an 'open letter' to Terracina

While your postings are informative factually as well as visually pleasing, I can't help but wonder, what happened to the Terracina I knew and loved? Where is the once tranquil, clean and peaceful village I shared with my youth? The same youth, by the way, who were respectful, considerate and kind. Youth who did not know what 'graffiti' was let alone proliferate it all over historic buildings.

I read your posts even though I am not interested in the politics of life, nonetheless, I click-on, every day. Like an addict who needs a fix, I return to glimpse the beautiful photographs that portray the Terracina that was forty years ago. Unfortunately, there are also photos of what Terracina is today: an endless run of resorts, campsites and ever-present litter where liberally scattered political 'nonsense' veins its way through the streets and passageways.

I remember Terracina as a great natural beauty, interwoven with the ever-present narration of World War II. I remember horse drawn carriages clip clopping across clean quiet streets (and no, I'm not talking about medieval times, I'm talking about the 1960s); the smell of pizza wafting through the market place on a crisp early morning; and I remember the Barber standing on his stoop smiling at passersby while waiting patiently for the next shave or hair-cut.

But Terracina has since succumbed to a symphonic generation that has turned a deaf ear to the gracious recollections of the Nonni who once took leisurely strolls without fearing traffic predicaments, either of vehicles or pedestrians. Nonni who sat al fresco listening to music that filled the air from the Jukebox that sat across the street from the Lido.

We lived in buildings ravaged by the War, yet seemed not to notice because, on the corner in the Piazza, someone would always be selling and adorning our lives with bouquets of colorful fragrant flowers. Someone would always make sure to share their bounty of love, in a wave; an embrace; a polite nod; or in a simple Buon' pomeriggio.

No one was in a hurry to get nowhere. Actually, we didn't even care if we got there at all.

Oh, I'm sure there were the politics of the day, after all Nonno did meet up with his friends in front of the Bar for daily chit chats and espresso. But somehow, I’m certain they did not talk about church events. The point is, they kept it to themselves. They did not fuel the fire by congregating in mobs making bad situations worse. They did not splay political nonsense on posters and stick them to the sides of buildings and walls.

Where is the Terracina that lives in my mind? In my heart? My sister, who has lived in Terracina all her life, says '...it's still there, you just have to look hard.'

Look hard my friends..........before you miss it!




Published simultaneously on www.Terracinablog.com
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