Monday, Firenze

I'm all packed and ready to leave for Cremona on the morning train, leaving from Santa Maria Novella at 8.30. I bought tickets this morning, using the automated machine at the station. It's easy and I can make my selections without rushing. It also eliminates standing in the long line at the main ticket counter. One can use cash or credit cards. I paid 24 € for a one way ticket. First class was 36 € but I prefer second class. I've noticed nuns, priests, business people travel in first class. The gypsies also pass through first class. So I'm crediting myself with a 12 € savings toward the second pair of boots I bought today.

I've seen these boots twice here while window shopping and decided to try them this afternoon. I prefer rubber soles for comfort and stability in the rain. My favorite boots are three years old and have felt a little slippery this trip.

These boots are French Mephisto brand. I've never been successful finding boots in Cremona and those in the US are less durable than these here, which are made to be worn in rain and snow. Cost: more than I wanted to spend, but they will last me many years and now I can stop looking and enjoy a vacation.

I'm leaving three shopping bags here at the hotel. Thank goodness I can do this, otherwise I would have had to do all my shopping when I return, a week from Thursday. These three bags will fill one of my luggage to the weight limit. I'm not worried because I only have a few more things on my list and I came light with clothes this time. Jeans weigh too much so I only have two pair and I'll wear one pair home.

The dresses and leggings work out much better anyhow. I prefer to not in casual clothes here. It rained more today than yesterday but I never saw it pouring down. It was sunny for two hours this afternoon.

I walked to the train station this morning and stopped along the way at the Santa Maria Novella Farmacia. Just looking this time. As I walked across the piazza in front of Chiesa Santa Maria Novella I noticed an honor guard posted outside the church entrance. They were wearing the hat similar to the one we associate with Napoleon Bonaparte. A police station shares the building and courtyard with the church-pharmacy complex. I really wanted to capture the scene with my camera, but I held back.
Leo called to say he was not feeling well enough to come out in the rain. I was disappointed but illness takes precedence.

I had wanted to see the exhibit 'Bronzino -- Artist and Poet at the Court of the Medici' at Palazzo Strozzi so I walked there. I'm not sure why I received a discount: 7.50 € instead of 10 € for entry. I always carry my Drivers License because one must leave it or a passport to use the Audio Guides. Cost 5 € and always worthwhile.

I saw some fabulous paintings and portraits today. Over 90 pieces in all. 29 from the Uffizi Gallery here and others on loan from Canada, Australia, USA, Russia, Britain, France, Germany, Spain and Hungary. Bronzino was known for his 'naturalness and ... icey aristocratic splendor' in painting the Medici family.

I feel so blessed to be here to enjoy these fantastic paintings. I spent two full hours, going at my own pace and sometimes listening to the audio guide two times. In the last room, I looked out the window and the scene was as gorgeous as any painting.

I saw the Botticelli 'blue skies' of Firenze with the glittering golden dome of Brunelleschi's Duomo. I quickly approached the room attendant to ask permission to use my camera. My picture doesn't quite capture the beauty of that moment...

Just as I left the exhibit Leo called. With the sun shining, he decided he could drive out and pick me up. We had two nice hours together with a little walking and then ending with a hot chocolate for me and a cappuccino for him. I want to send in the Marines for him. Enough said.

I enjoyed a nice dinner in my room tonight. Earlier today I bought some sheep's cheese and three small dried sausages made of wild boar from the minuscule shop next to my hotel. Tonight I returned there to buy a slice of fresh bread and the nice proprietor wrapped it up and gave it to me gratis -- free.

He said, 'you can't eat cheese without a bit of bread' ... and he was right.

Sunday morning in Firenze with rain

After sleeping 13 hours, I wasn't a bit tired this morning. I was warned several times yesterday that today, probably in the afternoon, there was to be a real downpour.

At 10.45, I was ready for the weather: dress, leggings, rain boots, rain purse, sweater, cashmere coat, hat, umbrella and my raincoat in travel bag on my shoulder. As I passed by Ponte Vecchio I stopped to catch a picture of its muddy waters.

Since it was only drizzling I took Bus 37 up to the town of Galluzzo, hoping to find the Sunday flea market. I checked with the bus driver to be sure I was on the correct bus. As the bus made its way into the hills, I stood and watched the scenery pass by,  wishing I had a car and the freedom of time and money.

I've taken this trip three other times. I thought I knew where I was going. The bus had made a stop, but didn't resume. I looked up as the driver leaned out of this enclosure. He was talking. Suddenly three older women were also talking. And they were all looking at me. "Excuse me? I didn't understand." ( Mi scusi? Non ho capito). They were saying: 'You wanted Galluzzo? This is the stop.'

I thanked them all and jumped off the bus. As the bus took off I realized I had no idea where I was. I could not see the piazza nor the little hamlet. I was on a country road and it was raining. Not a soul or car in sight.
I do like adventure but rain takes the fun out of it.

I walked forward a few blocks. I saw some houses but it was clear this was the edge of town..the far edge.
I turned back. A few minutes later I came upon an elderly woman.

Me:  'Is this Galluzzo?'
Her:  'Oh yes!'
Me:   'Where is the Piazza?'
Her:  She pointed up the street.  'Go to the first street and turn right. You'll see the Piazza.'

Thank goodness for years of learning the basics of Italian. I had no problem asking or understanding her response.

I did find the Piazza but it was just a piazza today...no mercato was setup. I was so hoping for a trippa panino (tripe sandwich) for lunch.

I'm still puzzled as to why the bus route has changed each time I've made the trip. I spotted a return bus but the driver bypassed right on by the marked shelter (where four men were having a happy Sunday morning conversation).

When the bus passed me by (and I recognized the driver from last May) I reacted quickly.

I saw the bus was caught at a red light. Remembering my similar experience last May, I quickly walked to the next stop around the corner. The bus and I arrived at the same moment. I hopped on and then waited for what I knew was coming....the end of the line (Capolinea) and a 10 minute break for the driver.

When the bus came to a stop and the driver turned off the engine, I jumped off the bus to take pictures.  I think then, the driver may have recognized me. This is the third time we've taken this break together in the last two years.

I rode the bus only as far as Porta Romana, the huge old doors to Firenze, dating back to times when it was walled. I know a grocery store nearby which is open on Sundays.  There, I purchased spices, Farro-Porcini soup mix, a Pondora Christmas bread (in a reusable tin), yogurt for breakfast and puffed chocolate farro cereal.

 I walked back toward Firenze in drizzle, still waiting for the downpour. Passing by a Rosticceria (roasted meats) I saw my favorite pork roast in the window. For lunch in my room, I took away a slice of pork, oven roasted potatoes and crispy fried baby artichokes. Total cost 5€

Continuing toward town, I noticed the Organic Mercato was setup in Piazza Santo Spirito. Just what I was hoping to see! I found an olive wood breadboard. My shopping list is getting shorter. Now I only need a few more items, including a Pinocchio for my mother.

I received a text message from Emiliano's wife Caterina with an invitation to have tea around 4. After lunch and a rest, I walked to their home in the San Ferdinando Quartiere.

I had made and brought a quilt for Grazia a darling baby girl who is 5 months old. What a cutie pie. I wish Leo had been well enough to visit them with me.

It was a surprise to meet Emiliano's mother, brother, sister-in-law and their two young daughters. My Italian unfortunately is not good enough to understand lots of people talking fast. I need a few months here, immersed.

I left at their home at 6 pm and paused to buy a large babá at their neighborhood bakery. Cost 1.5 €

During my walk to Emiliano's, I noticed a banner for three day showing in the Palazzo Corsini, located right on the Arno River. The free exhibit was closing tonight at 7.30. I knew I had missed the once a year Garden Antique Show in May. At 6.45 I entered and passed through five rooms which had paintings and other works of art on display.

I was most interested in looking at the ceilings and walls. Photographs were not allowed but I took one from the outside.

I ended my day with a phone call to Rosa. Apparently the big storm is hitting us tomorrow.

After a nice Babá snack I can sleep peacefully here. I love this hotel. It's small, spotlessly clean, safe and personal.

Saturday, Firenze

I slept 9 hours last night and woke up with the sun shinning at 8 am, even before my alarm went off.

I have a 10.30 appointment with Leo at the university this morning. I checked the map so I know exactly where I'm going.

I was ready and out the door at 9. My favorite store for buying household items is just down the street. I bought two milk frothers, which I could not find in May. Ouch!! 22 € for the 'made in Italy' brand. Three darling pairs of small red checked hot pads, just perfect for picking up small hot chocolate saucepans. Cost was 4 € a pair and made in India. Rosa and Marta will love theirs. Some black shoe polish and a real shoe brush to keep my shoes shinny here. At the last moment I found a real bottle brush. Checking items off my shopping list!

I left my purchases at the hotel and walked toward Piazza San Marco, window shopping along the way. I'm looking for a pair of boots.

As I reached the little side street which houses a branch of the University, I saw my Leo just getting out of his car. He sensed me and looked up. The chemistry hasn't changed. We still have eyes only for each other.

As I approached his face was lighted with a smile. We hugged and he took my hand and we entered the building together. He was not carrying his cane and told me I would make a very nice support instead. Of course, he was still wearing a back brace over the cashmere sweater I gave him for Christmas several years ago.

The classroom was a 20 seat computer lab, with a large projection screen on the far wall. The students were preparing to login just as we arrived. Our friend Emiliano was conducting this workshop. In Italy, schools are in session on Saturday.

Leo and I sneaked away for 30 minutes and we walked up and down the halls, talking and catching up. His stature has been slightly shortened as his broken vertebrae heal themselves. The MRI last week showed the breaks are healing, thank goodness. He still feels pain, although each day is different. He has gained back some weight, although his face is still a little thin. His coloring is nice and pink. I made him blush saying sweet things to him. I told him I brought the US Marines, to help spirit him away with me. He laughed, which is always good to hear.

Back in the classroom he gave a very nice lecture. The students were attentive. I saw only one male student. The others were all young women. The classroom was state of the art, with new computers running the latest Windows 7. I commented to Emiliano that it was nice to see there was money to be spent. One would think so ...seeing this nice new complex. Not so true I guess from the look on his face.
Leo stood and spoke for over and hour, using the back of a chair for support. I thought he looked and sounded very good. He's missing only the constant twinkle in his eyes..but I did see that light several times. He's fighting a hard battle to come back against, uneven odds.

When class was over we all walked out together. Emiliano went off on his motorbike while Leo and I took the car to our favorite Pizza place. We were directed to a table but the chairs looked uncomfortable for Leo. I asked if we could instead sit at the only table which had plastic chairs .. The place where the head waiter had been taking his break. We were accommodated!

The pizza was as good as I remembered. I ate my usual, Pizza Margherita and Leo had his Napoletano. It was a good day for Leo and he ate his entire pizza. Then for dessert he had two pieces of See's candy I brought him...his favorites.

I could see he had tired a lot. Amazing..this is the first time he's been out to eat in over two years.
As I watched him drive off, I knew he would sleep well and long that afternoon.

I visited a little exhibition of food from Southern Italy. I took pictures, but wished I could buy one of everything.

On the piazza near Edison Libreria (bookstore), I found a large collection of local olive oil producers, offering freshly pressed olive oil for this season. Mixed in, where local artists, displaying their works.

For dinner I visited the new grocery store across from Palazzo Pitti. For 4 € I bought a fresh salad which was packaged with cherry tomatoes and tiny fresh mozzarella balls. Included were a fork, napkin, packets of salt and oregano, plus two tubes: olive oil and balsamic vinegar.

In my room, I enjoyed the salad along with pizza crusts I had saved from lunch with Leo. Then, having saved 20 € on dinner, I walked over to the Nannini shop and bought a pair of shiny rain boots ... with a purse to match.

Buona notte
Good night

Friday, November 19

The flight from LAX to Paris went so quickly. As usual I did not eat anything on the plane and I slept the entire way, only waking up once for a drink of water. I was seated near an elderly couple who were quiet and also slept. I love having the window seat. I just curl up and I'm not disturbed. During our night I felt the sun's warmth on the outside of the plane and I was lulled right back to sleep. Almost like sleeping on the beach in the summer with Leo.

Our connection was delayed by an hour so I had time to wander around the shops once I made my way to Terminal 2G. Each time I land at Charles deGaulle the transfer path is different. I always hurry along, never knowing what obstacle I might encounter. My carry-on bag was searched in Paris, but I did get through LAX without the secondary body scan or pat down.

In 2G I bought a cup of rice pudding with apple-raspberry compote. It was really yummy. Made with cream I think. I took a picture before savoring it.

There was light ran in Firenze when we arrived at 6 pm. I decided not to save money and took the taxi rather than the city bus. My bags arrived with me and that is always a treat. Just in case, I bring extra clothes and boots in my carry-on and enough cosmetics to last several days. Even though AirFrance provides a voucher to purchase necessary items for misplaced luggage, I hate wearing dirty clothes. So now I come prepared for the possibility of arriving without my bags.

I texted Leo to let him know I had arrived and joined the queue waiting for taxis.

The taxi driver was a woman. She was strong and had no trouble with my bags. I was a little concerned when she arrived near Santo Spirito and began slowing down to check for adresses, she said, '26, vero?'. 26 is the correct for Hotel Cestelli, but we were on the wrong street. I said '26, si ma questa strada non è guista. E' vicino Ferragamo'. I gave her the hotel card again. I never trust myself to say the address: Borgo SS Apostoli, 26.

I know it's difficult to arrive at the hotel because the street is one-way and in the old part of Firenze. Traffic is restricted in this area. One cannot drive across Ponte Vecchio and at that moment, we were on the wrong side of the Arno River.

After a few more minutes of driving even further away from the hotel, she was able to make her way back, until we were driving down the correct street. 20 € is the fixed rate for a taxi from the airport to any hotel, even if the driver gets lost.

I ran the Hotel bell and Alessio and Asumi flew down the stairs to greet me. So nice to be back!
They carried my bags up as I trailed them with my purse and carry-on.

After just a few moments I had my favorite room, number 6, and I had unpacked tortillas, Colby Jack cheese, Herdez salsa and See's Candy for them. Alessio apologized for not having left a gift for me in the room. Only candy! Instead, on Saturday, they are going into the country to buy just pressed olive oil. They're bringing me a quart! I am so lucky and grateful to have thus sweet couple as friends.

I changed into my boots, washed up and was out the door by 7.30 pm.

First stop: dinner. I ordered Gnocchi with Shrimp Brandy Cream Sauce at Trattoria Le Antiche Carrozze . I forced myself to order something than my usual Raviolini with Ragu.

For dessert I had 4 tiny cream puffs, topped with hot fudge and whipped cream. Everything was wonderfully delicious.

Second stop: Edison Libreria (bookstore). On my shopping list is the Audio-book I saw last time: 'Il nipote del Negus' written by and read by its author, Andrea Camillieri.

I bought two other mysteries by Andrea Camillieri and 'Toscana: Dizionario Enogastronomico' a dictionary of food for the region of Tuscany.

After a short walk, I was back at the hotel at 10.30 pm and I went right to sleep.

November 18, LAX to Paris

There is nothing more relaxing to me than to arrive early at LAX and know I was organized AND underweight for my two big bags.

I took the SuperShuttle from the hotel near my apartment. The van was filled with happy British girls, returning home to London. It was so difficult to understand them as they talked. I do better with Italian.
Instead of using AirFrance frequent flyer miles, I paid $55 for the extra bag. The nice ticket seller told me 10,000 frequent flyer miles per bag was not a good deal.

I'm pleased as I bought these tickets Lax/Paris/Firenze in the spring super cheap.

I was worried about the body scanner or intimate pat-down here, but I breezed though without the ominous SS marked on my boarding pass. (secondary security)

I always check the gift stores for interesting or unusual items. I was really pleased to buy two authentic Indian Navajo dream catchers to give as gifts.

I spotted some fantastic luggage today. I noticed a girl buying a stack of gossip magazines...six or seven! When she pulled her bags forward ... Ohhh!! gorgeous Luis Vuitton overhead and shoulder bags. I've seen that pair of luggage before. Maybe Santa will bring them to me one day.

Call for boarding! Buon viaggio a tutti

"10 Things Every Traveler Should Do" by Pico Iyer

I haven't felt like writing on my Blog for a while.  In Italy, Leo is doing better and I will be with him in two days, sitting in on a class he is teaching. Leo and I need to talk in person. For so long I've felt like we were true partners but now I'm excluded.  Everyday without contact is awful.

Due to his illness, his life has changed of course.  He tells me I taught him how to be more open to love.  He has rediscovered life with Signora Leone. He tells me she has changed too.  The stress he felt for so many years in the home has been greatly reduced.  She is his partner now in his daily fight to eat, exercise and stay in a positive frame of mind. I am grateful he is doing everything he needs to do to get better.

In a strange co-incidence, Leo's barber also lives with this multiple myeloma.  In Leo's case, damage was done to his vertebrae and he suffers daily back pain as the bones work to heal themselves. He resumed chemotherapy which seems to have improved his heart and lung issues.  I think protein byproducts of the cancer were lodging in his heart muscle.

The days we are able to talk are wonderful.  Our bond is as strong as ever.  It's a daily struggle for me to be without Leo and without daily verbal contact.

I'm packing to leave for Italy tomorrow.  I found this article today on CNN.  It perfectly summarizes what I love to do when traveling in Italy.

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10 Things Every Traveler Should Do


by Pico Iyer

Visiting a new town is like having a conversation. Places ask questions of you just as searchingly as you question them. And, as in any conversation, it helps to listen with an open mind, so you can be led somewhere unexpected. The more you leave assumptions at home, I’ve found, the better you can hear whatever it is that a destination is trying to say to you.

While in Venice a few months ago, I asked myself (and it) whether its art stood in the way of other things, like modernity and convenience. And with each turn I took, Venice asked me why I didn’t just accept its art for what it was. Returning to Tibet a few years ago, I wondered whether its magic was in the land or in my head. I haven’t quite worked it out, but asking the question made me more focused while there and led to deeper questions that I’m still asking back at home.

With that in mind, here are the things that I always do in a new place to set the conversation in motion.

1. Savor every moment of your first few hours. First impressions really are worth a thousand others. I often scribble a hundred pages of notes when I visit somewhere new. But then, when I get home, it’s always the first page or two―the taxi ride in from the airport, my first foray out onto the streets―that captures something vivid and essential before my ideas and prejudices begin to harden. So stay away from e-mail, CNN, and anything that reminds you of home and just soak the place in.

2. Embrace the prospect of being a tourist. Some snooty types will tell you that they’re “travelers,” not tourists. But if being a tourist means wanting to see all the attractions that make a town unique, then what’s so bad about that? Take the three-hour city tour on your first day in Atlanta so you know where things are and what you wish to return to. When traveling abroad, visit the shops recommended by tour guides, if only to see what’s available from people who speak English. Don’t be shy about asking a local stranger how to find the national museum; she may just offer you a guided tour along the way.

3. Devour the hotel literature. Don’t ignore the glossy magazines placed on your desk or lists of sightseeing activities in the guest-services brochure. How else would I have known that Baltimore is home to the unique and haunting American Visionary Art Museum? Or that I could walk with lions in Mauritius? Where else could I have found out that there are six different kinds of operator-assisted phone calls in Bhutan―Urgent, Lightning, Distress, Important, Immediate, and Most Immediate―and they all seem to be treated about the same?

4. Run an errand for a friend. She’s asked you to get, say, macadamia popcorn on Maui or to track down that wise monk she once met in Phnom Penh. The very search for what someone else wants or values (and it doesn’t really matter what it is) will lead you to places you would otherwise never see.

5. Take in a performance or a sporting event. A ball game or a symphony is transporting and doesn’t require you to speak the language. And watching opera in Beijing or soccer in Rio will be nothing like seeing opera or soccer at home. It would take a mighty effort to get me to Swan Lake in Santa Barbara. But put me in Beirut and I know it will be a night to remember.

6. Check out a bookstore. It’s a great way to learn about the interests of the locals. On almost any street in New Delhi, for example, a bookshop is bulging with works on palaces, textiles, spirituality, and the Kama Sutra; in Salt Lake City, the offerings are somewhat different. And in a store like the independent-minded Elliott Bay Book Company, a local institution in Seattle, you’ll find a universe so compendious that it seems to be an anthology of the city’s distinctive grace notes. Poking into even the smallest of these places not only opens a new door to a city but also offers the promise of a good read to keep you company at night.

7. Ride a bus to the end of the line. It isn’t wise to do this everywhere, but riding the bus to even the next six stops can be useful. At the very least, you’ll see something of the city, get a front-seat view (literally) of what the Romans do in Rome, and end up in surprising destinations. I did this in Miami once and found myself in a spicy part of Little Havana that nobody would have mistaken for South Beach, and yet it seemed to capture the essence of the city.

8. Read the daily newspaper. Almost every big city anywhere has an English-language paper, and even papers you can’t read will startle you with their pictures and their different types of tiny print. Whether it’s pages of “matrimonial” ads in The Times of India or headlines in the Key West Citizen (300-POUND MAN SMASHES HEAD IN WALL), newspapers always tell you much more about a place than they think they’re telling.

9. Go to McDonald’s. In Kyoto, you could see chicken tatsuta burgers, corn-potage soup, and, in autumn, moon-viewing burgers on the menu, and your fellow diners might be dressed in Vivienne Westwood or Dior. In Bolivia, the McDonald’s I visited was so exotic that society ladies sipped their McCoffees under the watchful eye of a security guard. Even in Manhattan, the Big Mac outlet I stumbled into one morning at 3 a.m. was home to an unexpected but very New Yawky kind of camaraderie. The food is cheap and semipredictable, of course, but it’s all the ways in which the place is surprising that you will take home with you. What else are we looking for in travel (and in love and in life) but a tasty mix of the strange and the familiar?

10. Get lost. (In the nicest sense.)



About the Author

Pico Iyer has written nine books, including Video Night in Kathmandu (Vintage, $15, amazon.com) and The Open Road (Vintage, $15, amazon.com), a record of his 34 years of talks and travels with the 14th Dalai Lama. He lives in rural Japan and Santa Barbara, California, with his longtime sweetheart.

Dawson and the Italian Connection

The students, Leo and I did something really wonderful and lasting, almost by accident.

Leo and his students, while studying Italians in the California Gold Rush, decided to plan a study trip into the field. They pondered the best way to find the Italian immigrants who had left Italy in the 1800's and had made their way out to the West.

Leo, during his travels around California clearly had seen evidence that Italians had come to this land. He saw familiar architecture in old homes, stone walls and marble statues created by Italian hands. But what he wanted most, were names.

The students used the Internet to find immigrant Italian names and found plenty of them, in cemetery listings. They used GPS to plot out the locations of the various locations. In looking closer, they discovered many of these cemeteries were no longer associated with active towns, but with Ghost Towns.

Leo and I took a stack of listings and in early 2006 made a trip to the Arizona/New Mexico/Colorado trip by ourselves. The plan was to scout out the most promising places, so the students could make a future research trip.

Armed with the students' printouts on a clipboard, we spent 10 days on the road. Leo's English was still a bit uncertain. I went as a note-taker and as an English and cultural translator.

This Blog entry is only about Dawson although we did find more than we expected in Bisbee, Arizona and in Colorado at the site of the Ludlow Massacre.

It was the first time for both of us to travel to New Mexico. With our maps and Garmin Navigator, we made our way to the town of Colfax, New Mexico. We were not expecting to see the total absence of a town. It was marked with a name on the map, but we found only a burnt out building and not a soul in sight.

We turned off Hwy 64 onto a marked unpaved road, passed over the cattle grating and headed in five miles to find the Dawson Cemetery. At that time, we didn't know the exact history of the area. We only had the students' listing, showing many many Italian names for this particular cemetery.

We drove through a countryside that was idyllic, serene and breathtakingly beautiful.

Five miles is a long way to travel down a lonely gravel road. We were worried we had missed our cutoff.  Leo had been watching the odometer creep toward the 5 mile mark, so knew we were close.

Then we saw a tiny arrow sign, pointing up off to the right. We turned from the gravel road and transversed up a steep small dirt driveway.

There in front of us, with a rather desolate hill behind, was the cemetery. We had arrived. We saw a large blackish gray wrought iron gate, with the word D A W S O N (later painted bright red).

We parked the car on a level spot which was overgrown with vegetation and left the car.

With only the sound of a slight breeze, we quietly entered through a small latched gate into a cemetery filled with identical white iron crosses.

Both of us were overcome with a strong emotional reaction, as if the spirits had been waiting for us.

With our list, we searched for names and marked them off. So many Italian names, most with the white iron cross and showing the same date of death. Something really bad had happened here in Dawson, which had not been obvious on the students' listing of only names.

We took only a few pictures to document our day. Before we left the enclosed area, I asked Leo to say the Lord's Prayer in Italian for the souls whose spirits we felt here.

Days later, as soon as we were able, we researched Dawson and to our astonishment, Leo could find no information in an on-line search in Italian.

This is what we discovered during our English language Internet search:

On October 22, 1913, 263 miners were killed in Dawson during a mine explosion. Ten years later, 123 men were killed, many of them children of the men who had died in 1913. The cemetery itself had been lost until 1992. These miners had been mostly immigrants, who had traveled here from Europe to work.  A large percentage had been Italian.

Leo was determined that these Italians be remembered by their homeland. After we returned to Los Angeles, he made an appointment with the Italian Consul Diego Brasioli to discuss the possibilities.

After learning what we had found, the Consul felt he needed to make his own trip to Dawson. He later told Leo that when he entered through the cemetery gate, he too felt strong emotions. He decided something needed to be done, immediately.

We know he called the Governor of New Mexico to co-ordinate the events which took place a few months later on Memorial Day Weekend 2006.

Today, the town of Dawson, New Mexico no longer exists. In another tragedy, in 1952 the residents were told the town was closing. They were given just a few weeks to pack up and leave their homes and jobs. It was after all a "Company Town" without a heart it seems. Shortly afterward, the town was sold and totally dismantled.

The picnic takes place where the hotel on the right once stood.

The townspeople never forgot Dawson. Since 1952, the private land owner has allowed past residents to have a town picnic on the old town site, every two years, on Labor Day weekend.

During the 2006 Dawson Town Reunion, members of the Italian government traveled to Dawson to place a plaque in the cemetery. In a moving ceremony with tears all around, Italy officially remembered the forgotten ones in Dawson, New Mexico.

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Quote from: http://dawson.vps.it/

Over 350 white iron crosses in the Dawson Cemetery mark the graves of those who perished in the mining disasters. The cemetery, a deeply moving site, is now the only part of Dawson still open to the visitor. These silent sentinels, some with individual names and some unmarked, are poignant reminders of the tragic deaths of the victims, and, more importantly, their lives.


For a while, Dawson had been truly forgotten by New Mexico until two brothers went on a metal detecting expedition in 1991. Dale and Lloyd Christian were shocked when they saw the uncared for and abandoned cemetery. When Dale Christian returned home to Albuquerque he petitioned the New Mexico State Historic Preservation Division to place the cemetery on the National Register of Historic Places.

The New Mexico Office of Cultural Affairs was unaware that the cemetery even existed and asked Christian to provide measurements of the site. Not only did he provide the measurements, but he also provided pictures and an accounting of the number of graves and pictures. The Office of Cultural Affairs was amazed and although very few cemeteries are placed on the National Register, the Dawson Cemetery was added on April 9,1992.

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Event reunites coal camp

Staff Reporter

Mon, Aug 30, 2010

The Raton Range • 208 S. Third Street • Raton • NM • 87740 • Phone: 575-445-2721 • info@raton-range.com

Dawson’s life as a coal-mining town came to an end about 60 years ago, but its former residents and their relatives continue to return to the Colfax County site where memories remain.

A thousand or more people have attended the recent Dawson Reunions — held every other year on Labor Day weekend — and a similarly sized crowd is expected for this weekend’s festivities.

The bi-annual Dawson Reunion has been held since 1954. The old Dawson town site is about 30 miles west of Raton and five miles north of U.S. 64, where only a small sign points to the road leading to the cemetery that holds many former residents of Dawson, a thriving town of several thousand people at its peak in the late 1920s and early 1930s.

Today, the Dawson site is on land owned by the Florida-based Colfax Land and Cattle Company, which allows the area to be opened for the Dawson Reunion as long as everyone who ventures onto the property signs a waiver of liability.

Dawson was founded in 1901 when rancher John Barkley Dawson sold his coal-rich land to the Dawson Fuel Company. The mines were productive, and by 1905 the town had a population of close to 2,000.

In 1906, the mines were purchased by the Phelps Dodge Corporation. The company built homes for the miners, and numerous other facilities, including a hospital, department store, swimming pool, movie theatre and golf course. Dawson coal operations had 10 mines.

In Oct. 22, 1913, Dawson suffered its first major disaster. Stag Canyon Mine No. 2 was shaken by an explosion that was felt two miles away. The explosion killed 263 miners. Two rescuers died during the rescue effort. It was later determined that the explosion was caused by a dynamite charge — set off as part of regular operations — that ignited coal dust in the mine.

Nearly 10 years later, on Feb. 8, 1923, Stag Canyon Mine No. 1 suffered an explosion. A mine car derailed, sparking coal dust to ignite. A total of 123 men were killed, many of them children of the men who died in 1913.

In early 1950, with railroads using less coal as they converted to diesel power, the Phelps Dodge Corporation closed Dawson and put the town’s facilities up for sale.

Dawson’s abandoned cemetery was placed on the National Register of Historic Places in April 1992.

Italy’s connection to Dawson — many of the town’s residents came from that country — has been remembered during recent Dawson Reunions.

In 2008, the reunion featured the arrival of a commemorative bell — cast in Agnone, Italy — celebrating the history of the Molise Region of Italy. The bell was brought by Giuliano Colajanni, the grandson of Teridano diTella, an Italian immigrant from the Molise Region who was a carpenter and furniture maker in Dawson from about 1900 until his death in 1944.

In 2006, officials from the Italian government came to the Dawson site to present a plaque that remembers and honors the large number of Italian immigrants who died in the pair of mine explosions.

The reunion events are not just for those with family connections to Dawson, but are open to the public. The main event, Sunday’s picnic, is set for 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. A social will also be held Saturday from 7 to 9 p.m. in Raton at the Elks Lodge at 300 S. Second St. In addition, the Raton Museum has a photo display about Dawson that will be exhibited through Sept. 30.

Some Dawson history and information is found on a website, set up by Amarillo, Texas, resident Chuck Speed, whose wife’s ancestors worked at the Dawson mines. The site is at http://chuckspeed.com/Dawson_Association/Dawson_History.html

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I would like to acknowledge our late friend, Massimo Seracini
June 7, 1943 (Florence, Italy) - January 16, 2009 (San Diego, CA)

Not even cancer stopped him from driving from San Diego to Dawson for the Town Reunion in 2006.

Whenever possible, we took students to San Diego to get a good pep talk from Massimo.  He was blunt and direct with them, urging this next generation to do something of value for themselves and for Italy. He never lost his passion for the Italian culture.

In his later years, he campaigned to represent fellow expatriates in the Italian parliament.