Villa Caroline
Lago Patria, Italy
January 15, 1981

I am in love. Italy is now mine. I was horrified when we first arrived here; the dark, edgy city pulled me in and sunk me. Naples is deep. It’s dirty. It’s sexy. It’s everything you think of when you think of Italian-American mobsters and the actors who portray them--Pacino, Valentino, DeNiro--men in dark suits whispering in corners. I saw the Corso, lined with expensive boutiques and monuments of stunning beauty, perched upon hills that fall into an endless sea, and attended the opera at the Teatro di San Carlo, realizing that it was a city rich in history and culture. Like an alley cat, I stalked the streets where I was warned not to go. I leaned into the whispers and studied the faces distorted from not towing the line. I watched eyes watching mine and tried to catch the passion leaking from the sewers. My heart beat faster there.

But when I discovered the magical Via San Gregorio Armeno, I knew that Naples runs in my blood. It is my heritage, my home, my future.

Terri Belden
December, 1978

The handsome young Navy doctor, brushed a tear from his cheek as he closed the small journal, unable to read any more, and placed it in the box with other mementos. His wife had been horrified when the Navy transferred him to the Medical Center at Naples, and their first impressions of the city had confirmed all her fears. Her mood had improved briefly after sitting over four hours in a hard, straight-back chair to see Verdi’s Don Carlo at the Teatro di San Carlo, but she had remained homesick.

At least until they had discovered the Via San Gregorio Armeno. His wife and their daughters had loved it and returned often over the past two years. As she wrote; it was magical, and his one-quarter-Italian wife had found her home.

Navy Support Activities Base
Adnano, Italy
November 22, 1978

Navy Lieutenant Commander Brian Belden walked along the portico at the front of the Bachelor Officers’ Quarters, turned the corner and headed across a wide expanse of parking lot in the direction of the NSA Headquarters Building. Although he’d been told the winters were relatively mild in southern Italy, a cold wind cut right through his uniform jacket.

He paused at the building’s entrance as two enlisted sailors came out the doors and crisply saluted him. Brian hesitated before remembering to salute back. Three years in the Navy and he still wasn’t comfortable having people salute him, much less having to return the salute. The need to adhere to Navy protocol had increased significantly since his recent promotion to Lieutenant Commander. He hoped that the environment of this hospital was as relaxed as in Portsmouth. No one ever saluted him there, especially when he was wearing scrubs.

He removed his cover as he entered the building, tucked it under his arm, and walked over to the directory posted on the wall between two elevators. He confirmed that he was in the right building, then hit the UP button. “I have to find a good place to live,” he thought as he stepped onto the elevator. “Three years in a foreign country will be hard enough on Terri and the girls, but the cultural opportunities and a nice home might make it worth it.” He hit the button for the fourth floor and waited as the doors closed and the elevator lurched upward.

It had been less than three days since Brian had left his family in New York City and reported to his new duty station, but, thanks to the cold damp weather and lingering jet lag, it seemed like much more.

He had left New York City early Monday morning, taking the train to Philadelphia where he caught a military flight for Roda, Spain. After a one and a half hour layover in Roda, he’d flown to Sigonella, Sicily, and then on to Naples, arriving over twenty-seven hours after leaving his in-laws’ apartment.

His sponsor, LCDR Gerald Frank, was late meeting him at Naples Airport, but had been warm and reassuring once he arrived. A Family Practitioner from Little Rock, Arkansas, he had been in Naples for over two years and was well-acquainted with the nuances of living in Naples and working at the Naples Medical Center. He and his wife had twin sons the same age as Brian’s daughter Virginia. Gerry chattered non-stop as he led Brian through the airport terminal and to his car.

Brian gripped the dash of Gerry’s small Fiat as the other doctor negotiated the frenzied traffic of Naples. He was relieved to learn from Gerry that many of the other doctors stationed at the hospital had young families and that most children adapted to the new culture more easily than their parents. Of course, there were many programs and activities at Forrest Sherman Elementary School, Carnay Park and a number of English speaking pre-schools, so that most children had minimal exposure to the local community. “Your family probably will like it here better than you,” Gerry reassured him.

Gerry had waited while Brian dropped off his bags at the BOQ and then headed to the Navy Medical Center. Brian met briefly with his new commanding officer who ordered him home to nap and report back at 1900 on Friday, when his immediate supervisor would return from leave, and to ensure he completed a few rotations before starting ICR classes the next week. Fortunately, Gerry had already enrolled him in the five-day Area Orientation Brief/Intercultural Relations class. Participation in this class was mandatory for all newly arrived military personnel and adult family members and had to be completed before enrollment in the one-day driver’s course required to obtain a driver’s license. Brian hoped to have his license and a small car before Terri and the girls arrived.

Brian had spent all Tuesday morning completing paperwork and getting a more detailed tour of the Medical Center. He had conducted extensive research when he’d received his orders to Naples, but still was shocked to see that the ten-year old facility was so poorly maintained and equipped. When he tried to ask any specific questions about policies or practices, he was quickly advised that he’d learn soon enough.

Gerry had advised Brian that he should begin looking for housing as soon as possible. Brian had wanted to wait until Terri and the girls arrived to begin the search. They’d be spending far more time in their new home than he would, and should be part of any housing decisions. Brian only cared that he have a warm comfortable bed and a place to play with his daughters. The bed was assured once their household goods arrived from Portsmouth, and Brian assumed finding a house with a yard wouldn’t be too difficult. Gerry feared that there could be a long delay getting an appointment in the housing office during the holiday season and, once they began looking, it could be another six to eight weeks before they would actually find a suitable place. The Navy provided temporary housing for the entire family while they looked, but it was guaranteed to be small, cramped and would only delay the girls’ adjustment to the move.

In a weak moment—when Terri was feeling exceptionally stressed about the move—Brian had promised Terri they would be in their own home before Christmas, and that Ginny would be enrolled at the “excellent DOD school” before the new year. That meant he had four weeks to find and lease a place to live. Six to eight would not do. So he’d called the housing office and convinced a clerk to fit him in an orientation meeting on Wednesday afternoon. Of course, meeting with a clerk in the office only meant more paperwork, but at least he hadn’t been put off for weeks as Gerry had predicted.

Brian stepped off the elevator and walked into a small dark office. “LCDR Belden. I have an appointment with…”

“Yessir.” The receptionist walked over to the open door. “LCDR Belden is here,” she informed someone inside, then turned to Brian and motioned for him to go in.

He was surprised to find a half-dozen women sitting around a table. “Ladies,” Brian greeted them as he took the last seat.

A young woman with a heavy Italian accent had them introduce themselves and describe their housing needs.

“LCDR Brian Belden,” he shared when it was his turn. “My wife and two girls, who are four and eight, will be joining me soon. We…our house…we want…: He shrugged. “I just have to make my wife happy with what I find.”

“We’ll help you, won’t we ladies?” one woman offered. “Two girls. You’ll want at least three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a yard.”

“I see you’re Medical Corps.” One woman motioned to the insignia on his uniform.

Brian nodded.

“You’ll need to be within twenty minutes of the hospital.”

Brian started to speak, but she continued.

“And will your older daughter be going to Forrest Sherman? That’s the DOD school on base. You’ll want to be close for her, too. Will the four year old be in pre-school? You’ll need to be near a good pre-school.” She continued before Brian could answer. “There just aren’t that many nice areas near here.”

“I was told that most of the medical staff is in the Pouzzoli or Lago Patria areas. But I’m not sure…”

“I’ll review that with you,” the Italian woman interrupted. “And we have a van tour of some properties scheduled for Friday. Fortunately with the holiday, we have room for all of you. Most Americans want to take off the day after Thanksgiving, but it’s just another workday to the Italians. We have no—what do you say? Black Friday? And we have many landlords who are anxious to show you their properties.”

After completing more paperwork, Brian and all of the ladies signed up for the van tour on Friday. His first rotation began at 1900Friday evening and he felt certain that his sleeping schedule would not be set until the next week at the earliest. Why not spend the day looking at houses?

Brian watched as several of the women left together, sharing their plans for the holiday. Gerry and his family were headed to Rome for the long weekend and he had no place to be and no one to be with until the van tour in two days. He planned to have a traditional Thanksgiving dinner at the Officers’ Club on base, but that was more than twenty-four hours away. He considered exploring the area, but he had no car and couldn’t drive one if he did. He didn’t relish walking, even on the base, in the cold drizzly rain. It was easy to find a taxi outside the main gate, but he hesitated heading out alone until he had a better grasp of the area and the language.

He’d been warned about the traffic, the thieves and prostitutes who crowded the streets near the base; the strikes and civic chaos that interfered with public services and utilities; and the too-often arrogant and rude residents, but access to the Post Exchange and US military and NATO facilities, the rich cultural opportunities of the region, and proximity to most of southern and western Europe, made Naples seem attractive. He’d heard good things about the Medical Center, but in less than three days he had found that what he’d heard were exaggerations at best and more likely falsehoods.

Brian headed towards the main gate. He’d heard there was a good steak house just across the Via Eduardo Scarfoglio.

Navy Support Activities Base
Adnano, Italy
Thursday, November 23, 1978

Brian sat up, turned and placed his feet on the floor without opening his eyes. Although only a little sun was peeking through the slats of the window blinds, it was too much light for someone still recovering from jet lag.

He stumbled across the room, opened the door and almost fell back from the overwhelming stench of tobacco and stale beer. The sounds of muffled snoring came from the adjacent bedroom and Brian assumed that the occupant was responsible for the empty beer cans and overflowing ashtrays that cluttered the living area. He trod carefully through the room and into the small kitchen, hoping that he might find the makings of a pot of coffee. He couldn’t find a coffee maker, but an odd-looking glass carafe containing a plunger-type device that packed wet coffee grounds on the bottom was sitting in the sink. He recognized it as a French Press from the time he was in Paris, but he had absolutely no idea how to use it. He continued to rummage through the cabinets.

Finally he found a jar of Nescafé instant coffee behind several take-out containers in the refrigerator. He cleaned one of the pots he found in a cabinet, filled it and began boiling water. The instant coffee had to be chiseled from the jar, but he broke off a chunk just as the water started to boil. Fortunately the hard grounds dissolved in the water and he had a hot cup of something that at least smelled like coffee.

He carried the mug across the odorous living area and back into his bedroom, shutting the door before more of the stale, smoky air polluted his bedroom, and sat on the edge of the bed waiting for the coffee to cool. Glancing at the travel alarm, he noted that it was still too early to call New York. “Two hours,” he thought as he took a sip of the steaming black brew. “Two hours until they’ll all be up and I can call Terri and the girls.” Once he checked in with his family, he planned to head over to the Officers’ Club for dinner. His only company at dinner would be the copy of James Michener’s Chesapeake that he’d purchased at the PX the day before. He hoped that the large tome would help fill the empty hours of the holiday weekend.

Unable to finish the nasty brew, Brian set the mug on his nightstand and grabbed his ditty bag, hoping his snoring neighbor hadn’t left the bathroom in the same condition as the living area.

“I’m looking at some places tomorrow. The Housing Services Center is taking several of us out in a van to look at rental properties. I’ve been assured that a lot of Navy and NATO personnel live in the areas where we’ll be looking. I promise I’ll only consider places that are nice, but we need to find something soon.”

After several failed attempts to read his book and a brisk walk through the dreary NSA base, it was finally late enough for Brian to call New York. After talking to Ginny and Tori, he was now updating Terri on his experiences since arriving in Naples.

“I understand,” Terri reassured him. “I have a ‘wish list’ but I won’t waste time reading it to you. Do you think you’ll have something by the time the girls and I get there?”

“The paper work usually takes several weeks and that’s after I find a place. I’m hoping I can rent one of the places we see tomorrow and it’ll be ready before Christmas. If I don’t find something tomorrow, the house hunting might have to wait until you get here.”

A long awkward silence followed. “Several weeks,” she repeated. “I was hoping. One of the reasons we stayed in New York was so that you might find something before we…Where will we be living on Christmas?”

“The Navy has temporary housing,” Brian offered weakly. “We’ll be together.”

“I remember the temporary housing we had when we moved to Portsmouth.” They had lived in a roach invested motel room their first several months after Brian had begun his medical residency at Portsmouth Naval Medical Center. The winter had been unusually cold and their newborn daughter suffered from a succession of ear infections. It had been a terrible experience for Terri, but she seldom reminded Brian of those tough times.

“It wasn’t that bad. Small but…”

“You weren’t the one stuck for days on end in a single room, in a strange city, with a new baby. It will be that much worse if I’m with both girls in a strange city where I can’t speak the language.”

“I know those were bad days and being a Navy wife has been hard on you, Terri. I know what kind of sacrifices you’ve made.” Brian reminded himself every day that his wife was a gifted cellist who had abandoned a promising career as a classical musician to become the wife of a Navy Doctor. While perhaps not as auspicious as her pursuits in New York and Paris, she had found opportunities to use her gifts in Portsmouth, but they weren’t sure what awaited in Naples. While Terri clearly was not happy with their current reassignment, she was almost always cheerful and supportive.

“I start ICR classes on Monday and you’re signed up for the first week after you arrive. Once I complete that I can get a driver’s license and if the housing center can’t help us find something, I’ll start looking on my own. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“I know you will, Brian.” Her voice cracked. “You always do.”

“You’ll like our sponsors.” Brian tried to change the subject. “Gerry and Bonnie Frank Gerry’s also a Family Practitioner. They have twin boys the same age as Ginny. He took care of a dozen things before I arrived and Bonnie is anxious to meet you and show you around, too.”

“Are you having Thanksgiving dinner with them? You won’t be alone, will you?”

“They’ve gone to Rome on vacation for the long weekend. I’m going…” Brian didn’t want to admit he’d be alone. “They have a nice dinner for the bachelors at the Officers Club.”

“Aunt Dot and Uncle George are bringing my grandparents over later. My mother’s been up since before dawn and she’s, well she’s her normal stressed out, nagging self. Refuses help, then complains she has to do everything by herself. Complains that the kids are too noisy, but won’t let me take them out because it’s too cold and she needs me to help. This apartment is far too small for five people. I can’t believe I lived this way for twenty years.”

Terri’s parents had insisted that she and the girls spend Thanksgiving with her them before joining Brian in Naples, since it would be at least three years before they’d be together again. Terri had known that her patience would be stretched in the tiny two bedroom apartment and would have preferred to spend at least part of the holiday in Sleepyside with Brian’s family. Instead, the four of them spent a short afternoon in Sleepyside before he left and she’d agreed to stay with her parents for several weeks. Her childhood twin bed almost filled the second bedroom and she was forced to share the room and the bed with the two girls. At best, both girls were restless sleepers, but the excitement and fears of their moving made them even more so.

“At least we aren’t both crammed into that tiny bed.” Brian made a feeble attempt at humor.

“Oh, Brian, I’d gladly share that bed with you right now.”

“I’m sure the girls are climbing the walls during the day, too.” The girls would spend all day outside, if allowed. Brian could only imagine their horror at being forbidden from playing in the park.

“How’s the tutoring going?” When Ginny’s teacher in Portsmouth had learned that Ginny would be out of school for almost two months, she prepared detailed lessons for Ginny to follow while not in school, ensuring that she wouldn’t fall behind.

“The only place we can work is the kitchen table. Every time we sit down, Mother hovers over Ginny, making corrections, providing misinformation, or just distracting us in general.

“And both girls have been begging to play the piano.” Both Ginny and Tori had inherited their mother’s musical talent and were receiving piano lessons from Terri. The piano where Terri had taken her first music lessons still held a prominent position in the crowded living room, but her mother had insisted that it not be used. She fretted about their disturbing the neighbors—the same neighbors that had been there when Terri learned to play.

“The Hearsts are out of town, so they can’t be disturbed, but Mother now says it gives her a headache. In fact, she said my playing always gave her headaches. We walked over to Columbia yesterday and used a practice room, but there won’t be any open time once the students return from break. And forget even thinking about my practicing on my cello.”

“Only a few more days.” Brian tried to reassure his wife. “And it will be another three years before you have to spend a holiday with your parents.”

After confirming the girls’ travel itinerary and Terri’s reassurance that she would call Crabapple Farm and give his family an update, they ended the call.

Brian sat and stared out the window at the fog that obscured most of the base, praying that he’d find a home for his family and that it wouldn’t be as dirty and depressing as what he’d seen so far in Naples.

Aeroporto Internazionale di Napoli
Capodichino, Italy
Thursday, December 7, 1978

Brian hurried as best he could through the crowd in the Naples Airport. Just as he had the day Brian arrived, Gerry had not accounted for Naples’ infamous traffic and they were late getting to the airport. Finally he saw Terri carrying their younger daughter, followed by the older Ginny and a facchino, pulling a luggage cart piled high with Terri’s cello and several suitcases.

Brian ran up to them and started to hug his wife when she pulled away and handed him Tori, who was barely awake.

“Daddy?” she mumbled.

Brian adjusted so that she could lean her head on his shoulder. “I’m here, Tori.”

“You’re late. Ginny got losted in Roda and Mommy got mad.”

“I’m here now, pumpkin.” He tried to smile at Terri. “Rough trip?”

“Oh geez. How can you even ask?” Terri took Ginny’s hand. “We left my parents’ apartment before dawn…I guess it was yesterday,” Terri sobbed. “I was dozing off in Roda and Ginny took off on her own to find a restroom. I woke up and she was gone! Gone! Thank goodness, she came right back. The breakfast they served when we left Roda was inedible. Tori complained of a tummy ache all the way from Sicily. We could see the flames of Mount Etna. I thought it was neat, but it scared the girls. Then you weren’t here so I had to try to find help and…”

This time Terri didn’t recoil when Brian pulled her into a hug. “But you’re here. We’ll get settled in, you can nap and then we have some catching up to do.

“I’m glad you found a skycap.” Brian turned to the young man struggling with the heavy cart. “Parli Inglese?”

“Si! Yes! Speak Eengleesh!”

“This way. We have a car.” The skycap stared blankly.

“Fluent, I see. Ah, in questo modo.” Brian pointed in the direction he came.

“Gerry,” he said to Terri. “He’s our sponsor. He dropped me off. Hopefully he’ll find his way back to the entrance so he can pick us up. I just hope we’ll fit all this in his Fiat.”

After several attempts they were able to tie the cello onto the top of the Fiat, fit most of the luggage in the small trunk, and pile the rest on laps and under feet. Terri and the girls squeezed into the back seat while Brian held two bags on his lap in the front.

“Sorry there isn’t more room,” Gerry apologized as he pulled into traffic. “We have two cars, but this is the bigger. I think Brian is looking at one like it. It’s all you need with two young children, and between the narrow streets and tiny parking spaces…He said you’re shipping over a Volvo, but you may find you want something smaller.”

“I love my Volvo. It’s not that big.” Terri flinched as Gerry narrowly avoided a car that came out of a hidden alley. “But a Fiat may do as a second car.”

“I’ve looked at a used Fiat 131 already. If nothing else we’ll have it while we are waiting for the Volvo to get here. Of course, I can’t buy a car until I complete driving class,” Brian added.

“You need to sign up as soon as possible for ICR, Terri. Once you complete that you can take the one-day driving class and get your license.”

Brian cleared his throat and Gerry glanced into the rear view mirror. Terri and both girls were sound asleep.

Hotel Hideaway
Adnano, Italy
Thursday, December 7, 1978

“This is it?” Terri glanced around the room. “Two double beds in one room?” She helped a half-awake Ginny take off her shoes and then tucked the covers of one bed around her while Brian did the same thing with Tori on the other side of the bed.

“It’s temporary. It’s got a refrigerator and we have $80 a day for food,” Brian offered feebly. The Navy provided free temporary housing and a food allowance for officers and their families in a number of hotels near the hospital. “The hotel includes a number of small apartments and I have us on the waiting list for the first one available.”

Terri kicked off her shoes and fell back onto the other bed. “I know you’re doing the best you can, Brian, but…” She rolled over and pulled a pillow over her head. “Wake me in time to get ready for dinner.”

Not knowing what else to do, Brian grabbed his book and left the room. They were meeting Gerry and Bonnie and their two boys around six for dinner at the Steak House on base. He knew the girls would prefer pasta or pizza on their first night in Naples, but the Franks had recommended this restaurant because it was close to the hotel. He also felt it was safer to let the Franks choose until they learned their way around and had access to their own car. The elevator pinged and the doors opened. Hopefully Bonnie Frank would be able to help Terri adjust to the move and meeting the Frank twins would reassure Ginny and Tori that there were plenty of potential friends in Naples.

Brian knew they could be happy living in Naples. They had to be happy there.

The Steak House
Adnano, Italy
Thursday, December 7, 1978

“Everything was delicious.” Terri remarked as a waiter cleared the table. “I had wondered why you suggested a steak house on our first night in Italy, but I can see now.”

“I thought you might be looking for authentic Italian for your first night here, but I also knew how limited your mobility will be until you have a car. And there’s no way we could all fit in the Fiat!” Bonnie Frank spoke in a calming tone. “This is the best place within walking distance from your hotel other than the OC and my boys hate having to dress up for the OC.” Bonnie Frank placed her napkin on the table. “I wasn’t sure about what your girls might want. There are a number of terrific local restaurants that are easily accessible by car. We’ll try one of those as soon as you get a car.”

“I appreciate any suggestions.” Terri took a sip of water.

“The best pie in all Naples…maybe Italy is at Bagnoli Joe’s. We’ll have to take the kids there for lunch. As soon as you get settled.”

“Pie?” Tori interrupted. “I like pie.”

“People call pizza ‘pie’ here,” Bonnie explained. “I’m not sure why. Something like pizza means pie so it’s…”

“I like pizza, too.” Tori sat up straight. “I like lots of cheese, but no mushrooms or onions.”

“You shouldn’t have interrupted Mrs. Frank.” Brian tried to scold, but could only smile at his younger daughter. “Mrs. Frank was telling us about a great place to go for pizza.”

“Um, sorry. Can we get pizza tomorrow?” Tori had resisted getting up from her nap and had been unusually quiet during dinner. Brian was relieved to see her becoming more animated.

“No, sweetie. Remember, we’re going to look at a new house.” Brian had found two houses where they might live and had made arrangements to meet with the landlord of one of them the next day.

“Daddy told you that already.” Ginny condescendingly told her sister. “He said we won’t have to share a bedroom and it’s got balconies.”

“I remember. And he said there’s a playroom and lots of pretty colored tile.”

“And it had a pretty name. What was its name, Daddy?”

“Villa Caroline.” Brian tried to smile. “I think the owner has a daughter named Caroline and he named it for her.”

“Can we call it Villa Tori?”

“Why not Villa Ginny?”

“I think we’ll just call it home…if we rent it, of course.”

“I hope this house works out for you. I don’t know of anyone who managed to find something as quickly as you have,.” Gerry added. “Of course, if you decide to rent this house, it could take weeks to sign the lease and get in. These Italian landlords move like snails and then you’ll have to find all the appliances, wardrobes, transformers, and arrange leasing furniture until your household goods arrive. It took us almost six weeks to get into our house and then another month before our things arrived from Pensacola.”

“Six weeks?” Terri looked over at her husband. “We were hoping…we wanted to get in before Christmas…and be settled before Ginny returns to school. I thought I’d keep her out until after Christmas break.”

Bonnie laughed, then realized how upset Terri was. “Don’t worry.” She patted Terri’s hand. “It’ll be tight moving before Christmas, but not impossible.” She looked at her husband for confirmation. “Gerry and I will help any way we can, or at least direct you to someone who can. The teachers at Forrest Sherman School are used to helping students adjust to moving. I don’t think Ginny will have much problem adjusting, no matter where you’re living. There are only two classes in each grade, so she’ll have one of the boys in her class. Kerry and Berry will love to show her around and help in any way they can.”

Hearing his name, one of the twin boys perked up. “Is Ginny going to be in my class? She’ll love Miss Holder. She’s the best…”

“Mrs. Gilmore is better.” The other twin interrupted. “I want Ginny to be in my class.”

“Both are great teachers. Ginny will be happy no matter who she has.” Bonnie turned back to Terri.

”I think the house Brian found is in an area where other doctors and officers live. There’ll be lots of American kids to play with.”

“But, do you think we can get settled before Christmas?” Terri asked. “That’s our goal.”

Bonnie shrugged. “Would you like me to go with you tomorrow when you meet with your potential landlord? My Italian stinks, but I can tell you what to expect and…”

Brian listened with concern. The housing counselor had assured him that, despite what he considered faults with the units, they were what he should expect. He wanted to get settled just as badly as Terri, but he also didn’t want to be stuck in something for three years just because they had set the goal to be moved before Christmas.

Villa Caroline
Lago Patria, Italy
Friday, December 8, 1978

“Is this the kitchen?” Terri stared into the small windowless room that contained a free standing sink and large propane gas tank. “Where will we put the refrigerator? There’s no place to prepare food.” She backed out shaking her head back and forth.

“There’s no window.”

“You buy dee cabinets, dee oven, dee…ah…frigorifero. We have bombola for you.” The landlord pointed to the propane tank.

“Mommy! I’m cold!” Terri hurried over to her younger daughter, zipped up her coat and pulled the hood up over her head. “Is there heat?” She turned to Brian. “I swear it’s colder in here than outside.”

“Heat?” The landlord had followed her out of the closet-sized room he’d called a kitchen. “We have dee radiatori. He pointed to a radiator. “You can use eight hours only. L'olio è razionato. Eet’s thee law.”

“You can…you…È possibile utilizzare stufette.” He held up his hands as if holding a small box, then pointed to the electrical outlet.

“Space heaters?” Terri asked.

“But you said our electricity is limited, too.” She turned to Brian.

“Mommy, it smells funny in here.” Now that Tori was a bit warmer, she found something else that didn’t suit her.

“It’s not sulphur. You don’t smell it out here.” The area around the hospital and NSA had the smell of rotten eggs that emanated from the nearby Solfatara crater.

“It’s mold, Brian. Mold! Damn freezing house has mold.” Terri stormed out into the front garden.

“No! No, Senora. No mold!” the landlord protested.

“This was the nicest house I saw, Terri.” Brian followered her outside and held her closely as he. “One house didn’t even have a kitchen. Another had no parking. This is a big house. The living room alone is bigger than our place in Portsmouth. It has three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a yard! Do you know how rare it is to have a yard in Naples? The girls just might get that swing set they want. It’s only 15 minutes to work on the Tange…”

“Which is a toll road, and then you crawl through that awful traffic to get to the hospital. And the cost of gas…it’s over $3.00 a gallon.” Terri added.

“I told you that the Navy gives us coupons to use at the AGIP, so that it costs less than $1.00 per gallon. As to traffic, there’s no escaping it. I’ll crawl through that awful traffic near the hospital no matter where we live. We’re in Naples!”

“Yes. I know. Naples.”

“Terri, I had no choice. I honestly think there will be more opportunities for you here than there were in Portsmouth.”

“Probably.”

“I want you to promise to call the opera company and those other contacts you have first thing tomorrow.”

Terri chuckled. “You’re just trying to change the subject. I want to know where I’m living before I think about anything else.”

“We don’t have to rent this house. We can keep looking. But, I don’t know how long that will take.”

“It smells like mildew.”

“It’s been sitting empty for a while. Once we turn on the heat…”

“For eight hours each day?”

Brian pretended not to hear that. “We’ll buy some space heaters and insist that the landlord address some of the other things and…overall, I kinda’ like it.”

Terri turned and Brian instinctively stepped back.

“Those marble floors and the tile work are gorgeous. I like the garden. And the smell of the lemon trees is heavenly,” Terri conceded. “The location is perfect. The views of Lago Patria are spectacular.”

“It has balconies,” Brian added.

“That the girls will fall off.”

“We’ll put up higher railings.”

“And I guess the girls and I’ll be wearing long underwear all winter.”

Brian pulled his wife to him. “One extra layer for me to peel off each night.”

“They don’t make sexy long johns.”

“Oh, Terri. Just being together, just you…that’s all the sexy I need.”

“Mommy! Daddy!” Ginny called from the house. “The bedrooms have balconies! And you can ice skate on the floors. Come see!”

“Welcome home, Mrs. Belden.” Brian took her hand and led her into the house.

Piazza del Plebiscito
Naples, Italy
Monday, December 18, 1978

While it had seemed impossible to make all the arrangements to move into their house before Christmas, it was beginning to look like they not only would be moved, but they would have most of the appliances and furniture they needed. Of course, that had meant that Terri had been working day and night arranging for delivery of their Express Shipment, leasing furniture through the housing office, purchasing wardrobes, cabinets, and used appliances, negotiating repairs and improvements with the landlord, attending ICR classes, driving class, purchasing a used Fiat, and more; all while trying to care for two little girls. Brian was working normal rotations that included long days at the medical center clinic, as well as MOD and overnight on-call rotations, limiting his ability to help.

Brian had been delighted to be able to give his wife an early Christmas present of a performance of Don Carlo at one of the grandest and most historic opera houses in Europe.

“Are you okay?” Terri had been thrilled, talking non-stop for days about this opportunity, but she had been unusually quiet throughout dinner. Now, as they entered the Piazza del Plebiscito with the Franks, she didn’t seem to notice that the Teatro di San Carlo had come into view.

“I’m sorry Brian. I’m having a hard time believing that this is all real.” She offered a weak smile.

“I’ve seen photographs, but they didn’t show how…it really is in disrepair, isn’t it?” Terri said as they crossed the plaza. “Of course the interior should be grand.” She turned to Bonnie Frank. “Did I tell you that…?”

“I think that over the past few days, I’ve learned everything there is to know about the Teatro di San Carlo and the Neapolitan School of Opera.” Brian turned to Gerry and laughed.

“I haven’t heard,” Bonnie offered diplomatically. “I’d like to hear.” She winked at Brian.

Terri rambled on and on as they crossed the plaza and walked under the arched entryways. “The theater was commissioned by the Bourbon King Charles VII of Naples and built in 1737. It’s the oldest continuing active venue for opera in Europe. The Neapolitan School of Opera remains the best known for the Italian Baroque style and, during the 18^th century, Naples was the center of opera and classical music in Europe.”

“Oh!” She gasped as they entered the main foyer. “I can’t believe I’m here. I mean, I hoped to see this someday, hoped I’d get here before we move back to the states. But the regular opera season doesn’t even start until January. Thank you, Brian.”

Brian took everyone’s coats, checked them and headed back across the plush carpet. Gerry found an usher who bowed and smiled at the dashing young navy officers in their Dinner Dress Blues. Brian handed him the tickets and his smile swiftly disappeared.

“Theez way.” He turned and walked away. Terri and the Franks all looked at Brian, obviously confused by the usher’s rapid change in manner. Brian shrugged and they all followed the usher, who led them across the grand foyer, into a smaller reception room, then through a door where a younger usher waited at the bottom of a flight of stairs carpeted in plush blue carpeting. The first usher handed their tickets to the younger man and indicated they should follow him up the stairs.

The first two flights were wide and carpeted in the same plush blue carpeting, but each additional flight was narrower and the carpeting was thinner and more worn. Finally, after five flights, the usher led them out of the stairwell and into a long narrow hallway. After leading them down the hall and around a slight curve, he stopped and pulled back a heavy drape.

“Here. Your loge.” He tore the stubs from their tickets, handed Brian four programs and left.

Brian stepped aside to let Terri go into their box and saw that her face was flushed and tears were running down her cheeks. “Are you okay?”

Terri shook her head. “The stairs, I thought I might pass out…It doesn’t matter. I’m just overtired.” She smiled weakly as she stepped through the parted curtains.

Brian cringed at the disappointment in his wife’s voice. He waited while Bonnie and Gerry entered the loge. “Is there a problem?” He started to ask as he followed behind them.

“Oh.”

Brian had thought he was getting luxury box seats for their first performance in the Teatro di San Carlo. They were box seats, but they were anything but luxurious. Instead of the sumptuously upholstered seats that were in larger boxes and the orchestra below them, they had four small straight-backed wooden chairs. And, while their fifth-level box gave them a breathtaking view of the entire performance hall, it was located almost directly above the stage. Their only view of the stage and performers would be from at least fifty feet above and, then, only if they stood up and leaned over the balcony; an impossible feat for them to do more than one at a time.

A quick glance between Brian and the Franks ensured that Terri should get the front seat closest to where she could stand and lean over. Bonnie took the other front seat while Gerry and Brian took the two in the back, their only view that of the elaborately painted ceiling and the loges directly across from them.

“Would you like me to see if we can move?” Brian leaned over and asked Terri as soon as the four were sitting.

Terri shrugged. “These are fine. I came to hear the opera, not see it.”

Terri still appeared flushed and teary eyed. Brian wasn’t sure if she were excited, disappointed or, his primary concern as a doctor, becoming ill.

Brian sat back, hoping the acoustics were better than the view.

The acoustics were excellent and Terri didn’t seem to mind that she couldn’t see the stage, but by the third act, Brian’s back couldn’t take the hard chair any longer.

“How long is this?” he whispered to his wife.

“Five acts.” Terri continued to look straight ahead.

“And this is…”

“The third. Haven’t you been counting?”

“So how much longer? Not acts. Time.”

Terri tried to turn around in the crowded box. “Are you bored already?”

Already? Brian thought as he shook his head. “Not bored. But my back is killing me. These chairs are…

After what seemed another eternity to Brian, Terri announced that the audience’s ovation meant the opera was fine--ended. Brian stood up and glanced at his wristwatch while he tried to stretch.

“Yes, dear husband. You sat in that chair for almost five hours.” Terri hugged him. “Thank you. I know this was torture for you, but…it’s the first time I’ve seen…” She laughed. “It’s the first time that I’ve heard Don Carlo live.

Brian felt her hot body through the silky fabric of her dress. “You’re hot.”

“You know what a concert can do for me. Of course, I’m hot!” she practically purred.

“No, feverish. Are you sure you feel okay?”

“Actually, the adrenaline rush has abated and…I guess we need to get home.”

They chatted with the Franks, allowing time for others to clear out before they had to head back down the stairs. Brian noticed that Terri might be a little unsteady as she walked down the hall, but she always teetered just a little when wearing high stiletto heels like those she wore that night. He held open the door to the stairwell and watched closely as she stepped onto the top step.

She stopped and turned her head towards him. Before she could speak, she missed her step and fell, rolling to the landing below.

“Oh, my…Terri…Terri!” Brian and the Franks ran down to her.

Villa Caroline
Lago Patria, Italy
Thursday, December 21, 1978

“Thank you, ah, Grazi, Signor Rossi. Grazi.” Brian shook the hand of their landlord.

“Ora si dovrebbe avere un sacco di acqua calda.” Signor Rossi turned to shake hands with Terri and then stopped abruptly. “Spero che tu guarire rapidamente la Signora Belden.”

Neither Brian nor Terri had a clue what their landlord had said, but they thanked him again as he put on his hat and left.

Brian closed the door behind Signor Rossi and then moved a large cardboard box into the center of the room. “Sit,” he ordered his wife.

“Brian, we need to…” Terri protested.

“Sit down.” He pointed to the top of the box. “You can supervise if you promise to stay put. Otherwise, I’m taking you back to the hotel.”

“We have less than four days until Christmas. I need to find all our linens and dishes in these boxes, while you need to start up the furnace and bleed the radiators. I plan to use every minute of those eight hours of heat.

“Once the loaner furniture gets in later today, I need to make up the beds and we need to get the girls’ rooms set up as soon as possible. I only have them in day care until 5:30. And we need to go by the Commissary now that we have a refrigerator and those metal shelves you put up, and not a single package is wrapped. And one of us has to call the phone company. They refused to let me apply for service until we have our lease. Bonnie said it takes at least six months to get service.

“And aren’t you on call tonight?” She sighed audibly.

“I’m not on call until after Christmas. You are bruised and battered and not completely recovered from the flu.” He felt her forehead. “No fever, but I think you’re dehydrated. So you sit and tell me what to do.”

Terri had broken her left arm and cracked a rib when she fell down the stairs at the Teatro di San Carlo. Brian knew that between her injuries and having the flu, it was impossible for her to handle the details of moving, so he traded off all his overnight on-call duties until after they were moved and settled.

“Now, how did you label the box with sheets and covers for the beds?” Brian began rummaging through the stacks of boxes.

“I hate this!” Terri sounded just like Ginny or Tori when they were upset. “I hate hurting! I hate being sick! I hate the cold and damp! I hate the smelly air! I hate Naples! I hate it!”

Brian pulled her up from the box where she sat and held her close. This was so unlike the loving and cheerful woman he knew, but she had to be in a great deal of pain. “I know this is miserable. But this is a beautiful house and after the first of the year you’ll feel better, all of our furniture will be here and you’ll make it a wonderful home. Until then…”

“I don’t want to wait until after the New Year.”

“Hello!” Bonnie Frank knocked on the frame as she stepped in the front door. “Hope you don’t mind, but I saw the door was unlocked. “I brought some lunch, and maybe a little help getting moved in.”

“Bonnie! You’ve done enough. You have enough to do.”

“I can spare an afternoon. The boys are in school and Mary and Cheryl are coming later. Wendy, Mal and Trish will be here tomorrow.” She referred to several other officers’ wives. We’ll have you completely moved in by tomorrow night. We also pooled our extra Christmas decorations so we’ll make it as festive as we can.”

“I don’t know what to say. I can’t…you are the best friends.”

“And why aren’t you sitting down? I thought you promised to sit all day.” Bonnie dragged a box across the room toward where Terri had been sitting. “Brian, come join us for lunch.”

Bonnie sat down and pulled out two wrapped sandwiches from the box she was carrying. “So, I take it Signor Rossi made all the repairs and you finally got your contract signed.” She handed one sandwich to Terri and began unwrapping the other.

“Yes, we signed the contract late yesterday. We finally agreed to ₤700,000 per month. The Navy housing allowance covers almost that much. The contract "negotiations" were weird. We sat down with the realtor, our landlord who speaks no English, and some guy who was the interpreter. Right after we walked in, they began arguing. We had no idea what they were talking about. They would have ignored us if we had kept quiet. After about 30 minutes the interpreter explained that the landlord wanted ₤750,000 after the additional work he had done, but that was more than he could legally charge. Besides, we thought it was too much.”

“I can’t believe how quickly he worked, but most of the work was necessary to make this place habitable.” Brian grabbed a sandwich and bottle of Coke out of the box. “Speaking of which, I need to go downstairs to fire up the furnace so we won’t freeze tonight.” He headed towards the foyer and down the stairs.

“Oh, shit! Terri! Do we have a mop?” Terri and Bonnie jumped up and hurried over to the lavish marble stairs while Brian bellowed profanities from below.

“That idiot Rossi may have thought he installed the hot water heater, but we’ve got a waterfall and indoor swimming pool instead.”

“I have a mop and some rags in the car.” Bonnie ran out the front door.

Terri looked over at the stack of unopened packing boxes, listened to the water running downstairs and shook her head in disbelief at her normally reserved husband’s cursing. She started to go downstairs, but instead, flopped down on the top step, sobbing. “I hate Naples. I hate it here.”

Via San Gregorio Armeno
Naples, Italy
Saturday, December 23, 1978

“Kerry said that today is Christmas Eve Eve,” Ginny advised her mother in a serious tone. “Is that right, Daddy?”

“I guess you could call it that. Eve means the day, or night I suppose, before.” Brian adjusted Tori on his hip and looked back at his wife and older daughter as they made their way slowly through the crowded narrow alleys of the Centro Storico, or historic district of Napoli. “Don’t let go of Mommy’s hand.”

“I won’t. But she’s walking too slow and we might lose you!”

Brian turned around, wondering if they had made a mistake to go out in the holiday crowds in search of some narrow street packed with tourists and holiday shoppers. While Terri had completely recovered from her bout of the flu, she still had a lot of pain from her cracked ribs and the cast on her arm limited her mobility.

“I’m fine, Brian. Besides, I really needed to get out of that cold, damp house. Just thinking of three long cold winters without central heat and only 8 hours of radiator heat daily makes me feel ill again. I ordered about $150 worth of blanket sleepers and thermal underwear from Sears, so we might survive, but...” Terri offered a weak smile.

“Bonnie and Mary both told me we had to come here. The other girls haven’t been here, but they’ve heard of it. Bonnie thought it’d be better to wait until after the holidays when the crowds aren’t so bad, but Mary insisted it’s best experienced during the Christmas season when things are at their frenzied peak. She said it’s better than any pain killers or space heaters for making it feel like Christmas, and we’ll quickly forget about white Christmases, skating at Rockefeller Plaza, maybe even the warm fires of Crabapple Farm.”

“Nothing will replace holidays at Crabapple Farm.”

“Of course, I’d love to forget this past Thanksgiving.” They both laughed as they followed the largest crowds around a corner.

They entered a street that was more typical of Greek architecture than Roman, a reminder of the original Greek settlers of Naples in the 2nd millennium BC. Known as a “stenopos” it served as a connection between two main streets of the ancient Neapolis.

About halfway along the narrow street was the church of San Gregorio Armeno, erected around 930 AD on the foundations of a temple to goddess Ceres. The street was dominated by a large bell-tower that served as a bridge connection between the church and its adjacent monastery.

The street was a kaleidoscope to delight the senses, lined with shops spilling their wares out into the street and side alleys, selling anything needed to create a Neapolitan Christmas presepe or nativity.

Finely crafted figurines in terracotta and wood were displayed along with cribs of all sizes, many adorned with lights and water elements, mass produced sets and animated pieces. From the sacred to the profane, there were traditional Nativity figures, symbolic characters, butchers, bakers and pizza makers who recalled everyday life in 18th century Naples, and contemporary characters immortalized by the renowned presepe artisans of Via San Gregorio Armeno.

Merchants sold plenty of Christmas kitsch as well as other traditional Neapolitan crafts like the famed Pulcinella, a stock character in 17^th century Neapolitan puppetry, the Neapolitan tambourine, and the Neapolitan mandolins that feature prominently in European classical and traditional music.

Brian and Terri stood, mouths agape, trying to process the attack on their senses; the sounds and smells of the crowds, the slivers of light that seemed to direct them to some of the vendors, but, especially, the beauty of the hand-crafted nativities.

A short stooped woman, dressed completely in black bumped into Terri. “Mi scusi.” Seeing that Terri was with her family, she smiled. “Stai cercando di acquistare il presepe?”

Terri first didn’t understand, but then turned to Brian. “I think she’s asking if we want to buy a presepe.”

“Si! Si! You like? You buy? Vieni con me.” She motioned for them to follow, then walked confidently through the crowds. Then stopped in front of a shop with a hand painted sign, Rosario e Gennaro Di Virgilio.

They followed her inside to find it filled with hand-crafted traditional figures as well as those of a number of contemporary celebrities and political leaders. The older woman found a sales clerk who helped Terri select figurines while Brian watched in silent wonder and the girls jabbered non-stop about the countless shepherds, wise men, angels, baby Jesus’s, and animals.

Once Terri had filled several bags, they walked along the narrow street until they came to a second shop that seemed to draw them inside. It was stacked to the ceiling with both secular and religious figurines. While they didn’t purchase anything, they did agree that their favorite scene included the figures of Berlusconi, Luciano Pavarotti and a number of soccer players placed immediately next to a lovely large figure of the Madonna rocking an empty crib.

As Brian continued to try to take it all in, he found himself eavesdropping on three Italians who had stopped to look at a display. Since they had suitcases, he assumed they were not from Naples, and they seemed as fascinated as he was with the figures.  As he was straining to understand their conversation, one of them pointed to the figure Jimmy Carter. “Yes, yes, Billy Beer,” he said in perfect English.

They continued through the crowd, Terri carefully selecting figures for a second and then third nativity until Brian and the girls protested that they couldn’t carry anything more. Their final stop was at a shop where Brian insisted that Terri place an order for a mandolin.

They left the music store and headed back in the direction they had come. When they got under the bell tower, Terri stopped and began to spin around, hitting several people with the cast on her arm.

“Scuzi!” She hit a women laden with packages. “I’m so glad we came here! Scuzi!” She almost knocked over an elderly woman. “It’s…it’s…unlike anyplace else in the world! Scuzi! Scuzi!” She continued to hit people.

“It’s magical, Brian.” She gasped as she slowed and then stopped. “Christmas Alley is magical!” All these presepi, the welcome, help, tree and decorations given to us by people we didn’t even know a month ago! While our Christmas will be unlike any we’ve known before, it will be magical. Magical!”

Vila Caroline
Lago Patria, Italy
December 25, 1978

The Villa Caroline was cold and damp on Christmas Day. Ginny and Tori were wrapped in blankets but still shivered as they opened their gifts from Babbo Natale, but they smiled and laughed when they saw the meager offerings. The NSA’s Toyland had sold out of the most popular toys months ago. A scrawny tree, the last one left on the lot, with the last string of lights left in the Post Exchange and a few broken or handmade paper “ornaments”. None of the gifts shipped from family in the US had arrived yet.

But they prayed for friends and family members that morning, and the four of them were together. Their home was filled with the love they shared and the magnificent Neapolitan Presepi.

Brian pulled his wife across the sofa and wrapped her in his arm. “I know this hasn’t been the type of Christmas you wanted.”

“No. No, Brian,” she protested. “It’s been magical!”

He nodded towards the two girls playing at their feet. ”The, for now, we’ll enjoy this magical Christmas and the priceless treasures God has given us."

And it was a magi-cal Christmas.

Patricia's Passages Butterflies Home

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