Spending time in Bassano this summer couldn’t be any more different from my childhood in Desire, especially summers. Here, in Bassano, it is so tranquil that you feel as though you are in a dream from which you don’t want to awaken. The sightings of people are so rare, unless you are in the center of the town where the locals go to the grocery market and to purchase the mineral water. Sounds of life are so fleeting. Maybe there is a voice in the distance, or music coming from one of the apartments.
Growing up in Desire there were always sights and sounds. In the summertime, the children started to play very early. The truck vendors began to arrive in time enough for the mothers to purchase and to cook the produce. The watermelon man came to deliver the delicious, juicy fruit early in order to chill it for afternoon consumption, usually on the bottom level of the steps.
Saturday mornings were usually reserved for shopping and cleaning. Most families had enough children to divide up the chores and to allow the little ones to go out to play. Rather than have them underfoot, dirtying the already cleaned areas, or knocking over buckets of soapy water, or even worse, tracking the waxed floors, kids were allowed to start off the Saturday mornings early with some popular games.
Rock Teacher, played on the steps of the porch, was a preferred safe game that could be played without the assistance of older siblings. Rock, Paper, Scissors is a popular game among children today. It was practically unheard of when we were children. Rock Teacher, the game of choice for younger children, allowed them to have hours of fun without having to spend any money, or leave the safe place of the porch.
Bassano, Italy
In the game, the teacher held the rock behind her back, moved it around and then presented both fisted-hands to the students, who then had to guess which hand the rock was in. If the guess was correct, the student was given permission to move down the steps. Moving down the steps would mean that you were being sent to a higher grade. Eventually, the person in the highest grade would become the teacher. Needless to say, there were some unhappy students who were left behind due to their inability to guess the correct hand.
There was always something to do in our neighborhood. The trucks delivering goods even provided a sense of play. First of all, there was the challenge to run to announce that the trucks were coming. Then, there was the excitement of choosing fruit from the trucks. In addition, we couldn’t wait to see what vegetable on the truck would become our dinner on Sunday afternoons. Many of the families were at the mercy of the truck vendors, because of the lack of transportation, too many children to take on public transportation, or too many to be left at home on their own.
But the best part of all, for me, was when the watermelon vendor passed by to sell this succulent gourd. It was always a big seller, unless,when the merchant passed by when funds for families were scarce and thin. If that were the case, then my mom would yell back and say, “eat it yourself.” Even when we could not afford one, it was always fun to hear the merchant sing his melodious advertisement, “watermelon, red to the rind.”
Growing up in Desire afforded me many playmates, many of whom have become my lifelong friends, as well as surrogate brothers and sisters. Class reunions and even funerals are celebratory and reminiscing opportunities. The experiences we shared formed unbreakable bonds that are never to be broken.
Now, back to Bassano, Italy. It appears to be a place with a small population, unlike the Desire community during my childhood. It also seems to be a place that has not changed much in a long time. It was great that there were for sale signs and signs of rebuilding. I feel like the older people who are there have lived there for most of their lives. It is highly likely that their bonds are just as strong as those nurtured in Desire. And, their brick and mortar homes are constantly being reinforced and not torn down.
— Winnifred Walter Anderson-Magee
