In
the last ten days, when I might have been blogging, I talked politics deep into
the night over and over again with an Italian friend on visit. Paolo stood up
for me at my wedding, the day I married Paola, a fellow theological student at the Waldensian Theological Seminary in Rome. That was 24 years ago in Milan, Italy. The
last time I saw Paolo was at the wedding feast, near Lake Como: the feast was
amazing, with friends from around the world in attendance (a full retinue of
Germans, Brazilians, and Japanese followed me down from Germany where I was
studying at the time), and a menu to die for: the cook, a friend of my
father-in-law, besides having a restaurant of his own, wrote the recipe column
for L’Unità, the organ of the Italian Communist Party, which then had a
circulation in the millions. That was 24 years ago, and I hadn’t seen Paolo
since. Through Facebook he reconnected with us. We invited him to visit us “al
centro dell’impero,” at the center of the Empire, which he did.
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