“St. George’s Statue…”

“It was a gift from Russia…” The old man turned to acknowledge my comment. He was standing on the outskirts of the United Nations building, staring up at the magnificent statue of St. George, one of my favorites in the city–and now, the catalyst for tonight’s unexpected conversation with a stranger.

“Kinda ironic, don’t you think?” I chuckled. The statue symbolizes victory over evil, and right now, Russia…well…yeah…. We don’t need to get into that, but “victory over evil” isn’t really Russia’s M.O right now. (Let’s keep politics out this story though, shall we?).

The old man continued talking.

“I know all about this place, I used to work for the UN…” He gestured towed the gated park, full of statues. His droopy, bright eyes flashed in the glow of the setting sun, as he looked fondly into the art-filled park. He was sporting a dark blue tweed coat and grey fedora. A thick, fluffy scarf wrapped around his neck and dangled just above his knees. He reached up to adjust the glasses on his nose before diving into an explanation of his extraordinary life ( for now, i’ll spare those details).

First, he told me about his poetry book and another book he wrote about his life. Then, he explained how he had traveled the world working for the UN, spending long periods of time with some of the most influential people in power. The first piece of wisdom he blessed me with:

Absolute power is absolute corruption.

The point of his first few stories was that power is the single thing that can destroy a human. He explained to me how Julis Ceasar had an employee whose single job was to whisper , “You’re still human” in his ear while the people of Rome sang his praises just to ensure power couldn’t ensnare his true nature of integrity and honor.

Indeed, we are all human. None of us are better than the rest. We are all souls playing the same game at different levels. As stated beautifully in the Hidden X Soul Philosophy, “No soul is superior to the another, except for in good works.”

His story of Cesar guided us into beautifully fated conversation about Rome. I say “fated” with absolute certainty that God planned this conversation.

Among many other countries, he had spent many years living in Italy. His glossy eyes flickered with nostalgia and excitement as he described the pure joy of sipping on a cappuccino in the streets of Rome and the prestigious aristocrats from Florence. He dove into the history of the Medici family and the Italian plague and the legends passed down from the mountains surrounding Milan.

“But Rome… thats where you should start…” He smiled and looked off at passing cars along First Avenue.

Ah, Rome. The place I’ve always dreamed of experiencing the most in the world. Actually, I want see all of Italy. I want to eat real ravioli, drink heart-stopping espressos, and gaze at the magnificent surrounding architecture, rich with romance and history. Not to mention, my nationality is 100% Italian-American and I’ve never been to the motherland. That’s a disgrace. Last but certainly not the least of my reasons: the book, “Italian Cities.” For my Aftermath readers, that lovely title might ring a bell… Evangline and Edward traveled through every city in Italy, writing about the art and architecture of each place they passed through. Of course, by destiny or design, part of me screams euphorically about being able to follow in their footsteps.

There’s a cafe a few minutes from the Spanish Steps in Rome called, “Antico Caffe Greco” - reccommded by my new friend from the St. George Statue. According to Google:

Opened in 1860, Antico Caffè Greco is the oldest coffee shop in Rome, and the second-oldest in all of Italy. An eclectic mix of writers, artists, intellectuals and freethinkers have frequented this historic bar over the years, including Hans Christian Andersen, Casanova, Keats, Shelley, Mark Twain and Orson Welles – to name a few.

Let’s get coffee.

Meet me in Rome if you want, because…why not?

Nat