Ristorante Da Luigi: My Favorite Place on Earth

  • Da_luigi_photo_4
    Da Luigi, the restaurant in this photo, is not far from the Blue Grotto on Capri. If I had only one afternoon to live, I think I would like to spend it here. Drift on in to the little cove in the boat you've hired for the day, drop anchor, and await the restaurant's launch that will bring you in to the sunbathing area. This is where I like to look around to see if my future wife is in attendance. From there, a chatty Italian waiter will escort you to your table, where you are encouraged to while away the afternoon over delicious food, wine, and plates of olives, prosciutto, and parmigiano.

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Tuesday, December 12, 2006


Samuel C. Winston

Hello Charles,
What a pleasure to find your blog! Your stuff here is so lucid, to the point, short, witty, balanced, sophisticated without being weighty, opinionated without being overbearing, fun splashing around serious-as-a-heart attack, full of "Selah" like a maul's thud the last time before the log cracks, and not too far off from the Charles I knew and loved when we use to play with an old tape recorder in the basement, laughing are heads off, or running about the long grass of Gail Cottage looking for grass hoppers and throwing stones at frogs. (I havn't forgotten the lump on my head from the stone you lofted...remember?) I am, however, quite opposite in almost every point mentioned here...I will ramble on forever until I'm bored and have fully lost my audience...I will use the first adjective that crosses my mind, mix every possible metaphore with out a backwards thought, never end a sentence until I have to, overstate my case, bludgeon my foe, dramatize, paint with broad strokes, moralize and then apologise, romantacize world without end and then try to bring it all back, give up, tear up the letter and forget about it alltogether.
Nevertheless, I wanted to comment on this book review. I havn't read Lonesome Dove, but I saw the made for TV series. It is very well done, and likely no match for the book. It touched on a culture and way of life I am now living in for real...overlapping in it's savage and base portrayal of male/female relationships, as well as depicting the dawn of law and order in America. Here in Plains, Montana, in our little town of around 1,500, an hour and a half drive through mountains and valleys from the nearest large city of 65,000, we are at least 20 years behind in culture, and can still taste the wild west strong in the outer fringes of the county where law is whatever it takes to keep fed and safe and order is what you do from a catalogue instead of taking the long drive to the city. Darcy, myself, and our 3 kids moved here 3 years ago, bought some land at the foot of Baldy Mountain, felled trees, milled them into boards and poles, built a house, and made good friends with those who helped us through it! As to the book's portrayal of women, it is as shameful and real today as it was then. At least back then a woman did not have the veneer of freedom to work for, I mean, like, a man while he hunts and fishes, I mean, makes a living. And of course now she has to deal with the confusion of having to act like, I mean be equal to a man, where as in lonesome dove there was no confusion as to what it meant to be female in a frontier situation. Over all, I was shaken by the parallels I see in this culture I am still a stranger living in, but ultimately dissappointed in the ending of the book, which never raised any of the charactors above or outside of themselves...rewarding toil and hardwork with emptiness of soul. A thousand redemptions lie waiting for salvation in this story, and it never comes. It made me angry. I was as taken by the glory of it all as anyone, because all the love of frontier life and nature in her terrible glory needs no explanation or justification...but people do...and the story is about people, and to the last person, each was left alone in bitter agony or dull stupidity. In truth, I bet that is not at all what the west was all about...that is a poor excuse for the rich spiritual heritage that lay burning beneath staining muscles, sinew and bone that hacked a meager and glorious living right out of the dirt and rock of this land. Anyway, it's late, and I've wet wood to chop small, or we'll be cold this weekend. Your friend,


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