IVANO SAYS: Gino has sent me some of his memories of "La Costa". Above I have included some of his family photos. Thanks Gino.
Il Gioco è Bello Quando è Corto (1.)
As I partook of my modest Thanksgiving dinner alone, memories came of happier times. Some of the better ones were the few times we all enjoyed a much nicer dinner than my current one.
This was in the old cookhouse on the Gulch Ranch. Valentina Comelli had prepared a sumptuous feast of turkey, ham, or pork roast, with the usual contorni. (2.) There were also various desserts and the ever present coffee with its alcoholic additives, taken with or without the coffee. The entire crew of the ranch was there, along with their families. The exceptions were the non Italian workers who had their own cookhouse.
The title of this piece suggests that things we expected to go on forever, only happened once or twice, at least for me. That makes the memories of them more precious than if they had been more commonplace.
There is, for instance, the time Ivano and I went “hunting” with our air rifles. It was a bright and chilly morning. The sun glittered on the newly formed dew drops on all the leaves of the carcioffi (3.) and sprout plants, forming tiny rainbows of color. Some of the carcioffi plants had been covered with burlap, thus preventing sunlight from reaching them as they grew. The resulting stalks were pure white, and were called, “cardoni”. When picked, they would be cut into lengths of about 3 inches, dipped in egg batter and fried, along with the normal artichokes, which were cut into quarter inch slices. Most delicious along with chicken, cooked in the same way.
As we marched around this scene of tranquility, looking for “game” to shoot, we could smell the odor of Brussells Sprouts, mingled with that of other farm substances. It was exhilarating to breathe in that odor of cleanness. As we passed sprout plants that looked inviting, we would snap off a sprout and eat it raw. This went on for several minutes, at which point our mouths started to suffer the effects of the natural chemical content of the sprouts. Four or five small sprouts was about the limit for us. For all our “hunting” and “stalking”, we never shot anything. Indeed, we never even saw something to shoot. This makes that memory even better for me.
As most young boys do, I was eager to be able to help my father with farm work. Finally, after much begging, I was allowed to accompany him one morning, and was taught how to pick sprouts. I only lasted a few minutes, before I was told to just get out of the way, as I was too slow. So much for my career in farming! Actually, I think my dad was trying to give me a more valuable lesson. He always felt that I should be able to do something more rewarding that farm work. He told me that if I ever went into farming, he would “break my legs.” Of course, I knew he did not mean that literally. He did not live long enough to find out that the Rodoni boys did much better with farming and their other pursuits, than I ever did in my entire career.
Another memorable moment came one morning when I was playing around the area of the barn. Dante Ramacciotti fired up the Caterpillar tractor, and started it moving toward an area in which he was going to plow. He stopped, and motioned for me to come to him. He helped me climb into the seat of the tractor, and started it moving forward. I was allowed to pull on the left turn lever a couple of times and keep the tractor in the proper direction. Though this was a very short ride, perhaps less that 50 yards, it still is unforgettable to me. Tractors were always things of great fascination for me. I still have a tiny hard rubber toy of an Auburn tractor, which was given to me when I was about 2 years old. It still carries a bit of Gulch Ranch dirt on its tiny wheels.
It was on the Gulch Ranch that I learned to drive a car. I was about 9 years old when Costantino Gemignani showed me how to drive the old Ford. I think it was about a 1938 model, and had been heavily used by a previous owner. Constantino (aka Augie) had painted it an ugly brown color, using a brush. My driving was limited to the area between the cookhouse, the barns, and the highway. I never got it past 2nd gear.
Other precious memories are of evenings à veglia (4.) with the Rodoni family. After supper, Dante would set up his movie projector and show home movies of his family.
There were even some shots of my people. I remember the short film of Mario and me, riding toward the camera in pedal operated sidewalk cars, while Andreina and my parents watched. One was a “Nash” painted green with white trim. The other was a “fire engine”, all white with red trim and a chrome bell on the hood.
Those wonderful evenings in which families visited each other were delightful. Unfortunately, the arrival of available television in 1954 put an end to those events. Though I finally decided on a career in TV repair, I soon realized that I was supporting something that was not good for families in general. I think it has done more harm to society that the little good it was able to do. By 1984 television was considered by some people to be no more than a “talking lamp”. With a few exceptions, I agree.
I am thankful for Ivano Comelli, not only for the fine book he has written, (5.) but for his continuing friendship.
Gino 'Babi' Campioni
-------
1. The game is best when it is short.
2. Additional food items.
3. Artichokes.
4. Literally a “wake”,n this case meaning “time spent together”.
5. La Nostra Costa
1. The game is best when it is short.
2. Additional food items.
3. Artichokes.
4. Literally a “wake”,n this case meaning “time spent together”.
5. La Nostra Costa
