Happy Fourth from the House of the Americani
We’re spending this Fourth of July as we usually do… in Italy. It’s a holiday that falls so conveniently in the sweet spot of the Italian summer, with both citizenry and sunflowers still radiant and blissfully unaware of the heat fatigue that will set in shortly, that we invariably find ourselves outside and looking in on America’s big day.
It’s strange having one foot in a foreign country and another in your own, especially on flag-waving holidays like Independence Day. Despite having their own version (Festa della Repubblica on June 2), Italians seem to have only a vague notion of the significance of America’s July Fourth celebration.
“It is the holiday for the barbecue, yes?” one friend suggests. “And you make the fuochi”, miming the explosion of a firecracker. Italians love fireworks. Neapolitans in particular would happily blow up something every night.
But explain that the day is perceived by Americans to be a celebration of the idea of America itself, and most Italians are a little intrigued. For this, there really is no Italian equivalent.
Italy has an all-powerful code of cultural conduct that covers both little stuff (all cappuccinos must be ordered before 10am; all neckties must be blue) and big ideas (local is always best; rules are only suggestions, looking good is everything). But shared political values, like liberty, equality, or the pursuit of happiness, are hard to identify. This is a country with eight major political parties and dozens of minor ones. They’ve had 70 governments since World War II. It’s much easier to find a consensus on what to eat or what to wear than on the underlying political values of the nation.
Of course, these days America also seems pretty confused about who it is. Whether it’s guns, global warming, or political gaslighting, the only thing we agree on is that we disagree. Fiercely.
Instead of offering up the traditional post-war gratitude or post-modern scorn, most Europeans now approach Americans with nervous sympathy, the way one greets a family member teetering on the emotional brink. Clearly, they’re wondering what the hell is going on. At the same time, no one wants to say the wrong thing and send uncle Dave into an emotional meltdown. And really, everyone just wants him to get better quick.
That’s because America provides Europe with something beyond an endless supply of iPhones, and Amazon boxes. While no one in Italy is likely to ask our advice on what to eat or what to wear, they do look to us for something equally essential, something often in short supply in the Old World:
Hope. America’s greatest natural resource is optimism— a sense that action can produce change, and that at least a portion of those changes will be good.
Of course it’s a naive attitude, and often based on a mishmash of Hollywood myths, get rich quick schemes and a reflexive impulse to act now and ask questions later. But the rally cap is the best thing America brings to the international playing field. We’re the kid on the team who still believes the game isn’t over…we can come back…we’re just one swing away from turning this around. When that kid finally tosses it in, the whole team gives up.
Right now we’re scaring everyone. Not because we have problems, but because we seem to have lost faith that we can fix them. With its geographical size, economic strength, and the diversity of its work force (people from a thousand different backgrounds looking at things in endless different ways), America can innovate and reinvent to a degree that much of Europe cannot. The world is a big ball of mess, and the US is in the best position to step up and help. We need to get crazy uncle Dave back on his feet again fast.
In the yard of our Italian home, there’s a spot where there used to be a small shed. We only know it existed because of old land surveys and the stones I dig up whenever we try to plant there.
But our neighbor Peppe, a farmer who has lived in the village his whole life, remembers the little house. One day he told us that for several years near the end of World War II, the shed was inhabited by two American soldiers who escaped a prisoner of war camp in nearby Servigliano.
In fact, there were many British and American soldiers who fled that camp when Italy’s Fascist regime fell apart. They lived in the countryside, and were fed and often hidden by the local people, who risked the lives of their whole family had the escapees been discovered by the patrolling German forces. Apparently, our shed was known in town as “the house of the Americans”.
As I noted the irony, Peppe explained that during those war years, our town of Monteleone was struck by a devastating earthquake. Despite being “in hiding”, the Americans worked tirelessly alongside the locals to rescue people and help rebuild. “Bravi Americani!” he said, touching his heart just to be sure I understood.
Whether you’re at the barbecue, making the fuoci, or sitting at a cafe table in Rome, I wish you a very happy Fourth of July celebration and thank you once again for your support of Life Lived Italian. I hope you find some time to enjoy the summer, and perhaps a few minutes of reflection as well.
We Americans have been set in a large place— physically, spiritually and metaphorically. With that comes big opportunities, outsize rewards and also inescapable responsibilities, ones we should take far more seriously than we are at the moment.
But the game’s not over yet. We can still come back. Bravi Americani!
