Christmas Eve fifteen years ago. Gigi was called to the hospital, as was often the case in his
speciality of anesthesia. A wee puppy approached him in the driveway as he prepared to back
out. No particular lover of dogs--he was not however able to roar by such a compelling
countenance. He got out of the car and tried to shoo it away. He managed finally to escape
the pleading eyes and soft whine to the less threatening atmosphere of the ER.
He was called out a number of times that Christmas Eve; this is not necessarily a happy season
for a lot of people, and the activity in the emergency room reflected that reality. Gigi was always
a hard worker and was glad to be so; he had his wife and three beautiful children; he was a
lucky man.
Every time that night that Gigi went to get in his car, the puppy was waiting unfazed by the
sounds and grimaces of harsh rejection purposely put forth by our good man. At one point, this
very same good man attempted to gently kick it aside, as if on some level, he understood the
ramifications of this driveway duel of destiny.
He had, in fact, understood quite correctly, and in one last desperate attempt to protect the
sanctity of his animal-free home, he tried to interest his ER colleagues in surprising
their kids the next morning with this cute ball of canine... He really tried.
Jessie made it into the garage that night--it was cold.
Jessie was all the way in the house by the following day, and for the next 15 years consolidated
his hold on those within the adoring abode. The most particular bond was, however, with
Giulietta, who thought she had gotten used to the isolation associated with assimilation into a new
culture, and the built-in necessity of her husband being often called away. The three children
were consolation, but not company. Jessie became a profound companion and a consolation that
allowed something from within her to flower.
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| It was at about this time that she started leafing through the Bible she had gotten the children.
From there her need and curiosity took her into many aspects, which she later came to recognize
as a need to investigate herself and the mysteries in and around her. She became more
expressive and Gigi blamed it on women's liberation. Probably, she was just growing.
The family thrived and Gigi continued to work hard. Giulietta continued to ponder the invisible,
taking care to retain the traditional role. This, in itself, was not problematic as Giulietta truly
identified with domesticity. Gigi, though, was ambivalent. As a conservative Italian male, he
was, at times, disconcerted by his wife's outspokenness and the implementation of her social
consciousness. Ultimately he concluded that she was doing nothing wrong after all, and her
household was running beautifully, so he tried to hold his tongue.
Her persistent interest in religion worried him, though. She had tremendous curiosity for things
theological and philosophical which, as far as he was concerned, had nothing to do with real life.
To an "Italian-Italian" religion means the Catholic church and that is that! One is born--baptized--and goes through life with the church marking every significant event via its
sacraments; from "womb to tomb," everything was covered. What more was there to it?
And life continued to go on and treat them well.
Then Gigi got very sick with his heart. Now HE was the patient in the ER and then 5 days in
ICU.
He was helpless, near death, and afraid. For all his willing it, he could not order all as he would
have it.
Then Jessie got so old he could no longer see or hear and he began to suffer a number of
profound ailments. Decrepit, demented, and dear to them all, it seemed clear that he had done
his time.
Giulietta was torn but she knew what she had to do. Gigi helped her.
They were both with Jessie when he died.
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