The Lanzi V: Thirty Below Zero, Without Wind

By Giancarlo Gabbrielli

Now that Roberto Lanzi’s family has finally reunited in Winnipeg, his ambition to succeed makes him long for a business of his own.

With his wife Silvia’s support, Roberto borrows money to build a large complex near the city center. He hurls himself into the project, working day and night to oversee the design and fill their new shop handcrafted items, luxury goods, and his own sculptures. Other galleries and shops quickly snap up space in the new complex, and Roberto’s rapidly profile in the community earns respect as well as jealousy.

The birth of a daughter propels Roberto take on more debt, and by 1969, Roberto has become a well-known figure in the community.

But change is on the horizon. When interest rates increase exponentially, the nervous local banks in Winnipeg demand their money back. Betrayals force Roberto into a corner, and he realizes he must sacrifice his dreams, repay his loans and go into exile once more.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9781665557689

Giancarlo Gabbrielli

Giancarlo Gabbrielli was born in Florence, Italy and went to school at the Istituto Tecnico Pacinotti of Pisa. Then, after several years with a special department of the Italian Air Force and time with the NASA-USAF training centres, he moved to Canada. After a few years at the University of Winnipeg, he began a commercial activity and contributed editorials and political essays to Italo-Canadian newspapers. He also wrote novels with historical content and he has now published 13 books in English and Italian. Of these, 6 are part of the semi-autobiographical “THE LANZI SAGA”, 2 are collection of short stories, 3 are love stories and 2 relate to the political and military struggle of Italy in the period of 1943-1945. The ForeWord Clarion Review wrote that, in the Lanzis saga, “Giancarlo Gabbrielli has captured the noise and stench of war, the devastation of the land, the struggle for basic survival that can forever mark those who endure it. By taking readers into the mind and heart of a young, observant child, and by including sympathetic characters in both sides of the conflict, the author has made a powerful statement against the obscenity of war.”

Book preview

I

June, 1965 – The first day.

Even before he was completely awake, Roberto experienced a vague sense of joy without understanding why, but, as he gained consciousness, the unfamiliar warmth beside him and the sweet scent of his child revealed the reason for it.

The night before his wife Silvia and his son, after so many months of waiting, had finally arrived from Italy. The long journey to Winnipeg had been very tiring, it was late and she had fallen asleep as soon as she touched the bed.

Moonlight shone on her face from a gap in the curtains and Roberto had looked at her for a long time before falling asleep. He thought of the long months spent away from her and now she was finally beside him.

When he woke up it wasn’t yet morning and he slowly turned on his side, to avoid disturbing her sleep. He thought of the banks of the Arno River where they had made love for the first time, with the music coming from the dance club "Sirenetta– Little Mermaid". What did the Orchestra play that night? He couldn’t remember.

Shortly after, Silvia opened her eyes. Where am I? she asked still half asleep.

Here, next to me my love he replied embracing her. We’re finally together.

They kissed and their passion caught fire.

In the crib next to the bed, the child was rubbing his eyes with his small fists and at his first feeble moans Silvia moved away from Roberto and sat on the side of the bed.

I know dear, you are hungry she said with a caressing voice, but now your mommy will make you happy.

Roberto tried to hold her back by stroking her neck and her shoulders. She turned around, quickly returning a kiss.

Excuse me she said, but now I have to think about the baby.

She pulled him up from the crib and placed him close to her turgid breast. Roberto understood that he had to give him priority, but Silvia’s hasty manner left him with bitter taste in his mouth.

Darn it he muttered disappointed, How am I going to hold out until tonight?

Then, immediately regretting his own words, he added: It’s that I missed you so much.

So did I Roberto, but as you see...

After the child was fed, Roberto took him in his arms. Suddenly he realized that together with tenderness, a slight resentment had also emerged for the creature that was already in competition with him for Silvia’s affection. But how could he consider his child a rival for Silvia’s exclusive love? He was a bit confused. When Silvia tried to put the child down, he began to cry and she had to take him back in her arms.

There are seven hours difference from Italy said Roberto. He probably still feels the jet lag.

Me too I’m afraid Silvia said. But now I might as well get up.

Roberto began to show her where everything was stored: pots, pans, the various electrical appliances and other things he knew were different from Italy, like the drip coffee maker, the blender, and the microwave oven. Then he took the baby in his arms hoping he wouldn’t start crying again. He didn’t seem scared at all, on the contrary, he began to laugh and pulled his nose and his ears.

He’s drooling said Roberto holding him away.

Then clean his little mouth Silvia laughed, it won’t hurt you to get used to it. He awkwardly cleaned it with a handkerchief, then he kept it with two fingers away from his face.

You should see yourself said Silvia laughing, it’s not like a bomb, you know? She laid her lips on her husband’s cheek, and he pulled her against his chest. Unfortunately it was time to go to work.

How much I missed you he told her. Now I have to go but I’ll call you at noon. I’ll let the phone ring three times, then I’ll put it down and call again soon after. If it keeps on ringing don’t answer, it means it is someone else and you probably wouldn’t understand anyway.

He kissed her tenderly, laid his lips on the baby’s forehead and left.

After so much anxiety and months of waiting, his family was now complete and he could start thinking about the future with renewed energy. It was the first day of a new life. He wondered how many he had already experienced; the school, the tannery, the Air Force, the store in Tirrenia, all abandoned in order to make a better one. Finally, disappointed by the situation in Italy, his departure for Canada.

After long months of sacrifices and vain hopes, he had found work at Bristol Aero Space. In the beginning, as a mechanic on the Voodoo Jets line, and then, as a buyer in the purchasing department where he soon acquired senior status.

At the office Mr. Keele, head of that department, asked him:

Did your wife and baby arrive? Roberto replied with a smile from ear to ear, Yes sir, we’re finally all together. Other colleagues asked him too, and they seemed sincerely happy for him.

At noon, he called home as established and Silvia answered at the first ring.

I told you to let it ring three times.

Yes Silvia replied, but I was afraid the baby would wake up. He just fell asleep after the second feeding. Your child is a real eater.

Fortunately you have lot of milk.

Mom’s milk is the best thing there is, Silvia said.

Even wet nurses. I should know, I was fed by one. Roberto joked.

So I would have imagined, she laughed.

He didn’t answer the joke.

How are you doing? Are you all right?

Yes, but I’m still out of whack from the trip.

Try to get some rest. I’ll be home around five.

Bye my love. See you later.

***

That day seemed like a thousand hours. Roberto consulted his watch and waited for the closing buzzer like never before. It finally sounded and he rushed out of the office, ran to the bus stop, cursed at the red lights, and at people too slow to get out or get into the bus. Then, he raced on foot the three long blocks that separated him from his house on Conway Street. He found Silvia sitting on the front steps with the baby on her lap. How long he had waited to see them there. He hugged them and kissed them.

How did you spend the day? Have you settled a little bit? What do you think of the house? Did you find anything to cook?

One question at a time, sir.

I’m used to eating very early because three nights a week I have classes at the university.

Not tonight, I hope.

No, my love. Tonight I’m all yours. But now I’m going to change into a pair of jeans. Did you find anything in the house to invent for dinner?

I found a pack of spaghetti and some ripe tomatoes. I’ve already prepared the sauce and found some sliced cheese. It’s an orangey color, I’ve never seen it before, but I tasted it and it seems okay. A lot of things are missing, but we’ll go together to buy them.

Don’t worry, there is a nice little shop on Portage Avenue, not far from here. It’s called Tom Boy. It’s got everything, we’ll fill the fridge.

That night, sitting at the table in front of Silvia with the little one in the crib kicking happily, Roberto felt he had achieved the most immediate goal he had promised himself.

However, as one who reaches the top of a mountain, and looks with longing to higher peaks to conquer, he already thought of his next goals: university, work, a solid financial position and independence.

That night they finally made love, and Roberto forgot his innate restlessness and found peace of spirit in Silvia’s tender embrace. Did anything else really matter, he thought, if he had his family by his side? Could he surrender the ambition that drove him onward, and simply enjoy what he did have: a loving wife, a healthy son? He sighed, and realized once more that no, he would probably always want more than he had. Although, he thought, as he pressed himself against the warmth of Silvia’s back, this was almost…almost enough.

II

1965 Adjusting to the new country

The summer months passed fast, with the child growing visibly, and Silvia starting to venture to shop alone. Although, given her limited knowledge of the language, she sometimes made a mistake. Once she returned home with a can of cat food instead of tuna. They had a good laugh and she exclaimed:

I certainly won’t make this mistake again.

After dinner, now that the weather was good, they would walk around the neighborhood with the baby in the stroller. It was also good for Silvia to become familiar with the area. Sometimes Roberto put the child on his shoulders even if he often clung to his hair and enjoyed pulling it. He liked to feel the baby’s skin over his; it’s flesh of my flesh, he thought. Other times, especially if the little one was tired and had fallen asleep early, they stayed at home and lying on the carpet with a pillow under their head, they listened to Italian records or American singers of the ’50s and ’60s. Or to the sound of great American orchestras like Artie Shaw, Glenn Miller, Benny Goodman, Count Basie, etcetera. Sometimes, they lowered their lights to a minimum and made love on the floor.

Two or three nights a week Roberto attended university. But since Silvia and the child had arrived, his enthusiasm for school had greatly diminished and sometimes he even wondered if it was for himself that he continued, or if it was for nonna Luisa who, in life, had so much wished for him to graduate. How could he ever appease her ghost? Would he ever be enough? He carried the memory of her disappointment in him and it prodded him relentlessly to do more, achieve more, and be more important than he was.

Roberto stopped to reflect a bit more on the enormity of what he’s done, in dragging Silvia away from her family, her language, her home. He is now her sole anchor here in Canada. Without him, she would fly back home. He has to build a life for her and their son that would make her sacrifice worthwhile. This must be a stronger motive for him to succeed than any other. He felt guilty about uprooting her and felt worried about the shock of this transplant. It must be depressing for her to be in this strange land.

Silvia spent time in the garden, or when the baby was asleep, making cakes or cooking for the next day.

Autumn came. The leaves began to turn yellow and then the green carpet of the garden was covered with the red leaves of maples and the rusty ones of oak trees. Richard liked the leaves, he was intrigued by their colors and the rustle they made while walking over them. Every now and then he put one in his mouth and had to be careful that he didn’t eat it. In the morning and evening the temperature had fallen but the snow and the cold would arrive only at the end of October or early November. At least that’s what Roberto hoped. In fact, the snow was late to come that year. For Halloween the weather was still tolerable and not like that of the previous year, when under a snow blizzard Roberto had taken the two daughters of the Lanes in their chosen itinerary.

Just to follow local customs, Roberto carved a nice pumpkin, put a candle inside it and placed it near the front door, then turned on all the garden lights and waited for the neighborhood children to arrive. Many came, knocking at the door to claim their Trick or Treat and receive apples, candies or chocolates. On that occasion, the Free Press advised against apples because the previous year, some sadistic person had inserted razor blades in them.

Silvia had the opportunity to meet some of the mothers who accompanied the children and had fun, Riccardo did too, but at times he was afraid of those masked and vociferous kids. At eight o’clock Roberto, now tired of welcoming children, turned off the garden lights and shut the door.

That’s enough he said.

The last months of ’65 and early ’66 were rather difficult for Silvia. In addition to missing her parents, she had to remain at home, alone with the baby all day long, or at least until Roberto came home from work. When she finished caring for the baby, she spent her time dusting, scrubbing, preparing supper, with only the company of some music. She also spent a bit of time studying English and watching TV programs to get used to different accents. Not exactly the life she had aspired to. Every day she eagerly waited for her husband’s midday call and then for his return. At times she was visited by some of the women who lived nearby and had small children, but the conversation was very limited and the interests not often shared. She always preferred to visit their homes to see their furniture and to understand how Canadian women of her age lived, understand their taste. The only problem was to pretend to like that big mug of murky liquid they called coffee.

It’s like taking an enema orally she told Roberto laughing. And she continued, I must drink it very slowly or else they fill my cup again and again.

He laughed about her joke but he secretly felt anxious about it. Could she ever make a life for herself here?

III

1966 –The Flood

That evening people seemed to get on and off the bus faster than usual. They had also found all traffic lights green and Roberto had arrived home earlier than usual. He helped to set the table, then placing a record of Verdi overtures on the High Fi at low volume, he sat at the table and said:

What a pleasure to get home and find my two treasures waiting for me. It was so sad when I was alone.

I can imagine it Silvia said caressing him, I had my parents and the child, but I was sad too, I missed you.

They had dinner and then Roberto looked at the clock and said:

Shall we watch the news?

But I don’t understand anything Silvia replied a little disappointed, The English I learned at school doesn’t help me much.

I know, it’s hard at first, but the sooner you get used to the different accents, the sooner you’ll learn, don’t worry.

Silvia liked musicals or even bands like the Beatles. In August she had seen the entire broadcast of their concert from the A. Shea stadium in New York City. And a few days later she listened to the song Yesterday and predicted it would become a success. Roberto, although appreciating that they had written beautiful songs, perhaps in response to the hysterical behavior of their fans, had decided to ignore them. He was interested in international news and followed the rising racial revolts in the United States and the events of the Vietnam war. In the long discussions at Bristol, he predicted that the Americans would not win it. He also followed what was happening in other parts of the world, especially in the Middle East, where the frequent wars between Israel and the Arab states had caused the exodus of hundreds of thousands Palestinians. Sometimes he thought about the discussions his father had with some trusted friends before and during WWII. Especially the one often repeated in the family, in which he stated that the breakdown of previous boundaries and the artificial ones established by the colonial powers in the Middle East would cause a lot of trouble. In the future, he had stated, they could create the conditions for international terrorism. Given how things were going, he liked to think that perhaps he had inherited his father’s prophetic abilities.

In a way, it was hard to understand why he wanted to be like that father who he had hardly known, since he had left for the African front when he was nine years old and had never returned.

Meantime in Vietnam things were going the way he had anticipated. He would have liked to discuss those matters with his dear friends Mauro and Nanni, like they used to do. Here it was more difficult as those events were too far away to arouse any interest in Canadians. Besides, their views had become too similar to the Americans’ to be of any interest.

On Sunday he also watched some hockey games that, being fast and free of offside, slow side throw-ins and unpleasant interruptions due to players that fell to the ground at the slightest body contact, he was beginning to like it better than soccer.

One evening Roberto was studying in the basement when he heard Silvia’s excited voice:

Roberto, Roberto, hurry upstairs, come and see what happened in Italy.

The television’s images didn’t need translation. After two or three days of uninterrupted rain, the Arno River overflowed and submerged the city of Florence and the entire countryside and small towns up to Pisa.

Perhaps they’ll repeat it later. I’m afraid that our towns are also under water. Now it’s too late in Italy, but first thing in the morning I’ll phone your father to see if our towns escaped that disaster. I hope the people of the plain were warned in time and were able to move to higher grounds.

We have relatives in the hills of San Romano said Silvia.

Roberto did not comment. He was thinking of the wartime anti raid alarm that always went on well after the air incursions had already occurred, but he said nothing; he didn’t want to increase Silvia’s worries for her parents.

Let’s go to sleep he told her. Tomorrow morning we’ll get up early and we’ll phone your parents.

They did, but people at Pisa’s main telephone exchange said that the area was completely under water and it was impossible to connect with any town between Pisa and Florence.

It will take several more days before we can reconnect they added.

Perhaps Roberto ventured, if your parents have moved to higher, safe zones, they’ll call us. They’ll realize that such a news spread all over the world and that we are worried.

Let’s hope they’ll do it soon she said anxiously.

If it had happened when you and the baby were still there, I don’t know what I would have done…

But since I’m here and we are up, let’s have breakfast together, said Silvia smiling, What would you like to eat?

Roberto felt relieved. Perhaps it was a small vindication for taking his wife away from Italy. Possibly this was a sign that he made the right choice after all.

As always Roberto phoned during the lunch break. Silvia was excited.

My father called, Santa Chiara and Castelvecchio are also flooded. It’s a disaster, in certain areas the height of the water is measured in meters, and it’s not just water because it’s mixed with mud, with tanneries wastage, with diesel fuel and who knows what other disgusting substances.

But where are they? Roberto asked.

They are safe. After hearing what was going on in Florence, my uncle called them and insisted that they jump in the car and go immediately to his place on the hills. From there they heard that by dinner time the embankment had broken downstream of Castelvecchio and shortly after the level of the river was going down.

Then they are okay.

Yes, but let me finish. In the morning looking down on the valley, they saw that the whole plain, from San Romano to the foot of the hills of Monte Falcone, was a lake of muddy water.

What a disaster. Roberto murmured.

He remembered his grandmother telling him about such a calamity at the beginning of the century, when boatmen bringing aid to the town, had tied their boats to the rings originally intended for horses set in the walls of the municipal palace six feet from the pavement.

And then? What did they tell you?

That’s all, but we agreed to talk again in two or three days. Hopefully, by then, they can return home and the services will be restored.

Okay then. Now I have to go back to work Roberto said. I’ll send a letter to your parents and a couple lines to Mauro and Nanni to hear something about my town.

For several days the news and photos of the flood appeared in the television news and Silvia and Roberto eagerly followed the misadventures of the citizens of Florence. Young people from all over Italy and also foreigners from all over the world, worked incessantly to save the works of art of the city. Newspapers’ pictures showed the high water marks staining buildings twenty feet above the streets. The damage was huge, but the spirit of the Florentines was firm and they did not let themselves be taken down by the disaster.

The Italian communities of many Canadian cities began to form committees for the collection of money to be sent to Italy. Even in Winnipeg, the same thing was happening and various clubs and cultural societies, were working to raise awareness among the population. Initially Roberto, mindful of the many failed ‘collections’ of the past, for earthquakes or other disasters, thought that the money would end up in the pockets of the usual thieves. But then the director of the Italo-Canadian Newspaper called him:

Come on Roberto he told him, you must participate. It is ‘your’ Tuscany that suffers and then a lot of people know you for your articles in my newspaper. Write one about Florence, remembering that that city belongs not only to the whole of Italy, but to the entire world.

Roberto could not say no, and (despite his skepticism) wrote an article that awakened the self-love and sense of belonging of all the Italians of Winnipeg as well as his own.

The first reply to Roberto was from his friend Nanni.

Dear Roberto,

You know about our disaster. What can I say? People were talking about a flood for a couple of days and after overflowing in Florence, the towns near the Arno were also watching the rising level of the river with indescribable anxiety. In the late afternoon of November 4, some people said they heard an explosion a bit down from our town and soon after the river level began to go down. We let out a brief sigh of relief (thinking the worst was for the inhabitants east of us), the water flowed undisturbed to the lower areas. Rumors began to circulate that it was coming from the direction of the hills and in a few hours the entire countryside was flooded, cattle and pets drowned. People were desperate.

I will not repeat what you already know from the news. I can only tell you that, living in a higher area we haven’t suffered much damage, my family and I are among the luckiest. But I feel as though I’m living in a third world country. In Holland, with dams and canals they manage to tear slices of land from the ocean. In Italy we can’t even build an embankment, dredge a river, prevent constructions in dangerous places. You also need to know (and this will make you smile or swear) that after many hours that ANSA transmitted that Florence was flooded, no one at the central government knew about it. With a statement that seemed to come from ‘The land of Toys’ they declared that the teleprinters are switched