Pandemic Diary V- Love Letter from Florence, Italy

I miss Brooklyn. 

I admit that since I left nearly 7 years ago, I’ve had moments of missing things about Brooklyn, but I was very present in my new life in Florence, Italy and loved living here…until now. Today we are on day 48 of our lockdown in Italy. My people back in NYC think they’re on lockdown, but trust me, they’re not.

The Coronavirus made it to Italy in early February and by March 9^th, the entire country was shut down. It happened so fast. I mean Italy is not exactly a place that you would ever call “efficient” so the way it went down was shocking. Since the lockdown, Italy has become what I call a “police state” and that means I can’t do shit without risking a serious fine. I can’t go by myself for a walk or a drive – unless I am going to the pharmacy, the supermarket or a doctor. Before leaving the house, you need to prepare yourself to be stopped by any of the 3 police forces and have your signed documents declaring you’re not sick, where you live and where you’re going. And if not on “an essential mission” your ass is getting a fine anywhere between 400 and 4000 euros. God forbid you’re 2 people together, you’re totally screwed. If 2 people are in the car, one has to be in the back seat (one of the many rules that make absolutely no sense to me). Basically, I have to stay the fuck home or stay within 200 meters of my house or risk a fine. This is lockdown. Actually, this is a war of sorts and this Brooklyn girl is pissed that I didn’t have the foresight to choose my comrades correctly.

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Before the lockdown was official and we really had no idea what we were in for, we talked about going back to NY, but decided we would stay put. Our son Dean was supposed to graduate from high school and we couldn’t risk missing that. Hindsight can be a very cruel thing.

I mean the first couple of weeks were fine. At first, I felt as if I’d almost manifested time slowing down and getting to spend quality time with my son who’s supposed to go to college in the fall. We are lucky enough to live in a roomy house with lots of property to move around with our 2 poochies. We were cooking, eating, laughing, playing cards. Sure, we could do this for a couple of weeks…ahhh, the innocence. We were happy and grateful fools. I was even impressed with how swiftly the Italian government went into action…and I still am. Very fucking impressed. But, again, that hindsight is a bitch. The Brooklyn girl in me doesn’t feel comfortable being locked down and afraid to go anywhere. I understand the gravity of the situation, and I would have locked myself down regardless of the police presence, but they made this shit feel like a war and I have no idea who to call the enemy.

While I am sure the sentiments might be the same everywhere during this global pandemic, I long for my people of Brooklyn.

My parents immigrated to the US from Italy in the 60s, settled in Brooklyn and I was born and raised in Sheepshead Bay during the 70s and 80s. This means that I am a tough chick, with lots of heart and humor and I am guided by this inner force of community and connection. As dangerous as NYC was during that time, for some reason we felt safe, because we were in Brooklyn. Everyone watched out for each other, and when we had beef with someone, we dealt with it face on. No whining and complaining (perhaps a lot of screaming), but Brooklynites are no one’s victim. Did we lose our shit from time to time? Of course we did. Brooklynites are passionate about their shit. But you came together and handled your problems. No one ever snitched, because that was the lowest thing you could do (got that, Mr. de Blasio?). We grew up in a time before people got offended at everything and lost their sense of humor. In fact, the Brooklyn I grew up in was quite fond of offending each other just to get a laugh. We should all be watching out and taking care of each other, especially right now. I wish that the US was taking better care of us and that we didn’t have to worry about basic needs like healthcare and toilet paper. But they’re not. It’s up to us to make each other feel safe.

When the terrorists attacked NYC on that morning of September 11, 2001, despite the fear and uncertainty, our other superpowers -connection and resilience – kicked into gear. I have never felt a connection to every single person like I did during that time. The city survived on that feeling of oneness and connection and we rose above the fear and uncertainty together. No one had to tell us what to do; we were guided by that inner force with our feet planted firmly on top of our New York roots. I go into town here in Florence and if God forbid I catch someone’s eyes to make a connection, they turn their head. As we say in Brooklyn, get the fuck outta here. I mean, do you really think you’re going to catch the virus through eye contact? But I don’t get offended, because their actions speak of who they are; not who I am. Fear is what this virus feeds on; it makes us feel separate and vulnerable. Just like we did during the terrorism scare, we will heal in community. 

I don’t really listen to the news, but I see videos of my NYC brothers and sisters clapping out their windows for essential workers. I even watched a video of a friend who placed his speakers outside his window and blasted Brooklyn-boy-Jay Z’s “Empire State of Mind” for the whole block to hear. And what about the other night when the fire trucks lined up in front of Columbia-Presbyterian Hospital and one of NYs bravest belted out the Jimi Hendrix version of the National Anthem on his guitar? I cried like a baby from my expat home. I wanna go back to Brooklyn and be in the bosom of my people. It’s not that I don’t like the Florentines – that’s not it at all, because they too are a resilient people and I am incredibly grateful to the Italians and my life here. The supermarkets are still filled with food and all the essentials and I have my bidet, but they don’t have that Brooklyn blood that bonds us.

For 48 days the only stores that have been open are pharmacies, fresh food markets and tobacco stores (the Italian “essential services”). That means that every other business has been shut down, leaving many many people facing financial ruin in one fell swoop. The other day I got the most amazing news – a friend was opening his restaurant and they were going to deliver pizza! I felt as if I’d won the lottery! My son is lactose intolerant, but fuck it, he’ll have the leftovers in the fridge. I immediately contacted the people on our property with the good news.

See, I live in a 15^th century villa that sits on a hill right outside the city center and this villa was cut up into apartments about 20 years ago, so there are about 8 of us that live on this property. I was so incredibly disappointed to get their responses that they will make their own pizzas. Now, of course I was excited at the prospect of not cooking for the first time in 6 weeks, but I was even more excited about the sense of rebuilding community and being able to help these small businesses. The opportunity of helping a family and a business get back on their feet gives me an incredible amount of joy and hope. Call it the New York in me.

This is the second time I’ve left Brooklyn. The first time was in 1992 when I crossed the bridge into Manhattan, because I needed to do the whole sex, city and career thing of the 90s and noughties. In 2007, I crossed the bridge back into Brooklyn, but chose Park Slope for its community feel, good schools and bagels. Park Slope was a very different place than the Brooklyn where I grew up. My son attended PS 39 and sometimes I felt like I was the only native Brooklynite amongst a field of transplants. But Mother Earth Brooklyn is a powerful bitch where transplants thrive. A few years later, we bought our house in Fiske Terrace, which I thought would be my final resting place. I guess we’ve all figured out by now that man makes plans and God laughs. In 2013, my family moved to Florence, where I became the transplant, except here, we call ourselves the expats. Life seemed a little easier here, as the Italians really do understand la dolce vita. So, within this new environment, my Brooklyn superpowers helped me thrive and I created an incredible community here. But then the lockdown happened and suddenly I found myself crying for Mother Brooklyn. It’s been the hardest part of this lockdown – missing New York.

Well, maybe the hardest part of the lockdown was yesterday when I lost my internet (and lost my shit). They can get a whole country sitting home in a matter of days, but these fuckers still cannot understand how to improve their internet. 

I don’t know when I will be able to get back to NY, as I don’t think easy air travel will be possible for a while in and out of Europe. But I just want to scream across the ocean to my people, “You got this!” NYC is an army of power prepared for any war and capable of rebuilding a better, more evolved community. It’s time to be old school and to not let the assholes get you down. That which offends you, weakens you.

Every day when you wake up, put on your cape and decide what type of person you’re going to be and how you’d like to be remembered during this time. Will you have brought people up or will you have bitched and complained? You can choose to sit in the kryptonite of fear and offense, or look within and find your superpower. 

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