Vivere la bella vita in Italia!

 Living in Italy was a huge part of growing up for me. We did a lot and shared a lot in those 2-1/2 years, so much so that it always seems like four years until you actually do the math.

We basically showed up in Aviano, Italy as Air Force refugees, chased out of Wheelus Air Force Base by Gahadaffi’s takeover in Libya. When we arrived we had no place to stay, so we lived in a high-rise apartment complex in downtown Aviano for probably two months until Mom and Dad found a house to rent in a little town called San Giovanni de Polcinego. We lived in a three story single house on the road to Pordenone.

Aviano is tucked up against the mountains in northeastern Italy. The weather was generally great all year around, but close enough to a lot of attractions. We could go skiing in the winter in a place called Piancavallo. Venice and beaches were only an hour or two away. (I only went to Venice to go to the Airport, but we did go to the beach).

We lived there for half of my 4th, and all of 5th and 6th grades. Our school was on the Air Force base, so we had to ride a bus. They didn’t have orange school buses, or the white hospital buses we rode at Wheelus. Instead a big touring bus made the rounds, stopping right out side our driveway to pick us up. Big plush greyhound bus seats, it was a fun way to ride to school.

I don’t remember much about 4th grade, other than the teacher really believed in reading, and had this one section of the room sectioned off as a reading section. She had placed plastic as a roof over a book case all the way to the wall, and had fish hanging from it.  She called it her reading cafe, and you had to reserve your time in it during lunch or free periods. 

Aviano was was where I really had my first foreign language classes. The DoD schools taught you the local language as part of the curriculum. That year we had a young girl called Senorita Gianinni.  In 5th and 6th we moved to a different set of builidngs and of course the teachers changed. Our Italian teacher was a Senora….

My 5th and 6th grade teacher was a Mr. Lorenzeti. Older gentleman with a mustache and beard. I aways considered him a hardass who made my life hard, but looking back I was probably a handful. I was definitely at the top of the class academically, and probably had more than a little ADD. I was a big talker in class, and for a while in 6th grade, I had a desk out in the coat room. Not that I minded much after the 1st day; it gave me more time to read.

Aviano is where I started playing football. I signed up to join the youth league. We practiced after school a couple nights a week out at the athletic fields next to the flight line. I would carry my pads to school, change in the bathrooms, then ride the activity bus from school. Dad would come pick me up after he finished work. We’d play our games on Saturday mornings. That was lots of fun. I also played baseball in the summer, but I’m not sure how that worked, and don’t remember much except being in a tournament during a week’s vacation at the beach, and Dad driving me to the game and back.  

That was the time Susan wandered off from Mom. No cell phones back then, so we didn’t find out till we got back, mid afternoon. The girls had been going to a local church nursery school and learning to be very good Italian speakers through immersion. So, when Susan disappeared, Mom was frantic and called the local Carbineri asking if anyone had found a lost American girl. “No, we only have this little Italian girl.”  Mom looked some more and then thought she better check again with the police. She decided to go check the girl out. Sure enough, It was Susan chatting away with the friendly policemen licking on ice cream cones.

We had a couple of families we were friends with. None lived nearby, but the Dads were all acquainted from work. My Dad ran the bombing range that all the air crews from across Europe came to practice live bombing. The Smith’s dad was a pilot, but not sure what he did at Aviano. Norm Lasher was an Intel guy. We took turns going to each other’s houses and hanging out. I think the last winter we were there, all three families piled in our cars and drove up to Austria and spent a week at a ski school/resort in Kitzbuhl, Austria. We had a blast! We started from zero and by the end of the week we were taking a tram up to the highest of the runs and skiing down. It felt like quite an accomplishment.

I kept skiing all through High School, college and until I came to Pennsylvania. Laura skis also, so we skied in both South Dakota and New York.  However, once we got up here, I found the conditions way too dangerous for my liking, and it just fell off my radar as something to keep up with. Probably should have got the kids snowboarding, but it seems life just got too busy.

We took one of the all time great vacations while we were in Italy. Mom and Dad took Dave and I to Rome. I think Grandma Branby came over for a visit, so we all took the train from Venice down to Rome and spent about a week. Saw all the things! Vatican City, the Colosseum, Trevi Fountain, the Spanish Steps, the Seven Hills, etc. Very fun!

We moved back to the States the Summer after 6th grade. Dad’s next job was back to flying in a Squadron, only this time in Korea. That guy got around! So we moved back to the Washington house for about a year and a half, and came back to American society, including the drama of the ‘1972 Olympics and Watergate.

5th Grade

OJE - Sigonella - Souda Bay - Naples

 Wednesday

Today was our longest day. I guess it was to make up for how easy yesterday was supposed to be. We also figured out that instead of four days. This is a five-day trip – the schedule is written screwy, and if you analyze what they have us doing, we decided we couldn’t/wouldn’t get everything done. They talked us into going on Thursday. We called the European office center and sure enough five days!

Today’s mission was to haul cargo and passengers to Souda Bay, Crete, return to Sigonella, and then go up to Naples to spend the night.

Nothing is easy flying in the Med. No one has radar coverage down there; they only know where you are by the time you report over a point and when you estimate you’ll be at your next point, so they will not let you go anywhere straight – you have to fly established Airways even if it means going miles out of your way to get on there. We had to fly halfway up the shoe of Italy before we could head down to the southeast towards Crete.

Souda Bay is in the northwest corner of Crete – looks like an airfield carved out of the moon and transplanted into the poorest section of Central America. Really backwards. I guess the Navy has P3 operations out of there – but what a hole to live in. Hopefully the living areas are better than the airfield itself. Souda was cold and rainy, so we didn’t spend much time on the ground.

Going back in to Sigonella, the Italian controller went spastic on us – we had 6000 rounds of 9 mm ammo, and he refused us permission to land. We went into the holding pattern for about 10 minutes while the Navy worked out the wrinkles and then we landed. We taxied over to the hot cargo ramp to offload the ammo. That’s when the Pax got their first clue they had been sitting next to high explosives the past 2 1/2 hours. Raised a few eyebrows!

After a long cappuccino break, we headed up to Naples again – our takeoff delayed by Rome, being unable to accept us into their flow for another hour!

Once again, we took off late in the afternoon, and flew into Naples just after the sun went down. Beautiful city with all its lights reflecting on the water, though the sky was a bit hazy from either pollution or a temperature inversion.

We stayed again at the Jolly Hotel, but this time decided to eat in the hotel restaurant. What a huge mistake – the serving team was openly hostile to our showing up, and took so long to service and provide our bills that I, for one, was ready for breakfast.

Dinner did provide one true highlight of the trip…

One of the guys knew that a girl he worked with back home was going to be in Naples visiting her fiancé.

Apparently, the fiancé would be out of town this night, so he was really looking forward to hooking up for a wild night. The anticipation had built up all day, reaching its’ peak when we got to the hotel.

So, while all the rest of us went upstairs to suffer through dinner, he called this girl and gave her directions to our hotel (he had found the address in a brochure of all the Jolly Hotels he picked up from the front counter). Then he proceeded to wait … and wait … and wait.

It took about two hours before the light went on in the big head where the blood circulation was slowly returning. With sickening trepidation, he checked the address he had given this girl who was certain to provide him a “sure-fire good time all night long.” To his horror, he discovered the address he had given her was to the Jolly Hotel in Milan, not Naples - only 600 miles off!

He practically lunged for the phone to call her and hopefully salvage something for the evening, but to no avail – the ‘sure thing’ was still out driving around the streets of Naples searching for a non-existent street. Completely chagrined, he left a message and waited.  About 45 minutes later he got a steamed phone call. She was NOT a happy camper! The evening was ruined, and he was miserable when he found us at the hotel bar.

It was classic! Naturally, we thought it was hilarious, and everyone on the crew just rubbed it in – salt in the wounds of a whipped dog! We offered to chip in and pay for a couple of porn flicks to tide him through his tragedy, but he could not be consoled: even though we would be back to Naples Thursday night, her boyfriend would be too!