Pop-Pop's friend in Rome, Angelo, is a doctor and he quickly diagnosed my ailment as tonsillitis, which is very good since it is not contageous. After dinner (more about which later) we stopped at a pharmacy and picked up the proper medicines. Being with people who spoke Italian, I was able to get from Emily's school-year host-parents her correct phone number, and our meeting in Venice is now all planned out. Minutes before leaving the hotel room this morning, Pop-Pop's other friend in Rome, Adriana, called and so dinner plans are finalized.

Diary--July 11th, 1994

Angelo and his wife Clara pick us up at the hotel at eight. The restaurant is on the Avenida Antiquita, leading south from Rome towards Naples, about where the cobblestones become the original ones.

"No," says Angelo in the course of normal greetings, "I haven't had my car radio stolen since your last visit, but now I do have three car alarms."

As with Spain, the recent J&J centralization is hurting Italy. Unemployment is also quite high. But this sad news has not effected Angelo's sense of humor. Clara is also visibly happy. She is interesting to watch in conversation: in Spain Margarita spoke excellent English, but I noticed we both chose wordings similar in both languages when speaking our non-native tongue. Clara has better English than she realizes, and with her lower confidence she repeats these similar words when others say them.

The restaurant is built within old ruins; we are seated in a roofless section with greenery along the top of the crumbling walls. Later on oil lamps on the walls and candles on the tables provide our light, along with the stars. Their daughter Christina soon joins us. She has a job tonight at midnight singing at the Hilton, but sadly I am too under the weather to try attending. In discussing our trip, waiting for the antipasta to arrive, Emily is mentioned and they call her Padova number (where she stayed while in school) - she is not there, but I had a digit wrong in her new Ferrara phone number. New hope!

Dinner is immense and tastes very good. There were a half dozen antipasta dishes, and even the ones such as shrimp which I had little hope for I tried and did not mind eating a bit of.

Our "room", except for our party, is reserved for a wedding reception and soon we are surrounded my many happy people.

Sadly, Christina leaves before dessert to prepare for her performance. The dessert was some sort of strawberry flan or yogurt, which was good for eating slowly so talking lasted longer.

After the drive (plunge) back to the hotel, Angelo calls Emily successfully and now the last worry is over.

I cannot remember much of that evening's conversation. Most of it was familiar: our trip, the changes in J&J, how the family is doing. Angelo is going to organize a Mediterannean cruise for a huge reuinion of all these people, and Pop-Pop wants to take my uncle's family to Italy.

"You say these things, but do they happen?" asked Angelo during the pasta. Pop-Pop thumbs himself in the rib behind which he had half a lung removed, "You know about my operation," he replies, also thinking about the five years it took to get Nanny (Bubba's mother) to Italy, "things happen more quickly now." ...Some work of noble note may yet be done...

I had not told you about when Nanny visited Angelo's parents? Ah, let me do so briefly. The planning took five years. Nanny did not want to go, but everyone from the airport personnel onwards had been arranged to treat her royally ("Ah, Mrs. Fox, you are such a special person - your plane is this way, we have been waiting!") and soon she was having the time of her life. Angelo's parents spoke no English, but Angelo's mother practiced one phrase for the occasion: "Hello Herb, kiss me!". And the dinner lasted until days blurred together.

Back to our travels...for dinner the next night we are picked up at the hotel by Adriana's husband, "Frank". The quotation marks are because in Rome all Franciscos are nicknamed (I cannot remember into what - it was similar to Chi-Chi). He takes us to the edge of Rome, through EUR (the new part of the city Mussolini built) ( pronounced Eyore), to the apartment complex he and Adriana moved to before (and for) having children (because the backyard is a park). Adriana meets us there, and soon their son Camilla and daughter Christiana arrive. Camilla is an engineering doctorate student; Christiana has just finished high school and in a week will be taking the standardized tests.

They have a piano. While Adriana makes the final dinner preprations I am happy to avoid hearing Pop-Pop's latest jokes yet again by honoring their pleas for me to play. Camilla has taught himslef some Joplin, after he plays some we talk about jazz and I praise improvisation's ability to cover mistakes. The nice thing about piano is any pianist will always think any other pianist they hear is better, so there is no competition.

Dinner is again huge. We each start with a pile of plates and bowls in front of us, and I make many clinks because of the unusual hight of my food above the table, but eventually we finish. Adriana's pasta is very good, and sadly my swelling kept me from eating the bread. I was amused at how much slower Pop-Pop and I ate than our hosts; even Christiana, who spent much time serving, always finished each course well before we did.