good...it was crazy busy at the shop and I had no time and really the whole thing is so silly. Right?...
I said, "Eva…come on, get over it. It’s just a silly day. What’s the big deal?"
This made her even more upset.
We said good bye and I left. She was sad for sure.

She had no clue that earlier in the day I went to the Check In desk (it did help that I knew the check in person) and I arranged to have them pass the box of flowers to one of the flight attendants on Eva's flight before boarding.
Pre 911 for sure!
Once the plane took off and the seat belt lights went off, the flight attendant, over the loud speaker, asked for Eva to identify herself.
Then the whole crew walked the box of flowers over to where she was seated.
They made a huge scene. All the other passengers oohing and awing..it was perfect! She was speechless.
Now she is stuck on the plane with no way to call me.
When she lands in Florida she desperately wants to call…I avoid the phone for three days.
I knew she felt bad that she had been so upset with me and then I floored her with the delivery on the plane no less!

Romantic or what?
~Happy Valentine's Day

Never change your doctor, butcher or barber. ~Ital Florist

In the old days, people used to say, "Never change your doctor, your butcher or your barber". Maybe this advice was referring to the fact that these people over the years of serving you , know you very well. They know all there is to know about you and to change would be disastrous for you in some way. Times have certainly changed since then.

Today, in our business of  providing flowers however, we have the unique opportunity to really get to know our clients well. Through the special occasions in their lives, their tastes, dislikes and styles,characters and personalities unfold. Our clients trust us with sometimes very personal information. And of course we take this confidence extremely seriously. If you've ever sat through a bridal consultation for wedding flowers or assisted a grieving mother choose flowers for the death of her child, or if you've ever tied an engagement ring onto a bouquet of flowers for a nervous, young man, you'll understand what I mean when I say we can feel like family planning experts, grief counselors, and psychologists at times.

In this business, we know a lot about you. When you're getting married, had a baby, your anniversary, a death in the family, if you're in the doghouse..again and we even know if you're being shall we say, not so faithful to your significant other. Lots of interesting stories come to mind but there is this one that I will never forget.

One year on Valentines Day, my father took an order of one dozen roses from a  very good customer to send to his wife.
The customer asked him not to sign the card message. "She'll know who they're from" was his reply. Dutifully my father asked, "If she calls to find out who sent them, may I tell her it was you?"
"No", was his answer, "That won't be necessary. She won't call. She'll know."

Later that day, one of our team members surprisingly receives a call from the gentleman's wife explaining she received a beautiful dozen roses without a card message. She wanted to know who sent them. Of course, as per our client's instructions, we could not tell her. The wife became frantic. She asked to speak to the owner.
When my father picked up the phone, she insisted he tell her who sent her the flowers. So as not to betray his long time client's trust, he did not reveal the information.

Just before closing, the chime of the entrance door rings and in walks the wife with the box of roses clutched tightly under her arm.
Furious and frantic she demands to speak with the owner in person. Sensing the urgency of the matter, my father accompanies the woman to his office and makes this suggestion. "Signora,  I would recommend you do this.Thank your husband for the roses. You cannot go wrong if you do that" She replies in a panic, "But what of he didn't send them?"
My father looks at her and gently offers this advise "Thank your husband anyway. If he was not the one to send them what will you have to lose? You will be as surprised and flabbergasted as your husband will be". He continues, "And if in fact your husband did send them, then you thanked the right man".

The woman left, with the roses, and thanked my father for his good advise. I was just a kid then, but I couldn't help but wonder if her husband sent the roses without a message on purpose. Suspicious of his wife's infidelity and testing her. ?? Probably.

We will never know the outcome of that night, but the experience remains forever in my top memorable moments. And it just goes to show that not only do your doctor, butcher or barber know a lot about you... but your florist does too.


~Happy Valentine's Day!

We do not sell flowers. ~Ital Florist

If you think we sell flowers, you would be wrong.We are not selling roses. We are not selling orchids. We are not selling flowers...period.

What we are selling can be boiled down to two very important things. One is what the Italians refer to as "La Bella Figura" and the second is Trust.

"Bella" translates to beautiful. "Figura",  depending on the context can mean, figure, shape, form, picture, illustration.
When our clients place an order, the flowers are most often being sent to someone for a special occasion. They are being sent with a message and as a message. This message can be one of congratulations, one of condolences, one of love. Whatever the reason, the flowers are the messenger. They represent and speak for the client.

It is completely understood on our part that the expectation from the customer is no doubt to make them look good..la bella figura.
This is exactly why we strive to always be the best at what we do. It's because we know what's on the line. Every time. Every occasion. Every recipient. We want you, our customer, to look good.

I learned at a floral conference recently that people do business with who they know, who they like and who they trust (@lisalarter). This resonated with me because of the trust element.

In every aspect of floral needs, whether they are sent to convey a simple thank you or are part of a lavish wedding event, the customer is entrusting us to make sure the results will reflect a Bella Figura on them.
This is a huge responsibility on us and we take it very seriously. At the end of the day, our reputation and our continued success is only as good as the trust we have from our clients. If we lose that trust or take it for granted, we are nothing and we have nothing. This we know and understand completely.

Each and every day, we take our business of selling flowers very personally. Just as personally as the intention is for our customers. Our call centre team responds to every call with attentiveness, making sure to listen to the customer's needs. Our talented designers create every floral arrangement knowing they carry a message of emotional importance. Our drivers handle the gifts to the recipients with delicate care and in a timely fashion. All of these elements are part of  what we sell.

We believe we sell more than just flowers. In these beautiful, fragrant and colorful stems are messages which you the client have trusted us to send on your behalf.

So no.. we are not selling flowers. We are selling much more that that and we know it.
In our flowers are your messages so go ahead and, Say it with flowers!

~You can trust us. We will make you look good.

Fighting the January Blues ~Ital Florist

We are in the thick of it. The dreaded January Blues.

As owners of a small business, one of the every day concerns is how to keep team morale up. At Ital Florist our team is made up of  people from all walks of life. All from various cultural backgrounds including Jamaica, Japan, England, Portugal, Italy, China and Poland just to name a few. This wonderful mosaic of individuals is a true testament to the multiculturalism that is Canada. Colorful, inclusive and full of life.

Our team works extremely hard... long hours on your feet kind of "hard". At a time like Christmas, they band together and fill thousands of orders for our clients. Over the course of this season, we spend a lot of time together. And we share. We share stories, traditions, gift ideas.. and food; sweets in particular. There is never a shortage of delicious home made sweets and by the time it's all over, the team is complaining about how much weight everyone has gained. In come the January Blues.

To help with this dilemma and to keep team morale up, my brother had a great idea and started The Biggest Loser contest. Anyone who wants to participate puts in $5.00 and weighs in. My brother and I have matched the pot. Every Friday, the participants weigh in (confidentially only to Italo) and by the end of the contest which is on Good Friday April 18, the winner will be announced.
The contest has not only given way to healthier eating habits, but the fun and friendly jokes that have begun are a welcomed distraction from the frigid cold that bellows outside.

This is part of our philosophy. We all have to work. We all have families that depend on us. Every day we come to work together to make a living. But with that also comes a certain responsibility on our part to try and create an atmosphere that is positive. A place where despite the fact that they have to come, they do so and actually like it here. We foster an exchange of mutual respect, constant communication and compassion and sometimes most importantly of all, we try and have FUN.

January will come and go and those blues will pass eventually. With a little creativity and imagination, maybe we can make it pass more memorably, more enjoyably.. and along the way...lose a few pounds too. Bonus!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go weigh in...YIKES!

A Family Affair ~Ital Florist.

We have no business being in the flower business.
It's a long story. Suffice to say, Dad is an accountant by trade and Mom was a teacher. So how did the flowers come into play?
Back in the mid 70's, with three small children, my Dad, like many men back then, needed a part-time job to make some extra money. He started working at a small local flower shop delivering flowers and making house calls for wedding and funeral orders. He was good at it. Actually, he was great. His natural ability to sell what happened to be flowers, was quickly earning him a handsome commission.

In 1976, he would leave his prestigious day job at the bank and embark on what many naysayers believed to be an absurd idea. He opened Ital Florist Ltd. I was 8, my older brother Italo, was 10 and the baby of the family, Evelyn was only 4 years old. It was bold. It was crazy. It was a great move. Today, 38 years later, Ital Florist and its group of companies, reigns supreme in the floral industry.

All of the hard work ethics, the honesty of keeping your word, the fairness towards employees and the overall class act that Mom and Dad passed on to us are still the definition of who we are and what we do.The formula is not a big secret. We work hard, we play fair and we succeed.
With Dad enjoying retirement and Mom having sadly passed on, Italo and I are now at the helm of this ship. The youngest of our sibling trio is successfully keeping the other family business of Teaching alive, making an extraordinary difference in young people's lives every day.

The partnership.
From the beginning it has always been a true family affair. We have no board room, unless you count the "lunch room", we don't have fancy offices, our meetings are very often held around the dinner table, notes are taken on napkins, decisions made after NHL games on TV. It works for us. A brother and sister team, in-laws too get their input, and we all know, we're in it together. Our motto; "What's the worse that can happen?" As long as we have each other's back and all our kids' best interest at heart, we will not fail. Failure is not an option.

My brother and I growing up were always game for a healthy competition. Neither of us like to lose. Not that we're sore losers, but we simply do not see losing as an option...ever. In High School and in University we made it on every sport team and student council possible. We were looked upon from our peers as leaders and we enjoyed taking on the various challenges whether they be academic or athletic. Teachers, principals and friends counted on us to be good examples and we made our parents proud.

We married our high school sweethearts, had big,traditional Italian weddings with lots of food, lots of dancing. We have 5 kids between us, most in University now. We expect a lot from others because we expect a lot from ourselves. We never settle with 2nd place. It's simply not in our nature.
Our parents were go getters. They never waited for the hand out and they certainly never expected someone else to do anything for them and all of this rubbed off on us.We run our business and our partnership with the same philosophy; we're on the same team, playing our positions well and going for the Gold.

Success is never achieved entirely alone. We could not do what we do best without our amazingly dedicated and talented staff, our understanding and supportive spouses, our wise father and our loving sister and so many more significant people on the journey with us.

Today, we are proud to say that we do have every business being in the floral business. Turns out, we're good at it too. Actually, great at it.

~We are your flower experts.

http://www.italflorist.com/about-us.cfm

The distance

It has been some time since my last blog entry. I guess "being too busy" seems a good enough excuse even though that is exactly what it is.. an excuse. I had lunch with a very dear and long time friend the other day and as he politely listened to my Cole's notes version of what had been happening in my life, he asked me."have you ever thought of writing a memoir"? I haven't stopped thinking about it since.
So as my thoughts drifted from excited to are you crazy.. who would want to read your memoir? I realized that my life is not really all that fascinating to me, nor is my history really.. but to my kids, I think it might be. Just as I was intrigued when my mother and father would tell us stories of their past, glued to every word... so might my children be,and one day, maybe my grandchildren as well. For whatever reason, the notion of writing a memoir feels good. It feels right. So.. here goes nothing.. or perhaps something really amazing.

The distance

The distance between Italy and Canada is approximately 6800 kilometers by air, bearing Southeast. The distance between loved ones.. infinitely greater. My father left Italy in May of 1963. My mother followed almost two years later. But before them, my maternal great grandfather Gaetano Russo traveled to New York some time at the turn of the century or early 1900's. He would eventually settle in Rochester, NY with his wife Gaetana, one of his two daughters,Dora and son in law Giuseppe Berardi. The daughter that stayed back in Italy was my grandmother, Evelina. This was the first of many separations that would occur over the next two generations,
Immigration was going to affect my life long before I was ever even a thought.

I don't know exactly why my parents chose Canada. Perhaps in some way, Canada chose them. There were many that went to the USA, Australia, Venezuela but my family would begin most of their adult lives, here in Toronto, Canada and I am happy, most of the time anyway, that they did. Countless times I have thought or tried to imagine what my life would look like had they not come here. Many scenarios have played out in my imagination. But then I realize that it really doesn't matter. Spending time on what could have been and what is, is futile. The important thing I believe is to remember. Remembering where we came from, so we have an idea who we are, that's the important thing. Passing that information on to our children is even more important. Not knowing your history, is like being an oyster with no pearl inside..just an empty shell.

My parents, Eligio Paris and Antonia (Tonina)  DiTommaso, unlike many other couples that were married back then, were in love. This may seem a simplistic statement but I know that the fact that they were actually in love and wanted to be married played a huge role in the formative years of life as immigrants. And consequentially, the affect this love would have on their children was exemplary. Building, working, carving a life out in a foreign land was hard. It was hard. And I am so certain that the "being in love" part, was the one thing that kept them sane, kept  them focused, kept them from giving up, packing it in and going home. They had each other, they loved each other and they were not going to fail. And they didn't.
My parents' story is typical. They got married, rented an apartment, had their first child.. and worked. Family gatherings on the weekends were sacred. Staying connected with others from back home was like having essential oxygen to survive. Their children would benefit immensely from this need, because the bonds that were formed between cousins was unparalleled to any other bond imaginable. Siblings and cousins were your first best friends. And to this day, the closeness and affection between us runs deep, thanks to those weekends off.

Thanks to our parents, we wanted for nothing. We never felt the pain of hunger, cold, never felt threatened or alone.
But what I do remember feeling is their sadness from the distance of home. The distance was torture. A pain that would never go away. It was there, all the time. And the worse part was when the overwhelming joy of going back to visit, would be squashed and wounds ripped opened again the day they had to say good bye and come back.
The thought of loved ones that were far away, was ever present. Because of this longing, we grew up knowing our family in Italy even without being physically together. They talked about them all the time. Those family members were a part of our lives every day. A connection was nourished from a very young age. Our Italian identity was always a part of our existence. We felt Italian even though we lived 6800 kilometers away. And yet, despite this strong sentiment, we were also instilled with a love for Canada. I do not remember one negative word my parents ever uttered about their decision to be here. Their love for this country was one of commitment and gratitude and we knew it. We always felt it. They made us proud Canadians with a strong Italian heritage.

My sister arrived in Italy today. To visit. To share. To be with loved ones. When I hung up the telephone, after saying a few words to everyone celebrating her arrival in my Zia Linda's joyful home,.. the pain of distance came over me like a raging torrent. From 6800 kilometers away, I cried. Joyful and sad all rolled up into one big overwhelming emotion. Cherishing the time we have with one another is always important. Treasuring and passing on the memories we make from afar, is like discovering that shiny, exqusite, unique pearl in the oyster. Simply amazing.

Caro Direttore....

IL CENTRO GIOVEDÌ 22 NOVEMBRE 2012

Gli emigrati che sognano la casetta e trovano l’Imu

Caro Direttore,

la maggioranza degli emigranti che tornano in Italia a trascorrere le vacanze d'estate o a passare il Natale con i parenti d'inverno sono  quei pochi fortunati ai quali i genitori, per mera riconoscenza, hanno lasciato un buco di casa. Sì, è la casa che ti fa tornare. Sono quelle mura, quelle scale, quegli angoli che ti hanno visto crescere e poi partire che ti fanno tornare.E torni per ritrovarti bambino,per essere sovrastato e soffocato dai ricordi,a volte torni solamente per piangere. Difficilmente torna l'emigrante al quale il vano di casa non gli è stato lasciato, "lui sta bene in America", e non torna per non parlarne, per non rivivere i torti e i dispiaceri subiti che solo il tempo e la lontananza sono riusciti a sopire.

Chi vuole far pagare l'IMU alla casa dell'emigrante, considerate come seconda casa,non e' andato mai a cercare lavoro e fortuna altrove,non ha mai lasciato l'Italia e non sa che la seconda casa e' quella che l'emigrante ha costruito all'estero cosi' come la terra che lo ospita sara' sempre la sua seconda patria.

I sindaci della Valle Peligna, quelli dellaMarsica e tutti i sindaci d'Abruzzo, anziche'  tassare le case degli emigranti dovrebbero pensare invece a trovare incentivi,programme e attivita' varie per incoraggiare gli emigranti a

tornare piu' spesso e piu' a lungo. Mi fermo qui, qualche altra volta ne parleremo piu' a lungo.

Eligio Paris, Toronto

n Questa lettera è arrivata da uno dei tanti abruzzesi emigrati in Canada (anche Sergio Marchionne è tra questi) dopo il bell’articolo pubblicato in prima pagina dal nostro DomenicoRanieri. Il tema è la sorpresa di chi si trova a pagare un’Imu stratosferica sulla vecchia casetta di famiglia , tassata come seconda abitazione (e quindi come bene di lusso) nonostante che quasi sempre si tratti di due stanze in edifici vecchie acciaccati.

C’è una logica in tutto questo? Per chi vive a migliaia di chilometri di distanza, l’unica logica leggibile è quella di unPaese disperato, che cerca di arraffare soldi dove può per evitare di finire nel baratro che ha più volte sfiorato.Ovviamente il risultato di questa

stangata fiscale sarà che molti metteranno in vendita la vecchia casetta abruzzese,recidendo anche gli ultimi legami con una terra che non sempre è stata con loro generosa.

Non so voi, ma io provo un po’ di vergogna nei confronti di questa gente.

La La Land

As time moves forward, whether we like it or not, we are in a continued state of learning. Until our dying day, I believe we "learn" something or realize something that we just didn't know or understand or realize the day before. 

The other night sitting around the table with family and friends, a gender based discussion began to take shape. Someone, irrelevant of who that was, brought up the book "50 Shades of Grey" and the simple mentioning of this book sparked total chaos with the males. What ensued next was what I shall forever take as a huge learning experience for myself and my own personal learning journey.


Let me premise my "light bulb going on" experience by stating that I have not read the book. My enlightening moment really has nothing to do with the context of this infamous book at all. It's what was said that made me realize something I hadn't before.


One of the men firmly and with great conviction said, "You guys (women) live in La La Land..." 


There it was. La La Land. We've heard this term mentioned many times before but that evening it sounded different. This... La La Land. Where is it? Contrary to what was said, I certainly don't live there. But what I realized more importantly is that I want to. YES, I want to live in La La Land and what was even more stunning to me was the question that struck me straight in the forehead .. "Don't we all?"
All that we strive for in our every day existence and all of our every day efforts, are they not all toward the hopes and desires to get to La La Land? 

I want to go there. I want to live there every day. I would love to go there and stay there with my husband and my children mostly, but  also with everyone that I love. 


La La Land is an amazing place. I know because I'm certain I have had glimpses of it over the years. It's where everything and everyone is on the same page; where we are all happy and in synch; where the intimate moments are mind blowing and where food and wine taste succulent; where dancing is euphoric.
It's where laughing hurts your side and cheeks, and it's definitely where we believe in each other, care for each other, compliment one another and look after each other with absolutely no room for Tit for Tat.  


In the movie Jerry Maguire, I think they call it  "The Quan". Yes, that' s it. The Quan or..La La Land.


We all want to live there. Every single one of us. And the most beautiful thing of all is that we can. 
We can get there, we can live there and we can stay there as long as we want. 
Sadly, however, most of us have been made to believe that we don't deserve La La Land. We are not worthy of it's incredible gifts. It's simply ridiculous to try and get there let alone live there. 
Somewhere along our learning journey, we were told or agreed to believe that La La Land is not for us. 
It's for those other people. 


For the record, I do want to live there. And I will try every day of my life to learn more about how to get there and more importantly how to stay there as long as possible.
Yes, I am worth it. We are worth it. I will try to do all that I can to achieve La La Land. 

I hope to see you there.  

Una  Dedica  Speciale

Si dice che quando conosci una persona per la prima volta, ti danno una prima impressione che rimane con te per sempre.

La prima volta che io ho avuto il grande piacere di conoscere le due persone che sarebbero diventati i miei suoceri, l’impressione mia puo essere descritta come un incontro… caloroso, sincero, vero, speciale.

Vittorio e Maria sono proprio cosi’ non solo con me, ma con tutti coloro che hanno il piacere di conoscerli. Sono, infatti, calorosi, sinceri, veri, e speciali ed insieme, queste due persone care, hanno riuscito, nonostante i tanti osstacoli che tutti i matrimoni incontrano , ad essere marito, moglie e genitori esemplari per tutti i loro figli e nipoti.

Sposati  tanti anni insieme, facendo dei sacrifici veri per tirare avanti e crescere  una famiglia in un paese dove la lingua e l’ambiente sono stati molti diversi dalla loro Roccabernarda ,non e’ stato affatto facile … ma Maria e Vittorio, compiuti 50 anni insieme, possono dire con orgoglio, che… c’e l’hanno fatta!

In questo mondo di oggi, la vita puo essere molto complicata; piena di stress e preoccupazioni. Questo e’ la realta’ per tutti noi. Io, insieme a , Gaetano, Maria, Vince, Diana, Vittorio, Josie, Vittorio, Tonina, Pietro, Dominque Rae ed Emma Rose ci uniamo a ringraziare i nostri genitori, Vittorio e Maria, per tutto cio’ che hanno fatto e continuano tutt’ora a fare per rendere la nostra vita, meno complicata, meno stressante, meno preoccupante. 

Grazie per il vostro esempio buono, i vostri consigli saggi ed onesti e piu di tutto, per il vostro amore e affetto sincero e senza condizioni.

Auguri Infiniti e Congratulazioni per il vostro 50esimo anniversario di matrimonio

Vi vogliamo un mondo di bene!

Tutti  i vostri figli e nipoti.

The Christmas Tree

Last night I sat on the couch watching my three kids decorate our Christmas tree. I made a conscience decsision to sit back and let them put the decorations on because I wanted to etch the moment in my memory. And I did. There they were, the three of them, adding one golden ball, or red one, after the other, giggling, strategizing on the best spots. They were happy. I was happy.
Christmas is a special time for so many reasons, but for some, it can be a very difficult time. I felt so privileged to be able to enjoy this precious moment with my family. It was an overwhelming feeling of joy. We hear all these words during this time of year, "joy, comfort, gift giving, spirit, ..." Last night I felt the joy. And it felt good.
The years go by so quickly and before I know it, my kids will be off pursuing their own lives. That reality is so much closer than I want to admit and so, last night was priceless for me, their mother. I truly would not have wanted to be anywhere else on the planet but on that couch watching them, absorbing in my memory the expressions on their faces, their heights, their hands, their voices.

I was there. In the moment. And it was fleeting, yet unforgettable.

I wish all of you memorable moments of joy this Christmas and always.
Merry Christmas

...And she hugged me.

We go through our days in full throttle mode. We may even push that snooze button a few times before making it to our feet. But we do. And for the most part, with all our imperfections, I believe we do it well. The glass balls are tossed up...and here we go; jugglers of the mundane, yet important tasks that so many depend on to be accomplished.

And just like that.. words are uttered, hands are stretched out, hugs are shared, a smile exchanged and they send you into a place where it all makes sense.

As a teenager in high school, I was constantly rushing.. to my locker, to practice, to my friend's place, to a movie..
and sooner or later (usually, later) I would come home. In university I was still rushing.. to class, to work... and I would eventually, come home. And as sure as the the sun rises in the east.. my mother would be there. She would greet me.. with a hug. And just like that.. the day made sense.

It's almost impossible to describe the sensation. It's nothing you can bottle, or wrap, or even fully understand. I just felt it. I felt it through my whole rushed out, fatigued body. And if there is one thing I remember of her, it's that. Her embrace.. her hug, her welcome home. The "all is good, you are safe, you are loved, the hectic day is behind you now, you can rest" feeling washed over me like a warm blanket on a stormy winter night.

It is also,  the one thing I miss the most.

Tonight, I gave my daughter a good night hug as I usually do. She softly says, as she's nestled in my embrace, "There's nothing like your hug, Ma". And just like that..the day made sense to me again. And I realized, I had just passed on the indescribable, the intangible.. the love, the safety, the warm blanket.

I'm here to tell you, when we're gone, our loved ones will remember how we made them feel. Not what we bought them, not even what we said to them. But how we made them feel.

Hug each other. Hugs are good.

Hercules... we got it, thanks anyway ~ A humble dedication to Women.

I feel compelled today, March 8th, International Women's Day to dedicate this entry in my Carpe Diem to women all over the world.
Why dedicate a day to celebrate women? We celebrate many different groups, organizations, movements; but why women? I can go on in detail about the origins of this day, the mimosa flower being the symbol of this day, the extents of its recogntion or lack thereof here in Canada especially, but no. I want to express my feelings for this day and in particular  how it relates to me and my life today.

My feeling of indebtedness to the millions of women that came before me is a force that runs through me every day. The women who suffered physically, mentally, spiritually and emotionally are the same ones that persevered with a strength fuelled only by their human spirit. For most there were no trophies, no lotteries, no prize to hold up for a photo opp at the end of the day. There would be no newspaper clipping, no promotion, no new house new car or new wardrobe. The raw courageous drive to wake up and then
get up and make life better for themselves and their loved ones was their gold sticker. That's it. Simple motives yet the most noble of all.

Many times over the course of my life, I have wondered if I was born the wrong gender. The tugs and pulls of everyday existence sometimes requires the stamina of Mercury and the muscle of Hercules; the tasks and duties so daunting that only heroic, masculine strength could possibly get you to the next dawn. And yet, women of all shapes and sizes, cultural backgrounds and religious beliefs move forward. And have been moving forward since their creation; sometimes against all odds.

Men are for me like an oak tree; strong base, a multitude of branches that reach out to offer a secure reliable perch for all those that depend on them. Women are the gardeners of that tree. The ones that will be sure it blossoms every year, the ones that will water it and keep it alive through the storms that threaten its very existence. The tree is planted firmly, and every day, the Gardener will show up and take care of it.

So.. I ask again, why celebrate women? Because it's the right the thing to do. There is no need to justify or to explain it. Women are worthy of celebrating. Period. We don't need a day to "mark" us as special.. but thanks.. we'll take it. You shouldn't have, Society... but we're glad you did.

I want to thank the women that went before me for their "thankless" efforts. They did not and do not go unnoticed.. at least for this woman.

Clementine Oranges- The Immigrant- part three

Last night I found myself in a merciless grocery check out line and standing patiently behind me was the typical looking grandfather, holding in one hand a case of clementine oranges and in the other a cloth re-use able bag full of groceries. He was eligible for the "Express Line"; 16 items or less, but we were all, non- express and express people, mixed up in a ridiculous excuse of a line heading all in the same direction.
I observed the old man as he would place his case of clementines down on any perch possible in his vicinity and as the line moved, so did he.. picking up his orange treasure, and placing it forward on another perch.
His fragile hand could not hold the weight, as I quickly understood. The other patrons, however, didn't get it and they began to feel threatened that their place in line was being compromised by Grandfather's wicked strategy with his oranges. So threatened was one "punk" that he began addressing his elder in a very impolite manner. You can imagine. My "Italian" adrenaline starts to pump through my heart and I in the most mild way I could muster, explain to the young punk that his adversary was simply relieving the weight of the clementines and that he was not trying to manoeuvre ahead. At that moment Grandfather looks at me and I clearly realize that he does not understand what I and punk-boy are discussing but does know it's about him. I say, ..."English, Italian,???..." He replies ".. Arabic." Damn I think, of the few languages I do speak, Arabic is not one of them. With his gentle eyes he looks at me for guidance. I take his case of clementines, put it in my buggy and with hand motions (universal language) I explain that he's coming with me. The punk, fed up with this whole mess, leaves his three items and departs the scene. Thank goodness. Caught a break.
As we inch ever so slowly towards the liberating noise of cash register scanners,we come to the fork. Grandfather must go in the Express now and I must continue to the seeming insurmountable non express mountain. But... once again I realize he doesn't understand... Express and Non Express. After several attempts of warding off "budders" that think they can get in front of my newly acquired immigrant friend, I dig my heels in and decide that he is not going to get ripped off. Back it up people..it's his turn. Finally arriving at the express, I take his precious clementines, leave my buggy unprotected as well as my patiently earned spot in line, and accompany him to the right cash. Phew.. he made it.. he's good.
I turn to take my spot back in line hoping someone with a heart will have understood why I left my spot in the first place and low and behold a good Polish man that had been observing and listening the whole time saved my spot and my buggy. He grins and opens his hand saying, without uttering a word.,"Here you go." I say, "Thank you," with a grateful nod... and we proceed.
At that moment it could not have been more clear to me that arguments, attacks or insults sometimes stem from very simple misunderstandings. How scary most it be for an immigrant living in a country, not quite sure of the customs, the unwritten rules that we take for granted and not being able to explain yourself or ask for an explanation? That case of clementines was just heavy. Just setting it down. No intention of taking anything from anyone... and which line?? Are they not all the same??
Patience and tolerance in our cynical world is what we need more of. Truly.
I hope Grandfather enjoyed his clementines. I mean really savoured them. I'm sure they were worth the effort.
To me, he definitely was.

Nutella. The Immigrant- part two

In the last couple of days I have heard that Nutella is being sued for misrepresentation in a commercial they have out promoting Nutella as a healthy start to a child's day. I also recently saw a post on facebook by my cousin Jeff (first mention in my blog Jeff, as requested) advertising Nutella "Snack and Drink". WOW
These honorable Nutella mentions got me reminiscing about my childhood as an immigrant's child.
When I was a child growing up in a very Italian culture, Nutella was a ..staple. Not PB&J, not KD, not Grilled Cheese and when my siblings and I discovered these "Canadian" delicacies, we wanted for them so badly! Only much later in life did we fully appreciate the Nutella on toast, the 'S' cookies (the ones we for the longest time believed belonged to my cousin Frank because his last name is Stornelli) with latte e caffe for breakfast. We didn't have bacon and eggs, or oatmeal or homemade pancakes. Eggo frozen waffles was a big treat on a Saturday morning. Many of my friends would look at me like I was an alien when I brought a Nutella sandwich to school. It was chocolate on bread- What's the big deal?. BUT the second they had a taste- Whoa- those kids were hooked instantly.
When I think about immigrants living in a foreign country, my thoughts automatically go to the dramatic hardships they endured; the discrimination they faced, the back breaking work they did. But it dawned on me that even the little things needed adaptation; the snacks for your kids, the style of a lunch box (versus a paper bag- not cool), the type of  sandwich bread. Big and small - the challenges were several and.. real.
In immigrating, they sometimes found their kids in unpleasant situations and they knew it. In my case, my parents tried very hard to protect and teach us the "balancing act" . They loved Canada and they loved us. Compromises were delicate and thought through, discussed, appreciated, woven... - but we all agreed on one thing without hesitation, unanimously... Nutella was never up for negotiation. It stayed.

My definition of courage- The Immigrant;

She was born in 1943 in post war Europe and raised in a relatively small town in central Italy and this is only important because where she lived was not Rome, Milan, Florence or Venice- the epicenters of the best Italy had to offer- Food, Fashion, Cars... They lived simply; unnoticed really from the rest of the world. She would become part of a group known as "the last wave of immigrants" to Canada. She was 22.
The interesting part of this young lady's story is that she, unlike millions of other immigrants, did not "have" to leave Italy for a better life. Her family was for all intents and purposes doing just fine. She and her three siblings were not wanting for anything . (And by anything I mean the important 3's- food clothing shelter) By no means was she enjoying an extravagant life style, but she had all she needed to thrive.
Some would say (and have)  that she left for the most stupid reason of all...Love.
Now if anyone has ever been in Love.. they know that being in love and staying in love are two very different things. This is where the Courage of her story comes in.
I cannot begin to imagine the discussions at the dinner table with her parents about her leaving to follow the man she was in love with to a country that was to her parents, such a daunting place that they knew existed only because they were told it was on the planet ...somewhere. The convincing, the crying, the yelling... by both parts must have been worthy of documentation. In any case, she chose to leave.
And she was scared.
It's one thing to understand the courage of immigrants being fueled by the sheer human instinct of survival. (nonetheless noble may I add) That courage is the one that comes from the same place I think, that a soldier's courage comes from when faced with "it's either him or me... and it wont be me" scenario.
The immigrant, "If I stay, I'm dead. If I go... I have a chance to live and prosper". Not much of a choice really. The will to live trumps homeland.
In her case, she made a distinct, conscience, voluntary... choice. And that my friends is my definition of courage. You have a life, you have the choice to live it your way and you make a choice knowing that if it goes sour, you will be the self inflicted victim. No one to blame, No one to point your finger at, no one to help you out of it; the "I told you so's" looming constantly, the responsibility of owning a decision of this magnitude on you and you alone. In the face of that and with the knowledge of that, she was courageous.
She took Carpe Diem to another level. And I am inspired by her deliberate, courageous act of exercising free will every day of my life.


Thanks Ma.