Prince william & Kate Middleton

About a year ago, when Prince William married Kate Middleton, I ran across an article that stated that the pair were actually 12th cousins, once removed. I was amused. Wow! Being an avid genealogist I think that these findings are quite remarkable. 12th cousins once removed, means the genealogists that researched their ancestries had to go back roughly 12-13 generations to find the common ancestor. Not a hard find since royal roots are well documented.

We always hear of these sort of things, I read in another article that President Obama was 9th cousin with Brad Pitt and Hillary Clinton and Angelina Jolie were 9th cousin twice removed.
What is this ‘removed’ business you may ask? It’s generational. Say your first cousin has a child. You and this child are not 2nd cousins, you are first cousin once removed.  The grandchild of your cousin is still your first cousin, twice removed. Your children and your cousin’s child are 2nd cousins. Your grandchild and your cousin’s grandchildren are third cousins. Clear as mud, right? Ha Ha.

I was recently contacted by a long lost relative from Italy regarding our common great-great-grandfather, Giovanni Corradin, who was born in 1819. I found his baptismal record in the town church where he was born and it was an amazing find, considering it was all written in Latin. Thank goodness for my Latin lessons in 7th grade, I can’t believe they actually came in handy! At any rate, this long lost relative, as I found out, it’s actually my third cousin. My grandpa and his grandpa were first cousins, as our great-grandfathers were brothers. It made my day that he took the time to find me.
On that day, when I found Giovanni’s baptismal record, I also found out his father’s name was Leonardo (my great-great-great-grandfather), born sometime in the late 1700s. My newly found third cousin found all of this info online when I posted it in the early 2000s while his wife was pregnant with their second baby. When he saw that not only his great-grandfather but his great-great-great-grandfather were named Leonardo, he decided that if the new baby was a boy, they would name him that. When he found me he said it was because of me that he named his son Leonardo! Amazing, really.

It was about 3 weeks ago that I was able to make HUGE strides on my husband’s family tree. One of his mom’s ancestors, her dad’s mother, had a last name of Aldrich, which intrigued me, since one of my best gals I met while working at MicroAge was this great (and greatly missed) English woman whose last name was Aldrich and told me a few times of her famous roots. When I finally made the connection with the Aldrich’s in my husband’s tree, it was one for the books. Because of this one find I was able to trace this branch of the tree to one of the first Governors of Rhode Island (his 7th Great-Grandfather), a passenger on the Mayflower (his 10th Great-Grandfather), Knights, Medieval Noblemen and when I hit CharleMagne, my mouth dropped. Of course at this point, roughly 1200 years ago, ancestry estimates him being his 37th Great-Grandfather. I was excited beyond belief when a great friend brought me back to earth. Guess what, he told me, you’re probably related to CharleMagne too.

CharleMagne, King of the Franks & Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire

Charlemagne was King of the Franks and Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire. He had 20 children and each one of his children had large families which spread all over Europe. This article and this article explain how, if you have ANY European ancestors in your family tree, you’re most likely related to Charlemagne.
When you think about it, it’s true, if you go back far enough, we’re all cousins. Do the math. You have two parents, four grandparents, eight great-grandparents, and so forth. By the time you’re back ten generations, you’ve got 1,024 ancestors. Twenty generations puts you over the million mark, and somewhere around thirty generations, your ancestors would seem to outnumber the world’s entire population at the time.

Since being excited about CharleMagne was overstated, I decided to get excited about possible present-day connections, like the ones for William and Kate. Surely other important people in the past 100 years had the same ancestors as my husband. Finding these connections is not as easy as it may sound, but the best way to go about it is finding whichever ancestor you want to work with, say, Richard Warren, who was the passenger on the Mayflower, and Google, YES, Google: “Famous Descendants of Richard Warren”. I did this for a few other of his ancestors (not all, I am just starting this!) and I found and confirmed a few connections. Lucille Ball was the first, his 9th cousin once removed, Richard Gere, 10th Cousin, and my two favorite connections, President Taft, 7th cousin twice removed, and President Roosevelt, 7th cousin 4 times removed.
Once I get a ‘hint’ of a potential distant cousin, I look for their family tree online and when I find it, I trace it back to the common ancestor to prove the connection. Just for fun I enter the direct line of connection to ancestry.com so it can tell me how the relationship turns out to be, what #cousin etc. Quite fun, but quite time consuming as well. Hopefully by the end of the summer I’ll be able to do more investigating!

It’s important to note that my being able to go back to CharleMagne to begin with on that one lonely branch of the tree seems to be more the exception than the rule. In Italy, for example, the unification did not occur until 1861, which means that if your ancestor was born before then, you will not be able to find the info at the local town hall, but you’ll have to dig through church records, if you know WHICH church to go to. Churches kept books in a few categories, baptisms, funerals, marriages and even communions at times. These books, depending on how old the church is, can go back to perhaps the Renaissance if you’re lucky, but be careful! None of these books are in alphabetical order, they are all hand written (and some handwriting is downright awful) and before mid-1800s they are written in Latin. When you find a record is a treasure trove! The example of a baptism, for example will say the name of the baby, the day it was born, the day the baptism took place, then it starts with the father’s name, which town he’s from (helpful to find which church to go to find info for him), the name of HIS father (which will say fu or ex next to the name if he’s deceased at the time of the baptism) and also his father. It does the same for the mother. One baptism record can help you trace back two to three generations.
Anytime before the Renaissance, however, your name would not likely be written down unless you had some royal ties of some sort. I guarantee you that if you were just some poor farmer, your existence would go unrecorded. Royal roots on the other hand, are well documented because their stories were important to trace lineage and can usually be found in any number of history books, rather than slowly dug up one document at a time. You would be surprised at the amount of history books and the details of royal families at the time.

It’s also important to note that being able to trace  your family back revolves around tracing surnames. In Europe, surnames weren’t used until the 10th or 11th centuries AD in Venice. Gradually throughout Europe, all nobility and gentry adopted surnames until eventually surnames were used by all Europeans of all classes. In Britain, hereditary surnames were adopted in the 13th and 14th centuries, initially by the aristocracy but eventually by everyone. By 1400, most English and Scottish people had acquired surnames, but many Scottish and Welsh people did not adopt surnames until the 17th century, or even later. It was none other than the infamous King Henry VIII who ordered that marital births be recorded under the surname of the father, so that’s why being able to trace a family tree beyond the Renaissance is such an enormous task if your roots do not involve the aristocracy.

Ivrea's castle

Knowing all of this makes me even more interested in tracing my family tree, especially my mom’s side. My maternal grandparents and great-grandparents all lived in the Piedmont region of Italy, either in Turin or around the area, so I can only dream of a connection, however faint, with the Savoia Royal family, which governed Italy for nearly 1000 years. The Savoias lived in this area for hundreds of years, had large families, and made Ivrea the capital at one point, and then Turin. Ivrea, my hometown, was home to several of the Savoia’s family members and the castle of Ivrea was built by the Duke Amedeo VI of Savoia in the mid 1300s. What are the chances? Hmmm…
Even if I find zero connections, I will try to find comfort in the fact that I am at the very least related to CharleMagne. Me and my billion cousins with European Ancestry!

I grew up in Europe, Italy to be exact. I never realized how different growing up there was until I now compare my son’s childhood in the US with my nieces and nephew back in Italy. There is no comparison. Apples and Oranges.  I can’t even say that one is better than the other, it all depends on what is important to you. Having lived in both places, I have an unique prospective, I can actually compare and contrast without being biased.

School Lunch in Italy

For example… I love the team spirit of American High Schools, the willingness to make school ‘fun’ no matter the subject, the extracurricular activities and the graduation ceremonies that just do not exists in Italy. On the other side of the coin, I honestly feel Italian schools do a much better job in teaching geography, foreign languages (I was at one point completely fluent in French) and the field trips were superb… and… I didn’t even mention School Lunches! My mom is a great cook, but I always enjoyed eating in the cafeteria, the food was amazing. That cannot be said here at all, can it? Like I said, apples and oranges.

Wanna hear more apples and orange stories?
My sister bought a condominium in Italy a few years ago. I am not too familiar with mortgages in Italy, and I know the down-payment was rather large, but suffice to say that her payments are even. Which means that whatever interest she is paying on the loan, she does not pay ALL the interest first, with paying off the mortgage itself coming last at the end of the loan’s life. Nop. My dad says it’s against the law! Each payment reflects a portion going against paying off the principal, plus whatever interest portion for that month, and it’s equal for the entire life of the loan. Of course that was not the case with our house, our ‘American Dream’. Do I sound sarcastic? I am. Yes, our house is much bigger, but our mortgage… we might as well call it a ‘disaster’.

My abandoned neighborhood, circa 2009

When we moved in this ‘new’ neighborhood back in 2006, homes were in the $300k range and the banks would NOT give anyone a 30 year loan UNLESS you had a 20% down-payment. Needless to say, nobody here had $60-70k just sitting around hence not a single one of my neighbors was able to get that elusive 30 year loan. Not even my sweet neighbor who moved next door the day after we did and put $60k down. Instead, depending on the down-payment and credit scores, they gave everyone a 2, 3 or 5 year ARM and if you ‘behaved’ and made your payments on time, they would let you refinance at the end of the term and give you the 30 year loan. Only… 2 years later the home bubble burst, and homes’ values went down to one third of their original price. Here’s a little known fact: Banks will only refinance up to the VALUE of the house, not whatever the original loan was for. My entire neighborhood became vacant. Homeowners were faced with the downfall of the ARMS, unable to refinance. If they stayed with their original loan, the payment would double or go up at least $1,000, or, they could just walk away. Sure, their credit would be ruined, but what other choice was there? It really angered me when on TV I would hear pundits blaming the consumers for buying homes they could not ‘afford’. Guess what… if the greedy banks would have given homeowners the 30 year loans up front, NONE of this would have happened. And, that’s the sad truth. As for us? We applied for a modification for our loan about 4 times now, we’re still waiting. At least our payment is not going up. As per ever owning this house… I am doubtful.
BTW, there was no such thing as house bubble burst in Italy. Hmmm.

Another apples and oranges issue that is near and dear to my heart is Health Care. Actually in this case, things are SO different, I should say one is a fruit, say, apple and one something completely different, like… gum, or a potato chip. They do not even fall into the same category. One is a fruit, one is junk. Unfortunately on this issue I do vastly prefer the Italian system, and for good reason. The American system left me with a mountain of medical bills resulting in a bankruptcy, which led us to lose our house, our cars, everything, and we were never without insurance. Bills included services and products insurance refused to pay for and mounting co-pays that left even my bankruptcy lawyer baffled.
I am not alone. 60% of all bankruptcies result from Medical Bills. Rick Santorum paid over $100k of his own money for products and services for his disabled daughter, which is more than most Americans earn in a year, yet he’s the first to tell you he wants Health Care Reform Repealed. The same Health Care Reform our family has grown to appreciate and has helped tremendously in at least 4 different ways so far.
1. It allowed my husband’s daughter to stay on his health insurance while she finishes College.
2. It eliminated many c0-pays which already saved us hundreds of dollars.
3. It ensures us that once Nicky is all grown up and on his own (yes, I choose to be optimistic, so much research is going on, something is bound to help him within the next decade) his pre-existing condition will never be an issue.
4. It eliminated caps insurances put on ‘expensive’ patients. Make no mistake, Nicky is beyond expensive. But for that, I will let the following video do the talking.

The Italian Health Care system was established 65 years ago in 1947. When Italy was re-adjusting after World War 2, and fascists were expelled from Parliament, a new Republic emerged which replaced the Kingdom. With the help from major political players from all over Europe and most famously, from several of Roosevelt’s men who wanted Europe to regain independence and get completely rebuilt, the National Health Care System was included in the new Constitution. And that was that.

Pope Benedict XVI

Even recently the Pope stated that it was the moral responsibility of nations to guarantee access to health care for all of their citizens, regardless of social and economic status or their ability to pay.
Growing up, even as my grandmother was spending months in the hospital dealing with an aggressive form of breast cancer, which spread into the lungs, and after double amputation surgeries, rounds of chemo and radiation, I never heard anyone utter the word “Medical Bill”.  It’s just not part of the vocabulary. My other grandmother, the one that lived to be over 100 years old, benefited by having the Doctor visit HER at the house! Imagine that. Visiting Doctors. That is the norm in Italy, I remember plenty of times when my mom had to call if one of us girls was sick, a Doctor came right over.
My dad told me that my great-grandfather Angelo, who was my grandma’s Rina’s father, was a huge supporter of the Health Care System in Italy. He told my dad something he never forgot. He said it’s better for everyone to pay a little, and everyone be okay, rather than let anyone be robbed of their life savings, their retirement, their house by an illness. So, yes, there is a payroll tax specifically for Health Care in Italy, but even if you’re not employed, you’re covered. One can ALSO purchase private insurance if you feel you must, but that is just an extra. Because everyone is covered, there is no inflating costs like it happens here in the US. For example, I found out that an MRI costs $900 around Europe, while my husband’s MRI was $9,000 here in the US. I was appalled. Why so much? Because of the uninsured. People that pop into the ER and can’t be turned away will never pay, so costs have to be inflated to make up for it.  Which brings me to yet another point I never hear people make: why jobs get shipped oversea? Partly because of how costly it is for the employer to offer benefits. Employers in other countries don’t have to worry about having to offer Health Insurance, which is a cost that is then deferred in giving extended vacations to their employees or higher salaries. Oh… I hear it coming a mile away… ‘but one has to waaaaiittt’. Sure, if it’s something that ‘can’ wait. But my dad is adamant, if it’s an emergency, they take you the SAME DAY! My dad started having double vision out of the blue one day last year, he waited a couple of days and when it didn’t go away, he visited the local ‘mutua’ to see a Doctor. The SAME DAY they sent him to get tests and more tests and he got the results the next day. I could give examples until I am blue in the face, but you get my drift. There is no bankruptcies over Medical Bills in Italy. Am I upset I had to have one? You bet.

I find it very insulting when people who NEVER lived oversea, let alone ever left the country and never even owned a passport can speak so nastily about something they can’t possibly know anything about. I assure you for every horrid story you may hear of and you hang your hat on, there are 10+ comparable ones if not worse in the US. So, instead of repealing, let’s improve on it, although I am not holding my breath that I am convincing anyone. Some things are only learned once we are knee deep into them. When the time will come in your life that you get real sick, and your Medical Bills start to mount, remember I told you so. Only then you will say… “Oh”.

So, I may seem a little down about the United States. Truth is, I do love this country. I’ve never lived anywhere else as an ‘adult’. I am very proud of my citizenship and I will go on record as saying that despite my reservations on what I call the appalling state of Health Care in this country, I will say that given another chance, I would do it all over again.

But… what is the American Dream anyway? I tell you what it’s not. It’s not owning a house, ha ha. It’s Social Mobility. Plain and Simple. It’s the ability of one generation to change their economic status for the better compared to their parent’s, and the four countries with the highest social mobility were Denmark, Norway, Finland and Canada. Surprised?  At least five large studies in recent years have found that social mobility is lower in America than in comparable nations.  The more advanced a society is, the more you will see things such as taxation, welfare, education and public transport. You reduce those and you reduce the Social Mobility and the American Dream. Rings a bell anyone?

So the American Dream now belongs to Denmark? Apparently so! But the question is, not ‘how is this possible, I thought we were the best, yada, yada yada” line of superiority I hear, but it SHOULD be: “What can the U.S. Learn about Denmark?”

Staff bearing an evident resemblance to Bonaparte's entourage. I took this photo back in 1998.

In 2012 the carnival celebrated its 205th edition, but its main history dates back to the end of the 12th century, in 1194 to be exact. The earliest beginnings of the Carnival are uncertain, but they do start in the 17th and 18th centuries. At the time, each of Ivrea’s five districts celebrated the occasion in their own unique way, but at the beginning of the 19th century, the free spirit to which this season gives great emphasis, eventually became a cause of concern to the French officials now in charge. In 1808, therefore, an alliance was imposed: a single city carnival would replace those celebrated in its several districts. The originator of this unification was to be allowed to deck himself out in the clothes of a General in Napoleon’s army, no less, and surround himself with a staff bearing an evident resemblance to Bonaparte’s entourage. Hence the way the carnival is celebrated to this day.

Violetta is impersonated by a new bride every year and is called the 'Mugnaia'

But… let’s get back to the real history of the Carnival. The first revolt was that of Violetta in 1194, a second revolt appears in the annals for 1266, when the men of Ivrea “expelled” the Marquis of Monferrato. This event is enshrined in the “Preda in Dora” ceremony described in the account of the Carnival of Ivrea that follows. But the most important and remembered event took place in 1194. At that time a Count that ruled the town, (Conte Ranieri di Biandrate) had made a new law to sleep with every new bride, he called it the “right of the first night” (yes… that story in “Braveheart” is true!!). Well, he got away with it until a miller’s daughter named Violetta rebelled against him. Violetta’s father ran one of the floating mills that once exploited the waters of the Dora. She killed him with a sword she had hidden under her dress, and then she proceeded in showing his cut off head to the people on top of the sword that cut his head, she then started a fire in the castle (Castellazzo), which started a revolt against the tyrant’s troops. They fought by mainly throwing stones to them, and they won.

Members of the team 'Scorpions' refueling with oranges. My sister took this photo!

That fight for liberty is recreated with the Battles of the Oranges, which substitute stones. Italy exceeds its production quota of oranges as agreed within the EEC (the European Economic Community) , so the excess needs to be destroyed (just to keep up the retail price). My co-citizens cooperate in the difficult path towards a unified Europe by helping to smash some oranges… This was at least true in the 90s. I was also told just recently that most of these oranges nowadays are not very good to eat and are grown specifically for this event every year. I don’t know which story is truer or if one was the case at one point and then the ladder, but the bottom line is that they do not take these oranges away from the market. A lot of them are old and not really eatable anyway. To make it fun there are several orange throwing “teams”, all sporting colorful uniforms and they are: Scacchi, (Chessmen), Scorpioni Arduini (Scorpions of Arduini-Arduino was the name of the old King), Picche (Spades), Diavoli (Devils), Tuchini (Birch?),Morte (Death), Mercenari
(Mercenaries), Pantere(Panthers) and Credenari(Believers?).

Imagine about 10,000 people dressed with colorful costumes, with a large blouse with a deep V opening in front: that’s where they keep the oranges they’re about to throw. They’re supposed to protect themselves from incoming oranges with their non-throwing arm. These people on foot are recreating the people of Ivrea revolting against the tyrant. The Count’s soldiers are represented by people on horse-pulled trucks (about 10-12 people on each carriage); these people are padded with american-football-type suits, and wear fencing-like masks. Since such a small number of these brave men have to fight hundreds… possibly even thousands of people on the ground, they have two advantages: the extra padding, and throwing downward from above,rather than upward from below. With the mask, their eyes can’t be directly hit. However, imagine how fun it must be to get freshly squeezed (on impact against the grid) orange juice right into your eyes…

An interesting fact is that this representation only started after WW2, beforehand, and only starting in the mid 19th century, people threw oranges from the balconies to the people walking by underneath… and viceversa.

This is another photo my sister took of the battle

Anyone can become “Eporediese” (someone that lives in Ivrea) during carnival time and become an orange-thrower just for fun. A lot of people in fact, do just that. The Battle of the Oranges is a quite interesting event, and oranges fly all over the place, some being thrown by people several meters away, and will hit just about anything: the enemies, the horses, the horse driver, the spectators on the other side of the carriage who think they’re safe, the buildings nearby (whose owners take special care in sealing all windows with wood panels; those who have recently repainted the outside walls, cover the endangered side with a net). A red hat is the symbol of liberty, and a sign of the carnival, everyone is supposed to wear one… and if anyone is guilty of not wearing it is considered an enemy, and quickly becomes the target of the carnival police, who punish the culprits with some well aimed oranges. Yikes!

Of course there is more to the carnival than the battle of the oranges. A young newly married woman of Ivrea’s high society volunteers to be cheered at as the heroine. Introduced in the Carnival’s celebration in 1858, she’s impersonating “Violetta”, the *Star* of the entire celebration. Violetta is called “mugnaia”, meaning “miller”. She gets to dress in white, be revered, and tour the city on a coach, throwing candies and mimosa posies by the thousand to the spectators.

The Pifferi during the parade. I took this photo back in 1998.

The orange-throwing carriages are aligned at the end of a procession, after the Mugnaia: first the “Pifferi”, then various local folklore music bands, then people who juggle big flags, then, right before the orange-throwing carriages, the mugnaia (Violetta), in a gorgeous coach, surrounded by Cavalry in Napoleonic era suits. Each zone (district) of the city provides to the touring show two kids (called Abba`) to represent them: they’ll ride ponies wearing elegant costumes, with a sword in their hand, on top of which there’s an orange (macabre depiction of the Count’s fallen head). Then there are all the people who chose to dress with wild costumes or masks (as in the U.S.A. for Halloween, and it’s ok for adults too). There’s also all sorts of other (pseudo)-historical facts represented throughout the carnival period (thursday-tuesday). They’re bunched up together even though they belong to totally different époques.

In the evening of the last day of the carnival, Mardi Gras, the darkness is soon ended by the tongues of flame that soar up the scarli set alight by the Abbàs in their respective districts. The burning of the scarli (big poles, erected in the middle of each district’s square, covered with dry bushes) represent the burning of the tyrant’s castle and the declaration of freedom from each city quarter. The fire is ignited by the Abba` from that quarter, assisted by a cavalry officer. A smaller on-foot-only procession tours all the squares before reaching town hall, where the mugnaia is awaiting in front of the biggest scarlo. Piazza di Città (Town Hall), is filled to overflowing as the principal scarlo is lit. The Mugnaia stands erect, sword on high, in her gilded coach, while the General rises on his stirrups, one hand on his cocked hat in salute, until the last spark is extinguished.

The final act is the burning of the scarlo in the parish of San Grato. The pipers lead the way to the sound of joyful tunes. Then, however, the band falls silent, and a single piper accompanied by a single drummer plays the sad notes of the “Funeral March” as everyone repairs towards Piazza Ottinetti in a gloomy silence rendered more poignant by the trailing swords of the officers of the General’s staff. Soon, however, the sadness vanishes. The pipes and drums strike up for the last time under the arcades of the piazza as people embrace and bid each other farewell with the traditional saying: “arvedse a giòbia a’n bòt” (good-bye till Thursday at one), an au revoir at next year’s carnival. The Carnival festivities, in fact, last from Thursday until Tuesday, every day filled with several parades and events.

The Carnival also has a lot of parties, food events and music. There really is a lot to it. The fagiolata (beans) is an event that takes place often around the center of town, and they offer also sandwiches of many kinds. Then on the day after the last day of the carnival they have “polenta e merluzzo”, which is “fish and cornmeal” (and wine!) which is an absolutely delicious and traditional dish.

Listen to Ivrea’s Official Carnival Song! –>> Una Volta Anticamente

Here are the words of the song… go ahead, sing along!!!
Una volta anticamente Egli è certo che un Barone,
Ci trattava duramente Con la corda e col bastone;
D’in sull’alto Castellazzo, Dove avea covile e possa,

Sghignazzando a mo’ di pazzo Ci mangiava e polpa ed ossa.
Ma la figlia d’un mugnaro Gli ha insegnata la creanza,
Ché rapita ad uom più caro Volea farne la sua ganza.
Ma quell’altra prese impegno Di trattarlo a tu per tu:

Quello è stato il nostro segno E il castello non c’è più.
E sui ruderi ammucchiati Dame e prodi in bella mostra
Sotto scarli inalberati Noi veniamo a far la giostra;
Su quei greppi, tra quei muri, Che alla belva furon tana,

Suonan pifferi e tamburi La vittoria popolana.
Non v’è povero quartiere Che non sfoggi un po’ di gale,
Che non canti con piacere La Canzon del Carnevale.
Con la Sposa e col Garzone Che ad Abbà prescelto fu,
Va cantando ogni rione: Il Castello non c’è più.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

–The website ’2camels’ posted an earlier version of this story of the Carnival of Ivrea on their website. Thank you so much! –>> http://www.2camels.com/ivrea-carnival.php

–For my InDesign Class I had to make a flier/newsletter with extensive information about a subject and of course I picked the Carnival! Here it is for you to view (PDF Format)! –>>  Ivrea’s Carnival Newsletter

Below is an excellent video, the official Trailer from a Documentary of the Carnival of Ivrea.  A must watch!

I was born in Italy in an old town called Ivrea and my entire family lives there, so speaking of Ivrea is like speaking of my home, my life, my roots. While my dad’s side of the family comes from a village near Vicenza called Lusiana, my mom was born in Ivrea, my grandmother near Ivrea, my great-grandparents in Ivrea as well and so on. My roots are firmly planted here.

Several years ago… 15 to be exact, I bought a rather thick book telling the ‘short story’ of Ivrea and I found it quite fascinating. I never realized how much history my little sleepy town had and how important it was at one time and even recently.

Here is my article as I posted it on the website back then, with photos I took last summer.

Enjoy!

Silvia

Ivrea is the center of the Canavese, in the Piemonte region, in northern Italy, and is quite old. In the year 2000, Ivrea celebrated its 2100 birthday! It was, in fact, mentioned for the first time in a list of colonies of the Roman Empire in 100 b.c. with the name “Eporedia”.

Ivrea's Duomo

In greek, “Epo” means “horse”, and in old welsh “reda” means carriage, hence it is felt the name Eporedia means “carriage trained by horses”, which makes sense, because Ivrea was in a strategic passage point both for the Romans and the people who lived in the area before (the Welsh) who named it. Eporedia’s name changed with the course of times and centuries from Eporedia to Iporedia, Ivoreia, Ivreia and the modern name Ivrea. Before the year 1200, in books, Ivrea had also been called Iporegia, Iporiensis and even Eboreja. Ivrea is 265 meters above sea level, and it was originally built to the left of the river Dora Baltea. One of the bridges over the river Dora Baltea “Ponte Vecchio” (old bridge) was built by the romans 2000 years ago and renovated through the centuries.

The 'Ponte Vecchio'.

The history of the town is quite extensive, and rich of traditions, I have a 500 page book that narrates the history of the town, and it’s called “A brief history”… so you can imagine how much there is to tell. A couple of buildings that are worth mentioning are the Duomo (a gorgeous church), which was built in the 10th Century over some old ruins of a church built in the year 340 a.c., and the famous Castle with its red towers, built in the 1300s, again over the old ruins of several castles who had been destroyed.
Eporedia remained part of the Roman Empire until its demise in the 5th century (approx. 476), and in the following 100 years the land belonged to several people, namely, the realm of Odoacre, then in 493 of Teodorico and his successors, in 553 the “Bizantini“, until the “Longobardi” took possession of it in the year 572. The Longobardi, in fact, were proprietors of about half of the peninsula. Under their reign, the land had a king, but it was divided into a lot of little pieces belonging to certain members of the nobility. This continued for a little over 200 years, until the year 773, when Carlo Magno won a war against the king of the Longobardi and became Emperor of most of northern Italy along with most of Europe.

One of the Castle's Towers

The new Emperor didn’t change much in the division of the territory, but he replaced the Dukes and Dukedoms to Counts and Counties and Marquis and Marquisate. Ivrea became a Marquisate. At Carlo Magno’s death the new Sacred Roman Empire started to fall as well. In 888 there was a new Reign of Italy, but it only lasted a century, in fact in the year 961 it was conquered by the King of Germany Ottone I. At the death of Ottone III, his grandson, in the year 1002, the Marquis of Ivrea “Arduino“, became the King of Italy, hence Ivrea became the capital; he had been the 9th Marquis of Ivrea since the beginning of the Reign of Italy. The history at this point becomes a little complicated, full of bishops and descendants of Arduino, wars etcetera. Worth mentioning is the appearance of Tommaso I of Savoia who became Emperor of a large area surrounding Ivrea, and with him started the legacy of the Savoia, who later become the Dukes and then Kings of Italy. In the year 1313 the dominance of Ivrea was passed along to Amedeo V and the prince Filippo of Savoia. In 1543 Ivrea was occupied by the Spanish, who built the “Castiglia”, a fortress to defend the city. A few years later in 1554 the French took possession of the city, but in 1559 it was once again given back to the Duke Emanuele Filiberto of Savoia. Almost 100 years later, in 1641, it went right back into the hands of the French, who lost it and regained it over and over again several times and with many lives lost in battles. On May 26, 1800 Napoleon Bonaparte entered the city along with his victorious troops, establishing control that ended in 1814 after his fall.

Tower of Santo Stefano

The geography of the modern Italy was not what it was 1000 years ago or even just 150 years ago. Italy as we know it today was established in fact in 1861, and the Savoia were part of that history for nearly 1000 years, having had as capital Turin before Rome until the end of WWII. The last King of Italy, Umberto II, took the throne after his father, Vittorio Emanuele III abdicated the throne to him due to the Italians’ malcontent with him after the end of the war because he had sided with Mussolini. Umberto decided to put the fate of the future to the people and in the end a new Republic was born and the Monarchy ended, and the whole Savoia clan were banished from living in Italy and only the women could come to visit. That law has changed in the early 2000s, but that was, sadly, the end of the royalty of Italy that lasted a millenium. What is interesting is the importance of Ivrea in the history of Italy, and the many events that took place throughout the course of the centuries.

The railway bridge over the Dora Baltea

As far as more concrete advancements of the city, the railway was inaugurated in 1858 between Ivrea and Turin, and was followed by the construction of “Ponte Nuovo” (New Bridge) in the same year. In 1886 they inaugurated the railway going from Ivrea to Aosta. This one was a little more complicated to do because it entailed building an iron bridge and tunnel over the Dora Baltea.
In 1908 the company Olivetti was started by Camillo Olivetti and became an enormous boost to the economy of the city. According to historians, the very first ‘computer’ was built there, it was called Programma 101. In 1952 they reconstructed the modern hospital, followed by several improvements of all roads and buildings everywhere. In the early 1960s the Turin-Ivrea-Aosta highway was built and in 1981 a new freeway with a bridge called XXV Aprile was opened.

Piazza Citta'

Ivrea is surrounded by very fertile land and many small hills. In between these hills lay several lakes of varied sizes. The Castle of Montalto can be seen from many points as it is built on top of a hill. Between Turin and Aosta and beyond to Chambery in France (the city where the Savoia originated from) are several castles who, in medieval times, used to communicate to each other using flags or lights. It has been said that a message could be sent from Chambery to Turin and back via all these castles including the one in Ivrea in two hours!

Teatro Giacosa

Ivrea’s patron’s saint is San Savino, which festival in his honor is held on July 7 of every year. San Savino’s story is quite interesting. He lived between the end of the 3rd century and the beginning of the 4th, and was the bishop of “Spoleto”. Because the Christian faith was not approved by the Roman Empire, he was arrested, put in prison and his hands were cut. His followers kept coming in to visit and support him, and one noble woman in particular received a miracle for his nephew, who regained sight after Savino touched his eyes with his stumps. The person responsable for the imprisonment of the Saint came to know about this miracle and since he himself had a severe eye disease he came to the Saint asking for his help. When Savino repeated the miracle, he converted him and his entire family to the Christian faith and was freed. The emperor Massimiliano though, who could not tolerate the Christian Faith sent a member of his guards to kill Savino, and so he did. A woman who had already kept Savino’s hands, buried the saint a couple of miles outside of the city. In the year 313, after Constantino gave his blessing to the Christian faith, the body of Savino was exumed and put in a church that the people of Spoleto dedicated to him.

His body remained there for 6 centuries, until the son of the marchese of Ivrea Berengario II named Corrado Conone decided to give Ivrea a patron Saint to free the city from a plague that was infesting the town. As soon as the remains of the Saint entered the town (as they say the reporters of the time) the plague ended. The saint was then proclaimed Patron of Ivrea and his remains were put in a cathedral.

Ivrea’s culture includes a very colorful and famous carnival… I will post my article about the Carnival of Ivrea next week!

~Check out Ivrea on Wikipedia.

My first glance at Nicky, he was perfect!

I love to write, it’s almost  part of me to be able to express myself this way, I truly enjoy it, however at times trying to describe some events and the knee jerking reality smacking you in the face is not exactly a cake walk. Emotionally, it takes its toll, I can only write so much some days without starting to shake at the gut wrenching memory I am reliving.

In the end I want to be able to clearly describe what a sweet child Nicky is without getting too sappy, I want to be able to make the reader feel things they never experienced, I want to be able to help people understand what EB is and how having a rare disorder complicates things. Having a common disorder or condition is bad enough, but when the condition you’re dealing with comes with no treatment and you struggle to get the supplies you need to achieve optimal health, it makes things 100 times worse than they should be.

I’ve been busy reading many different books in an effort to get not only ideas for mine, but also to realize what I ‘can’ talk about and what I ‘should’ talk about. The book is going to be filled with feel-good stories and hard moments that this amazing child lived through, and, clearly, there are many personal things I will never even closely mention. Sometimes, however, I feel as if some things are a bit taboo, such as talking about the Health Care System of the US and what is covered and not covered under the almighty for-profit insurance companies and the differences on how EB patients are taken care of depending on what country they are born into. I’ve talked on the phone with at least a couple of moms of EB children who were quite distraught about the unending co-pays and insurances denying things over and over again, but you would never know because they never mentioned any of their financial struggles keeping up with EB on their Blogs. I often wondered why.  Then again, I kept my personal bankruptcy, which resulted from our insurance company refusing to pay for supplies and other things a secret because I was so incredibly embarrassed and mortified about it. But the secret is out. I am no longer embarrassed nor mortified, I am mad as hell. As Taylor Armstrong says ‘I finally found my voice and I am not afraid to use it’. The truth needs to come out, my story needs to be told. If nothing else, to help change some things or/and to make others feel less alone. I am hoping to get the book finished for Nicky’s 18th Birthday, in late 2014.

Here’s some books I recommend which I found incredibly helpful:

If you’ve lost a child:

For Inspiration:

For EB Parents:

Tough cookie by Lillian Sparks * Parents Cry Too! by Lillian Sparks

My Other Books:

Blessings!

This past year I had to take this drive 7 times either taking my son to Stanford or to Camp, and just this past week, on January 19th, as I was driving up again, Nicky asked me to get him the pillow, put his seat down and get him something to drink. In the past I would just stop on the side of the highway, but on the last trip two weeks prior, when I did just that, a Highway Patrolman warned me to take the ‘exit’ next time to do whatever I needed to do because of how dangerous it is to do so. Hence… I told Nicky I would take the next exit. Imagine my surprise when, as I got over the hump, I see the sea of cattle. Oh goody, I have the camera with me! I stopped to get Nicky situated but that was not a good spot to take photos. There was all kinds of barb-wire that obstructed the view so I decided to drive around the ranch to see if I could find a better area. As I was driving up the road there seemed to be a very welcoming driveway to the ranch so I decided to go in… only to realize that was not a good idea. This was not a public place, let’s just say that. The sign said ‘Harris Ranch’ and as I was trying to make a u-turn a security officer prevented me from doing so and as he approached me he wrote down my licence plate number. Really? What’s going on here? As he approached my car I told him that Nicky, sitting next to me covered in bandages as usual, wanted to see the cows a little closer on our way to the hospital. He seemed gracious enough, told us these were not cows but ‘steers’ (A cow is a female ‘bovine’. A steer is a neutered male.). He was pleasant enough and let us go.
Driving out of the driveway I noticed a small opening between the main entrance and the beginning of the barbed wire so I figured I could stop for a few minutes, take a couple of photos and get back on the highway. I was literally stopped for what could not have been more than 2 minutes when I hear a knock on my window. It was another security officer, but this one was far from pleasant. As a matter of fact he started harping so loudly and continuously that for the next couple of minutes I was unable to get in a word wedge-wise and kept talking even after he left! I don’t think I can remember anytime in recent history when someone was so rude and threatened me like this, and for what? Taking a couple of pictures of their precious steers? What?
 Even though the sign ‘no stopping at anytime’ was only in front of me and not behind me (meaning I was not in the ‘no stopping’ zone), he told me that he could give me a steep fine, yapped about terrorists and Animal Rights groups, yada yada yada, on and on and on. I was actually done taking photos already (here is one BTW), put my camera away and off we went. Good Lord!!

When we got to the Hotel later that evening I called my husband to let him know we were safe and I told him about the incident. He reminded me of the movie Food Inc and how this was probably one of those ‘feed lots’ we were shown in the movie, and how these people were probably paranoid and possibly embarrassed at what they do so perhaps in their mind it was perfectly okay to harass a mom with an obvious sick child in her car immediately coming to conclusions at the reason why I was taking pictures.

I will say, I am not a huge animal activist and the reason I was taking photos that day was because of the sheer amount of cattle on this land (anywhere between 100,000 to 250,000 depending on the source) and for no other reason, but if the movie Food Inc taught me anything is how unsafe this kind of meat is. Greg and I haven’t eaten any beef that isn’t organic/grass fed since we saw it a few years ago and I cannot even remember the last time I had a hamburger from a fast food establishment. Here’s a clip from Food Inc that explains it well:

Interestingly enough, this past trip I actually stopped to take photos of other cattle, free to roam, so I know these were ‘happy cows’, ha ha.

I found other blogs of people that were harassed by Harris Ranch security, or simply had something to say about this place and here’s the link to their stories:
A Tail of Harris Ranch,  Harris Ranch Feedlot, Meet your Food, Meet your Meat, Feedlot vs. Free Range (my favorite one).

OK, so, apparently the Ranch had been under attack the week prior of me stopping from Animal activists, and that’s fine and I understand the heightened security and paranoia, but that is no excuse to harrass everyone that stops for crying out loud, taking down licence plate numbers etc. Did I REALLY look like a terrorist?

I have just one more thing to say, and I would have said this to the officer had he given me a chance to speak. If your ‘Ranch’ is this paranoid and this sensitive about publicity to the extent of harassing the general public about it, how about moving such ranch AWAY from one of the busiest Interstates in this country, where thousands of people drive by every single day? I would have never known this place existed if it would not be adjacent to the freeway, and I most certainly would not have gone looking for it.

Food for thought.

The detailed blog about the cast removal is here: http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/nickyz/journal

Below is the hand carefully re-wrapped by the PT ladies after the cast was removed. He has a splint under to keep the wrist straight and the hand open.

Below is the hand unwrapped. The thumb may not look like it’s way out, but it’s quite a bit more out than it was, Nicky is absolutely thrilled. The index finger is not where we were hoping, but it’s better than it was and we’ll do physical therapy to pull it back more while the skin on it is still “soft” from surgery. Will explain more on Caringbridge on what that means…

This picture shows the pinky, which is AMAZING. We haven’t seen that little thing in YEARS. Now, it’s the only finger that it’s still quite raw and quite painful, but overall we were very happy that the rest of the hand was mostly healed.

Hugs,

The right hand was in slighter worse shape than the left one. While the left hand still has a mostly straight index finger, the right hand did not. Beside that, both hands were in similar shape, as the thumb was webbed toward the palm of the hand and the pinky completely webbed in the hand, so much one could not see it with the naked eye.

I wrote a BLOG on Caringbridge http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/nickyz/journal about the whys and the hows of the surgery itself with a bit of history. Since I am limited on the photos I can post there and Facebook told me that anymore wound pics and they would delete my account, I have no other choice but post them here, with Nicky’s consent, of course.

I took these photos during Hydrotherapy on December 28th, 2011. This is the hand that had the surgery. The middle and ring finger are still pretty straight, but the pinky is completely webbed in.

This is the left arm, he has some raised wounds that concerned the Doctor at CHLA. While he was fairly certain it is a form of granulation tissue, he wanted to biopsy these anyway, and since he knew he was having hand surgery done soon, he asked the folks at Stanford if they could biopsy these while Nicky was “under” for surgery.

This is pretty much the only other pic I have of his right hand. The thumb did not stretch beyond this position and while the fingers were out, they were ‘curvy’. Pinky is gone.

In two weeks we’ll go take the cast off and I will take the photos of the ‘after’. The first photos will not be pretty, since this is a syntactically release, his hand is pretty much “skinless” at this moment inside the cast and it will not heal by the time they remove the cast. In the past it took around 6+ weeks for the hand to heal back up, but he was MUCH younger then, so at this point, we’re not sure how long it will take to heal completely.

{{HUGS}}

Silvia

I always found it perplexing how something designed to specifically help children like my son, who suffer horribly every day of their lives, all of a sudden becomes ‘not available’. It’s everywhere in sight. From that healthy person taking the last handicapped parking spot I badly need to get my son out of the car, to the lady at the amusement park telling us that my son has to wait in the one-hour line like everybody else, even though it’s not exactly wheelchair friendly and it’s 100 degrees outside.

Nicky has had to have throat dilatations and hand surgeries since he was 2 years old. We had to do dilatations as often has 3 times a year after his first one in 2000, and the first few years we were able to stay at the Ronald McDonald’s House at Stanford, which was a total God-sent for a couple of nights each visit at most, since the hotels in the area are anything but cheap. When even the Motel 6 charges $100 a night, you know you are in a majorly pricey area. It’s hard enough having to travel 6 hours one way for my son to have a procedure we didn’t want to do but had to, and then to toss in gas prices and hotel costs, it’s like adding insult to injury.

2001 - Nicky at the Ronald McDonald's House at Stanford

In 2004 or 2005 (the nurse wasn’t clear when she relayed this info to me) Stanford became a major transplant hospital and in late 2004 was the last time we were able to stay there. We would be turned down and refused stay ever since. It came a point last year that I didn’t even bother calling. What for, just to be turned down again? No, thanks.
Nicky has a hand surgery this coming Friday we both dread like nothing else and we were told that the Ronald McDonald’s House was now giving EB children priority. I called a few weeks ago and was told to call back this past weekend,  but when I did, to see if they had room, the lady almost laughed, “Oh no, no no, we have no room. We have to turn away 45 families every single night, sorry!” Then yesterday I got a message from someone further reiterating they had no room ‘but things “might” change, and how “they never know”! I’ve gotten this song and dance for seven years. We even got it from the House in Minneapolis. I am sorry, I have to make a reservation somewhere, I need to know if I need to bring sheets and blankets or not, this last minute BS is not working for me. Nicky has equipment, wheelchairs, bandages. Anything dealing with Nicky and traveling is a HUGE undertaking, I need advance notice to be prepared. Would have loved to not have to dip in my College fund for this trip, but I felt I had no choice. I made a reservation and is not refundable. I was a little ticked today when I got another message to call the house and when I called back and got their voice mail I just told them I have no idea what we needed to talk about, I was told twice there is no room for us and there never is, and that I would never bother them again.
But things aren’t all bleak. As a matter of fact, they turned around, giving me a reason to be humble. A wonderful organization called ‘The Butterfly Fund’ stepped in and offered to pay for our Hotel stay for our return trip in two weeks. At that point Nicky will have to undergo a procedure to remove the cast and pins in his fingers and re bandaging, and as per the Doctor, she suggested arriving the day before the procedure and leaving the day after. Nicky’s dad, as generous as always, gave me extra money on the child support check to pay for the hotel & gas. So, I really have nothing to complain about.
Still, dealing with the House refusals was eating up at me for some reason, I needed to know more. For those unsure how this all works, one can’t just stay there for no reason. Your child has to have surgery or a procedure at the hospital which has to be confirmed, and it’s hard to believe that at any given time they might have all their 47 rooms filled with transplant patients. Now, I understand that transplant patients are there for MONTHS at a time, and I know there are other long-term families (long term could be 30 days to 6 months) who must stay for a variety of reasons, from cancer treatments to preemies etc, but beside them, who else stays there? Who gets priority? If my severe EB child can’t get to stay there for a couple of nights for 7 flipping years, WHO IS?

I tried to research the internet about ‘stories’ but I found only two that were a little iffy in my book. This first story was about a boy on Dialysis who had to stay at the House for 8 months because his mom didn’t have a car to drive him. Okay, I understand at first, as an emergency situation, but couldn’t the insurance or some other entity step in to help this family and provide transport? The house in those 8 months had to refuse stay to 240 families in need. Surely there is a better way. The second story was about this Mexican family who lived at the Ronald McDonald’s House for 5 years. Five years seems a tiny bit excessive to me, isn’t it? How about getting a cheap apartment nearby if you think you might have to stick around for half a decade and find some organization to help you with costs? The House had to turn away 1,825 families in need to accommodate 1 family. Seems hardly fair.

I suppose I wouldn’t mind so much my child being refused if I knew stories like these two above didn’t exist, but the truth is, there will always be people who will take advantage and not think of whose place they might take. I will probably never again call the Ronald McDonald’s House now that I know they have to turn away 45 families every day. Until the day comes they expand and renovate the property and double the rooms, our chances are pretty much zero that we’ll ever be able to stay there again, even considering our “priority” status. Further considering Nicky will be 18 in 3 years, he won’t qualify at that point anymore anyway. Oh well. At least we’re not taking anyone else’s spot. Something to be proud of.

UPDATE: As of this morning, Wednesday Jan 4th, the House called me to tell me they magically came up with a room for me. What? Maybe I am weird, but I was actually mad about it because I feel like I am taken for a fool. Unfortunately it came in too late. After the lady on Saturday told me there was no room at all, and the other guy left a message Monday telling me they had no room but ‘you never know’ (as I said, heard it a million times, and after 7 years of ‘you never know’, you don’t believe it anymore), I made a reservation Monday night which is non-refundable. I told the guy that called that I cannot wait until the ‘last minute’ with a child like mine. He told me he understood and was extremely apologetic. Perhaps another child that can walk and does not need equipment or whose entire family can come to help they can wait until the day before or the day ‘of’ to know one way or the other, but as usual I have to do this solo which is a TON of work and I cannot have this added stress put upon me. It didn’t used to be this way, they used to be able to tell you the week before, not the day before. I told him to go ahead and give the room to another family. Nobody can tell me I am taking someone else’s room, that’s for sure.

Happy New Year everyone! Please keep Nicky in your prayers for Friday’s surgery.

God Bless,

.

This show, which became a favorite of my Connor as well, gives credibility to a perplexing chain of events I briefly talked about in my other blog a couple of years ago (http://ebmom.blogspot.com/2010/01/cant-help-but-wonder.html). Sometimes the answer to the question regarding these events ‘Am I crazy?’ is a resounding YES. Others I wonder why people seem perplexed when I retell the story. It’s not like I am inventing things. I could not ‘make up’ this stuff if I tried. So… here’s the story!

After I moved to a one bedroom apartment with Nicky (then only 2 years old) following my divorce in early 1999, apparently my guardian angel or a spirit of some sort decided they needed to protect me. One night as I was trying to go to sleep in my queen bed I felt as if someone had just lied next to me. I was petrified. I was alone in the apartment and Nicky was asleep. Who the heck just lied next to me? Ever so slowly I somehow mustered the courage to turn around to see who just got into my bed only to find… nothing. Nobody. I could still ‘feel’ someone there though, there was no doubt in my mind. The covers/pillow were not messed up or showed any weight on them, yet I could feel its presence. I don’t know how I fell asleep that night, but somehow I did, and this became a nightly occurence. About a minute or so after I turned off the TV and the lights… there it was. It would never happen if someone was in bed with me, like my husband or my son, but if I was by myself, it would not be a matter of ‘if’, but a matter of when. It became such a ‘normal’ thing that I could not fall asleep until this spirit lied next to me, it made me feel safe. I know, weird, but that’s just how it became. My husband also told me a story of how he felt an angel’s embrace when he was sleeping alone as well before we got married.

Up until this point it all felt very loving all around. I even asked a great friend of mine, who is a little psychic, if she felt anything about my nightly friend, and she did tell me that it was a lady in a flowery dress and lots of rings, who was coming to protect me. Protect me from what I don’t know, but I felt solace in that. I asked my mom and dad if we had any (dead) relative that wore flowery dresses or lots of rings and they could not recall, but I always felt my grandma (Nonna) Stella, my mom’s mom, who died of lung cancer (spread from breast cancer) in 1977 somehow part of my life from the great beyond. I had two different psychic people who never talked to nor know each other telling me they see my Alex (who was stillborn at full term) hanging out with my Nonna Stella as I always felt he would. Alex was the first descendant of my grandma that died so surely she was there to pick him up and take him to the other side. I even contacted the lady they did the show ‘Ghost Whisperer’ about and she told me that babies are always picked up and brought to the other side by a relative, so it all made sense. It could have only been my grandma Stella, as my other grandma was still alive. When Connor was a baby, I would often walk in the living room and notice the swing swinging by itself and then stop as I came in. According to my psychic friend, Alex and my Nonna played with that often.

Sometime in 2009 I was waiting for the spirit to lie in my bed when I heard noises on the corner of the bedroom, next to the door to the hallway. They were fairly loud, so loud in fact they startled me and I immediately thought Connor had come into the room. When the noises stopped and my eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, it was clear there was nobody there. Finally a little light emerged from the area and it came closer to me, circling the bed and ending at the edge of the bed by my feet. It stopped for a couple of seconds and then it went down and disappeared. I was so spooked I told ‘it’ enough. I’ve watched enough paranormal shows to know you can talk to them and they listen and many times they obey, so I told ‘it’ that I appreciate the protection, but that from now on I didn’t want to see them, I didn’t want to feel them, I didn’t want to hear them, they can still ‘hang around’ if they want and keep protecting, without making their presence known. If they really want to let me know they are there, they could find other ways, such as making me ‘smell’ something or flicker the lights for a moment. I never felt its presence ever again, but I must admit I miss it. I know, maybe I am crazy afterall.

The only other time I felt the presence after that was the night before I wrote that blog, the presence was lying next to me as it used to do and when my husband came home from work I felt it get up and sit at the edge of the bed. After a couple of minutes it got up and left and that was that.

I haven’t seen lights ever since, smelled anything out of the ordinary, experienced flickering lights or felt its or ‘their’ presence ever since, and I like it that way. My plea to please don’t make their presence known worked. That does not mean that every now and then I don’t wish I knew they were around to protect us, especially Nicky, alas, whether I see them or not, Nicky FOR SURE has a guardian angel. I feel it in my bones.

Happy New Year everyone!!