Feeding the donkey…

Several Saturdays ago, maybe the second Saturday after we got back from California, the phone rang in the afternoon, and I picked up.

“Hello?”

Immediately, I heard voice of my sister’s husband, rattling along in Italian at breakneck speed.

Of course I did not understanding a single thing he was saying, and likely never to do so, especially since the variety of Italian that his family speaks is a dialect that developed on one of the small islands off the coast of Italy where they all came from.

I began to laugh. It perked the day right up.

Yesterday, we took most of the day off and journeyed to Springfield to commemorate our 40th wedding anniversary. It ended up being sort of boring because it was so hot outside we did not go to any of the fun outdoor places we had thought about going to, and the theater that offers such a nice price break on the matinee on Tuesday was not showing anything we want to see.

We were able to find a few things we wanted in a couple of used-book stores, and we looked at the beautiful things at the Waverly House, a art gallery and gift shop, and then we had lunch at the Macaroni Grill.

We both had the opportunity to learn a little Italian. Richard came back from the men’s restroom and said it was playing a lesson in Italian that said, “When was the last time, Gina, that I told you I loved you.” We had a good laugh about that. What if the woman’s name was not Gina?

So, more out of curiosity than real need, I visited the women’s facility to see what I would be taught.This is what I was asked to repeat: “I have to go to the bank to get money so I can buy food to feed the donkey.”

We had an even bigger laugh. The day, which had the potential to slide into boredom, suddenly perked up a bit. Laughter will do that...