Meeting With an Old Pen Pal

In my early teens a younger neighborhood buddy and I pretended we were aspiring writers. I don't remember her book idea; mine was somewhat Dickenslike, with an orphan girl who finds a man who turns out to be a relative (which I believe happened in "Oliver Twist"). But it took place during the Depression and I didn't know much about that point in time.

I wanted to do some writing on a regular basis and receive letters regularly so I thought I'd try this. For a short while I had pen pals in several countries: England, France, Italy, the Philippines, the U. S. and Chile. We exchanged information about our families, our favorite bands, movie stars, and talked about unusual food and customs. But one by one they seemed to lose interest and not write anymore. Except for Daniele.

Daniele Di Marco was actually a friend of my Italian pen pal in Viterbo. Viterbo is in central Italy, 80 miles from Rome, near big vegetable gardens and hazelnut orchards (I was soon to find out). It is an old city and like many in Europe, crammed with history - and apartment buildings.

Daniele --- the name ends in e but is a man's name, part of the Italian penchant toward words ending in vowels --- was interested in my Italian background on my mother's side and shared my interest in rock 'n roll and American culture. We corresponded for many years and found we shared some common ideas, philosophically speaking. But while I was married, caring for sons and trying to write on the side, he was a single lawyer who could travel to distant places like India, Indonesia and L.A. But not Virginia.

When I wrote him that I wanted to go to London for book research, he invited me to fly from there to Rome. Imagine, fitting 2 European capitals into one trip! But that's what I did, in May 2001, at age 50.

It was a little awkward being with him at first, till I realized how well he understood English. On cable TV there he could see American basketball teams, (his favorite American sport) and knew all about them. We talked a little bit about that. Then I met his girlfriend Luciana and her grown son Simone (yes with another "e" on the end). In Italian you pronounce every letter, but this rule was unhelpful, as I knew no Italian! It was frustrating seating around the table while his friends talked to him in another language.

Luciana, Danielle and I visited the impressive St. Peter's Square, part of the walled in Vatican City, which had a huge crowd for a special Mass for Pope John XXIII. He'd been exhumed but looked good "under glass". It was later decided his body would stay on display in the Basilica, the Vatican's big Cathedral. It had the Pieta, Michelangelo's statue of an oversized Mary holding a crucified Jesus on her lap, but was behind glass for security reasons. Also impressive were the Coliseum, the Trevi Fountain, Etruscan tombs and the Italian countryside, including some inactive volcanoes.

We'd barely gotten to know each other in four days when it was time to go. I kissed his whiskered cheek and we hugged goodbye. I'm back now with many good memories. With any luck I'll finish my novel, make money and return to the land of my ancestors. And we still communicate by letters.

Denise 'D.J.' Mathews is a transplanted New Yorker who has lived for many years in the mountains of Virginia. She has written a small book on education,'Let's Run OUR Schools Together,' which is available at www.buybooksontheweb.com, and is now writing a mystery novel. She has also been a freelance journalist