Small token of amends 0

I moved to Italy in June 2003 with everything I owned inside a single suitcase and backpack. I returned to California in August 2016 with two suitcases, a carryon, a backpack, a wife, a cat, and forty boxes of books, DVDs, CDs, clothes, pillows, and other stuff that will arrive next month. (Most of those boxes are full of Francesca’s shoes.)

Despite transporting the excess of material objects I’ve acquired over the years, our cat Jimi made the biggest difference in changing continents. With Jimi crammed into a pet carrier the size of a shoebox, we worried that passengers seated in our vicinity would hang the American, his Italian wife, and their screaming black cat during the fourteen-hour journey. So at the suggestion of a friend, we prepared goodie bags with earplugs, candy, a refrigerator magnet with a photograph of Jimi, and this letter of apology: continue reading »

7 people like this post.

No matter what or where or why 0

Dear Bradshaw,

We’ve just returned from California and you know what that means: 35,000 feet in the air, both ways. That’s about 34,995 feet higher than I like to be. In fact, every time my plane takes off and lands safely, I celebrate the minor miracle, as if I’ve cheated death somehow.

If flying makes me nervous, turbulence makes me a madman. A shuddering plane is a living nightmare for me. When I’m on a turbulent airplane I want to parachute to safety, immediately. Problem is planes have no parachutes, which is something I’ve never understood. Turbulence claws my fingers into the armrests as my heart beats in my brain. While scanning the flight attendants’ faces, searching for the faintest sign of panic or alarm, I swear to myself I’ll never fly again, no matter what or where or why. Of course, the attendants are always cool-headed, not a bead a sweat or wrinkle of concern no matter how shaky the ride. continue reading »

40 people like this post.

A handful of mayhem and a pinch of confusion 0

Dear Bradshaw,

Last week we had dinner at Francesca’s boss’s house. Being the first time for both of us, and also the first time she was to meet her co-workers’ husbands and wives, Francesca was determined to arrive on time. For this reason, though the drive was only 20 minutes, we left an hour early with printed directions from the boss himself, and also with the confidence that her brand new company car was equipped with a GPS. continue reading »

55 people like this post.

This stupid one my wife wants 0

Dear Bradshaw,

While passing the window display of a shop at the bazaar near our hotel in Istanbul, Francesca and I saw a pillowcase that was perfect for our living room.

“When we go inside,” I explained, “ask how much it is. That’s the one we want, of course, but when the guy tells you the price, I’ll pretend it’s too much and will choose a less expensive-looking one.”

From there we would argue back and forth, knowing we were going to end up with the original one “but oh well fine if you give us a good price I’ll take this stupid one my wife wants.” continue reading »

33 people like this post.

Eat, drink and merry be 0

Dear Bradshaw,

I’m writing you from fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada, the Entertainment Capital of the World, Sin City, i.e. an oasis of sorts in the middle of the desert. We’re staying in a suite at Bally’s. It’s a big room, almost as large as our apartment in Rome. We’ve been here since Monday and leave tomorrow and that’s enough for me. After all, I’ve been here about 55 times, literally. continue reading »

17 people like this post.

Scott Sussman is powered by WordPress and FREEmium Theme.