Italian Driving Lessons

January 28, 2009
As soon as I could reach the gas pedal, which is how my father determines driving age, he immediately taught me to drive. I remember clearly one of my first questions, “What do you do when you come to a four way stop sign daddy?” His answer began a long series of Italian 101 driving classes which explain clearly why you should never drive in Rome. He matter of factly said, “You come’a to a foola stopa… and dena it’sa your turn.” Think about that for a minute.

From that moment on, I was exposed to lots of similar driving ideas like, “What’sa behinda you is'a no important.” and “We no hav’a roads’a in Italy, we make’a dem.” To reinforce the validity of his methods, he regularly announced that he had never been in an accident himself but never included the ones he’d caused.
Clearly, my father didn’t teach Paula to drive because she keeps pointing out pesky little details like, “This isn’t a fire truck.” and, “One way means the other way.” Details that my father would have taught her to simply overlook.

Of course, once you put skis on her feet, she really doesn’t have room to talk. Yesterday, while skiing effortlessly down a gorgeous groomed steep, a skier who could not have been Italian cut me off. I know he couldn’t have been Italian because he did not adhere to the reverse of the “what’s behind you is not important” rule which is clearly, what’s in front of you is! And I was obviously in front of him before he illegally crossed over and skied over the front of my boots, forcing me to significantly reconsider my placement on earth! In the midst of my bewilderment, another personal foul occurred, again from a non-Italian player, namely Paula, when she latched on after slamming into me from behind (notice the lack of adherence to the what’s in front of you rule) and we became entangled in this “oh shit” interpretative ski dance, swaying and dipping from time to time but always coming back to that cheek to cheek, we’re sooo gonna “eat it” style of dance, which for those of you who haven’t seen it would look like a cross between sumo wrestling and a beginner cirque de sole.

“Don’t fall!” she yelled as she finally let go, cart wheeling into thirty inches of new snow at the base of a huge Aspen. Great words of advise I thought. I haven’t seen her since.
Living in the present where the past is forgiven and the future is germinated are also great words of advice and they help me to realize that maybe my father had a point. It’s just not the one he thought it was. “What’s behind you is not important.”

Looking for Paula…Rosalie