It’s nothing to be embarrassed about

‘Lo dico perche non ce niente da vergognarsi’
Trans: ‘I say it because there’s nothing to be ashamed of’

This is what my Italian friend told me after she announced on a group chat that she may not be able to see me when I go to Italy this summer, because she has cancer.

To be honest I was surprised because she did just that but I agreed that it is nothing to be embarrassed about. My friend Carla happens to be a lot like me, born one day apart from each other, straightforward, caring, full of life and a fighter. I miss my friend so much.

I met her about 20 years ago when I lived in Florence.
She was my then girlfriend’s best friend and she made me laugh all. the. time. From my experience back then, I sized her up as a punk styled young adult with a love for platinum blonde hair and having a good time. This was my 29 years as an American Gal’s perception, which was sized up as ‘Latina’ because I didn’t ‘fit’ their concept of being American.

‘Tu non sei Amerihana Rosa!’
Trans: ‘You are not American’ in Florentine lingo. Florentines do not pronounce the ‘kah’ sound of c’s, when followed by an A, they exhale it… Something I found amusing and annoying at the same time.

For the benefit of the reader, foreigners concept of American’s has A LOT to do with movies. Yes, MOVIES. That pastime that opens the windows between cultures and can allow people to form a perception of who the other folks are.
If you think about American movies right up to the 80’s, 90’s the cast was very homogenous. Therefore Americans fit a mold, a certain look, a certain way of being, loud, over the top, for the most part, uncouth, and rich or at least spendthrift. This was my experience while living in Florence. One thing I could appreciate is that they knew that being American and being from New York are TWO DIFFERENT things… yes, thank the Movies.
The Godfather – Do the Right Thing – Once Upon Time in America – Goodfella’s *notice a pattern?

And another thing I can appreciate that once they HEARD me talk in English, it always confirmed I am American.
Overall, my looks would say ‘Latina’ because I didn’t possess the ‘Look’; I was able to speak Italian so well, thanks to my Spanish roots. Their experience dictated that American’s can’t speak Italian well because of the root of the English language and went as far to say that American’s spoke ‘American’ because it didn’t SOUND like the English English people speak… Sheesh.. LIVING there was an experience.
I found myself defending my ‘Americanness’ and teaching many Florentines that just because I didn’t LOOK like the American dolls in Turner Classic movies or glorified mobster movies, didn’t mean I wasn’t one. Just as De Niro and Pacino are Italian American, I too am American.’
I can conclude that it assisted me with shaping my identity and how I see myself in this big world.

And then there is my Carla.

She is so much like me yet unlike me because I wasn’t nor still am as expressive with the word Love the way she is.. I blame my being a New Yorker and her being Italian despite ALSO being German!
‘AMOORE’ she would sing to me every time she would greet me. I miss that and don’t because she is a phone call away.

I called her on WhatsApp immediately and heard that ‘Amoore’.
I didn’t know how to start, I asked if she was in pain and she shared the journey she has been on. I understood the words for chemo, lump, HPV, and throat in Italian.
‘I wanted to let you know on the chat because I didn’t want to ‘fare la figura di merda’.‘
Trans: ’embarrass you’ by not responding on the chat or explain why she may not attend our dinner celebration. ‘I understand, it takes the weight off.’ I said. It can be a heavy burden to bear, to keep that inside. She agreed.
‘No, non preoccuparti, se non puoi venire tu da me, verrò io da te.’ I responded in the end.
Trans: ‘Don’t worry, if you can’t come to me, I will come to you.’
And no proper phone call in Italy is complete without asking for ‘la tua mamma. Come sta?’
Trans: ‘Your mom, how is she?’
‘La mia roccia!’ She responds.
Trans: ‘My Rock’.
That response right there can always sum up what we in this world know about Italians, their undeniable love for mothers.

My friend has cancer and is not ashamed to say it. She isn’t just the playful, funny, and lively gal with different hair colors, she is a fighter and my reason to visit Sienna very soon.

A presto Amore!