Donald has a mental illness, though I can’t tell you specifically which one. In much the same way the church bells of San Maurizio mark the passage of our days there, Donald’s presence on his bench tells us that things are in order in this small corner of the world.
He arrives from his home sometime in the middle part of the morning and sits for his morning shift. Late in the morning he walks along the busy four-lane highway to the supermarket about two miles distant and buys some food which he carries back in a plastic sack to his bench for his daily picnic. Sometime in the mid-afternoon Donald takes himself home. When he’s not actually present on his bench during the day, Donald leaves his warm jacket, a bag and a bottle of soda to mark his territory.
He’s a friendly, if remote, man; I put him somewhere in his mid-50′s or early 6o’s, though it’s quite impossible to know for sure. Passers-by almost always offer Donald a pleasant greeting (augmented sometimes with a treat if they know him), and if he’s not completely engaged in an interior dialogue he returns the greeting cordially, while at the same time not inviting further chat. Donald has a deep and musical voice; to receive a greeting from him is to hear a hymn.
So many elements contribute to the emotional content of our neighborhoods and give us the sense of ‘home.’ Donald makes such a contribution for us. When he was absent for a few days last week we worried – influenza? did he move away? He returned this week and suddenly all was right with the world. Thank you, Donald.
Something that you may not know – because you are away during our summer – is that Donald spends a large part of his day in the local (air-conditioned) grocery store. He sits on a bench indoors when the heat is unbearable. Many store customers stop by to offer him food and drink. All the checkout people know him and the manager(s) are accomodating. He is just as smiling and pleasant indoors as he is outdoors. I do not know anyone who knows Donald personally but many of us do keep him in our lives and thoughts.
I’m so happy to know this, Sherri – I’ve often wondered about Donald in the summer. It’s not surprising that so many take an interest in his welfare; I think by his constant presence in our lives he gives a lot more than he gets.
So interesting what things are key parts of our gestalt that go unnoticed in their integral belonging until they underline their presence by an absence. Donald sounds like just that – an entity of no great complexity that creates an irreplaceable part of what makes us feel right with the world as it participates in defining that world. Donald is lucky to have found his place in all of this, and for those who share the world with him to recognize his value as a part of theirs.
I’ve learned more about Donald since posting this, and whilst I agree with what you’ve said, I have to say that Donald probably is a lot more complex than we know. He’s a disabled Vet, victim of post-traumatic stress – who knows what battles he daily fights?
Well – I probably have a clue about the daily battles he fights….
I expect you do…
I love this. In our little corner of Sicily, the people who are disabled or mentally ill are included in the daily life of the town. They are not ignored or set aside. I was most impressed by this.
Thanks, Diane. What you describe is one of the things I love about Italy too.