Honoring

The start of a beautiful day. A crostata and cappuch at Nonna Nini, a cafe owned by a former NH resident!

The bell tower on Santo Stefano, the bells rang on their own when Francis died

The Garden of the Just, built in 2015 at the Bishop's Residence in Assisi

The description of the Garden, the one I found serendipitously and joyfully!

It was Sunday and the first full day I have had on my own since arriving here.  It was lovely sharing my time with my friend Jenny but when it was time for her to depart on the SULGA bus to Rome on Saturday afternoon, we both were ready for some independent travel.

My day started with Mass at the tiny church of San Stefano, Chiesa di Santo Stefano (say it this way..KEY-A-Sa DE Santo STAYfano), The Church of Saint Stephen.  I made a special intention to honor our friend Steve who passed away a week ago today.  The tiny church, built sometime early in the 13th century, is typically Umbrian and rustic.  The interior has maintained much of the original medieval appearance.  According to the Franciscan tradition, the bells of Santo Stefano were heard to ring on their own accord at the moment of the saint's death on October 3,1226.  I thought it a fitting setting and perfect way for me to pay my respects to Steve.

A blue, blue sky and warmth from the Umbrian sky set me off on a day in which I walked several miles.  After treating myself to my beloved cappuccino and the most heavenly apricot crostata (it was a special day!), I wandered and wandered and wandered some more, discovering pathways and shortcuts that in all of my previous walks, I had not yet found.  My goal for the day was to walk to every one of the ten gates to the city, knows as the "porte" or "portas".  The city is surrounded by walls, so there had to be entrances and these also surround the city.  I am sure that I have already seen, passed by, passed through and under, in addition to having photographed from every angle, each and every one of these already but, I'm still working on those checklists that I started right before my big birthday.  

I got as far down as the beautiful little Piazza Vescovado and the Casa Papa Giovanni, the bishop's residence,and entered a small courtyard to get a better look at the statue that was so obviously yet another bronze of St. Francis. Adjacent to the statue was the description of the garden. I had entered the "Garden of the Just" and was standing before the first of these gardens to have been inaugurated in Umbria.  The Gariwo, I read, is an international network of Gardens of the Just, created by

Gabriele Nissim in honor of those who "still today spend themselves for the good of the others".  This was the reward to the people of Assisi who, in an extraordinary page of history, hospitality and brotherhood, saved three hundred Jewish people during the years 1943-1944.

The story of the "Assisi Underground" is one that is familiar to me.  In fact, I kind of have a weird fixation with it ever since I last spent a block of time here, in an apartment that was mentioned in the book as having been the office of an Italian official who became key to this story.  A few steps away from the garden, and I entered the Museo della Memoria, Assisi 1943-1944 exhibition, there, just waiting for me.  I can't think of too many things that would have made me quite as thrilled.  Had I planned this, it probably would never have happened.  It was a gift.  The museum is small and quiet, I, the only visitor at that time.  After viewing a video, I toured the rooms filled with stories and photos of the people I had come to know from reading the book a few times.  I cried.

In short, the city of Assisi was occupied by the Germans during the war.  Col. Valentin Muller, a doctor by profession and a devout Catholic by good fortune, headed the operations.  It was he who set up Assisi as a hospital city, one protected from the ravages of war. Not one life was lost here and not one area bombed as a result of this decision.  Instead, hospitals cared for those who had been injured in combat.  

During the years between 1943 and 1944, through heroic efforts on the part of the local clergy and citizens, and the never-before or after, opening of the cloisters which housed the nuns of Assisi, Jews seeking safety found it and not one of their lives were lost.  It's a great story, one that should be read before visiting Assisi.  In the story, one finds the names of Padre Rufino Niccacci, Monsignor Giuseppe Placido Nicolini, Don Aldo Brunacci, along with Luigi and Tretno Brizi, the brothers who printed up new identities for each and every refugee.  The Italian cyclist, Gino Bartali who transported documents between Assisi and Florence is honored alongside the brave who never once broke their silence as they cared for and transported to safety the families and individuals in need.

Fitting, that I should have found myself in this place on this, Veteran's Day.  Thousands of American lives were lost during the war, the Italian Campaign lasting from September, 1943 through May 2,1945.  Many older residents still remember that.  I'm proud of my country.

My day was perfect in so many ways and I ended it appropriately, with a visit to the cimitero, probably THE quietest place in Assisi.  A visit to the local cemeteries is always on my list, those and supermarkets.  I found time to reflect and to pay homage to a whole lot of people yesterday.  I gave thanks for their lives and for my own and very special thanks for the feet that carried me from sacred place to sacred place.

Today, it's back to the supermercato.  I'm going to walk down to Santa Maria degli Angeli. It's a short one, only about 3 miles, where I will visit a brand new market and meet my friends Jack and Marie who are due to arrive on the train at 12:27.  

A presto!