Heralding the Greatness of my Great-Grandfather

Today marks an auspicious occasion - it is the 90th birthday of my great-grandfather Popi, known to many others as Pete Spagnoli!

My great-grandfather Popi and me,
his little protege accordionist

*Note: this blog post contains many exciting videos and links, plus a special note regarding Popi at the end!
Popi and I are soul mates separated by four generations. Though we are currently the bookends of our entire family on the Spagnoli side - he is the eldest and I am the babiest - we have so much in common.


For instance, we are the ones who say the least at family dinners opting for hand gestures to communicate what we need to say. Once upon a time, Popi talked more, and I certainly have those proclivities for the future, but for now we parse our words and use them sparingly. Also, we both walk only with assistance. And it isn't a bad deal either as others do the hard work and we enjoy extra attention.

Back in his heyday as a famous accordionist and bandleader, Popi was easily the center of attention everywhere in the Big Apple from musical gigs and Italian restaurants to family settings. Now I, as a famous baby, am also already an accomplished attention grabber as well. In fact, if we are in the same country, we seem to be in friendly competition for attention, which is good for both of us still honing our skills. 

Obviously, I have inherited his charm. Popi is already the most popular resident already at his new home after just three months. All the aides there, pretty young women, are enamored with him. Same with me at school. From female babies my own age to the young women who teach the classes, they are all wrapped around my delicious little fingers.


I hopefully have inherited his musical abilities, but that remains to be seen. I have been known to dance to a beat, tap to the rhythm and respond to music before even my own name. And now I have an accordion too. We shall see if I rise to his level of musical prowess, but even so, I have a deep appreciation and respect for the famed Italian Valtaro music that Popi performed in the tri-state area.

My first trip to Magnanini's

... and my first wine tasting! (Not really.)

Ultimately, what sets us apart from the rest, is our magnetic personalities. On September 10 of this year Popi was the star in a room of more than 200 people at Magnanini's Winery in upstate New York. Actually he was the reason for the party, which was planned in his honor for his contribution to the American accordion scene and more specifically for his advancement of the particular type of music he played, Valtaro, which hails from his birthplace, Borgo Val di Taro in Italy. (A place also famous for Porcini mushrooms!)


In keeping with the rest of his life, Popi attracted a large crowd for this party and had a constant queue of Pete Spagnoli enthusiasts lining up at his table. I was honored to be one of his many devotees who lined up for a handshake. Even better, I got what no one else in the room did - a nap in the arms of Nanni right next to Popi! Talk about getting a seat of honor.

Mid-dinner I recharged for the rest of the festivities,
oblivious to the din and chaos 

I'm at peace with Nanni and Popi wherever that may be.
Even at LOUD Italian parties.

How special and timely to be in the US for this occasion, which was like an extended family reunion of our family, paisans, fans of Popi from the past few decades and even an Armenian accordionist (not me!) from Connecticut, to round out my own heritage. A representative from the municipality of Brogo Taro presented Popi with a commendation from the mayor himself! It was an august moment to be sure. 

The commendation all the way from Italy!

The music of the day was coordinated by Popi's star pupil who is now a famed accordionist and bandleader in his own right (not to mention he played at the all-important wedding of mommy and abba), Dominic Karcic.

Me surrounded by musical greatness - Dominic and Popi

I'm learning a few notes already!

I am ready to start practicing on my very own accordion 

This instrument is a bit more complicated that I thought.
Plus it weighs way more than I do.

It was a five-hour event that began with a walk near the vineyards, a tasting in the wine cellar, a lot of food and ended, ultimately, with very full stomachs, relieved only by incessant dancing. Apparently all this is normal for Italian occasions. Mommy said you can expect each course - and there are five - to take about an hour since it is interspersed with dancing and wine. 


But every moment was beautiful and cherished. Even my nap. 

Finally, if I may, I'd like to make a birthday request for Popi to all of you: Please keep Popi in your thoughts and prayers on this occasion. While today is his special day, it is sort of an un-Happy Birthday. He is spending it in a hospital and, of all days, is scheduled to go through an uncomfortable scoping procedure. I pray that he weathers it with grace and aplomb and that all the results come back with good news. I wish I could be there to add to his charm and let it pervade the hospital, but I'll be sending vibes from Jerusalem for now. 

All the best, Popi, and may all the happiness you have sown in your 90 years come back to you today! I have a lot to live up to, that is for certain. You set the Spagnoli bar very high!

The Spagnoli clan, from 1 to 90!

*****
Here are some entertaining videos of the music from that day:

Note Popi tapping away on my play accordion - the notes are still alive and well in those fingers! 

More great music and all of us soaking it in.

Here is a wonderful version of Tutti Mi Chiamano Bionda (Everyone Calls me Blondie),

a family favorite and Valtaro classic. As you will see, we can all barely 

contain our silliness that this song (and the wine) seems to draw out.

*****
You can read more about Popi's history and accomplishments here. (http://www.valtaro.it/peter_spagnoli/index.htm) This great article was written by Mimi, another writer/musician in the family. 


And, if want to practice your Italian, Popi made the cover of the Parma Gazette (Gazzetta di Parma)!! His cousin, Carlo Spagnoli, called from Italy to say he saw the article while drinking espresso in the friendly piazza of Borgo Taro, so we found the article on the internet. What a small world!  

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Daniel, the Lady's Man

On the table at a restaurant.
Prime place to meet girls.

The following video has the potential to go viral. Here I am at school, caught on video, showing the skills I've already honed, at age 1, of being a lady's man. Now of course this wasn't an official part of the school day, it was simply one of the life lessons I have already mastered: charm. 

As you will hear from the excited chatter, the teachers were also very impressed with my savvy and how I charmed Ahuvi into responding to my air kisses.

At 1, I am quite capable of discerning between the genders. I've been accused of flirting with various waitresses, teachers, supermarket clerks and other young girls I meet on a daily basis. I regard the men a bit differently. I may offer a smile, but it is always after careful consideration. In fact, I give mommy kisses when she asks, but not abba despite his persistent requests. Kisses are for girls ... until I turn 8 or so and find them yucky for the next five to seven years.

Mommy gets kisses upon request

Here I am on the table at Bulghourji
restaurant in the Armenian Quarter

I work on my motor skills by grabbing
the camera strap

Then I identify my target. In this case, Debi 

I turn around to fully face her
and throw my charm her direction

Starting to make my move

Here I come

At this point, she's puddy in my hands

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Holiday Pudding

I only have feeding issues if you don't feed me 

Here I am upset because someone is making me reach for my spoon

I acquiesced. Once.

Much better

Not funny!

I just started school and yet, thanks to the glut of Jewish holidays we get in the fall, I'm already on vacation! Here are some videos of some more of what we learned in school, and as you will see, this was certainly something unconventional: being encouraged to get messy!

As you will see in this series of three videos, I am not one of the babies in the world (and that would probably include nearly all babies in the world) who like to get their hands dirty. The play by play speaks for itself, but as you will see, I had no problem eating the chocolate pudding - as long as it was off of someone else's fingers. When I first plunged my hand into the pudding, I quickly realized my mistake and tried to shake off the ick. To no avail. As you will also see, the teachers very wisely stripped us down to diapers before we began this exercise.

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And the Hits Just Keep on Coming

Weekends are for sleeping late

Abba and I slept in unison: synchronized sleeping

Last week was a week of milestones. First was simply starting school. But that occurred with mommy, Mimi and GongGong nearby, if not active participants in my day. Then the next day I weathered school by myself with mommy and abba in the wings, trying to hide, but not succeeding since I did spy them at various intervals. On the third day, the milestone escalated again. I was dropped off and bid adieu to my parents who were supposed to leave me there.

And then, for the biggest milestone of all, on the fourth day of school, I was sent to school on a bus. Yes, a baby, in a car seat, handed over to total strangers in a dingy van that took me to school all alone. If I thought I was a big boy then, I was forced to grow into total maturity by the fourth day.

I knew something was odd when my parents did not coax me back to sleep at 6:20 a.m. This is not an early morning household. But there were my parents all chipper at this strange hour, whisking me into new clothes, a fresh diaper and even some shovel-ready oatmeal to tide me over until breakfast, some 2.5 hours later. Then at 6:45 we headed for the outdoors, another unheard of action for this family at this hour. I was hugged and kissed countless times until I was finally strapped into my car seat and sealed with a pacifier. Then a beige van pulled up and I was handed over for my trip to school. Luckily for me I slept. My parents fretted though for the next hour until they received a phone call from Shalva that I received safe and sleeping, and then smiling when I saw Gabriela and all my friends. As you will see in the following photos, I had a very exciting day. (Photos courtesy of Shalva)

Me and my classmates

Music lessons. I'm going to be a rock star when I grow up!

I hogged the strings

Look out, Jimi Hendrix

Here I was teaching the teacher some new riffs

Top is off with some "food" and it was a stellar day!

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My First Day of "School"

Something big is about to happen.
I am not quite sure what though.

I came. 

I saw. 

I ... cried.

It was my first day of "school" ever on Monday. Back to Shalva for me, and not just weekly, but every day Sunday through Thursday. This is a hefty schedule for a little baby such as myself, but apparently it is time for me to grow up. Accompanied by mommy, GongGong and Mimi on the first day, and then mommy and abba today, I braved the unknown. It was, in the words of a famous author whose books I've yet to read, the best of times. And, it was the worst of times.

But to begin with the positive, there are many pluses to this new set up: I am surrounded by pretty girls all day. I get to play a lot. I am making new friends. And I have pool privileges once a week. 

Nevertheless, I cried. A lot. It was all a bit overwhelming. I am used to being the only one who is eating/fed at one time and usually don't have to wait very long for anything I need. Plus the day usually revolves around me. But now I am required to revolve around the day. Or at least I'm supposed to. And that's where the crying comes in. 

All geared up and ready to go. I think.

Of course there are also technical advantages to my being in school, especially at Shalva. I will meet other pretty girls for various therapies involving talking, more playing, swimming and eating. 

Speaking of food, my palette is proving to be a tad too distinguished for the meals they are serving here. I think I got spoiled being in New York, plus I inherited Italian taste buds. How do I explain that I have already been privy to gnocchi with bolognese sauce and homemade ravioli when they think I am still stuck on tomato puree? This was a surefire cause for some of those tears I shed. I think my food experience here will be akin to boot camp, so perhaps you could call this my early taste of army service. 

I got to know and like Gabriela, who is in my class (or helps the teacher run the class) 

Lots of toys and space for me to roam

Feeding time!

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Getting my Groove On for Mimi and GongGong

After just two weeks I was treated to a much awaited reunion. Mimi and GongGong just can't get enough of me. They are already here! Their trip to Israel was planned long ago despite the fact that the pack and play would still be warm from my recent departure from New York.

Nevertheless, it was cause for great joy. I actually even started dancing, I just could not contain myself.

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Bocce Ball and Swings

Me back in the day. This is Mimi and I in NY.
A whole month ago.

Since the turn of the year when I made that magical transition from counting my age in months to being able to use the word "year," much change has taken place in my life. In fact, this one month has brought more change with it than perhaps any of the previous 12.

I cut four teeth with five and six on the way. I made my debut on Italian soil (just the airport). I ordered my own plate of gnocchi with bolognese sauce. I ordered my own ravioli. I ate ice cream for the first time. I invented my own version of crawling. I met tons of new friends while in the US. I experienced a hurricane. And I swung in a swing (video of this experience in at the bottom of this post).

But most importantly, after one full year of lulling my parents into complacency, I've adopted the entertaining sport of whizzing at them during every single diaper change. Without fail.

All during my first year I rarely anointed my diaper changers with the infamous weewee shot that boys of that age have mastered. I led them to believe that I was a good boy, a better boy even than all the other boy babies. My parents stopped using the wee stopper and they got lazy.

That's when I made my move.

It was a year long strategy, but it has paid off. The esteemed changers of my diapers were out of the habit and thus had lowered their defenses. When I turned one I thought it would be time to test my plan. It always plays out like this: I lie in wait until they are ever so close to whisking the new fresh diaper under me then I make my move, my poker face revealing nothing. I love to watch the looks on their faces as they realize they've been had. Because it happens every time. There they are, no soiled diaper at the ready any more and a still folded clean diaper then being used to block and defend from the onslaught.

Because I held off an entire year with just maybe a handful of incidents, my parents are surprised every time. After a month of soakings they still haven't learned to distrust me when my weapon is unsheathed.

In some ways though it has had its benefits. Mommy and abba have honed their bocce ball skills. My discarded diapers are usually rolled from the changing spot, be that on the living room floor or on a bed somewhere, to a central location where diapers are collected in one bag and then tossed. The goal of bocce is to roll the game balls as close as possible to the boccino, the first ball rolled. In case you never heard of bocce, you can read more here. My great grandfather, Silvio Schiavi, was a bocce ball champion of sorts.

My favorite visiting times with Nanni and Popi, my great grandparents in NY

Accordingly, my parents have made sport of the diaper toss and it looks like an ongoing game of bocce in our apartment.

Now I understand that I skipped several weeks of juicy blogs while transitioning from the US back to Israel. But have no fear, every delicious detail and photo shall make the blog. It won't be in real time but memoirs never are. And one is never too young to write a memoir as even the sitting US president has.

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