The
apostle SimonPeter was known to have healed a man over 40 years
of age who had been crippled from birth with but the words,
"Silver and Gold I do not have, but what I have I give to
you."
As I
write this article the funeral of my dear cousin, SimonPietro
Marchese, son of Violetta Scorza Marchese is occurring in Milano,
Italy, where he served as pastor for Waldensian churches. I
first met SimonPietro in the summer of 2001 on a research journey
I took to Italy. I was seeking my Italian roots in as many
ways possible: by visiting the land where my mother was born, by
participating in a research project in Rome about so called
Italian school "reform" efforts, by participating in
the counter-summit and protests in Genoa with over 200,000 people
who were taking a stand against the policies of injustice and
greed of the G-8, and most important of all, by meeting my family
in Italy (the descendents of Dominico and Josepina Scorza).
It was
through Dario Scorza that I learned that I had family in Rome.
A Waldensian seminary student from the same seminary my
grandfather had attended, named Christina, phoned me in my first
week in Rome and invited me to a dinner at SimonPietro Marchese's
pastoral home with his mother, Violetta Scorza Marchese, and
partner Miriam Englese. Christine, a dear friend was
agreeing to accompany us through out the evening as interpreter
because my Italian was elementary and the family in Rome does not
speak English. I was very excited to be in Rome meeting
family. It was a dream come true.
SimonPietro,
Miriam and Christina picked me up outside of the University where
I was housed for the Rome research project. We were all in
a pitched state of energy and enthusiasm to meet each
other. Immediately, SimonPietro asked me what I was doing
in Rome and I explained my quests for family history and social
justice. Everyone in the car got very excited when we
realized we all attending the protests the following week in Genoa
because it meant we had some strongly shared values about
oppression and exploitation of the world's people and the
planet. From that point on we discussed family and politics
throughout the evening.
I fell in
love with my family that first night in Rome. I was
provided the first of many Scorza gourmet home cooked
meals. This one was a four course meal cooked by
Violetta. That night we shared family photos and stories,
took a trip to a debate between Waldentians and academics in the
Castle D'angelo park, and of course, engaged in our own vibrant
theological and political discussions that are so passionately
required in Italy in the same way they are dispassionately
disavowed in the USA. I noticed immediately that SimonPietro, as
busy pastor to 2 churches in Rome, was on his cellular phone a
lot during the course of the evening with calls from parishoners
in need. My first impressions of him were that he was a
thoughtful, well educated, life-loving man who was much respected
and needed in his Christian based community. After that
evening, SimonPietro and Miriam and I agreed to meet up at the
protests in Genoa the following week.
During
that evening with family in Rome I had laid out my itinerary for
my summer in Italy. Unbeknownst to me, SimonPietro joined
Dario and Dominico and began working behind the scenes to
ensure that I would meet with and stay with family everywhere I
went throughout Italy. He became my true, loving and
protective brother.
Dominico
Scorza met me at the train station in Genoa. Later in the
day he showed me the bus system and walked me to the
organizational and media headquarters for the Anti-G-8 summit. I
was welcomed lovingly during my week in Genoa by cousins Dominico
and Margie Scorza who housed, fed me wonderful meals cooked by
chef Dominico, and discussed family, politics and religion with
me while I attended the organizational meetings, protests and
worked with the Italian Independent Media in Genoa. I
believe this was also the last time Dominico, Margie and Waldo
saw SimonPietro when he came to visit them at their home during
the protests.
SimonPietro
and Miriam and I met up for a meal before the Friday night
protests which were for increased justice and human rights for
migrants across the world. Slowly, my knowledge of Italian was
increasing enough that we could debate the issues of pacifism and
direct action as methods for social justice and social
change. We were on the same side of the battles for
justice, only we disagreed on tactics. But arguing with
SimonPietro was all good as they say in the USA or Va bene in
Italian!
As most
Italians know and most Americans do not know because the
corporate news in the USA censors news about world protests both
here and abroad, the protests in Genoa were very violent for many
reasons which I will not review here. It was a war zone and
for a time, I was stuck in the Diaz School with other journalists
and had no information about SimonPietro and Miriam's safety
until later when I was able to reach Dominico and Margie for
news. However, by the time I took the train out of Genoa,
there was SimonPietro, waiting to escort me back for a stay at
his house. The next day he accompanied me to pick up my
rental car to make sure I did not get overcharged or lost. On the
train ride to pick up the rental car he informed me that he just
happened to have business to attend to in San Pietro, Calabria
and would like to drive me there in my rental car and then take
the train back to Rome.
Please
understand that this very busy pastor of two churches dropped
everything for several days to accompany me from Rome to Calabria
and show me the country of my great grand parents and
cousins. I was so overwhelmed with love for his generosity,
not to mention that we were kindred spirits with a love for
politics, the oppressed peoples of the world, good food and fun
which would mean a very wonderful trip indeed! We took 2
dictionaries and favorite music tapes on that trip and sang,
talked and laughed all the way from Rome to Calabria.
Sharing music in the car, I came to love the Italian folk singer,
Fabrizio D’Andre and I was able to give a gift of music to
SimonPietro of the musical group from Naples, Spaconapoli.
We both knew the words to Va Pensiero and sang that
together!
While in
San Pietro, SimonPietro drove me up and down the mountain so that
I would know how to get around and how to get to the train
station later in the week when I would meet Dario Scorza and
follow him to their summer home for a visit. SimonPietro
thought of everything and so did his mother, Violetta. In a
matter of 2 hours, she made me a summer dress and him a pair of
pants to wear for visiting famiy in San Pietro!
Brava! He took me to relative’s homes to visit with
many but one great matriarch whom I came to love immediately I
was able tro visit two times in my stay there. He showed me
the family cemetery and gave me more of my ancestral history for
which I am eternally grateful. He was the embodiment of
good sharing, walking, talking, driving, singing, eating, love
for life and I am a better person to have known him.
Later, I
returned to Rome (this time driving alone) from a blessed stay
with Violetta in San Pietro, and Dario and family on the Sea in Calabria,
where I was scheduled to stay with SimonPietro and Miriam for the
end of my journey that summer in Italy. Needless to say, I
got lost trying to find the apartment house where they live with
other Waldentians. Never the less, when I called SimonPietro,
told him where I was (near the Coliseum), he met me and led me
back to his house. It was during this part of my stay in Rome
that I got to see SimonPietro in action as a pastor. By
this time my Italian had improved quite a bit so I could actually
understand most of his Sunday sermon which was one of love and
liberation. What a gift to sit in that church and sing
hymns in Italian with Miriam and see SimonPietro in his own
unique version of the pastoring role that he inherited from so
many Scorza ancestors. He reminded me of my grandpa Joseph
Scorza. The epitome of goodness and mercy, love and service
on his own terms.
That
August Sunday in Rome was a very hot day and like so many
Italians, SimonPietro and Miriam had no fans or air conditioners,
so I talked SimonPietro into commandeering a fan from the
church. He did this with hesitation, maybe he thought I was
being a baby about the heat, but later that day with that big fan
blowing over the kitchen, he remarked laughingly, that borrowing
the fan had been a great idea! For the rest of that hot
week, SimonPietro and Miriam and I began to talk on another more
personal and in-depth level about our lives. I came to know
and love them both even more. I adored SimonPietro and
called him brother, fratello. They also showed me more of Rome
and we had such fun sightseeing together. It was not until
our last night together that SimonPietro finally, after much
protest, allowed me to pay for a meal. Throughout my whole
trip the generosity of the Scorza relatives was overwhelmingly
gracious and a great gift to me, as someone on a very strict
budget at the time. Any Italian Scorza wishing to visit the
USA while I live here is welcome in my home and to my soild
Italo-Americano cooking.
My last
morning in Rome I sat at SimonPietro's kitchen table and wept to
be leaving Italy and him, with whom I felt so deeply
connected. At the time, we made plans for my return the
next summer to complete the writing of my dissertation in Italy.
I never for a moment believed that I would never see him
again. For many good reasons I have been unable to return
to Italy as expected. I deeply regret that I was not able
to return the summer of 2002 to spend more time with my brother
cousin, SimonPietro Marchese. We had many talks about
liberation theology which we both hold dear and to which he
attributed as the main foundational base for which he could be a
Christian and a pastor.
My
own faith has deepened knowing him and with our talks over the
past two years both in person and on the internet. His
example of goodness and his fight for justice will always be a
light to guide me in my life. The world was a better place
for me knowing that SimonPietro was in it. He will always be
loved.
RESCUE
AT SEA
By
Erving Scorza
NORTH
ATLANTIC OCEAN OFF THE BAY OF FUNDY
OFFICIAL
REPORT FILED.Saturday 1 AM April, 1945
Debriefing
report of crew:
The mission to intercept two destroyers attacking a submarine was
assigned to Crew # 10. The ready state of plane and crew had been
established by the priorities of the squadron commander. It was
their turn to respond to the call for assistance. Preparations
began at once, and included, topping off tanks, weather report,
munitions readied, and crew alerted and prepared Crew #10 was the
READY CREW on DUTY that day.
The aircraft: Vega Ventura, (PV-1) A twin engine landbased
patrol plane, with two naval officers (Patrol Plane Commander and
CoPilot/Navigator) and 3 enlisted men: radioman, gunner (Turret
Machine guns), and plane mechanic/ gunner (Machine guns in tail)
The Pilot fired the machine guns mounted in the nose of the
place. He also fired the rockets (armour piercing) mounted under
the wings. The bomb bay carried two 500 pound torpex depth
charges set to explode at depth 300 feet and blow everything up
and out. The plane could inflict a fatal blow to a submarine
under the right conditions. Fuel for (theoretically) 8 hours was
carried, but fully loaded for battle the fuel supply was never
tested. The PILOT was the key man. He was in charge. He flew the
plane, bombed the sub, brought the plane back.
The call came in to the base at 8 PM on that Saturday night.
Contact two destroyers engaging a part of a German Submarine Pack
and give assistance, their location is -- and so on. The crew
assembled and the plane took off to rendezvous with the
destroyers. The radioman tried to contact the ships without
success. Darkness set in and it began to rain. Lightning flashed
all about. Radio signals beamed from shore were difficulty to
hear. Radio direction navigation was impossible because of the
storm. Frantic efforts were made to steady as she goes, but it
only got worse. The wind direction could not be determined by
reading the ocean surface in the storm. The radio went dead.
There was no visibility. The navigator was lost -- no stars to
help determine direction, no radio signals on which to home in,
no answers from base or ships -- all the while the plane flew
further and further from shore on an uncertain heading. It
became obvious that the lightning had disabled the radio, and
could not transmit or receive. The inability to contact anyone,
or detect signals from known stations, made the situation
immanently perilous. The plane had been flying for about four
hours --the midway point in fuel with the need to return home.
Roughly estimating distance flown was useless. The best thing to
do was to immediately return to the coast. To extend time in the
air, all extra weights were thrown out. Out went the ammunition,
down went the depth charges (not armed), and off went the
rockets. The men stood behind the pilot’s seat for easy
communication. The course was due west toward the Maine
coast, we hoped. The war-time blackout was in effect and it was
not possible to see ground lights. Nevertheless, the plane
sighted land for the storm had passed and turbulence was reduced.
As we approached the coast, the big question was "Were we
north of our base or South? If we guessed wrong, it would be
doubtful that our fuel would hold out to search in the opposite
direction.
Do
we turn North or South?
The
reports of Navigator and Radioman:
Navigator/copilot, "I am unable to get any bearings on our
position. I cannot tell which way the winds are blowing us. The
further out we fly the more we are being blown off course. Our
Dead-Reckoning positions are unreliable."
Radioman: "The radio is affected by the lightning, what
noise heard is unintelligible. Our transmissions are not
answered."
The Pilot's Testimony:
"A series of unfortunate happenings
engulfed our plane. The preflight weather sheet did not
report any severe rain storm. The weather deteriorated the
further out we flew. A bolt of lightning flashed nearby. The
radio went dead. Contact with the surface was not possible. We
could not determine wind direction. Within a few minutes, we were
lost. The mission is scrubbed. Get home safely, our first
priority. Lighten the plane to conserve fuel by throwing every
thing heavy overboard. Reverse course and return to the coast.
Finally, we sighted the coast. Which way was our field? Turn to
the right or to the left? I kept saying, "O God, help
us. Father, be our guide. Lord, bless your servant.' As we
crossed onto the land, I felt confident that we should make a
left turn and head south. As soon as the thought came in my head,
I felt the control wheel moving beneath my hands. The plane
turned south and in ten minutes we saw the small beacon of our
field. I credit our safe return to God. We thanked
him, and kissed the ground."
