Sue Ellen Haning - Two Nuts in Italy

Sue Ellen Haning

Copyright 2009, 2011 by Sue EllenHaning

This book is dedicated to Jarrod, Jake, andJenny.

Thank you for your brilliant inspiration.

I love you.

Thank you to my readers Betsey Hale, JeanLewis Koch, and Kathy Lee for your faithful friendship and work onthis book.

Thank you to friends who offered suggestionsand daily encouraged me, to the Italian people who unselshlyshared themselves, to the Starbucks at Eighth and University Avenuein Lubbock, Texas, where I wrote this entire book, to Debbie Burk,Lydia Eubank, Margaret Nagy Dobbs, Janie Harms, Jean Lewis Koch,Susanne Wiley, and Natalie Goldberg, to Chip Polk for the artcover, and to Jenny for inviting me on the trip of a lifetime.

Youre Nuts

You want to do what? Are you nuts? Dont theEuropeans hate us? What about terrorists? Oh, no, Ill be worriedsick about you, exclaimed an incredulous friend. I felt the needto discuss this sudden opportunity with my peers, but maybe I couldjust send them an e-mail after the fact. I hung up the phone, tooka deep breath, and called another friend and another and another,to be met with, Remember, it is Jenny who is twenty-one, not you!Howls of laughter followed,You are going to carry a pack on yourback all summer? A reality check is in order here. Then I heard areassuring comment from my friend Robin when I explained theinvitation extended me by my daughter Jenny to join her backpackingthrough Italy for the three summer months. Why not? Id do it,she assured.

Really? I asked. Then Lydia and Janie,concerned about my eighty-eight-year-old mother I had been caringfor the past two years, sent me soaring back to reality with, Butwho will care for your mother? Others were not so encouraging, andthe wordnuts kept coming up in conversations in reference to theidea or to me. The idea thrilled me, and that thrill surprised me,since foolishness and frivolity are not normally a part of mynature, as evidenced by the term of endearment Jenny bestowed on mewhen she was fteen. During her farewell speech the night sherelinquished her crown at the local beauty pageant, she fondlyreferred to me as,my mother, the Terminator. I looked around tosee confused faces, both male and female. After all, what lovingdaughter labels her mother The Terminator? Thank God, she gave abrief explanation to the perplexed crowd. My mother is an expertat removing all social blocks to my accomplishing the goals setfor me during my reign, she said, then continuing with her beautyqueen smile, She is unequaled in making sure all daily tasks arecompleted, taking care of business, and forging ahead, conqueringall that needs vanquishing. I was sure that every person in theroom who looked at me saw Arnold Schwarzenegger. Suddenly myve-foot-four-inch formerly solid frame spilled into a puddlebeneath my chair. While today we laugh at this, Jenny stillintroduces me occasionally as my mom, the Terminator. It workswell with any guys shes not too interested in.

My twenty-one-year-olddaughter wants me to spend the summer with her. Thethought still thrills me, and I take it as a great compliment. Eachtime I think about the possibilities of such a trip, I smile. Ivebeen a teacher for thirty-ve years and always sought knowledge.Now I can lose myself across the ocean. I can learn things byaccident. I want adventure to nd me. I want to be surrounded bythings I dont understand and maybe even experience hardship. Iwant to relinquish control and surrender serendipitously. I want tolive for three months with only what I can carry on my back.

Ahhhh, the pleasures of midlife! Usually withmidlife comes empty nest syndrome. I have it.Empty nest is aphenomenon. Its scary, sad, and shocking, while also enlighteningand challenging. It forces stay-at-home moms to re-inventthemselves. For me, it is hard to shake the feelings of lonelinessand uselessness I experience with children no longer needing me ona daily basis. At times, I feel obsolete, like my worth ischallenged. My children have all moved away, and its painful tolove someone who is awayyou can no longer share in their dailylives. With no children in the house, my thoughts turn inward, andrealities I never before considered emerge, like Im free , Im going todie , What do I do with myhands , Break this painfulsilence , and then No, I like thesilence, no one notices me , and other irrationalimaginings. I have a chance to have another career. The challengeis going from full-time mom and teacher to whatever I want tobecomeartist, politician, bartender, landscaper, travel guru,writer, or welder. I have thoughts I didnt know I was capable ofhaving because of this new position, but the mom-mode hangs on me.I cant shake it because I dont want to. If Jenny asks me to gowith her, maybe she still needs me. Mom is the career that wins. Iremember in my youth, the clocks hands seemed to drag along or notmove at all, but once I hit my 50s, those same hands spinrecklessly out of control, counting down the minutes until it ismy time. Would a three-month, devil-may-care trip abroad slow thehands?

* * *

In 1998, Jenny, her voice teacher, and Ispent four days in Italy as part of a two-week, whirlwind tripthrough four European countries. Before this trip, we joined aworld-wide organization for travelers called Servas. A list ofavailable members, phone numbers, and personal information, wassent to us from the countries we planned to visit. Servass membersoffered their homes to travelers who made prior arrangements withthem. The stays were limited to one night unless the host extendedit. We stayed in homes in Germany and Austria, and Jenny realizedhow much more she enjoyed these two countries because of thepersonal time we had with our host families. Jenny was fourteen andfell in love with romantic, slower-paced Italy. Curiosity hadpinched her, and she wanted to experience Italy on a deeper level,to learn its culture. She vowed she would return to Italy one dayand spend several months there. Now, at twenty-one, nothing couldhold her back. Her plan was for us to take a backpack, little cash,no credit cards, stay in homes of Italians we did not know (orsleep on park benches if necessary), have no itinerary, keep to thesmall towns and countryside for the full cultural experience, takethe opportunities given us to make things happen, and experience asummer of learning, adventures, and wonderful memories while justdrifting with the wind. This was the idea that created disbelief inthe minds of my friends, because once you reach the age offty-six, the world expects you to demonstrate reason, not recklessinsanity, and staying with strangers in a country whose language wedid not speak in the year 2005 screamed Nuts-o.

I was going to be a hippie, a gypsyor a nut.I passed up my rst opportunity in the 1960s. I was too good ormaybe too scared to spread my wings too far. I never smoked weed,dropped acid, or took part in the mind-altering excursions. I guessthe issue was control. I could stop drinking, but I didnt know howfar the trip might take me, which made tripping prospectsscary. Now at my age, tapes ran through my mind daily. I washearing life is short, enjoy the moment, and it kept squeezingthrough every crack in my Terminator guard. My clock continuedticking, and my daughter was giving me the opportunity to test thelimits of my comfort zone. Suddenly I couldnt get enough of theidea. The old songs ran continuously through my head. Its been along time since I rock and rolled, Where have all the owersgone, There is a house in New Orleans, Come on baby, light myre. My thoughts were in a never-before-visited realm. The thoughtof wreckless adventures was lighting my re. I must admit thattraipsing through a foreign country with nothing but my faith, abackpack, and an overly condent twenty-one-year-old had never beena dream of mine, but just thinking about the possibilities made ita dream. People do this all the time, right?Go for it, Iscreamed. One last adventure before the ole body wears out. Myknees, which had given me trouble for fteen years, had beenbehaving lately. My thoughts scared me. I even dreamed of swimmingnude in the Mediterranean Sea. Im the person who was always afraidto put the kids in the car and go without another adult on board.As a child, my father took us on well-planned, two-week sightseeingvacations, but this time there would be no plan. Nothing was out ofthe question. I embraced the thought that I could see everythingwith different eyes and leave all my beliefs and securities athome.