And the eyes in his head see the world spinning round...

There is a man in town.  An old geezer (who am I to talk?)...he must be in his seventies, perhaps close to eighty.  However, he rides his bicycle all through this hill town.  That, in and of itself, is quite a feat, more especially at his age.  He's thin as a rail but a tough old bird.

I first encountered him on Valentine's Day.  We were walking up the street, my husband ahead of me because I am slow.  He had rounded the corner and as I approached, this old man on his bike started talking to me.  Oh dear....my Italian was not so good but I managed to get the gist of what he was saying.  He had some papers in a small satchel.  They were all copies of the same thing...something he had written by hand and he drew a heart at the top.  He was giving them out to le donne  (the women) on Valentine's Day.  It translated, roughly, as "All you need is love"....that was the basic message.

I wondered then about this man.  How does he survive?  Is he all alone?  Did he once have the love of his life and lose her?  Does he have any family?  Friends?

Another time he chatted us up, happy to discover we are Americans.  Heaven knows why at this point, but that is still the usual response.  He liked Harry and gave him some pets and asked a few questions.  How old is he?  What kind of dog is he?  He said he could tell he was a sweet boy.

In the supermarket one day he was congratulating a bike champion - it's a big thing here.  He was a bit too loud...but the biker was happy.

I've noticed that he seems to be considered the village nut case.  People shake their heads, or look down with little smirks.  And he may, indeed, have some mental and/or emotional issues, but he is not out of touch with reality.

He was ranting one day in the main piazza, yelling at someone...I am not sure if it was someone "official" from the Municipale or not....yelling and gesturing.  And spectators shook their heads or looked away.  But I have figured out what made him angry.  There are large pots of flowers in the piazza and they don't get cared for enough.  Plus, it has been 90 degrees or more every day.  The next day I saw him taking a soda bottle and filling it up over and over again to water the flowers.  It stands to reason, really.  If the town went through the trouble of planting the flowers to beautify the piazza, someone should be taking care of them.  There are multiple cisterns nearby, it isn't that hard.

We have our very own "fool on the hill"...but he isn't a fool at all. He wears his heart on his sleeve and he doesn't care who knows it.  I think my "Valentine" has stolen a piece of my heart.