We’re here for a hundredth birthday concert for Henry Mancini.

L’Aquila is somewhere between one and two hours from Rome, depending on the traffic. It’s in the Apennine mountains. (You remember them from elementary school, right? Well, I remembered they were in Italy, but I couldn’t have picked them out on a map, nor did I know they were so close to Rome.) It’s a bit over two thousand feet high and feels like it, it’s in the fifties today, and supposed to go down to almost freezing tonight. If it weren’t for the long days, I’d think winter is coming.

Actually, Hank’s birthday was yesterday. We celebrated with dinner in the hotel, in a restaurant with multiple cases of aged beef wherein you can see your dinner before it is cooked. Actually, I was the only one who had steak, from the local cow, as opposed to one from Russia, Ireland or Japan or even America, all of which were in the case. And they served this round bread that was a cross between naan and pizza and it was very good.

But speaking of the food…

I just have to testify about the bread. It’ll crack a tooth, I tell you. Which is the crusty exterior you want, which Americans won’t tolerate. That’s the way bagels used to be, now they’ve got the consistency of Wonder Bread. Furthermore, everywhere you go in America, except for a few restaurants, the bread in the basket they serve with dinner is soft, basically bland, empty calories. But at lunch today, the bread might have looked pedestrian, but the crust reminded me of my youth, back when you bought rye bread at the local bakery, when they sliced it upon order.

So the key is not only making people aware it’s Henry Mancini’s hundredth birthday, but that they consume the music.

Now if you’re my age, everybody knows Henry Mancini. But over the past week I quizzed two twentysomethings and got blank stares in response. Then I started to sing “Pink Panther” and their eyes immediately lit up. But still, it’s such a challenge crossing old acts over to younger generations, attaching the composer to the song. The family switched to Primary Wave to quarterback this centenary celebration, we’ll see how it works out.

Anyway, the conservatory in L’Aquila reached out, they were doing four concerts, would we come?

Well, here we are.

Now the head of the conservatory’s passion is prog rock, I kid you not. Unfortunately, he doesn’t speak English so well, but I did get him to say his favorite prog rock keyboard player was Rick Wakeman.

And the conductor of the program… He’s not that great with English either. But Daniela studied at the University of Chicago, she’s the conservatory’s musicologist. And she’s a fount of information. They say you learn most when you hang with the locals…that is true. Although I still wish I spoke Italian. You know, like Jackie Kennedy, that’s what we heard when JFK was president, before she was married to Onassis, when her image was at its peak, that she spoke six, or was it seven languages. You have no idea of the hope JFK’s election generated. A turning point, a young man to lead us into the sixties. We thought we had something similar with Obama but he punted, for fear of looking like the angry black man. Biden is standing up to the status quo more than Barack, then again, Biden was vice president for eight years and saw firsthand that you can’t negotiate with the unreasonable.

I had to ask Daniela about “Gomorrah.” Of course she’d seen it, and “Suburra” too (although it took a while for her to understand what show I was talking about, I didn’t have the accent right). Streaming television is now the universal language.

So after waking up we went to the Fountain of 99 Spouts. Built in the 1200s. No one knows where the water comes from, supposedly they killed the architect and buried him under the fountain to preserve the secret.

And then we went to the local museum.

Most of the art was religious, but it all made me feel insignificant. That and the Forum back in Rome. You’re born and you feel so important, believing you matter, that you’re going to put a dent in the universe. Meanwhile, almost no one achieves this. And frequently those who are remembered were overlooked during their lifetime. But you see the antiquities and you realize nothing has changed over the years. Oh, of course travel is much speedier, and health care is much better, but everybody thinks they’re important when they’re alive, that the era within which they’re living is the most significant. I don’t know, it’s weird. Museums are sanctuaries, where the trappings of regular society don’t count. How rich you are, what kind of car you drive… You leave those at the door at the museum. It’s just you and your senses. Your thoughts start to percolate. Today money triumphs, but not at the museum. It’s a great correction.

So we’ll be back in Rome, but for less than two days. The whole trip is barely a week.

And L’Aquila is not a tourist town. Although there are ski areas in the mountains, one where Pope John Paul II used to surreptitiously ski. And there is still snow on the peaks. And every car I’ve been in so far has had a stick shift. Nearly extinct in the U.S., from Skodas to Volvos, everybody’s rowing through the gears here.

And oh, on the conservatory stage, I saw this Fazioli concert grand. I figured they couldn’t afford a Steinway. But it turns out Fazioli is usually more expensive, and their concert grand is even bigger, and you learn something every day.

That’s the name of the game.

“Al Conservatorio dell’Aquila parte l’omaggio a Henry Mancini”: https://shorturl.at/houxX