Ignorance and courage make great companions.

A good friend of mine commented on a Facebook post recently saying, “How courageous you must be!” It was a wonderful compliment to see, but my first reaction in my head told me that it’s not always courage – sometimes it’s just plain ignorance that finds me in these evolving situations throughout Europe.

As I thought about my reaction to that, it struck me that this relationship between ignorance and courage was the missing link to what I have been wanting to write about these last few weeks. As my springtime experiences continue to play out, I thought they would make a great story. I wasn’t able to see the commonality in them. Then it hit me…it’s a healthy mix of ignorance and courage that leads me to my most memorable moments in life.

I think both terms are are somewhat misunderstood. I want to start with a proper definition (directly from Merriam Webster) before I go any further.

Ignorance: the state or fact of being ignorant; lack of knowledge, learning, information, etc.”

Courage: mental or moral strength to venture, persevere, and withstand danger, fear, or difficulty.

So ignorance isn’t about being “stupid” it’s simply about lacking the knowledge or capacity about a particular subject or activity. In my case, where do I begin to list how little I know about life in Europe, after two years, I still find myself surprised by how little I know about how to function on a regular basis. Language is the obvious gap, but beyond that, there are a whole list of other things that just are waiting to be learned.

The definition of courage uses “venture” to define the action of having courage. What a great way to begin a definition. This idea of “venturing” into the unknown is something we all are familiar with, whether it’s getting behind the wheel to a new destination, meeting a group of strangers or speaking publicly…haven’t we all been forced to “venture” into something unknown.

So as you see, without ignorance there is no venture. Without venture, there is no courage. So it only makes sense that without ignorance and courage, there is no learning.

So where all of this is leads is to some funny stories about how when used properly, being courageous about your ignorance, is a great way to accomplish many things and create some funny experiences in the meantime.

When Ignorance and courage conflict

I’ve talked about my neighbors up the street before in a previous post, here. I have continued to make amiable advances towards all three generations in their household. It seems that my efforts are starting to pay dividends or expose my ignorance (depending on how you look at it.)

A few weeks ago I was walking Sofia passed their property, and I saw the parents working in the garden. They were cutting down weeds and brambles, using a chainsaw and a whole host of other implements. I was watching the mother unsuspectingly while admiring her perseverance in the garden from a distance. I couldn’t help but think of my mother at that age.

My mother never shied away from hard work. She actually worked in a steel mill in the early 1970s operating heavy equipment. It was the Gloria Steinem decade for God’s sake. What courage she had, and probably she had a little bit of ignorance, she had no idea how she would be treated by her male counterparts. But she wanted to work, and so she did. She always told stories about her time in the steel mill, and some of them were hilarious. What a learning experience for her.

So as I’m admiring this French couple from a distance, the husband, Luc, spots me and calls out a greeting. I respond with more French than I probably should have, “Bonjour..vous avez fait beaucoup de travail. Bravo! Moi aussi. J’ai le même travail à faire. Good day, you have done a lot of work. Well done. I also have the same work to do.”

Well, the problem with opening a door to a conversation is that you have to recognize the mix of ignorance and courage required to continue what you started. As the expression says, “Don’t let your mouth write a check that your ass can’t cash.” So my mouth wrote a check, and now I had to follow through.

Well, I rambled and pretended to understand everything he said. I don’t really know what he said, but the next thing I know, Luc goes into his garage and brings out this:

He puts it all on the ground in front of me as if it’s on display. I’m not quite sure what to do or say..so I think I just said something like, “Très bien.”

You learn in French there are a few phrases that allow you to participate in a conversation without looking like a complete idiot: “Très bien. Very good”, “D’accord. Ok..I see.” and my favorite, “Super! – pronounced suuuuuppair!”

It looked just like a normal weed cutter but with a lawnmower engine. I have something similar, and just as I was about to say that, Luc straps it on his back for a demonstration. I realized then that this is the mother of all brush cutters, or a débroussailleur. It could have given me a proper Marie Antoinette. This gay man didn’t want to be anywhere near that guillotine of lawn machinery.

This is about the time I’m thinking I should just drop a “d’accord or super!” and make an escape, but then Luc tells me to take it. “Tu le prends!”

Even though i didn’t know how to use the tool and had no intentions of decapitating myself or my brush with it, I smiled and thanked him as I loaded everything into my car. I drove back to the house with a débroussailleur, a container of gas and a can of oil. My ignorance rode shotgun, and courage took the backseat.

I kept that débroussailleur in my garage for 5 days, while I wrestled with how to tell him I didn’t need it. In the end, I followed the advice of my father. He told me to pour most of the fuel into my own container and just bring it back. Pretend that it was the best thing ever.

That afternoon, when I knew Luc would be away working, I went to the house with the portable guillotine, gave everything to his young daughter, and said, “Tu dis à ton père, merci. C’est super!!”

Sometimes courage requires the use of ignorance as a tool.

I find that sometimes playing the “ignorance card” pays dividends. You just have to know what outcome you are aiming for when you pull that out of your bag of tricks. Last week, my outcome was simple, I needed to secure myself a dose of a COVID vaccine.

Unlike America, where COVID vaccines are as abundant as Oreos nowadays, in Europe they are still being apportioned out slowly. Each country has their own guidelines, and it varies by region. Unfortunately many still have no idea when they’ll be eligible for their jab. I wasn’t sure whether I would even be eligible in France since I’m not technically a citizen or a registered resident.

On the advice of many friends, I was encouraged to just make the appointment and prepare to explain myself. I’m an “italo-americano” living in France, with no health card here and little language skills. Sounds easy, right? I had no idea what they would tell me when I showed up, but I thought playing to my ignorance with a lot of kindness, might be key.

My friends were right, there was an abundance of appointments at the local vaccination clinic in Nérac. So many, that ineligible people were showing up and receiving extra vaccines. In America, I think they were calling this “pharmacy dumpster diving.” This made me feel better, because I worried I would take a vaccine away from somebody else who needed it more than me.

So I show up last Friday and confidently walk right up to the registration counter and started setting the foundation of ignorance:

“Bonjour Madame. Je suis Monseiur Lombardo. Mon français est terrible, mais j’ai un rendez-vous pour le vaccine. Je suis complique. Je suis italien-américain, mais j’habite à Espiens. Desole, ce n’est pas facile.”

“Good day miss, I am Mr. Lombardo. My French is terrible but I have an appointment for the vaccine. I am complicated. I am italo-americano, but I live in Espiens. I’m sorry, this is not easy.”

How could they turn me down with that introduction? If that isn’t the most humble approach you can take to an introduction, I don’t know what is. Ignorance and courage, with a lot of humility along with recognizing when you need to turn your disadvantage into an advantage.

The woman was very kind. She smiled as she pondered my situation. I did bring a copy of my electric bill to show I live in France. She was grateful and showed that to the doctor and then returned with some paperwork. She then told me to wait in the seating area for my name to be called by the doctor. So far..so good!

When the doctor calls me up, I approach him and repeat my same story. The doctor smiles, and then starts to rapid-fire questions in French. He asks me what is an italien-américain doing in France. I tell him it’s a long story, but I have the best of both worlds. He then rattles through questions about COVID symptoms, allergies, recent exposure, etc. I respond appropriately, and then voila! He signs the approval, says, “Arrivederci” to make me feel more comfortable, and tells me they will call me shortly for my vaccine.

One down…one to go, and hope awakens.

Well, sufficeth to say, I received my vaccine and will have my second dose in June. It was strange to wait in that reception room full of hundreds of people with masked faces. I felt a common energy of anticipation, relief and hope.

The feeling of relief that the worst may be behind us.

Hope that the world will soon awaken from this incubo della pandemia.

A desire not to squander the lessons I have learned on my hilltop retreat these last several months.

Grace for those who have lost loved ones and mercy for those still in the throes of this pandemic.

And hope for the people who have lost their jobs and businesses that their recovery will be quick.

In the absence of knowing how the world will change this year, I think it’s ok to hopefully face the coming period with a little ignorance and a lot of courage about life after. I read an article recently that predicted the world is about to have another “Roaring 20s” decade. After 15 months of abstinence from so many things–an economic, social, technological and sexual boom is about to happen. Perhaps there will be a “Generation-P” for children conceived in the months after the pandemic.

As Europe opens in the coming weeks, my summer is already abundantly different than these last several months. My sister arrives next month and I have friends from America and Italia visiting in July. I’m sure Sofia and I will hit the road in between visits. I’m keeping my schedule open to allow for that. I feel like there is so much more to discover, and now time seems more precious. Although I have ignorance about where life will take me in a post-pandemic Europe, I have the courage to discover it.

I want to wish all of the mothers, and those that serve in a quasi role, a happy Mother’s Day. In Italia, they call it “La Festa della Mamma”. There was a lot of my mother whispering in my ear when I wrote this post. I believe she was the most courageous and kind person I have ever known. She was never ashamed to admit what she didn’t know something, and she loved to venture into the new and different. This is one of my favorite pictures of her just hanging out in West Hollywood with some drag queens. That was my mother. She never shied away from a challenge, and she welcomed everybody and their story into her life. Thanks for reading this latest installment of The Spaghetti Diaries.