This should be a short and scattered post, if all goes as planned. I just have a little time, lots to discuss and lots to do. So, since you always need to get it while you can, here goes:
Last night I finished John Cooke’s brilliant On the Road with Janis Joplin. I knew the ending – lived through it – but, though I was shocked and saddened when JJ died right after my 16th birthday, reading about it as an almost 60-year-old was much more disheartening. So young and so talented.
Yet in many ways, so predictable. Damn. Who knows what she might have achieved had she lived past that unlucky age?
But overall the book is joyous, so don’t let that dissuade you from reading it. (Next on my list is her sister’s book, Love, Janis by Laura Lee Joplin. The two are said to be bookends, one business life and one family – and, since I’m a Laura Lea, it seems like the right thing to do.)
Before jumping to the next topic, let me just add that the link above, if you choose to listen/watch, is to one of Janis Jopln’s appearances on The Dick Cavett Show, her second of three, I think. My son got me a great DVD boxed set years ago of Dick Cavett’s musical guests – a super treat to own, and Janis truly is a pearl in her appearances.
So, the reason it took me as long as it did to finish OTRwJJ is because I’ve been requiring myself to spend some of my off time studying Italian in preparation for the trip with Mother in aprile. Or indulging myself – it’s pretty fun. And, by the way, that’s not a typo. Months and days of the week are not capitalized in Italiano.
So much to learn. But I think I’m on the right track. Signs are pointing that way. Bear with me and I’ll try to make sense.
My great Zio Giovanni Blaiotta, who married my great Zia Opal, moved to the U.S. (and ultimately to San Francisco) from Italia when he was 10 years old. We always talked about him teaching me Italiano, but since he died much too young of emphysema when I was 15 – and didn’t move to Arkansas until a few years before that – we didn’t get to it while we could.
That always made me sad. Aunt Opal, whose ring I wear every day and whose cedar chest sits at the foot of our bed, had gone to San Francisco from Russellville to make a more interesting life for herself (and after four unsuccessful marriages in a time when that was scandalous, I might add). They fell madly in love and lived just off Haight Street for years before retiring and moving to Russellville.
Anyway, long story short, last night I got out Aunt Opal’s 1950 copy of The Berlitz Self-Teacher Italian to add it to my instructional pile – I liked to look at it at Aunt Opal and Uncle Johnny’s house as an adolescent but haven’t pulled it out in all the years I’ve owned it.
The inside is stamped in red: “A. Cavalli & Co. (SINCE 1880) 1441 Stockton, St., San Francisco, Cal. GArfield1-4219.” (That’s old-school for a landline phone number, for you younger readers.)
Oh, my goodness. That’s still the phone number at Cavalli Cafe.! If only I’d known that when Mother and I went to San Francisco for her 75th birthday and looked up Aunt Opal and Uncle Johnny’s former apartment, the one where she spent a couple of summers.
You can bet your boots I’ll go there next time John and I are in that great city.
The city where he used to work before coming to Arkansas. And where many of Janis Joplin’s happy times took place.
And the next time John and I go to Italy, we’ll visit the Calabria area of very southern Italy, from whence my dear Uncle Johnny came. And to Sicily, where I’ve dreamed of going since I was young.
Oh, well, makes sense to me.
Let me wrap this not-as-short-as-I’d-hoped piece up by saying how thrilled we all are that Silas is thriving and growing now that his food allergies have been isolated and eliminated. Out, out, damned milk and eggs. Peanuts, be gone.
You can call him little James Brown much of the time now.
Buono notte. Until next time …