Domenico Tomassini

Domenico has been my next door neighbour for the past two years. He celebrated his eightieth birthday while I was in Australia in April 2019 and he is one of those timeless Italiani who go about their daily lives as if they were much younger – in Domenico’s case, pretty much as he was doing when he was twenty.

Raised amongst a family of fourteen (which included nonni, zii and cousins) in rural Toscana, Domenico was an inquisitive boy who spent his time exploring his environment and socialising with its inhabitants. At the age of sixteen he got a job washing dishes in a restaurant on Via Veneto just off Piazza Barberini in the heart of Rome. He and his compari would work from 8:30 am until 2am in the restaurant and then party until 4 or 5 am before being apprehended by the polizia locale as vagrants – Italiani with a current Carta d’Identita which indicates that they are some distance from their abode. [Every citizen of Italy has a Carta d’Identita which identifies their current residence, making it very easy for the local authorities to spot someone who is somewhere other than close to the place where they usually sleep]. Domenico’s employer, more than once, was summoned from his bed in the early hours of the morning to verify that the young night owl was, in fact, a legitimate local identity as a worker in the city.

Such was Domenico’s command of the vernacular along with his natural charm, that his employer came to the kitchen one day and presented Domenico with a white jacket and promoted him to the especially created position of client liaison. His new duty was to greet patrons, ensure that they received adequate attention from the staff and that they enjoyed their evening sufficiently to refer the restaurant to their friends and even return for another dose on a future occasion.

In his early twenties Domenico moved to work in the restaurant of the Savoy Hotel in London where he became fluent in English and he also spent time celebrating Mardi Gras in Rio while working for a while in a restaurant in San Paulo. Those were the days when the Mardi Gras was a non-stop affair conducted on the main streets of Rio – not in a sports stadium as it is today. Domenico recounts that many times revellers would party themselves to death, leaving their bodies where they lay to keep on enjoying the atmosphere even after their soul had departed.

Returning to Rome in his later twenties Domenico resumed his position with his former employer at the restaurant on Via Veneto. These were the days when Rome was the centre of the universe, especially the movie and fashion worlds. Patrons to the Via Veneto restaurant included the screen stars of the day and other folks of notoriety – Gina Lollobrigida, Sophia Loren, Elizabeth Taylor, Richard Burton, Cary Grant and a host of others with household names, both Italiano and foreign. These famous folk would frequent the restaurant and Domenico was the one who greeted them, took them to their table and ensured that they received the service they expected. He had that job for more than fifty years and became a most identifiable figure for the rich and famous looking for a good meal in one of Roma’s premier restaurants which allowed him to hone his skills in making friends, conversing with people from all walks of life, in Italian and in English, and organising the culinary affairs for groups of people. He deployed these skills throughout his life.

In retirement (which came at the age of seventy-five) Domenico spent his time arranging eating and dancing and entertainment for a group of about twenty single seniors in the close proximity of Giulianello where he lived alone.

Elderly residents in the small rural villages live in apartments that have quite small rooms. They do not have front or rear gardens and most do not have footpaths – many, especially those in the centro storico, directly front the roadway which extends from the entry door. Most of the elderly live solo, having lost their partner, and for whom spending the days and nights watching TV alone in a tiny apartment that may not even have a separate lounge room is not a particularly appealing prospect. Men seem to die much faster than women which is to say that it is not uncommon for the roadways in the centro to be lined with elderly unaccompanied women sitting and gossiping all day and night – providing a more enjoyable way of passing the waking hours. Some of these women (and a few of the surviving men) seek alternative forms of entertainment and so it is fairly easy to organise for groups to get together to eat pizza, to go to organised dances and to attend feste which abound in the Italian paese during summer (May to September).

[It warrants mention, here, that “elderly”, in Italy, does NOT necessarily mean “incapacitated”! There are many, many eighty-plus Italian men and women who are as sprightly (and well presented!) as those thirty years younger. Seventy-year-old women proudly appear on beaches in bikini and in the streets wearing G strings underneath very tight fitting pants and low plunging necklines and virtually all of them are worth a look – particularly if the looker is around the same age.]

To those seeking alternative forms of entertainment (alternative to watching TV or the street-sitting gossip sessions) Domenico was a God-send! He would arrange a suitable outing and contact each member of the group and coordinate transport arrangements. It meant that twenty desperates could choose which events they wanted to attend and all the necessary arrangements would be made. All details were handled by Domenico – he was an unofficial travel agent who took care of every detail. He established a close rapport with each member of the group and became a Father Confessor for most, listening and counselling each on highly personal and intimate affairs. He became the repository of all things confidential and the centre of all matters personal that concerned group members. He thrived on surrounding himself with belle donne and was criticised by a few for “loving a few too many women a little too much” - an interesting rebuke in a world where love is a commodity that there is far too little of.

We would typically arrive at a festa before starting time (usually 8:30pm) and set ourselves up in a prominent position from which we could monitor incoming patrons, keeping a look out, as Domenico would say, for “the pretty girls”. On one memorable occasion, at a Lariano “funghi e porchetta” festa, having spent most of the night on the alert, by 10:30 Domenico had managed to herd the most attractive group of plus-forty women in attendance to his table.

Domenico and I spent virtually every day and most evenings together over the summer of 2019. Each of us prepared lunch for the other at least twice each week and we spent most nights either eating with some members of the group at a pizzeria, dancing at San Cesareo or attending feste from Lariano to Palestrina. We were constant companions taking turns as driver and navigator to ferry female members of the group from home all around the countryside to the events.

Negotiating the very narrow and often poorly maintained country roads in the paese is a trick that improves only with practice and some teamwork between driver and navigator. The overgrown undergrowth along the roadside and the habit of placing most hazardous intersections in the middle of sharp bends makes it really difficult for drivers, especially the over sixties who can’t turn their heads fast enough from left to right and back to the left and then checking the right again and then the left so the safest method is for the driver to stay watching the left and the navigator watching the right and for the two to communicate regarding the safest time to hit the pedal.

At the end of August Cinzia arrived from Australia and we went for a month’s holiday to Ischia, leaving Domenico complaining about a permanent gastric upset and sciatica, disabling his left leg - which curtailed his activities, especially dancing and festa chasing. By the time we returned to Giulianello Domenico had been admitted to Velletri Hospital, transferred to the Gemelle, Rome’s largest hospital and then transferred across the road to the Clinica Columbus with diagnosed inoperable prostate cancer. From Columbus he was discharged to the care of Catarina, one of his daughters, but within two days was admitted to the Terracina Hospital and later transferred to a hospice on the Terracina waterfront.

His condition has fluctuated from coma to semi-conscious to alert, talkative and cheerful but confined to bed. Our festive activities have ceased, not only due to the approaching winter.

Negotiating the dark, wet, narrow and bumpy roads has turned into something very different.

Libero destra caro. When the path is clear sulla sinistra, you will go.

God will take care of you Domenico.