While waiting for my friend to get ready, I browse her bookshelves. What leaps out immediately is a brand new copy of a textbook on XX century Italian literature, a compendium that every high school student simply refers to, since time immemorial, as “il Guglielmini”, from its author’s name.
Tag: Life after 50
Most of the waiters and waitresses I work with hope to become actors, singers, screenwriters or any of the ancillary positions swirling around the entertainment industry. They are all pretty, bright-eyed, optimistic and enthusiastic. Most of them come from somewhere other than California and, one day, most of them will wake up to the hard realization that they need to make a living, and that the dream won’t be providing that paycheck after all, let alone fame or fortune.
The last time my sister and I spent six weeks under the same roof was when I still lived at home and shared a bedroom with her teenage self. My sister is seven years younger than me and, since I left home, and the country, at age 23, we spent a couple of vacations together and she made multiple visits to wherever I happened to be living (and, recently, I visited her in Rome) but those stretches of time amounted to no longer than a week or two.