These are pretty large questions for a Sunday night. Earlier in the day I went over to see my friend Mario Messina. He just turned 97 and he’s slowing down. I wanted to talk to him about something he witnessed during World War II. He was in the battle of Hürtgen Forest, where over 60,000 soldiers perished. Mario was captured and taken prisoner by the Germans. He spent the rest of the war in a P.O.W. camp and lost 60 pounds. He never took food for granted after that.
But Mario didn’t want to talk about that. He wanted to reminisce about his father and mother and my grandfather and grandmother; they had come over from Sicily about the same time and they were friends. Their lives were intertwined and they looked out for each other. When I came to Dallas, my dad called Mario and he looked out after me, gave me a job and essentially helped to start me out on the path, this wine trail that has led me back to Italy so many times.
Now I am home. And while it would be great to see a vineyard during harvest time, now is not the time. The battle isn’t over there for us. The Italians have their own struggles, and wine isn’t going to save the country. Or could it?
Here’s the deal: Italy is in a crisis. So is America. Well, where in the world isn’t right now? And not only right now, in many times during the last 100 years. And what is your place, our place, during this period? What can we do? What should we do?
I was recently talking to a friend in southern Italy, whose family makes wine. For years I had the pleasure of representing his wines. And then this summer the importer made a decision that interrupted that process. I remember writing to him and telling him that I was sorry the importer made the decision they did, but that our friendship would not be broken. Someday it would circle around again. And I’m sure it will. There are other factors than a private equity firm, a pompous president and a narcissistic chairman that decide the future. They don’t get to dictate who is and who isn’t a friend. And their position does not guarantee they will find what they are looking for, especially the most elusive of all, happiness. Millions on paper, a town house in Midtown Manhattan and a high-rise condo in Miami are just things, and things one must eventually let go of.
I say that because there were those of us who came to America, on boats or in the cells of our grandparents. But there are some of us who haven’t forgotten the ones who stayed back, who had to remain with the land, work it, tend it, harvest it and create the wine that gives our lives a common goal.
“Jesus, Alfonso would you just write something about Italian wine and stop these missives?” Yes, I hear those voices; the ones who want to know where to find the Vino Toscana they had when they were on vacation. I’m sorry; this is not the place you are looking for. Eight years blogging on the wine trail in Italy and this is where it has led me. That’s the inevitable destination for the time being.
The gift of America to an Italian has been that of opportunity, freedom, space and improvisation. Get unlucky in war and imprisoned until you almost starve? Return to America and build the best darn Italian restaurant there ever was in those parts. Lose in love and take another path? Waiting at the airport is a new life and a career in Italian food and wine. Escaping a stagnant society? Come to Italy. Come to America. It all depends on where you are coming from. To a Somalian, Italy looks like Heaven. To an Italian, anywhere might look better than the Italy of the Berlusconi era they feel trapped in. I know two fellows who started a business in America right as America was going into deep financial crisis. Those fellows now are making six figures. Their children have unlimited opportunities. And they came here with little more than a dream and a hope.
Just like 100 years ago, when Mario’s dad and my dad’s dad came, and now their dream has been realized. And thanks to guys like Mario and my dad, they have elevated their children into a world that is harder to find. All because they dared to pass through a gate into a land for which they had no idea what was awaiting them.
wine blog + Italian wine blog + Italy W