My People

There’s something about my people---sitting around Naples while the garbage piles up.
A strike. A load of filth.

Being an American mutt, I have at times dipped into a section of my being and have felt very connected to the people of Naples (even though my people are from a small hill town that is at least an hour away)…but at times like this, I feel repelled by their mess. But then I boomerang around and accept my DNA.

What I have always liked about having Italian blood is the deep understanding of the eternal source of happiness: to celebrate how beautiful life is because it is so damn awful.