Off-the-Shelf

New Year, Old Scribbles

As another year A.D. unfurls, I begin 2012 with some final entries from my Italian travel journal which I showcased in Off-the-Shelf throughout much of last year.

I thoroughly enjoyed the time I spent in the Naples area, home to my maternal ancestors. I felt completely at ease there, and could see myself living in that Neapolitan setting, between the ancient waters of the Mediterranean Sea and the equally ancient mountains of volcanic rock, culminating in mighty Vesuvius to the south. Between the crumbling Roman ruins and the soaring Catholic cathedrals. Between the narrow streets of cobblestone and the gently cascading hills of olive groves. It was as if a part of me had lived there centuries before. As if the sights and smells and sounds of that port locale had earlier touched my senses.

These final scribbles from my travel journal touch on some of the forgotten pieces of the journey, which began in Rome and concluded with my return to Boston.

Day 1: (Within hours of touching down at Leonardo da Vinci Airport) we were afforded a driving tour of much of the old part of Rome. Among other things, we drove past the Colosseum and St. Peter’s Square, pretty much circumnavigating the Vatican, which is a walled city/state. To be that close to the Vatican and St. Peter’s was a bit overwhelming. St. Peter’s Square was smaller than I imagined it would be; much larger than I imagined was the Colosseum. I exclaimed a number of times in the car how grande it appeared. Its size was staggering.

(Later that day took the train to Naples, about an hour and a half south of Rome, then by car to nearby Pozzuoli.)

Day 2: Arrived at the designated metro station and ventured out onto the narrow streets of Naples. People bustled all about, and little cars whizzed by at an alarming rate given their nearness to pedestrians. In fact, pedestrians seemed not a bit upset when, say, the mirror of a passing car nearly grazed them, or when an auto came to a screeching halt right in front of them. Cars seemed to sneak up from behind while walking along, and a beep-beep told you to move aside so the driver and his vehicle could pass. Many Neapolitans drove motor scooters, which wove in and out of traffic. Sometimes it was difficult to see the point where the “pedestrian” ended and the “vehicle” began, as the vehicles seemed very much like pedestrians along the streets of Napoli.

The afternoon was spent touring the narrow streets, with vendors along the way selling everything from fish to shoes to religious items. (See my earlier blog entry on churches of Naples)

http://www.capecodtoday.com/blogs/index.php/2011/04/17/naples-city-of-churches?blog=25

Day 3: (Daytrip to Isle of Capri – see my earlier entry)

http://www.capecodtoday.com/blogs/index.php/2011/08/31/naples-capri-and-irs-pub-463?blog=25

Day 4: The church bells of the Pozzuoli neighborhood chimed repeatedly and I noticed the cause of the commotion as the doors opened for 9:00 Mass. The church’s bells, and the clock in her tower, reminded me that it was time to get ready for that day’s adventure – Pompeii. (See my earlier entry)

http://www.capecodtoday.com/blogs/index.php/2011/09/29/pompeii-destroyed-and-now-the-weather?blog=25

Day 5: We made a rather hectic departure from Pozzuoli and Naples. The metro was slow and we arrived at the train station just in time to catch the 3:30 out of Napoli. We had three reserved seats in a compartment, and after figuring out the arrangements, necessitating the departure of people sitting in our seats, we settled in for the trip to Rome, arriving about 5:30 p.m. Family members were waiting there and drove us to our hotel, the beginning of a Roman holiday and three days of touring the “eternal city.”

Days 6 & 7: (Various tours of Rome's churches, the Vatican, and the catacombs – see my earlier entry)

http://www.capecodtoday.com/blogs/index.php/2011/04/22/rome-search-for-inspiration?blog=25

Day 8: Viewed ancient ruins and a renaissance villa, both located at Tivoli – about a 30-minute drive northwest of Rome. The ruins were 2,000 years old and were somewhat reminiscent of Pompeii, only on a smaller scale. We strolled about there for the better part of an hour and then walked through the center of Tivoli to a renaissance villa boasting some 600 fountains – all powered by gravity. Absolutely magnificent.

Because gravity was the powering mechanism, the property was built on a hill with a huge mansion at the top and fountains – from the gigantic to the very small – situated on various levels as we made our way down the hill along stone walkways and stairs. Of course, that meant that once we arrived at the bottom we had to climb back up again – a bit exhausting after a week of touring sights.

On the tour bus back to Rome I found myself involved in perhaps the largest traffic jam I have ever witnessed – 13 lanes of traffic just beyond a toll booth along the highway all trying to merge down to two lanes!

Day 9: At 7:00 am in the hotel lobby met a friendly older Italian gentleman to transport us to the Leonardo da Vinci Airport. After heading into the wrong terminal at first, we got all sorted out in short order, moving from line to line to line, and eventually boarded an Alitalia flight en route to Boston.

At Logan Airport, going through customs, the official there, after examining my passport to make sure all was in order, looked up at me, smiled, and said, “Welcome back to the United States.”

I must admit, those words of welcome, back home in my native city, filled me with a great sense of pride.

Jack Sheedy

PS: My trip provided a brief respite from the editing phase of the book I working on at the time, Cape Odd, written with co-author Jim Coogan. Check it out from your local CLAMS or OCLN library. To hear stories from the book, listen to our interview on NPR’s “The Point” from February 2011 by clicking on the link below:

http://www.wgbh.org/programs/The-Point-298/episodes/Cape-Odd-25072

Comet of Bethlehem?

Embedded within the Christmas story, as told in the Gospel of St. Matthew in relation to the arrival of the wise men at Bethlehem, is the notion that something strange was happening in the night sky at the time of Jesus’ birth.

The magi follow the star in this sixth-century mosaic at the Basilica of Sant'Apollinare near Ravenna, Italy.

To quote the former tax collector-turned-apostle: “Where is he that is born King of the Jews? For we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him.” (Matthew 2:2) “They departed: and, lo, the star, which they saw in the east, went before them, till it came and stood over where the young child was. When they saw the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy.” (Matthew 2:9-10)

The Star of Bethlehem has emerged as a major participant in the nativity story. Its presence infers the guiding hand of God leading the wise men along their journey and places the stamp of the Almighty on the holy birth in the City of David, which occurred according to theological historians sometime around the year 3 B.C. Although its mention in the Gospel of St. Matthew is brief, the story of the star has survived all these centuries later and has manifested itself as the five-pointed crown which today graces the tip-top boughs of Christmas trees around the globe.

The role of the star in the Christmas story is further perpetuated by its mention in various Christmas songs and hymns, perhaps most notably in “We Three Kings” (by Rev. John Henry Hopkins, Jr., 1820-1891): “We three kings of Orient are, Bearing gifts we traverse afar, Field and fountain, moor and mountain, Following yonder star. O, star of wonder, star of night, Star with royal beauty bright, Westward leading, still proceeding, Guide us to thy perfect light.”

Being a Catholic with a keen interest in astronomy, I often wonder at this holy time of year about the Star of Wonder and whether it might have been something other than a typical star. Stars, and the constellations they make up, were well known to our ancient ancestors. These celestial lights were fixed beings in our ancestors' night sky, forming a predictable calendar that mirrored the annual march of the seasons. The comings and goings of familiar constellations throughout the year happened without great surprise, as they appeared and disappeared on cue, without question and without debate. The stars and the constellations formed a celestial roadmap of the stellar year, unfurling a canvas of night upon which everyone could rely.

Yet, the tranquil parade of these pinpricks of light was occasionally "marred" by the haphazard appearance of wandering planets and wayward comets. Their arrival upon the starry stage caused astrologers of distant times to take notice, and to make revelations and predictions. The appearance of a comet might foretell of victory or defeat for an army about to wage war. The retrograde path of a planet, or the dual paths of a pair of planets travelling in close proximity within a particular constellation, might predict the death of an aging king, or perhaps the birth of a new king.

Could the Star of Bethlehem have been the sudden appearance of a comet as seen in the night sky over the City of David? Or perhaps the wandering paths of two planets in close union, in conjunction as astronomers term it, rendezvousing to form one bright “star” from the magi’s perspective.

Astronomers all the way back to the time of Tycho Brahe have plotted the paths of the planets to determine that a series of conjunctions of Jupiter and Saturn did occur in the years near Jesus’ birth. And Chinese records point to a comet witnessed around that time as well. Whatever it was, whether a comet or a planet or perhaps even a star that went supernova, a guiding light of some sort led the magi to the manger with gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

After all, something had to point the direction to Bethlehem, as GPS wasn’t invented for another two thousand years.

Merry Christmas.

Jack Sheedy

PS: This Christmas season, just after sunset, venture outside and view Jupiter rising high in the eastern sky and Venus falling toward the horizon in the west (along with a waxing crescent moon). Spectacular!

Eating my way thru Advent

Over the past year I’ve been sharing my travel journal with readers, showcasing the highlights of my trip to Rome, the Vatican, Naples, Capri, Tivoli, Pompeii, and Pozzuoli during a recent tour of Italian churches. While reviewing my handwritten notes to see what else I could glean from those scribbled pages, I was surprised to notice how many references I made to food and drink.

So, as we trek along through the Christmas season, which I consider a season of food and drink and merrymaking from the Feast Day of Saint Nicholas to the Feast of the Epiphany, I thought I’d post my journal entries on Italian dining.

In fact, it all began well before touching down at Rome’s Leonardo da Vinci Airport, while still high above the Atlantic Ocean.

Buono appetite.

Lunedi (Monday)

The journey began with a smooth flight out of Boston on Alitalia Airlines. I never ate so much on a flight!

***

Family picked us up at the airport and immediately brought us to a hill overlooking all of Rome. We sat outside and enjoyed the view with some sort of a coffee drink heavy on the latte.

Martedi (Tuesday)

We arrived at Pozzuoli (a 90-minute train ride south of Rome) in the mid-afternoon and within an hour we were all seated around a table eating our first authentic Italian family meal – appetizers, followed by a pasta dish, followed by a meat and vegetable dish, followed by fruit and rum cake and gelato. And, of course, wine, and Italian beer for me.

Mercoledi (Wednesday)

The group of us ate a lunch of individual-size pizzas at an outdoor café situated somewhere in the old part of the city (Naples, just east of Pozzuoli). It was that quintessential Italian scene of people seated around a table, out of doors, eating and drinking and talking and laughing, with the ancient buildings of Napoli as our four walls and the blue sky above for our ceiling. Instead of wine, though, we drank Italian beer served in what resembled wine bottles.

***

Evening was spent with pasta and a meat dish and bottles of wine at a family household gathering where little-by-little I was picking up the language. Mostly, I was able to pick up the theme of the conversation and was able to at least know what it was they were talking about, without knowing any of the actual details.

We drank equally of wine and aqua, and the meal ended with fresh fruit and gelato.

Giovedi (Thursday)

Arriving back in Pozzuoli (after viewing Pompeii), later that evening we walked to a family household for a wonderful Italian feast of various cheeses, zucchini, bread, vegetables, and wine.

***

This morning there was a wedding held at the neighborhood church, Chiesa di Santa Maria delle Grazie. We wandered in just beforehand to kneel and to say a quick “Our Father” before strolling a short 50 or 60 feet from the church’s front door to arrive at – believe it or not – an Irish pub in downtown Pozzuoli where I enjoyed a couple of pints of Guinness.

Venerdi (Friday)

Last evening we had a delicious meal at a restaurant situated along a narrow road somewhere in the city (Rome), about ten minutes from our hotel. There were seven of us seated outside under a canopy upon a perfect Roman evening, dining on cheeses and meats and pastas and drinking vino and aqua, finished off with some kind of chocolate-cream dessert.

***

For dinner, we strolled down the street to a small restaurant we had discovered earlier that day. In no time we became friendly with the young waiters, enjoyed a wonderful meal and drinks, and then afterwards stopped into a pastry shop for some morning muffins. Arriving back at the hotel, there was a man out on the sidewalk playing excerpts from Carmen on his violin.

Sabato (Saturday)

After returning from a tour (of the Vatican), we stopped at a little shop and ordered sandwiches and cappuccino, which we ate at a table outside the place. It was a pleasant lunch with people passing by out on the sidewalk – a beautiful afternoon.

***

Afterwards, stopped for espresso and a canola at a local pastry shop, visited a couple of gift shops – all selling the same Roman items – and then headed back to the hotel to rest up and to write in the journal before heading out for dinner at a nearby restaurant.

Domenica (Sunday)

Last evening we ate a late dinner at the same little Italian restaurant where we had eaten on the previous evening. The food was once again wonderful. This time we had our meal outside under a canopy, which was very nice except that we were approached by street vendors selling the silliest items, as well as by roaming musicians – a violinist and a guitarist – who each stopped to play three songs, and then afterwards came up to the table looking for a tip. I gave them each a Euro dollar, which sent them on their way with a “mille gracie.”

***

Today, on the last full day in Rome, had breakfast at the hotel and then strolled about in search of some of the sights missed during our various bus tours. So, this morning we took a walk through Palazzo Barberini and past Fontana del Tritone (Tritan Fountain) to the Spanish Steps at Trinitia del Monti, and worked our way back past Piazza della Repubblica to the hotel. We then ventured out for a bite to eat at a local shop – just a sandwich and some aqua, followed up with an espresso.

***

Arrived back at the hotel (after touring Tivoli, outside of Rome) just in time to change clothes for dinner over at a family household – another amazing multi-course meal with good company and of course, plenty of vino.

Jack Sheedy

P.S. For stories closer to home, visit your local CLAMS or OCLN library for my books, Cape Odd and Cape Cod Harvest, both written with co-author Jim Coogan. Or visit us at: www.harvesthomebooks.com

Hockey Sticks in the Garden

For a few years now I’ve been keeping a garden.

Over that time I’ve learned quite a lot about what helps to make a garden grow successfully and what results in complete and utter frustration.

I’ve found it takes perhaps nine seasons of experience, nine seasons of persistence, and nine seasons of toiling per vegetable to learn what works and what doesn’t. The magic number nine comes from three springs and three summers. Oh, and three winters of planning and dreaming and planting the seeds of hope.

How NOT to stake tomato plants.

Experience comes from experimentation, and paying close attention to which efforts work and which efforts are simply exercises in wasted energy. Rich, fertile soil is key; it can come to the rescue of other gardening flaws, like planting too close together. Spacing is important; it’s amazing how much square footage a cucumber plant needs to grow and prosper. Or better yet, butternut squash, which this year seemed like a lot of space and effort and watering for very little return.

Tomatoes, I’ve found, require more hands-on attention – caging, staking, trimming of dead limbs, further staking, etc. While cucumbers can pretty much be left to do their own thing. Swiss chard and lettuce need to be picked frequently. For the past two years, Swiss chard has been my first and last vegetable harvested, from June through November, which helps to bolster my self esteem and makes me think that I may actually have a green thumb.

I’ve found that peas do better in filtered sunlight, as I harvested them from late spring through the summer well into August. Green peppers started indoors are a bit temperamental, and have to be handled with care in the late spring, when the nights may still be a bit too cool, by gradually introducing them to outdoor temperatures before transplanting into the garden.

Broccoli needs space. Carrots also require proper spacing. Beets need … God only knows what beets need! I’ve had very little success with beets, and radishes for that matter. Swine root vegetables!!

It’s important to have good fencing, as any manner of critter may get into the garden, including a family of rabbits who nibbled on my lettuce, a chubby woodchuck who munched on my squash, and a Boston Terrier/Dachshund mix named Willie who got into my pea garden (perhaps he thought it was the alternate spelling) and then couldn’t find his way out.

It’s also important to have enough stakes and tomato cages. With the winds of Hurricane Irene swirling about, I was in the process of supporting my tomato plants with additional twine when I ran out of wooden stakes. No worries. I went to the garage and came out with a couple of my son’s hockey sticks. One was a Koho brand stick; the other a Sher-Wood. FYI: I’m sure CCM or Bauer or Louisville brand sticks will work just as well.

I don’t recommend using a goalie stick, though, as the blade is too wide and catches the wind, leading to disastrous results. I’ve consulted all my gardening books and they concur with this assessment.

Jack Sheedy

P.S. Scroll down to check out my previous blog entry from October entitled “Octopi Boston” – rather timely … and tasty, I might add.

http://www.capecodtoday.com/blogs/index.php/2011/10/19/octopi-boston?blog=25

P.P.S. Check out my alma mater, Stonehill College, which presented a story in the current issue of its alumni magazine on recent works by alumni writers:

http://stonehillalumnimagazine.org/2011/10/feature-the-write-stuff/

P.P.P.S. And check out your local library for copies of my books, Cape Odd (2010) and Cape Cod Harvest (2007), both with co-author Jim Coogan, or visit us at:

http://www.harvesthomebooks.com/nonfictionbooks.html

Octopi Boston

Octopi Boston:
A journal of revolution by the people ... and grilled octopus for the people!

Movement Afoot

I could sit idly by no longer, along the sidelines, remaining silent, unmoved while there is a movement afoot.

So, I went to Boston this past weekend to join in the protests against tyrannical rule and to raise my voice up against an oppressive regime which aims to tax its citizenry to death.  I marched, with other likeminded folks, along the red bricked sidewalks, stopping here and there along our trek to show support for such a just and noble cause.

Oh, no, no, I wasn't part of the Occupy Boston rally. Is that what you were thinking? Oh, heavens no, I'm much too old and decrepit - I have bad knees, and a sore shoulder that aches on chilly evenings. Besides, camping out without proper bathroom facilities is not my thing. After all, my hair needs conditioning each morning.

No, no, by "protests against tyrannical rule" and "against an oppressive regime" I meant against King George III back in the time of the American Revolutionary War.

This past weekend I walked the Freedom Trail, from Boston Common down to the North End, my periodic patriotic pilgrimage. To revisit my beloved birth city. To remember the great Boston Patriots - John Hancock, John Adams, Samuel Adams, Paul Revere, James Otis, etc - that fought for the liberty we now enjoy. To stop at the Granary Burying Ground, and the Old State House, and the site of the Boston Massacre, and the Old North Church.

Well, that and to stop by a favorite tavern along Union Street for a pint.

Tavern Debate

There is no better place than an old, historic, brick tavern for healthy debate and discussion of the day's top issues. Especially along the trodden Union Street, just steps from the Old State House and the scene of the Boston Massacre, in a tavern where 18^th century Patriots raised pints as they raised their revolutionary voices against the Crown.

This weekend, around a wobbly, wooden tavern table, the debate and discussion was intense and uninterrupted. Arguments abounded for and against this and that agenda. Argument, rebuttal, further argument, further rebuttal. Until finally a conclusion was reached.

I ordered the open face Reuben, with fries and a pint of Guinness to wash it down.

Octopi Boston

The march continued, through Quincy Market, battling the crowds every step of the way, stopping only briefly to order pastry.

Then back out on the street, crossing against the light, and onward toward the waterfront. A guitarist was playing there in Christopher Columbus Park, causing me to linger awhile, distracting me from my ultimate goal. It was getting late, and the dog's bladder back home was calling out across the long miles. A North End Italian restaurant, and a grilled octopus appetizer, would not be achieved. Another time. Retreat! Retreat! Live to fight, and to eat octopi, another day!

Until next time, don't tread on me,

Jack Sheedy

PS: Visit your local library to get your hands on a copy of my latest book, Cape Odd, with co-author Jim Coogan.

PPS: Hear our NPR radio interview on "The Point" by clicking below:

http://www.wgbh.org/programs/The-Point-298/episodes/Cape-Odd-25072