march april 2015 081


march april 2015 080


When I was growing up, there was a farmer who would come through our neighborhood with a truck full of strawberries.  He would lean out the window and I can still hear him call out  STRAWWWWW….BERR…IES. 

That was a long time ago, when doors and windows were open. When kids ran in and out of all the houses in the neighborhood.  When you knew when meal time was because you heard your momma ring the bell. And you best show up! 

I have been reading in The Washington Post about this Maryland couple who are in trouble because they allow their children to walk home from a neighborhood park alone.  When I was 10, maybe 12, I used to ride a city bus into town and go shopping and then ride it home by myself.  I used to ride my bike to the grocery or the drug store by myself.  I know times are different now but the articles I have been reading show that most times kids are interfered with by someone they know, not total strangers. 

Here in Italy, I don’t know what happens in big cities, but in our small towns it is not unusual to see kids walking alone, going here or there.  And in Monte, everybody knows the child, probably went to their christening, baptism and every other event in their lives. 

When I win the lottery, I think I’ll phone up the parents of the free range children and offer them passage and moving expenses here.  They might be able to get refugee status for being ‘abused’ by their government.

Well, that’s a long way from strawberries isn’t it. 





  1. My friend Allan reads my posts through email and can not figure out how to comment online. His comments come directly to me as an email. His recent comments were so informative that I thought that I would include them

    “Working with young people gives me more of a total view of this “hovering,” or what I perceive as over-parenting. Parents now arrange “play dates” for kids through a remarkably old age. (Do you think my parents ever arranged a play date for me?) And there is a hyper-sensitivity about supervision, at least in the elementary years. Also, the expectation (partially a result of the technology that now exists) that there will be instant, total communication, that a parent will ALWAYS know where his/her child is. (Will the day arrive when children have chips embedded like pets now do?) I do recall in sixth grade, I first began riding the bus downtown with friends. (I loved club sandwiches at the Stewart’s downstairs lunch restaurant, NOT the fancy place on the upper floor.) Anyhow, I had carefully been schooled in tipping practices (then 10%) and this sandwich, about the most costly on the menu, was a wopping $0.90. I remember getting home and telling my father how I had had to get change but I had left the “proper” tip of $0.09, so proud of my percentage calculating skills, I was. I don’t remember many times when he laughed so hard and then told me it was permitted to round up slightly.

    Luckily, I work with seventh/eighth graders (12-14) so the parental reins have begun to loosen a bit. Most of them take the city bus and are allowed to spend time with friends (or make other autonomous decisions about their activities) by then.

    But speaking of technology, one of my colleagues is also the mother of one of my past counselees, now a fifteen-year old HS freshman. …. the colleague mother mentioned that it wasn’t sure if her son was going, but he had received an email from the teacher in charge. I asked her how she knew that and she replied that she received copies of ALL of her chidlren’s emails. Her older child is a seventeen year old junior, but I didn’t ask if she received hers, too, or at what age that monitoring might end. That seemed to me the equivalent of my mother having taped everyone of my telephone conversations.

    Your grilled dishes and the strawberries were lovely. I don’t remember the strawberry man in our neighborhoods (either Hikes Point or off Lime Kiln Lane), but I do vividly recall the musical announcements of the arrival of the ice cream man, the mad scurry for change, and chasing him up the street. I wonder if there are mobile ice cream sellers today. “

  2. Sherrie gentry

    I can smell the beautiful iris s…they are lovely! my mom grew them ..the scent is delicious !!..I remember walking all around town when I was a girl too!..not so u have lottery in Italy??

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: