The Abruzzese village was as one would expect, replete with
copper-colored roofs, mountain pine trees, aging edifices, and a
host of onlookers scrutinizing had barely moved into the village
center of their grandmother's youth when the natives began
emerging from their geranium-laden window frames and through
the hanging beads of the town's main bar. Why are you here, the
locals asked without speaking a word. "Our nonna was born here,
in Campo di Giove," one cousin began in italiano, "more than 100
years ago. We're here in search of roots. Of family." "Her
name?" an elderly woman called down from her post. "Rubeo.
Her name was Beatrice Rubeo." "Rest here," a gentleman
uttered softly behind the visitors. "I will return immediately."
And he did, with his aunt-by-marriage, who stretched to reach
4'10" in her impeccable leather shoes. "I understand you are
Rubeos," she said when she first spoke. "Si, we are Rubeos." "I,
too, am a Rubeo. Come. Come with me. I will help you with
everything." And with that, the cousins - new and old - walked up
the steep path to Iolanda's 435 year-old family home and toward
a visit that would bring their grandparents and their parents and
theirs, too, back to life in ways that, for years, had been long
forgotten.
"Martha Cummings doesn't just write, she inspires. Only a few chapters into her
latest book, I found myself on the phone with my oldest living relatives feverishly
writing down every word they could remember of our family's heritage. Just as the
picture on the cover draws you in, this author's writing captivates the reader in
such a way that people come in from other rooms of the house and ask you what
you are laughing at and why you look so starry-eyed upon putting it down. The
description of Italia is so vivid that it transports you across the Atlantic (no passport
required). Reading the restaurant scenes compelled me to open a bottle of red and
fry up some anchovies! One scene she describes in Campo di Giove took me back
to my Italian grandmother's table with all the various offerings of an ordinary
mid-week lunch. Anyone who has ever been to Italia needs to read this book...
which is nothing short of magical."
copper-colored roofs, mountain pine trees, aging edifices, and a
host of onlookers scrutinizing had barely moved into the village
center of their grandmother's youth when the natives began
emerging from their geranium-laden window frames and through
the hanging beads of the town's main bar. Why are you here, the
locals asked without speaking a word. "Our nonna was born here,
in Campo di Giove," one cousin began in italiano, "more than 100
years ago. We're here in search of roots. Of family." "Her
name?" an elderly woman called down from her post. "Rubeo.
Her name was Beatrice Rubeo." "Rest here," a gentleman
uttered softly behind the visitors. "I will return immediately."
And he did, with his aunt-by-marriage, who stretched to reach
4'10" in her impeccable leather shoes. "I understand you are
Rubeos," she said when she first spoke. "Si, we are Rubeos." "I,
too, am a Rubeo. Come. Come with me. I will help you with
everything." And with that, the cousins - new and old - walked up
the steep path to Iolanda's 435 year-old family home and toward
a visit that would bring their grandparents and their parents and
theirs, too, back to life in ways that, for years, had been long
forgotten.
"Martha Cummings doesn't just write, she inspires. Only a few chapters into her
latest book, I found myself on the phone with my oldest living relatives feverishly
writing down every word they could remember of our family's heritage. Just as the
picture on the cover draws you in, this author's writing captivates the reader in
such a way that people come in from other rooms of the house and ask you what
you are laughing at and why you look so starry-eyed upon putting it down. The
description of Italia is so vivid that it transports you across the Atlantic (no passport
required). Reading the restaurant scenes compelled me to open a bottle of red and
fry up some anchovies! One scene she describes in Campo di Giove took me back
to my Italian grandmother's table with all the various offerings of an ordinary
mid-week lunch. Anyone who has ever been to Italia needs to read this book...
which is nothing short of magical."
| THE WISDOM OF ANGELS: UNEARTHING MY ITALIAN ROOTS |
| BOOKS |
| For an autographed copy, please contact me directly at MTCummings@aol.com. You may also order a copy by clicking on Amazon or Barnes & Noble. |
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