43

the "pizzelle" irons which almost every family owned had been carefully made by my father's uncle. Each family had its pizzelle iron with a distinctive design and family initials. The blacksmith was also the farrier of the village and we would watch him shape the horseshoes, shape the donkeys or horses' hooves and nail the horseshoes to them. A younger blacksmith in Fallo did decorative iron work with simple artistic beauty (e.g.: The door of the tabernacle in the main altar of the church). These blacksmiths also made the old fashion locks and keys used in the village.

We also looked at the cobbler as he made or repaired shoes. It was fascinating to see him soften the leather in water and sew it to the sole of the shoe in a tedious but exact manner.

The village was occasionally visited by a cloth vendor, a rag man, a sewing machine repair man, or a dish vendor. The ones who had the undivided attention of the curious children were the tin smith and the dish repair man. The tin smith either patched holes in copper pots or coated their inside with tin. The acrid smell and the smoke of the acid which he used seemed to have some magic power for us. The man who repaired broken dishes would use a hand string drill with which he made tiny holes on each side of the broken dish sections which he then held with metal clamps that resembled today surgical steel sutures. He used a special porcelain-like paste to seal the cracks. A broken dish
44

restored to life meant a lot to many poor people.

The other unorganized but tremendously enriching activity was the wandering in the fields or forest. We searched for and caught frogs in the streams, gathered snails which we roasted and ate, climbed trees looking for bird nests, and placed snares in strategic spots to catch hares. We made little baskets and whips with flexible water reeds, we made whistles with canes, and we constructed water wheels with sticks and leaves which the running water of a stream would spin. We explored different sections of the rugged surroundings. We climbed rocks or rocky hills, we rolled huge rocks down hills for fun, and we gathered wild asparagus. We stole fresh walnuts even though the green outer covering of the fruit left an accusing stubborn yellow-brown stain on our hands. We picked figs and other fruits from roadside plants. We chased lizards and other small animals. It was a continuous and carefree discovery of nature. We fantasized in between or during these activities. We were warriors on top of mountains (often these games followed the readings of some historical episode in the school history book), we were pioneers in new territories, we were giants, pigmies, whatever we wanted to be for that moment. The world opened its wonderful mysteries to us. There were even acts of cruelty, throwing stones at lizards or snakes, pulling crickets' legs to see the tendons work. Even these painful experiences contributed to our growing up. The more painful experiences were going to come with the war.