Geoff and I met years ago, during a training
program in Florence, where I was the teacher and he was the student. Slightly
younger and substantially smarter than me, he always did his assignments well
and often waited for class to end to tell me I’d gotten something pitifully wrong.
At the time, Geoff’s ability to quietly disagree made me feel all but quiet,
but he was the only man I’d ever met who cared enough about the Roman poets to
disagree with Dante’s idea that poetry should be written in the vernacular.
Thus, I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt.
And since, he has frequently returned the favor. Geoff
stayed in town once the course was through and in the years that followed, he
often invited me to hike up and down the hills on the weekends. We are good
friends: he likes it when I’m happy and doesn’t mind shaking me up when I’m at
risk of being a raving idiot. And oddly enough, his calm knack for
non-judgmental disapproval has become, for me, one of his most precious traits.
We’ve always made it a point to meet each month for talking time in the Loggia
dei Lanzi, because no matter what place you’re at in your life, that’s the best
space in town for conquering old pain and conjuring new viewpoints.
The Loggia is breezy in summer and protected in winter
and always crowded enough to make really deep confessions look like chit-chat
about the weather. Besides, it’s three steps up from the rest of the square and
let’s face it, sometimes, you just need a little down time in a corner guarded
by tame but vigilant lions. Essentially speaking, the statues in the Loggia are
a lesson is perspective: whatever war you happen to be waging never seems quite
as significant as the plight of the Sabine woman or the sight of Hercules as he
wrestles with his inner beast. And who can whine for long, with Perseus looking
so peaceful and the Signoria still safe? And although that David is just a bad
copy you’re not allowed to swoon over, looking at him can still convince you
that the frantic bee in your bonnet may very well produce honey one day. Geoff
and I feel the same way: whether you’ve lost a love or found a new means of
employment, a few hours on a stone bench in the Loggia makes you feel like
you’ll know where to go once it’s time to get up again.
So that’s where we were last Friday, watching a group
of tourists being scolded for threatening the monuments with melting ice cream.
Once the travelers finished their cones, they sought spots close to us and sat
down. They didn’t know that Geoff was moving away in less than two weeks time
or that I was busy downplaying my sorrow. One must be brave and celebratory
when faced with announcements like these, and within the span of an hour I
planned to have my congratulations in proper working order. Luckily, the man was
willing to wait it through.
Though, quick to come, Geoff’s move was not altogether
unexpected. P, H, and D have been floating around in his mind-soup for months
and the voracious brain-drain that tempts thousands of Italian intellectuals to
abandon the Boot is no less potent for ex-pats. An ultra-expired permit to
stay, piecemeal pay and whole lot of things to learn in this world have always
made Geoff’s departure simply a question of sooner or later’.
Foreigners living in Italy generate good-byes much
faster than one would expect in a country where stones stay in the same place
for so many centuries. Some, like Geoff, leave for the stimulus of higher
education. Others find themselves jobs back home’ where money-not glory-pays
the bills each month. There are also those who book their flights simply
because their prance through Playland is over, they say-it’s time to get
bridled and back in the race. And it’s okay, really. Not everyone is meant to
stay in Italy long term. After all, even Italy-or-bust types admit that this
country’s sense of permanence is a worthy but rather high-priced commodity.
>I hate good-byes,’ I sighed.
>I don’t,’ my friend replied. They’re much better
than hellos.’
>No,’ I shook my head. With hello, you’re almost
always glad.’
Geoff paused a minute and thought, For me, hello is another word for scrutiny. Hello. How much fatter, grayer or more
beautiful have you grown since the last time we met? And how much of you can
still be counted as mine?’ He shrugged and dropped his mimicking voice.
It’s impossible to say hello without getting sized up.’
Geoff was right, of course, but that didn’t mean he
was going to win. If you think I’m going to admit to the beauty of good-bye,
right in the middle of the mourning process, you are sadly mistaken.’
He smiled. Fine. But I still like it better. Good-bye is a lot like thank you.’
>…especially when you love someone,’ I admitted.
>Right, he nodded, especially then.’
And the poor Sabine got dragged away despite her
protests and the centaur strained under the strength of the hero, oblivious-all
of them-to how unlike life stone actually is.
Then, it turned four o’clock and Geoff walked me to
the station, because he was leaving, but, at the time, I was the one taking the
train. To my dismay, Santa Maria Novella that day had none of the autumn
mystique that surrounds farewells in the movies. Geoff’s words of adieu were not hidden by a lone train’s whistle or a gently rising mist. And no
glistening tears were trapped on my long, leading-lady lashes. Which ultimately
proves the obvious-real life is much more pink and blotchy than black-and-white
movies will ever admit.
>You know the origin of the word good-bye?’
Geoff asked, once our parting words were said and we stood side by side, waiting
for the train to arrive.
>No, what is it?’
>You really ought to look it up,’ he smiled. It’s
nice.’
>Look it up? No way-just tell me. Cary Grant never
gave homework as a final farewell.’
>Well,’ he grinned, every man has his limitations.’
I smiled back at my friend, unsure, even now,
exactly which man he meant.
But since that day, I have become certain of one
thing. All good good-byes should come with homework assignments. In reality,
they’re a sign of hope. They mean your teacher-whoever that may be-will soon be
checking on whether or not you’re really learning all of your lessons. In the
meantime, though, get busy and look up good-bye. Geoff was right->
bellissimo.
