I have this image in my mind of saying goodbye to someone on a river, maybe on the Arno in Florence, on a bridge, maybe the Santa Trinita Bridge, that would do, that would be a good bridge, and I can see the sky, a bluish color, you’ve seen a sky at dusk when it’s bluish, you know how good it looks.
I’m not sure why the image of saying goodbye to someone comes up. Maybe because I feel I have said goodbye to so many people. There is a big goodbye hanging over me. Like a constant goodbye. Like I should walk around with a big Goodbye sign on me because so many people are now missing from my life, and so much is unfamiliar.
But I love what is unfamiliar. Today for the second time we drove up to Monte San Savino to this little joint that serves lunch but were late for lunch so he made Norma a sandwich and I had a pastry and espresso and aqua frizzante and she had a glass of wine. And then I was antsy. So we walked into that building with a courtyard and then out back is this garden. Sheesh. I’m not Mary McCarthy, you realize. I’m reading The Stones of Florence and Venice Observed and man she is some writer that Mary McCarthy.
So if I were in a conversation with someone and I said, I have this image in my head of saying goodbye to someone on a bridge, and the bridge is over the Arno in Florence and the bridge is the Santa Trinita Bridge that got blown up in WWII and then put back together, and on one side is the Spini Feroni Palace where Salvatore Farragamo has his shoe store and museum, and on the other side is the Harold Acton Library of the British Institute, and somehow that bridge has a hold on me. I stopped there last week and watched a Japanese couple have their wedding photos taken; the bride’s train was 15 feet long and the photo assistant was holding it out and letting it fly in the wind. I photographed it just like everybody else.
One session Online Drop-In Writing Workshop
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Being in Florence feels like a political act but I doubt that it looks like a political act because it is a small, personal act, an act of personal and political necessity, a quiet statement, an act of removal. It is also the joy of knowing this: We wanted to, and we did! Driving into the mountains this afternoon, looking across the Valdichiana as the sun came down, we look at each other and we share this knowledge that: We wanted to, and we did. We just took off, like in the middle of the night, and now all the things that were abrading our souls, that were slowly killing us, those things are left behind.
But what of this image of saying goodbye to someone? It is as if a constant goodbye is going on, all the people we used to see that we do not see: We are lonely, there is no doubt about that. Well, I am, anyway. Norma has been swept up by the Castiglionese. Me I think frankly they can take or leave but she has been swept up by the town. Me, I’m the guy who just came here to slow down and stay home and write.
Anyway, I think about this image of the bridge. If I were in therapy maybe the therapist would persuade me to talk about the feelings behind it. And I would do so and probably find something out that you’d think would be totally obvious.
Buried in it is my deep, awful, dispirited feeling about what has happened to America, and what has happened to San Francisco.
Hi Cary,
i thought I’d drop by to see how things are going. With the Italy earthquakes in the news yesterday — i wondered if your home is in the affected area, so i have looked your website up on my phone while i am lying in bed at 5 am being bitten by (in an unwelcome and very unusual situation) what seems to be multiple spiders under my duvet (we had lots of tornadoes here yesterday… i am near where the Starbucks was flattened, (it made the natl news) and there are more ‘active’ insects in the house today than normal), so I’m on edge and jumping up to turn the light on and throw the cover over and try to find the rascals and look at the newest bite on my legs about every half hour. One even got me a moment ago under my elbow-tendonitis compression brace which is bizarre as it’s so tight it cuts off my circulation. And it has hard plastic sides.
Anyway i hope you are safe and well there in italy.
I will understand if you delete this post — it won’t be of any interest to later site visitors. 🙂
I once spent 2 weeks in Castiglione – and now you live there! That seems cool, not sure why.
Thanks Cary! I check your website on a regular basis to see if there are new blog entries. This one really resonated with me. Just this morning I was looking at photos of New York from the ’60s, and even though it was the ’60s the city seemed to have a quality that was still there when I started visiting in the ’80s. Whatever that quality is, it’s now gone. In fact, when I consider my 48 years in general, I’m amazed at how much is just gone.
Looking forward to more entries!
So much grief here. So much in the past, irretrievable. A long sad look behind, waiting for the sun-filled look forward when your apartment is ready and you can breathe deeply again. Good writing material here. Lucky you.
hey teach — just back to SF after two months on a deep soul search in the Deep South. i hear you on the lonely part, and the wtf feeling of that question for Alfie: what’s it all about?
anyhoo, i’m now on the hunt for ways to get money rolling in again, some sort of flow of cash, and yet still pursue the writing, the exploration of self, the sanity that only putting pen to paper can provide.
loving and miss y’all very much.
-linda
Me, I’m thinking: Write that memoir!
Cary, you are a few steps ahead of me, of us. What happens when fantasy becomes reality? Especially when that reality is quite far away on the geo scale. The body gets there quickly and the soul limps behind… Good to know you and Norma exchange that look and that knowledge. Very brave and delicious. On another note, soon to see the happily retired couple, our mutual SF friends, Connie and Todd.
Say hi to Connie and Todd! I missed them in Florida.
Thanks for the thoughts!
will do. also do you publish workshop fees somewhere?
Yes, all the workshops are here:
http://booksandworkshops.com/
We are doing online workshops now, and the getaways and retreats start in spring/summer.
I think bridges are pretty meaningful symbols. Connection. They connect one place with another, and that’s what your letters from Tuscany do too. I like reading what you’re up to on this grand adventure that most of us can only dream about doing. Sounds like there’s a lot to explore on all levels – a lot of people feel most like themselves when they’re in an unfamiliar environment. I hope you keep writing about it!
I think I will. It’s taken me a while to realize that the ordinary thoughts I have, when written down, are actually of some interest to others. I know the bridge is a huge symbol. Maybe I’ll look at some pictures of bridges and dream. Thanks!
You did it, Cary- and it is a huge thing you and Norma have accomplished, to leave behind all that was abrading your souls. (Though I do not believe that is really possible in this world …) Still, you inspire me to shake off my own fear and penetrate my own limited vision of what is possible . Big love to both of you… Would love to see you one day on the other side of the pond.
Yes! Come on in. The water on the other side of the pond is great.
You did it, Cary- and it is a huge thing you and Norma have accomplished, to leave behind all that was abrading your soul. (Though I do not believe that is really possible in this world …) Still, you inspire me to shake my own fear and penetrate my own limited vision of what is possible . Big love to both of you… Would love to see you one day on the other side of the pond.