I am not an Italian mother but I understand them. Maybe it is my own Mediterranean roots. There is a saying that mothers from the region are all the same, the only difference being in the sauce.
John and the girls would certainly say that I share all the attributes, good and bad, of a Mediterranean mamma. I'm tempted to write that I don't think much of it is bad.
Okay, I can't resist the temptation.
But what's wrong with talking to your grown children every day? Who wants to share their children with their in-laws on the holidays (though I am happy to do so if they all come to my house)? Isn't Vick's on the chest a good idea when they have a cold? Don't they sometimes need unsolicited advice? And doesn't a hot plate of spaghetti pomodoro (chicken soup, grape leaves, moussaka) always make them feel better?
I am lucky that John and the girls view these aspects of my personality with good humor (most of the time). My son-in-law is a quick study, too.
Despite these admissions about myself, there is one thing I don't get about Italian mothers: their willingness to indulge their grown sons in infantile behavior. These young men are so prevalent in Italy that they have a name, mammoni (mamma's boys).
In our little village, we have observed a particular group of young men since their teens. Over the years, many of them kept busy observing our daughters. They are a handsome bunch, metro-sexually turned out in the latest Italian fashions. Some American men think they look gay (not that there is anything wrong with that), but, hey, it's Italy! They all work or study and have one thing in common: living at home with Mamma.
Sure, it is a good way to save money, but most of them make respectable salaries now. The idea of renting an apartment of one's own or with friends is not even considered. And when Mamma is happy to do your laundry, iron your clothes, make fresh orange juice for your breakfast, keep your room pristine, and cook delicious meals for you, why would it be?
My girls told me that one of these young men used to get a call from his mother every afternoon, asking what he wanted for dinner. This would lead to a protracted discussion before they settled on the menu: "Ma, Mamma, no! Non voglio penne arrabiata ancora! Voglio fettucine al limone stasera!" (But Mamma, no! I don't want spicy penne again! I want fettucine with lemon tonight!)
60 Minutes did a segment on mammoni several years ago. Even wealthy young men with their own stylish bachelor pads went home to Mamma's for dinner. Papa didn't mind, either. "Why should he be at home alone when we are here?"
This means there is no rush at all for mammoni to get married. They might date the same woman for years, spending a lot of that time in the cramped backseat of a Fiat Punto, and then going home alone to their big beds at Mamma's.
Accidental pregnancy will often get them to the altar, though. The girls and I love to count the pregnant brides in the windows of local photographers. Occasionally the baby will be a part of the wedding party.
Almost all of the couples I know in the village got married only after the woman became incinta (pregnant). "If it hadn't been for our son, we would still not be married," one woman told me, twenty years after his birth.
That's one way to get out of the backseat.
The baby who prompts a mammono to the altar is likely to be an only child, though. Italians famously love bambini (babies), but theirs is one of the lowest birth rates in Europe, with an average of 1.3 children. Why?
There are several factors at work: more women in the work force, economic hardship, a desire for more material things, and grown children living at home well into their thirties.
Or it may be that the woman who marries a mammono decides that she already has one child too many.
Thursday 22 October 2009
Monday 12 October 2009
The Nobel and My Friends
Many of my American friends, almost all of them Democrats, don't share my point of view. I discount views of Republican friends on principle. Anyone who willingly cast a vote for the possibility of Sarah Palin becoming president deserves to be discounted. But I digress.
"It's too soon!"
"What did he do to deserve it?"
"What about the surge in Afghanistan?"
"Gandhi didn't get a Nobel!"
"The Norwegians are know-nothings!"
"It's only because he is not Bush."
"Yeah, well, Yasser Arafat won it, too." (Note to those who say that: Don't leave out that he won it with Israeli Yitzhak Rabin)
Can I just put it out there that the President did not campaign to win the Nobel Peace Prize? By all accounts, the White House was taken by surprise. But if you win it prematurely do you turn it down? Get real.
Obama accepted it graciously: "...I do not view it as a recognition of my own accomplishments, but rather as an affirmation of American leadership on behalf of aspirations held by people in all nations."
But even those words cause criticism: "All he can do is talk. What has he accomplished in nine months?"
Can I just say that even rural people in a small Italian village, many of whom are uncomfortable with blacks (okay, racist) acknowledge that his election was "buona per tutto il mundo" (good for all the world)?
Can I add that changing the way the world views the United States overnight is not nothing?
I expected that the right wing of the States would heap scorn on the Nobel Committee (they're Scandinavian socialists!) and President Obama. I did not expect it from those on the left or in the middle. Or my friends. It is disappointing.
Obama said, "To be honest, I do not feel that I deserve to be in the company of so many of the transformative figures who have been honored by this prize."
Whether you agree with those words or not, Americans have reason to be proud of their president for the first time in almost nine years. The Nobel Peace Prize is an honor. Anyone who criticizes it would be deliriously happy to be its recipient.
Why not just revel in the fact that the President of the United States, the guy we elected, won it, and be proud?
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