Several years ago my Italian grandmother passed away and left our family an invaluable gift. Her last request was that my mom and dad and all five of us kids go visit the Old Country, her homeland. She also left us the means to do so. Being the obedient family that we were, we promptly granted her final wish: spring in Tuscany, a hilltop villa with a pool, and our family under one roof. There is something about visiting the origin of one’s roots that is good for the soul. As man is made of dust, I got to see what kind of dust I was made of. Some of that dust is now sprinkled among these pages, setting the scene and breathing life into this story.
Somewhere between writing my first novel, Saving Sailor, and its sequel, Taking Tuscany, we lost our dad, Santo Benjamin. One day he was here, the next day, gone. I’m pretty sure God found him up there in heaven somewhere, but the rest of us down here are a little lost without him. You see, Santo was to my mom what Sonny was to Sophia in Saving Sailor—the love of her life. And my dad was to me and my four siblings what Daddy was to A. J. and her four siblings—our everything. To be perfectly honest, we are more than a little miffed that someone so full of life and love and laughter should be taken from us before what we considered “his time.” As far as we knew, he was planning to go snow skiing the next day, not to heaven. But who are we to question God in such matters? He did, after all, come up with the idea of people, and families, and we must give credit that He knows what He’s doing with us—and sometimes we don’t.
My father had a motto in life that was passed down from his father. La famiglia è tutto. Family is everything. And so it is. My grandmother’s last words to my mom were, “Keep the family together.” And she and my father did.
From the time I was just a wee thing, toddling around the bocce ball court, the greatest blessing in my life has been belonging to our Italian family. Over the years it has been just one festive holiday after another … Grandma’s homemade ravioli and polenta, bocce ball tournaments, Grandpa’s Wrigley’s Spearmint gum.
Sadly that first generation who came over on the boat has all passed on. But their legacy lives. Taking Tuscany is a tribute to those who knew what mattered in life and showed us the way. I am anticipating a great reunion up yonder (as A. J. would say) one day. For now, we have been left behind to carry the torch. May God help us. Until we meet again …