VISITING THE ANCESTORS

 Florence and Bat went on a little trip to Genova, Italy, to visit Florence's family at Cimitero di Staglieno: one of the most beautiful cemeteries in the world. 

When I was little, my aunt Virgina brought me to a beautiful garden. I remember the air being hot, dry, and infused with the smell of pine. We wandered through a maze of mysterious sculptured figures and monuments so elaborate in intricate detail, so life-like, I was sure the people were alive under the dusty marble facades. We were visiting our ancestors. The garden was a cemetery, and it was gorgeous. Ghosts of the past are here in their final resting place. And what a beautiful place to be in death. Cimitero Monumental di Staglieno; haunting and so beautiful. I was never to forget it. 

Below is an excerpt of what the American writer Mark Twain said after visiting Staglieno :

 “Our last sight was the cemetery (a burial place intended to accommodate 60,000 bodies), and we shall continue to remember it after we shall have forgotten the palaces. It is a vast marble colonnaded corridor extending around a great unoccupied square of ground; its broad floor is marble, and on every slab is an inscription - for every slab covers a corpse. On either side, as one walks down the middle of the passage, are monuments, tombs, and sculptured figures that are exquisitely wrought and are full of grace and beauty. They are new and snowy; every outline is perfect, every feature guiltless of mutilation, flaw, or blemish; and therefore, to us these far-reaching ranks of bewitching forms are a hundred fold more lovely than the damaged and dingy statuary they have saved from the wreck of ancient art and set up in the galleries of Paris for the worship of the world." 

"Believe nothing you hear and half of what you see." 

GENOA: Stunning sculptures 🏛️, Monumental Cemetery (Cimitero Monumentale di Staglieno)

@batandmaggie @hauntedwalk @rideau_walkingtours @harpercollinsch@ottawabloggers #art #artgallery#ghost #bookstagram #book #booklover #catart #story #instagram #instagood#instadaily #insta #cimiteromonumentale#cimitero#cemetery #halloween #grave #beautiful #haunting

"Come September " ~ 1961 🛵🛵🛵🛵🛵🇮🇹

"Come September " ~ 1961

One of my all-time favorite movies of the sixties " It's September 1st, 2020, wish I was back in 1961, well maybe, a little later since I didn't see this movie until I immigrated to Canada in 64, but Italy was always on my mind. This movie brings back so many sentimental, happy memories.

" I don't *have* to make sense! I'm *Italian*!" 🇮🇹🍕🍝😊


Love Grows ♥️🌱Autumn Clematis covered in buds is just about to bloom. Do you see the heart? I didn't plant it this way.🍀💚

" COME SEPTEMBER "~ 1961

STARRING ~  ROCK HUDSON, GINA LOLLOBRIGIDA, SANDRA DEE, AND BOBBY DARIN

ITALIAN STALLION 🇮🇹🍕

Bat is Rocky today

Rocky Balboa: [turns and walks away with his son]

"You know, I think you try harder when you’re scared… That’s when it’s worked best for me. " Rocky Balboa

Photo by M 

ROCKY BALBOA

PINK PANTHER ~ MEGLIO STASERA 🇮🇹🐱🍀🇨🇦 ♥️🙏

Reminiscing at the moment...

 When M took a picture of Bat in the pink kitty cat hat and named it Pink Panther it took me back to the 1963 movie Pink Panther and Fran Jefferies singing Meglio Stasera in the Ski Chalet , MIRAMONTI in Cortina D'ampezzo in the province of Belluno. 

My dad was born there as most of the Livinal family. On my mother's side, Sposaro's family comes from Genova, Naples, and Calabria. Pretty much covering a good part of Italy. Most of our family lives in northern Italy. So, because today it is what it is, I am sharing this post with everyone. A Pink Panther Gatto and this beautiful Italian song to makes things a little more cheery.🇮🇹 🐱🍀🇨🇦♥️🙏

And for Caturday, a Pink Panther who now has claimed the gothic chair for his own with the soft black velvet pillow which has you can see he almost disappears if not for his pink hat. lol 

Meglio Stasera ~ Fran Jefferies

ForbinColossus Thanks for uploading this wonderful video, brings much joy! 

The music of Henry Mancini that added the magic to the 1963 film, The Pink Panther. "Meglio Statsera" (Italian for It Had Better Be Tonight), Sung by Fran Jeffries. Lyrics by Franco Migliacci: 

Meglio stasera, che domani o mai 

Domani chi lo sa, quel che sara

Non mi dire d'aspettare

Il domani che verra

E una porta che tu chiudi

Fra me e te

Se stasera ti decidi 

A rispondermi di si, 

I domani che verrano 

Li dedico solo a te

Megglio stasera, che domani o mai 

Domani chi lo sa, quel che sara 

Nasce il giorno e il giorno muore, 

E la notte portera 

L'incertezza del domani,

Chissa, chissa

Basta un desiderio solo 

A non farti riposar,

E una pulce sul lenzuolo 

Che dormire non ti fa 

Meglio stasera, che domani o mai 

Domani chi lo sa, quel che sarra solos

Se stasera ti decidi 

A rispondermi di si, 

I domani che verrano 

Li dedico solo a te 

Megglio stasera, che domani o mai 

Domani chi lo sa, quel che sara 

English Translation (Let me know if this is wrong, please): 

Better tonight, than tomorrow or never Tomorrow who knows what will be? 

Don't tell me to wait for tomorrow to be it's a door that you're closing between you and me if you decide tonight to answer me with a yes the tomorrows that will come I'll devote them only to you. Better tonight, than tomorrow or never Tomorrow who knows what will be? The day was born and the day dies, and the night will bring the uncertainty of tomorrow Who knows, who knows? Just a single enticement can make you unrest; it's a flea on the sheet that won't let you sleep Better tonight, than tomorrow or never Tomorrow who knows what will be?

LILIES OF THE VALLEY

When at the end of spring I pick for the last time
My favourite flowers— a yearning fills my breast,
And to the future I urgently appeal:
Let me but once again look upon the lilies of the valley.
Now they have faded. Like an arrow the summer has flown by,
The days have grown shorter. The feathered choir is still,
The sun more charily grants us its warmth and light,
And already the wood has laid its leafy carpet.
Then when harsh winter comes
And the forests don their snowy cover,
Despondently I roam and wait with new yearning
For the skies to shine with the sun of spring.
I find no pleasure in books, or conversation,
Or swift-rushing sledges, or the ball's noisy glitter,
Or Patti, or the theatre, or delicate cuisine,
Or the quiet crackling of smouldering logs on the fire
I wait for spring. And now the enchantress appears,
The wood has cast off its shroud
And prepares for us shade,
And the rivers start to flow, and the grove is filled with sound,
And at last the long-looked-for day is here!
Quick to the woods!—I race along the familiar path.
Can my dreams have come true, my longings be fulfilled?—
There he is! Bending to the earth, with trembling hand
I pluck the wondrous gift of the enchantress Spring.
O lily of the valley, why do you so please the eye?
Other flowers there are more sumptuous and grand,
With brighter colours and livelier patterns,
Yet they have not your mysterious fascination.
Where lies the secret of your charms? What do you prophesy to the soul?
With what do you attract me, with what gladden my heart?
Is it that you revive the ghost of former pleasures,
Or is it future bliss that you promise us?
I know not. But your balmy fragrance,
Like flowing wine, warms and intoxicates me,
Like music, it takes my breath away,
And like a flame of love, it suffuses my burning cheeks.
And I am happy while you bloom, modest lily of the valley,
The tedium of winter days has passed without a trace,
And oppressive thoughts are gone, and in my heart in languid comfort
Welcomes, with you, forgetfulness of trouble and woe.
Yet now you fade. Again in monotonous succession
The days will begin to flow slowly, and stronger than before
Will I be tormented by importunate yearning,
By the agonizing dream of the happiness of days in May.

And then someday spring again will call
And raise the living world out of its fetters.
But the hour will strike. I shall be no more among the living,
I shall meet, like everyone, my fated turn.
And then what?—Where, at the winged hour of death,
Will my soul, heeding its command, soundlessly soar?
No answer! Be silent, my restless mind,
You cannot guess what eternity holds for us.
But like all of nature, drawn by our thirst to live,
We call to you and wait, beautiful Spring!
The joys of earth are so near to us, so familiar—
The yawning maw of the grave so dark! ~ PYOTR LLYICH TCHAIKOVSKY

Spring is late this year but on a good note, it gave me a chance to pick my favorite flower...LILIES OF THE VALLEY and I was ☘️ to find this painting "Lady of Shallott" by Waterhouse.