Recently I was invited to go to a Major League Baseball game in Pittsburgh. I was one of four women who went. The second woman was my mother-in-law, who was also an invited guest. Next was the woman who invited us. Her four tickets were promotional perks from her financial advisor. Before the game, we also got to go out for a fancy brunch at a very swanky restaurant downtown. I relearned the word “charcuterie” that day, and there were also tenderloin sliders. You may pause there for a moment to envision and enjoy that deliciousness with me. Mmmmm. We all loved that woman for inviting us to that very nice event. The fourth woman was an extremely passionate Italian woman. Is there any other kind of Italian woman? I’ll call her Nonna, because she is an Italian grandmother.
I had the pleasure of chatting with Nonna through nine innings. Nonna is a beautiful woman. She’s friendly. She loves to travel. We talked at length about her recent trip to Italy. She recounted for me about how her wallet had been stolen while she was on that trip. How rude to be robbed in her homeland! She joked that she should have been wearing a t-shirt that said, “I’m Italian! I’m one of you! Don’t rob me!” Nonna told me that despite that misfortune, she’s blessed.
I learned, though, that under all that spunk and passion, Nonna has a broken heart. Within the first couple of innings, I learned that Nonna is a relatively new widow. Her husband died a couple of years ago. That’s certainly sad enough, but what really captured my heart was what Nonna shared with me through the next few innings. Through further conversation, I learned that Nonna has also lost two adult sons. Oh my goodness. To lose one child would be heartbreaking. To lose two…I would probably just collapse into a puddle and never get up again. Yet there she was, upright and smiling and enjoying the game, declaring that she is blessed despite her staggering losses.
Do you know anyone like Nonna?
I think I’ll send her a card.