Travels from the Time Vault: Naples

The tall mountains of the Mediterranean coastline seemed even larger from on top of them.  I had spent the last two hours on a bus full of kids my age—twelve and thirteen years old—ascending the majestic peaks ever so slowly, each circle we did around them bringing us closer and closer to the point where I felt uncomfortable staring thousands of feet down to the small foreign fishing towns below.  The mere sight of the distance between sea level and me made my stomach twist but also gave me a sense of wonder when I realized just how small the area was.

The coach was parked ten or so feet away and the laughter of children filled the area.  All the kids piled out of the bus holding their prospective gifts. Some were holding New York Yankees hats; others were holding American flag pencils or bandanas, and even some were holding American baseball cards to hand off in a few minutes.  We were all told to bring souvenirs and items that a foreigner would find intriguing. It was in the packet of information we received at orientation.

The sound of exchanged “buongiornos” and “ciaos” sparked a memory from orientation months before in the elementary school in Antioch, when we all sat in circles and learned basic Italian so we could converse without looking lost.  

The pitter-patter of feet on the concrete and the bounce of a basketball made me turn around.  A dozen kids or so shouting words to each other in Italian passed the ball back and forth and attempted to shoot until it bounced off the rim and headed into the other side of the court.

We had been told there were at least a hundred or so parentless children, all of them living here on the small countryside Italian mountain range near the tip of the boot.  I couldn’t imagine possibly living without parents, whatever the reason for having to do so: loss at an early age, put up for adoption, or any other circumstance.

“Buongiorno,” a young boy said as he ran up to me, seeing the American flag bandanas and Chicago Cubs baseball cards in hand.  A few other students around me gathered as the boy, probably around five or six, took all of us in one by one.

“Buongiorno,” I said and bent down, offering him a gift.  His deep brown eyes lit up and he grabbed a bandana, hugging me.  He took me by surprise, but I hugged him back, until he pulled away from me.

“Grazie,” he shouted and ran back to his friends.

“You’re welcome,” I mumbled.  I watched him explain to his friends that the guests were here and they came bearing gifts.  It gave me a sense of joy knowing they were excited to see us.

Within a matter of seconds, the entire group of basketball playing kids came over and swarmed around us.  Five or so of us students gave them gifts, exchanging quick hellos, thank yous, and you’re welcomes. Two minutes later, gifts were gone and we were invited to go over and play some ball with them.  

I played on the girls’ side, exchanging names in brief short sentences to lessen confusion since they were so young, and there was the obvious language barrier.  All the same, we played for about an hour or so, playing basketball until beads of sweat dripped from our foreheads. The girls on my side were barely up to my waist, looking over at me in wonder as I passed them the ball and encouraged them on with a few “good jobs” and “there you gos” when they made a good pass or a good shot.  They all looked excited when I cheered them on, although I could tell by the look in their eyes that they didn’t quite know what I was saying but that it was good to hear.

After about an hour, our leaders called it quits for the day.  By high noon, we began boarding the bus.

I went to my seat at the window, watching as the little kids gathered to wave to us.  My heart went out to them, watching and wondering if the next group of visitors would be the next to pick them up and take them to a new home where they were made homemade breakfast, given a good morning kiss, and taken to school and wished good luck.  I hoped that someday soon they would see their future mother and father walk up to the main office and ask to see the children ready to be adopted and that in that same day they would be given the good news. My wish was that someday they would have a family like I did back in Lake Bluff.