NOVEMBER/DECEMBER 2004SAVE THE DATEL’Unione <strong>Italian</strong>a & Maria CapitanopresentBELLA DANZAa third annual evening <strong>of</strong> choreography“...A ‘CABARET OF FINE ARTS’ RIGHT HERE IN YBOR CITY.”Experience BELLA DANZA, an evening <strong>of</strong> choreography in historic Ybor. BELLA DANZA presents the fineart <strong>of</strong> dance: November 18th-21st, 2004, at the <strong>Italian</strong> <strong>Club</strong> <strong>of</strong> <strong>Tampa</strong>.Over 15 pr<strong>of</strong>essional & local performing artists, as well as several guest choreographers from Florida, Ohio,and Seattle will participate. <strong>The</strong> concert features original and contemporary choreographic pieces designedwith dynamic movement, powerful music, & beautiful costumes. <strong>The</strong>se dances originate from variousinspirations including Brazilian and Baroque music, songs by 1960’s American girl group’s, and abstractmovement for movement’s sake. BELLA DANZA presents several divers dance works to a wide range <strong>of</strong>music such as Yo Yo Ma, Filipa Giordano, and the Dixie Cups. Support BELLA DANZA whether you are alover <strong>of</strong> dance or just a little curious to see what a local organization and artists have to <strong>of</strong>fer a growing artscommunity. This is the perfect reason to experience Ybor.Tickets: $12.00-Cabaret style seating & general admission; cash bar, complimentary appetizers & drawings.Tickets can be purchased in advance by calling (813) 248-3316 or by mailing a check made to:L’Unione <strong>Italian</strong>aAttn: Maria Capitano1731 E. 7 th Ave<strong>Tampa</strong>, Fl 33605Proceeds will benefit the establishment <strong>of</strong> a local dance company under the direction <strong>of</strong> Maria Capitano-Masters in Fine Arts (Ohio State University-98’). Maria is a <strong>Tampa</strong> native and for the past fifteen years hasdanced and presented choreography as an independent artist in Florida, Ohio and Pennsylvania. Proceedsfrom the concert will also benefit the installation <strong>of</strong> production needs for the <strong>Italian</strong> <strong>Club</strong>’s Connie SpotoWalter <strong>The</strong>ater.Production Equipment Provided by:Four Performances:Thursday, November 18 th at 7:30 p.m.Friday, November 19 th at 7:30 p.m.Saturday, November 20 th at 8:00 p.m.Sunday, November 21 st at 2:00 p.m.Artistic Director & Choreographer: Maria CapitanoFor more information, call (813) 248-3316.PAGE 12
NOVEMBER/DECEMBER 2004<strong>Italian</strong>s Are Always Right - Or Are <strong>The</strong>y?Written by John IorioWhy is it that <strong>Italian</strong>s find it difficult toadmit they are wrong or that they can’tanswer a question?I know this is a shamelessgeneralization, but it seems pervasiveand persistent enough to rise to the level<strong>of</strong> a national characteristic. Too many<strong>Italian</strong>s seem to confirm William James’observation <strong>of</strong> true believers — that theycontinue to believe in the face <strong>of</strong> all factsto the contrary. While this can be said <strong>of</strong>any group, the <strong>Italian</strong> seems especiallyprone to this behavior. And thispsychological legacy is passed on to<strong>Italian</strong>-Americans.I remember challenging a family friendwho was never at a loss for a wronganswer. “Ok,” I said (petulance was myforte in those days). “Who invented thetelephone?”“And who doesn’t know that?”“I’m asking you.”“He was an <strong>Italian</strong>, <strong>of</strong> course.”“Wrong! It was Alexander GrahamBell,” I said, fresh from the movie aboutAlexander Graham Bell starring DonAmeche.“Bell — ma chi Bell – his name wasBellini – he changed it to Bell!” Hiscertainty stunned and almost convincedme. Today, though he is dead while nodoubt denying it, he would be happy tohear that it was Antonio Meucci whoinvented the telephone.My brother in law, a gentle soul, whodied many years ago, refused to acceptthe fact that Italy had lost to Germany ina soccer match. “<strong>The</strong> referee wasAustrian,” he explained, “and we allknow they are allies.”“But the score was five to one.”“Beh — that proves my point.”Perhaps they have a different view <strong>of</strong>reality, a view that makes people liveclose to Vesuvius even though it willblow up soon, or makes men stand andtalk on a street, forcing cars to swerve.While driving in Florence, I asked apedestrian for direction to VialeGramsci. He pointed to the Arno River.“<strong>The</strong> map says that way,” I shoutedabove the cacophony <strong>of</strong> church bells andcar horns.“<strong>The</strong> map is wrong,” he said withabsolute certainty. I did not take hisadvice.When I returned to the village where Iwas born and stood in Piazza FratelliKennedy, a man leading a gang <strong>of</strong> fourgreeted me and said “Shecago –gangsters — tat tat tat tat.” I assumed hewas simulating a machine gun. Was hebragging, condemning or simplydisplaying his knowledge? I couldn’ttell. I told him I lived in Florida andassured him that Chicago was notpopulated by gangsters.He simply repeated his signaturestatement and as he walked away withhis gang <strong>of</strong> four he modified hisoutburst, “Shecago, Florida – gangsters— tat tat tat tat.”One day I decided to visit Dante’s houseand had some difficulty finding it. Idecided to ask some Florentines for help.One elderly man asked me if it was hisfirst or last name. “It is important, youunderstand,” he said solemnly not onlyas if imparting some secret wisdom, butalso according me a defensive role.“I understand.” I said. “It’s his firstname.”“Aah, in Italy there are thousands <strong>of</strong>Dantes,” he said, raising his arms as ifthrowing confetti to the winds.“I’m speaking <strong>of</strong> Dante Alighieri, thepoet.”“Alighieri — Alighieri —are you sure <strong>of</strong>the pronunciation?” he said, seeking tomaintain his intellectual hegemony.I gave up and thanked him. After all, ifhe really knew Dante he would haveknown him by one name as we knowHomer, Shakespeare and Virgil.PAGE 13But the one I really liked was a portlyman with a raspy voice whoacknowledged the name enthusiastically.“Ah Dante Alighieri — I knew him well,he said. I knew his family, but they haveall moved out <strong>of</strong> the city— I think toAmerica.”“Seven hundred years ago?“Seven years –seven hundred years,” heshook his head like a dog sheddingwater. “I assure you he moved.”Finally, I did meet one man who not onlyguided me to the house, but lectured meon the uselessness <strong>of</strong> foreign translations<strong>of</strong> Dante’s works.In all fairness, however, if I were to askAmericans in New Haven where HermanMelville was born, I would probably getridged faces and counter-questions suchas “Wasn’t he part <strong>of</strong> a rock group? Or“Isn’t it Pee Wee Herman’s real name?”This exuberant surety <strong>of</strong> <strong>Italian</strong>s mayhelp explain why the thousands <strong>of</strong>piazzas vibrate with arguments any day<strong>of</strong> the week. We should not forget thatparliament, a place where people talkand never admit they are wrong, comesfrom parlamento.LINKS<strong>The</strong> link below is foradditional info onqualifying for dual<strong>Italian</strong>-Americancitizenship.www.myitaliancitizenship.com/indexnew.jsp