Tuscany : a little slice of paradise

My early flight to Rome from Palermo had been canceled , I managed to find another flight on a different airline.
Things looked a bit brighter in Rome when we finally picked up our luggage and collected our rented vehicle: a fabulously rakish, low slung, turbo prepped Italian sports car .
However that joyful enthusiasm was premature. The car started to cough and rattle just as we approached the small town of Orvieto , in Umbria. The light show which exploded across my instrument panel, and the accompanying concert of beeps and blips that followed, was at once entertaining and scary.

A few hours later , after a visit to the local car mechanic, we were back on the road. With a quick flick of the wrist I shifted into third gear, and then I punched the gas with deliberate purpose. The engine roared and the car shot forward into the fast lane, quickly accelerating past a long line of trucks.


The tachometer needle was now venturing into uncharted territory. The scenery around me was nothing more then a blur, but I did not care. I had only a few hours of light left and did not want to drive into the Tuscan country side in the dark.
I quickly glanced over at my wife on the passenger seat next to me, she smiled back with confidence. Her knuckles, white from gripping desperately at the dashboard before her, told me a different story.
We would have both agreed:" this day had not started well".


At dusk we turned on to the road leading to Castello Banfi. We were struck by the castle’s massive stance , perched high upon a hilltop dominating over the valley below.
I rung the bell at the gates of Il Borgo at Castello Banfi and their team swiftly picked up our numerous bags, escorted us to the Reception, and then our suite. The moment, we walked into our suite, I knew that this was going to be "the" experience of a lifetime.

Suite # 14 was elegantly decorated. The king size bed was luxurious and delightfully comfortable. The bedding was crisp white, soft as silk, with big fluffy pillows. There was a comfy couch
with a cozy throw, and plenty of good reading light. A lovely table and two chairs were perfectly placed before the window with a view of the valley below. There was a charming, quaint office in the next room, with a view of the pool and the vineyards. Around the corner, a super sized closet area. The bathroom was astonishingly big, gracefully designed in every detail. From the terracotta tiled floors, to the pristine porcelain double sinks, marble countertops, and a bathtub, certainly built for two. The walk-in glass shower was lined with extraordinary hand painted tiles; this place was pure indulgent luxury. Yet what made this bathroom special was an unexpected, set of large double windows, with a panoramic view of the surrounding hills.

The next morning we began to explore the Castle’s grounds, and see all it had to offer. Originally Il Borgo, was a group of buildings that were part of the working village within the walls of this 13th Century Castle, and at one time, about 300 people lived and worked within the Castle walls.
There is a wonderful Store: “Enoteca” where you can sip and purchase the Banfi wines of your choice. You can eat at two fine Restaurants within the castle’s walls.

The Taverna Banfi is an upscale trattoria, which serves hearty, rustic, county food made with the freshest local ingredients, I strongly recommend the Pici pasta and the Ribollita soup. For those seeking a more exclusive culinary experience, there is also: Il Ristorante Castello Banfi, a one star rated Michelin Restaurant. I had an unforgettable tasting dinner there. It lasted well over 4 hours and severely tested the stitches holding the front button of my pants.

While walking around the castle grounds do not miss The Giovanni F. Mariani Museum of Glass, which traces the evolution of wine and glass from the 5th century BC to present.

The Biblioteca ( the Library) is a private space for the guests of Il Borgo. This large room is anchored at one end by a large fireplace, with a warm crackling fire. Sit in any of the plush couches while perusing through one of the many wonderful books available. This is an elegant, charming, and cozy spot where you can rest your tired feet, have a lovely conversation, or spend some quiet moments sipping on a glass of Banfi’s famed Brunello.
There are many things to do while you stay at Il Borgo, maybe go for a short drive into the old medieval towns of Montalcino and Pienza or venture into nearby Siena. The hotel concierge can even arrange for horse rides through the vineyards or the beaches near Grosseto.
I did not do any of those things; I just stayed at the castle. I ate at the restaurants everyday with prodigious appetite, took naps, sat under the pergola by the rose garden, sipping on a glass of wine. I explored every inch of the castle walls and took innumerable photos, and watched the sunset everyday I was there.
What was truly magical is that I forgot about work. I never checked the computer, I never once called my office. Instead, my wife and I went on many walks in the surrounding countryside. We enjoyed breakfast in the room, as the beautiful morning light painted the view before us with shades of golden and amber autumn colors. I felt alive and " Happy!"

As I stood there at sunset, holding my wife close to me, shielding her from the cool wind, breezing softly across the valley below, I knew “exactly”, just how lucky I was to be there! This place was pure magic for my soul.

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Il Borgo at Castello Banfi. “A little slice of paradise in the Tuscan Countryside”

My early flight to Rome from Palermo had been cancelled , I managed to find another flight on a different airline. Things looked a bit brighter in Rome when we finally picked up our luggage and collected our rented vehicle: a fabulously rakish, low slung, turbo prepped Italian sports car . However that joyful enthusiasm was premature. The car started to cough and rattle just as we approached the small town of Orvieto , in Umbria. The light show which exploded across my instrument panel, and the accompanying concert of beeps and blips that followed, was at once entertaining and scary. A few hours later , after a visit to the local car mechanic, we were back on the road. With a quick flick of the wrist I shifted into third gear, and then I punched the gas with deliberate purpose. The engine roared and the car shot forward into the fast lane, quickly accelerating past a long line of trucks. Thetachometer needle was now venturing into uncharted territory. The scenery around me was nothing more then a blur, but I did not care. I had only a few hours of light left and did not want to drive into the Tuscan country side in the dark.I quickly glanced over at my wife on the passenger seat next to me, she smiled back with confidence. Her knuckles, white from gripping desperately at the dashboard before her, told me a different story. We would have both agreed:" this day had not started well".At dusk we turned on to the road leading to Castello Banfi. We were struck by the castle’s massive stance , perched high upon a hilltop dominating over the valley below. I rung the bell at the gates of Il Borgo at Castello Banfi and their team swiftly picked up our numerous bags, escorted us to the Reception, and then our suite. The moment, we walked into our suite, I knew that this was going to be "the" experience of a lifetime.Suite # 14 was elegantly decorated. The king size bed was luxurious and delightfully comfortable. The bedding was crisp white, soft as silk, with big fluffy pillows. There was a comfy couchwith a cozy throw, and plenty of good reading light. A lovely table and two chairs were perfectly placed before the window with a view of the valley below. There was a charming, quaint office in the next room, with a view of the pool and the vineyards. Around the corner, a super sized closet area. The bathroom was astonishingly big, gracefully designed in every detail. From the terracotta tiled floors, to the pristine porcelain double sinks, marble countertops, and a bathtub, certainly built for two. The walk-in glass shower was lined with extraordinary hand painted tiles; this place was pure indulgent luxury. Yet what made this bathroom special was an unexpected, set of large double windows, with a panoramic view of the surrounding hills.The next morning we began to explore the Castle’s grounds, and see all it had to offer. Originally Il Borgo, was a group of buildings that were part of the working village within the walls of this 13th Century Castle, and at one time, about 300 people lived and worked within the Castle walls. There is a wonderful Store: “Enoteca” where you can sip and purchase the Banfi wines of your choice. You can eat at two fine Restaurants within the castle’s walls.
The Taverna Banfi is an upscale trattoria, which serves hearty, rustic, county food made with the freshest local ingredients, I strongly recommend the Pici pasta and the Ribollita soup. For those seeking a more exclusive culinary experience, there is also: Il Ristorante Castello Banfi, a one star rated Michelin Restaurant. I had an unforgettable tasting dinner there. It lasted well over 4 hours and severely tested the stitches holding the front button of my pants. While walking around the castle grounds do not miss The Giovanni F. Mariani Museum of Glass, which traces the evolution of wine and glass from the 5th century BC to present. The Biblioteca ( the Library) is a private space for the guests of Il Borgo. This large room is anchored at one end by a large fireplace, with a warm crackling fire. Sit in any of the plush couches while perusing through one of the many wonderful books available. This is an elegant, charming, and cozy spot where you can rest your tired feet, have a lovely conversation, or spend some quiet moments sipping on a glass of Banfi’s famed Brunello.
There are many things to do while you stay at Il Borgo, maybe go for a short drive into the old medieval towns of Montalcino and Pienza or venture into nearby Siena. The hotel concierge can even arrange for horse rides through the vineyards or the beaches near Grosseto.
I did not do any of those things; I just stayed at the castle. I ate at the restaurants everyday with prodigious appetite, took naps, sat under the pergola by the rose garden, sipping on a glass of wine. I explored every inch of the castle walls and took innumerable photos, and watched the sunset everyday I was there.
What was truly magical is that I forgot about work. I never checked the computer, I never once called my office. Instead, my wife and I went on many walks in the surrounding countryside. We enjoyed breakfast in the room, as the beautiful morning light painted the view before us with shades of golden and amber autumn colors. I felt alive and " Happy!"
My father used to say: “ A man should know when he is lucky” . As I stood there at sunset, holding my wife close to me, shielding her from the cool wind, breezing softly across the valley below, I knew “exactly”, just how lucky I was to be there! This place was pure magic for my soul.

For more information visit: http://www.castellobanfiilborgo.com/

A man should know when he is lucky.

This was going to be one of the most important phone calls of the year. I had been working on this business deal for quite sometime and it all came down to this final presentation. It looked good, the signs were all there. In my mind there was no doubt that this was going to be it. Months of work and it all came down to this. In spite of the fact that this was going to be a telephone meeting I dressed up in my finest threads. This meeting represented a momentous occasion for my little company and I wanted to dress up for it. The minutes were passing by as I kept fidgeting around with paperwork checking and rechecking my figures. In my mind I kept rehearsing the presentation speech I had now perfected to a flawless rendition. It was all good.

The ringing of the telephone startled me briefly. “ The game is on” I murmured to myself. Took a quick look around to make sure nothing was missing, stared at the phone as it rang a second time. Then slowly and self assuredly I picked up the horn. “ Hello” I said. From the other side all four attendees, who had been patched on this conference call, quickly shouted their greeting as they checked in.
“Well Nick” said the president of the other company. “ We are all here to hear what you have to say. Please go on.”
It is a rare, in a man’s life to be given the opportunity to shine. There I stood all suited up in my best business suit and ready to do battle. This was my moment. In my heart I knew I could not have asked for anything better.

After many years in the same business, with a modest amount of success we all mature into a more confident role, at times like this , instincts start to take over and your mind starts to work at warp speed focused and attentive to every detailed. Whilst I was speaking ,weaving the masterful tapestry of my presentation ,a part of my brain started to listen to what I was saying, and I must tell you it sounded to me like pure magic. The more I said the more I liked it. What style, what delivery what perfect usage of the English language. Hey, not bad for a little boy from Palermo Sicily … if only my dad could see me know.

Finally, as I lawyer in an open court, I rested my case. The evidence was overwhelmingly, in my favor. Even though I could not see the faces of the jurors, it was obvious to me that there was only one verdict possible. In my mind this deal was done, ready and accounted for. Once my last syllables were spoken I stood there waiting for their response, proud and self assured.
There are moments in life in which even the little seconds move along as long interminable hours. Time as a whole shifts and it all seems to move in a slow, comfortable mode. I do not think that more than 15 seconds passed before I started to hear the company’s president response. But in my mind if felt a if it was forever.

I do not know when Napoleon Bonaparte realized what had actually happened to him at Waterloo, did he see it coming or did the devastating sense of defeat suddenly crushed upon him?
In a split instant things changed for me. First I heard my father’s words:” Don’t count your chickens until they are hatched” then I started to hear the words that were coming out the president’s mouth.
Whilst I can’t recall every word, one stood our clearly: “ NO!”. He was most elegant and respectful in his delivery yet, it was made clear to me, beyond any reasonable doubt, that this deal was not going to take place. Even if pleasantly wrapped in the most elegant wording the answer was a clear resounding “NO!”

We all exchanged pleasantries and well wishes. As quickly as it had stared it was all over. I stood there. Staring at the phone mumbling, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. After composing myself , I went downstairs to talk to my wife.
Nanci had been working in the garden all afternoon, even now in the early evening’s hours she still moved from bush to bush like a butterfly. Since we started work on this old home a few years ago, the garden has been her love and passion.
Before I went outside I poured myself a glass of fine red wine. Took a small sip, composed my thought then I stepped out to the back garden where she was.

The water in the fountain burbled softly splashing down the from the open mouth of the lions’ head. The bushes were in full bloom. Nanci was on her knees planting new flowers in the terracotta pots. Before I could call her name, she rose to her feet and hugged me. Then took my hand a led me along the crushed granite path on the side of the house. All the while she was talking and pointing to flowers and bushes and trees which were all around us. I found myself looking at her , while her words started to drift in the back ground as an ambiance noise. A few locks of her hair had come undone from the ponytail and they were now swinging free in front of her face. They were dangling ever so elegantly, curled up in front of the eyes. Every word was punctuated by a smile and her eyes shone with a brilliant light of joyful enthusiasm. There was a small patch of dry caked mud on the right side of her forehead. And her garden clothes were all disheveled in the most elegant way as if perfectly placed, just so.

There was talk of flying birds , flowers, fountains and butterflies, all accompanied by animated mimes, punctuated here and there by smiles and wide gestures.
“ A man should know when he is lucky” my father often used to say. Like many other things once heard in youth, the meaning of these words suddenly came upon me on this Summer evening with haunting clarity. There I stood before my home, a beautiful home which I love, holding the hand of my wife who in spite of caked mud on her face looked amazingly beautiful to my eyes. I can hear the birds and for the first time in a long while I am starting to look at this garden in a whole new light. Meanwhile our cat Felix(a.k.a. Filippo) winds down the paths to join us. As I am looking down at him he bunts my leg softly and meows as if to say : “ Nice to see you Nick!”.
The memories of my failed business deal started to chip off my shoulders, melted away by the warmth of my wife’s smile, carried away by the song of the birds and covered up by the soft rumble of the bubbling water in the fountain.
The hand of my wristwatch sweeps the seconds away, but I do not hear the clicking of time passing. I am living in this moment, tomorrow will come anyway. Tomorrow is very far away. This moment belong to me. My father had a point. A man should know when he is Lucky and on this balmy summer evening walking hand in hand with my wife along our garden followed by our cat, I know just how lucky I am.

A man should know when he is lucky.

This was going to be one of the most important phone calls of the year. I had been working on this business deal for quite sometime and it all came down to this final presentation. It looked good, the signs were all there. In my mind there was no doubt that this was going to be it. Months of work and it all came down to this. In spite of the fact that this was going to be at telephone meeting I dressed up in my finest threads. This meeting represented a momentous occasion for my little company and I wanted to dress up for it. The minutes were passing by as I kept fidgeting around with paperwork checking and rechecking my figures. In my mind I kept rehearsing the presentation speech I had now perfected to a flawless rendition. It was all good.

The ringing of the telephone startled me briefly. “ The game is on” I murmured to myself. Took a quick look around to make sure nothing was missing, stared at the phone as it rang a second time. Then slowly and self assuredly I picked up the horn. “ Hello” I said. From the other side all four attendees, who had been patched on this conference call, quickly shouted their greeting as they checked in.
“Well Nick” said the president of the other company. “ We are all here to hear what you have to say. Please go on.”
It is a rare, in a man’s life to be given the opportunity to shine. There I stood all suited up in my best business suit and ready to do battle. This was my moment. In my heart I knew I could not have asked for anything better.

After many years in the same business, with a modest amount of success we all mature into a more confident role, at times like this , instincts start to take over and your mind starts to work at warp speed focused and attentive to every detailed. Whilst I was speaking ,weaving the masterful tapestry of my presentation ,a part of my brain started to listen to what I was saying, and I must tell you it sounded to me like pure magic. The more I said the more I liked it. What style, what delivery what perfect usage of the English language. Hey, not bad for a little boy from Palermo Sicily … if only my dad could see me know.

Finally, as I lawyer in an open court, I rested my case. The evidence was overwhelmingly, in my favor. Even though I could not see the faces of the jurors, it was obvious to me that there was only one verdict possible. In my mind this deal was done, ready and accounted for. Once my last syllables were spoken I stood there waiting for their response, proud and self assured.
There are moments in life in which even the little seconds move along as long interminable hours. Time as a whole shifts and it all seems to move in a slow, comfortable mode. I do not think that more than 15 seconds passed before I started to hear the company’s president response. But in my mind if felt a if it was forever.

I do not know when Napoleon Bonaparte realized what had actually happened to him at Waterloo, did he see it coming or did the devastating sense of defeat suddenly crushed upon him?
In a split instant things changed for me. first I heard my father’s words:” Don’t count your chickens until they are hatched” then I stared to hear the words that were coming out the president’s mouth.
Whilst I can’t recall every word, one stood our clearly: “ NO!”. He was most elegant and respectful in his delivery yet, it was made clear to me, beyond any reasonable doubt, that this deal was not going to take place. Even if pleasantly wrapped in the most elegant wording the answer was a clear resounding “NO!”

We all exchanged pleasantries and well wishes. As quickly as it had stared it was all over. I stood there. Staring at the phone mumbling, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. After composing myself , I went downstairs to talk to my wife.
Nanci had been working in the garden all afternoon, even now in the early evening’s hours she still moved from bush to bush like a butterfly. Since we started work on this old home a few years ago, the garden has been her love and passion.
Before I went outside I poured myself a glass of fine red wine. Took a small sip, composed my thought then I stepped out to the back garden where she was.

The water in the fountain burbled softly splashing down the from the open mouth of the lions’ head. The bushes were in full bloom. Nanci was on her knees planting new flowers in the terracotta pots. Before I could call her name, she rose to her feet and hugged me. Then took my hand a led me along the crushed granite path on the side of the house. All the while she was talking and pointing to flowers and bushes and trees which were all around us. I found myself looking at her , while her words started to drift in the back ground as an ambience noise. A few locks of her hair had come undone from the ponytail and they were now swinging free I front of the face. They were dangling ever so elegantly, curled up in front of the eyes. Every word was punctuated by a smile and her eyes shone with a brilliant light of joyful enthusiasm. There was a small patch of dry caked mud on the right side of her forehead. And her garden clothes were all disheveled in the most elegant way as if perfectly placed, just so.

There was talk of flying birds , flowers, fountains and butterflies, all accompanied by animated mimes, punctuated here and there by smiles and wide gestures.
“ A man should know when he is lucky” my father often used to say. like many other things once heard in youth, the meaning of these words suddenly came upon me on this Summer evening with haunting clarity. There I stood before my home, a beautiful home which I love, holding the hand of my wife who in spite of caked mud on her face looked amazingly beautiful to my eyes. I can hear the birds and for the first time in a long while I am starting to look at this garden in a whole new light. Meanwhile our cat Felix(a.k.a. Filippo) winds down the paths to join us. As I am looking down at him he bunts my leg softly and meows as if to say : “ Nice to see you Nick!”.
The memories of my failed business deal started to chip off my shoulders, melted away by the warmth of my wife’s smile, carried away by the song of the birds and covered up by the soft rumble of the bubbling water in the fountain.
The hand of my wristwatch sweeps the seconds away, but I do not hear the clicking of time passing. I am living in this moment, tomorrow will come anyway. Tomorrow is very far away. This moment belong to me. My father had a point. A man should know when he is Lucky and on this balmy summer evening walking hand in hand with my wife along our garden followed by our cat, I know just how lucky I am.

It is about time for this pebble to go home!

I was busy packing my bags, hurrying about at the last minute. To make things worse, there was a power failure and the upstairs was hot and muggy that afternoon. It was late October and here in Southern California it felt just like mid August.We still had laundry to do, but nothing worked in the house. Could it get worse than this? I do not think so… The plane leaves tomorrow morning and there is plenty of organizing still to be done. In a couple of hours it will be dark and, with no electricity, it will be quite an adventure to get this packing done.Some people just sweat. Not me. It pours out of me like a fountain. The more I think about it, the worse it gets. Little puddles are forming all around me. Where is the AC/DC converter? “Naaanc…!!!” I yell “Where did you put it?” It is never where I left it.My wife has a way of moving my stuff around that drives me crazy. “I think it’s in the garage in one of the old boxes,” she called back. I silently count to ten, hoping it will help calm me down. You would think thatafter twentysix years of being together I would have this routine down. Well, apparently not.I do not know about you, but my garage is where old things go to hide. Once you put something in a boxthere, good luck finding it again when you need it. Half insane from the heat, I stood in the middle of thegarage pulling stuff from the shelves, surrounded by the discarded contents, rummaging into half emptyboxes, driving myself crazy.Then it happened. I recognized it right away. Tucked deep in one of the corners of the cardboard box, there wasa small tin box. Inside a little pebble rattled free.Twenty-Six years ago, Nanci and I went to Rome together for the first time. I remember standing in front of theGrand Hotel (now the St. Regis Grand). We were staying then at a little pensione, not too far away. We ended upin front of the Grand Hotel by accident, on our way to Piazza Navona. I was just out of school and had no job, so I had taken a few weeks to travel with Nanci around Italy. The Grand Hotel was so beautiful—I had to go in andsee it. The lobby was an astonishing piece of work, plush and elegant. Colorful hand-painted murals surrounded walls of mirrors that shimmered with light. It all looked so elegant, so expensive—so far out of my reach.As we walked out of the lobby, I told Nanci right then and there, “One day you and I will stay in this hotel.We will be married and we will be rich.” Then we laughed as all lovers do when dreaming of something fantastic, which almost never comes true. But I was not kidding. I meant what I said.In Sicily we have a tradition: When you make a promise to yourself—one that you truly wish to keep—take a memento with you, a little souvenir to remind you of it forever. I bent down and picked up a pebble, placing it inside an empty tin of mints. I slipped it into my pocket.It was a special amulet that, like many good intentions, was put away and then forgotten, stashed deep in this cardboard box, eventually resurfacing inside my garage.I sat alone in my garage, hot, sweaty, lost in thought, and surrounded by a mess of boxes and forgotten things. I was, I think, the perfect picture of a mad man. It was in this less than ideal setting that I pondered how much change I have seen in my own life in the past twenty-six years.A few weeks later, a black limousine pulled up to the curb to drop us off. My wife looked out the window and then back at me—amazed and surprised. There it stood in all of its beauty, actually even more beautiful than I remembered it: Rome’s St. Regis Grand Hotel. The bellhops came around to help us out of the car and load our bags on the cart. “May we escort you to the front desk, sir?” a young man in uniform asked.“Just a moment,” I replied. My hand reached inside my vest and I pulled out an old, dented tin box. My fingers opened it slowly. I carefully grasped the little pebble inside and then held it high for all to see. “It’s about time for this pebble to go home,” I said. I knelt down and placed the pebble on the ground in front of the Grand Hotel.The limo driver and the small army of bellhops looked at me quizically. My wife and I stared into each other’s eyes for just a moment. We both knew what it meant. We walked slowly toward the lobby, holding hands, as if coming home.It is very important to keep one’s promises, especially the ones we make to ourselves. As for being rich,…..well, my wife loves me, my cats, too. I have a great family and plenty of friends. I am rich….. enough.

I was busy packing my bags, hurrying about at the last minute. To make things worse, there was a power failure and the upstairs was hot and muggy that afternoon. It was late October and here in Southern California it felt just like mid August.We still had laundry to do, but nothing worked in the house. Could it get worse than this? I do not think so… The plane leaves tomorrow morning and there is plenty of organizing still to be done. In a couple of hours it will be dark and, with no electricity, it will be quite an adventure to get this packing done.Some people just sweat. Not me. It pours out of me like a fountain. The more I think about it, the worse it gets. Little puddles are forming all around me. Where is the AC/DC converter? “Naaanc…!!!” I yell “Where did you put it?” It is never where I left it.My wife has a way of moving my stuff around that drives me crazy. “I think it’s in the garage in one of the old boxes,” she called back. I silently count to ten, hoping it will help calm me down. You would think thatafter twentysix years of being together I would have this routine down. Well, apparently not.I do not know about you, but my garage is where old things go to hide. Once you put something in a boxthere, good luck finding it again when you need it. Half insane from the heat, I stood in the middle of thegarage pulling stuff from the shelves, surrounded by the discarded contents, rummaging into half emptyboxes, driving myself crazy.Then it happened. I recognized it right away. Tucked deep in one of the corners of the cardboard box, there wasa small tin box. Inside a little pebble rattled free.Twenty-Six years ago, Nanci and I went to Rome together for the first time. I remember standing in front of theGrand Hotel (now the St. Regis Grand). We were staying then at a little pensione, not too far away. We ended upin front of the Grand Hotel by accident, on our way to Piazza Navona. I was just out of school and had no job, so I had taken a few weeks to travel with Nanci around Italy. The Grand Hotel was so beautiful—I had to go in andsee it. The lobby was an astonishing piece of work, plush and elegant. Colorful hand-painted murals surrounded walls of mirr

ors that shimmered with light. It all looked so elegant, so expensive—so far out of my reach.As we walked out of the lobby, I told Nanci right then and there, “One day you and I will stay in this hotel.We will be married and we will be rich.” Then we laughed as all lovers do when dreaming of something fantastic, which almost never comes true. But I was not kidding. I meant what I said.In Sicily we have a tradition: When you make a promise to yourself—one that you truly wish to keep—take a memento with you, a little souvenir to remind you of it forever. I bent down and picked up a pebble, placing it inside an empty tin of mints. I slipped it into my pocket.It was a special amulet that, like many good intentions, was put away and then forgotten, stashed deep in this cardboard box, eventually resurfacing inside my garage.I sat alone in my garage, hot, sweaty, lost in thought, and surrounded by a mess of boxes and forgotten things. I was, I think, the perfect picture of a mad man. It was in this less than ideal setting that I pondered how much change I have seen in my own life in the past twenty-six years.A few weeks later, a black limousine pulled up to the curb to drop us off. My wife looked out the window and then back at me—amazed and surprised. There it stood in all of its beauty, actually even more beautiful than I remembered it: Rome’s St. Regis Grand Hotel. The bellhops came around to help us out of the car and load our bags on the cart. “May we escort you to the front desk, sir?” a young man in uniform asked.“Just a moment,” I replied. My hand reached inside my vest and I pulled out an old, dented tin box. My fingers opened it slowly. I carefully grasped the little pebble inside and then held it high for all to see. “It’s about time for this pebble to go home,” I said. I knelt down and placed the pebble on the ground in front of the Grand Hotel.The limo driver and the small army of bellhops looked at me quizically. My wife and I stared into each other’s eyes for just a moment. We both knew what it meant. We walked slowly toward the lobby, holding hands, as if coming home.It is very important to keep one’s promises, especially the ones we make to ourselves. As for being rich,…..well, my wife loves me, my cats, too. I have a great family and plenty of friends. I am rich….. enough.