Theo’s first birthday

Some of you may have noticed that I was away for some six weeks for I wanted to be present for Theo’s first birthday in Jersey City. Theo is the youngest of my three grandchildren. Because I lived in Mauritius and travelled long haul for a good many years I warned my daughters, when they were still single,  that if they married an American it was highly unlikely that I would visit them. I’m tired of long trips, jet lag, often long waits between flights which also means I consume more calories.

 Neither of them married an American. (I have nothing against them of course. On the contrary. The more I visit the fonder I become of them). So although there are no Americans in the family so far, destiny has it that the only way to see my young one and her small family is to fly to the US. It is almost becoming second nature to me.

Last time I was there they were living in Manhattan which is simply too busy for me and for young families. I love the wide open spaces of Jersey City, the many parks, the greenery, the trees of many hues, the shopping malls and it is only 20 minutes by train to Manhattan.  I love the view from my bedroom: the Hudson river and all that sails through it and at night the glorious view of Manhattan and the almost finished twin towers. Looking at the lights and out across the dark Hudson you cannot but help thinking that truly, this is a great nation and still the most powerful.

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Two comments about Americans in general. The consideration of drivers, especially for anyone pushing a pram and yes, their good manners. This is so very noticeable. Even the tallest, fattest Afro American is polite and decent. I say ‘even’ because generally here, we are full of prejudice. On the whole we are a coarse, rough, bad mannered nation and this becomes more noticeable when we return from abroad, whether it is from America or our neighbour Sicily. We should have a national campaign to be more civil to one another and to visitors… never mind that some of the visitors we get here, especially language students, have no manners either! Friends insist that we are generally aggressive because we are so overcrowded.  We live on top of each other and everyone is breathing down your neck. Perhaps some anthropologist or sociologist will write in-depth articles about these matters instead of yacking away at every appointment made by the government. As if the government cares. The root of the trouble is simple: envy.

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Ah, the freedom of putting on a velour track suit and dashing off to the mall. No one knows me and no one cares. Most, anyway are wearing the most extraordinary colourful clothing and ‘doing their thing’, fat, thin, toned or not.  The blessings of anonymity are enormous. There is little chance of meeting anyone you know. But yes, I did meet the simpatica Celia Melillo of O’Hea at a well-known boutique in Manhattan, one Saturday morning. She was there on a conference. I am going to contradict myself and say that it was pleasant to see a familiar face and no, I was not wearing my velour track suit. Not that Celia would have minded!

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Theo’s first birthday was a picnic in Hamilton park. One of us went a little early so that we managed to get hold of a table on which to put the many balloons, drinks, goody bags and other food. Unbelievable, on the table next door there was a five-year-old boy also called Theo who was celebrating his birthday too.

Several parents from the mothers’ Meet Up turned up with their children, among them Karen Voisin, née Pace,  who braved it from Manhattan, in a double pram, with her two delightful children, all of them looking as fresh as ever,  too. I had interviewed her for our Sunday paper recently. She manages a full-time, high powered job, a husband and two children. I take off my hat to her.

We were lucky with the weather but had it rained we would have carried everything under one of the pavilions and gone ahead with the picnic.

 Concerto all’Italiana at the Manoel

Those of us who are fans of Cav. Dott. Tonio Portughese’s twice- yearly Italian concert turned up at the Manoel Theatre on 1st June to pay homage to Italian opera, operetta and the romantic songs we love so well and which still seduce us even though our salad days are over. When it comes to climbing flights of stairs, running a mile or perching myself on some high ladder I am absolutely resigned to the fact that I am getting old. But not in the affairs of the heart, where there are many of us who still believe that time has miraculously stood still. So, we still enjoy these evenings of romantic Italian music which bring to mind past loves and maybe even future ones.

Another habitué is Mrs Cacciatolo, Marlene Mizzi’s delightful mother.

We can never get enough of a certain type of music which still holds us under its spell and somehow we don’t mind the repetition.

The stamina required to organise these events not to forget the artists on the stage with whom, by now, we all feel familiar, is tremendous.

Dr George Vella and Mrs Vella were present which is heartwarming. Dr Ian Borg was also present at one of the Din L’Art Helwa concerts. I approve wholeheartedly. Dr Zammit Dimech is an habitué.

The concert was also held to mark Italy’s National Day and was a special tribute to Giuseppe Verdi for this year, as we all know by now, we are celebrating the bicentenary of the birth of this most Italian of Italian composers.

Last May many who attended Dr Portughese’s concert missed the presence of the baritone Orazio Mori but he was here this time round, to the delight of those who love his singing. It was touching to see the affection and respect which father and daughter, pianist and conductor Maestro Debora Mori, have for each other. It was discreetly shown on the stage and greatly appreciated by the audience.

Pari siamo from Rigoletto (why is it that always women die in opera?) was sung by this seasoned baritone. ‘Use four legs, run through the town and find me an influential person who can obtain the permission for making Le Roi s’amuse.’ It’s a  great line, and one that shows how determined Verdi was to get his hands on Victor Hugo’s work which was already pretty controversial, having been dogged by interference from the censor in his native Paris. The man with the blue pencil didn’t feel that the portrayal of the monarch as a womanizing cynic, lacking moral fibre, was the way to present kings.  Verdi got round this by switching his characters around with the king becoming the Duke of Mantua. Womanising, immoral dukes didn’t appear to cause as much offence. Contemporary accounts say that when Rigoletto was first performed at La Fenice Opera House in March 1851 the Duke of Mantua’s now famous aria La donna è mobile was being sung in the streets the next day. Orazio Mori’s singing – he makes it look so very easy – was enjoyed and enthusiastically applauded.  His daughter Deborah gave us an enjoyable bouquet of melodies from another Verdi favourite: La Traviata. I find it remarkable that works which one may call old-fashioned and unfashionable, should be so securely a part of our present-day musical life. I suppose the power of tradition and the beauty of the music itself have something to do with it. The same goes with the immortal Italian melodies which came next. I can hear them again and again and still love them each time. My absolute favourites: Ti voglio tanto bene, Lolita – Serenata Spagnola, Musica Proibita, Parlami d’amore Mariú, Non ti scordar di me are still able to move us almost to tears. Perhaps this is also because they remind us of our parents who loved them, sang them or played them.

Unfortunately the soprano Barbara Fasol was indisposed and could not sing but soprano Tiziana Scaciga Della Silva bravely took up the challenge of replacing her. Tenor Andrea Bragiotto (Barbara Fasol’s husband) and Walter Rubboli the comic and singer also contributed greatly to the success of the evening.

After the interval we had a joyful medley of mostly arias from operettas: Cin ci la’; La Principessa della Czarda; Il Paese dei Campanelli; La Danza delle Libellule; La Duchessa del Bal Tabarin; Il Cavallino Bianco… we love them all and never tire of them.

His Excellency the fairly new ambassador of Italy to Malta, Giovanni Umberto De Vito, went up on the stage to say a few words.  He remarked – and seemed pleased – that the audience understood the barzellette which were mostly in Walter Rubboli’s script.

The audience was certainly encouraged to participate towards the end of the concert when the singers organized a Giro d’Italia in song with Milan’s O mia bella madunnina, Rome’s Arrivederci Roma, Naples’ Funiculì, Funiculá and more.

Albert Storace was compère for the evening. He kept his comments short and to the point.

The director of the Istituto Italiano di Cultura, Dott. Salvatore Schirmo was there with Signora Schirmo and Mrs Hadar De Vito, the ambassador’s wife was present too. As the ambassador remarked, the Maltese appreciate Italy’s cultural heritage and the friendship between the two countries has been long standing. It is a pity that as a nation we have not absorbed enough of the Italians’ good taste and love of beauty. How is it we have not been influenced more by this most aesthetic of nations which is so close to us?

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Richard England at BOV Centre

Prof. Richard England is internationally renowned and his latest exhibition, a retrospective one, consists of around 150 panels featuring Prof. England’s work in architecture, sculpture, graphics and art. This is an exhibition which should not be missed. It closes on 17th July. The BOV catalogue of the exhibition carries an introduction by Renzo Piano: “Richard England is a master builder, his walls breathe, yet they are walls which are anchored to the ground and their individual elements interact and merge perfectly.  It is from the articulation and the joints in an edifice that one recognizes the real maker of buildings, and it is thanks to this quality that England’s architectural work avoids appearing romantic.  It is an architecture which is local, but also global, for his language is the language of poetry”.