The matriarch (Luci) of my host family in Meolo is one of eight, of which three are women. Gina, who is the oldest, has two children, whom seem to overpower their spouses. While attending a birthday party for Gina's husband and her son-in-law, her children were energy suckers, overtaking others in their braggadocios, while their spouses mostly remained silent. During the dinner, Gina oftentimes would comment on how the meat or dishes were dry or cold because of our tardiness in arrival.
Luci (middle) and Paola (youngest) are unlike the traditional and passive-aggressive Gina. Even with a relative stranger (me) in their midst, both were unabashed as they spent quality time together sunbathing in their underwear. Both had no qualms as their family members would touch their breasts and jokingly comment about sex and other perceived taboo topics.
As her youngest son noted, what you see is what you get with Luci. She is brazenly honest but has a good heart. She had a few miscarriages before her firstborn, and while a part of her always wanted a daughter, she has opened her heart to her daughter-in-law and even me during the few days I spent with her. It was with wistfulness, and not bitterness, when she relayed her childbearing stories including the names of her sons (and their related female versions with hopes of the child being a girl). In a case of opposites attracting or the ying to her yang, Franco, her husband, is a calm and patient man.
Her motto is to never leave home without either lipstick or heels on. In the case of nature vs. nurture (family ties), her sons have clearly inherited her frivolity in life. After checking out my chipped 3-week manicure, she quickly brought out nail polish remover and hot pink nail polish. After I jokingly asked if she was grooming me to pimp me out to a family friend (pimping me out), she quickly brushed it off and noted that a man is irrelevant, and it is always important to look good for one's self. She patiently sat next to me and supervised my manicure, correcting missed spots or rubbing off polish that got on my skin. As she showed my newly manicured nails to her sons, one of them jocularly noted how it looked like a puttana. Naturally, Luci took it as a compliment and a sign of her youth.
Had I not been told, I would have thought Luci was in her 50s rather than her 70s with her energy, zest for life and openness and intelligence. She was a woman with no judgments and kind heart. As I told many, including one of Gina's children who was a bit shocked as Luci is known as the crazy old woman, I would love to be Luci when I grow older. Hopefully, I resemble much of her already.
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