We are closing in on New Year’s Eve here in Florence. I am busy getting ready for it. Here a look back, from exactly ten years ago, at a celebration that was years in the making.
Fifteen years ago, I was on my way to Rome.
But this story started much earlier—when I was nine years
old and in the fourth grade of Our Lady of Lourdes School in Paterson, New
Jersey. That was the year we began
studying ancient history and learned for the first time the difference between
BC and AD. I was transfixed by the
notion of the long flow of time. I gazed
out the window and wondered. It was
1950. In fifty years the digit that
began the year would change from a “1” to a “2.” How momentous! Could it be that I would be alive when such
an enormous thing happened? If I lived
that long, I would be about to turn fifty-nine.
My grandmother was nearly that old.
It could happen; I might live to see the year 2000.
As time went on, life brought a lot of other things to think
about. But every once in a while, the
notion came to me again, mostly when another year ended.
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| Page one of the original communiqué. |
Then, as we approached the New Year of 1995, I decided it
was time to start planning a really great party. David agreed.
That following January, I sent out a questionnaire to my entire
Christmas card list. It suggested a few
possible venues. Italy was one of
them. Lots of people liked the idea of
the party. A few suggested we all go
hiking somewhere far from civilization, not one of my choices. A number thought it would have to be a
tropical place. My suggestion that it be
somewhere beautiful and Italian got the most votes.
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| Rosanne and me during the week in Rome |
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| The event had a logo and stationery. |
Best of all, that letter drew a very enthusiastic response
from my dear friend Rosanne Martorella.
“Rome,” she said. “Nowhere but
the Eternal City will do.” And she
wanted to share the work. It became our joint
project over the next five years. The
tasks came in dribs and drabs at first. Rounding
up interested people. Looking at possibilities. But then the to-do lists intensified. Through our contacts in Italy, we were able
to reserve the Palazzo Lancelotti, a gorgeous private residence, aristocratic
and perfectly situated between the Piazza Navona and Ponte S. Angelo.
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| The location. |
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| The facade. |
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| The Piano Nobile of the Palazzo Lancellotti. The walls are painted to look this way. |
Soon we were up to our necks in elaborate budgets, travel
arrangements, opening Italian bank accounts, corresponding with all the
potential guests. In the end, 104 people
signed up and attended, almost all Americans, but some English, French, and
Italian friends as well. Many of them
also joined in a week of activities arranged by a friend who was a travel
agent. It included a swanky hotel stay, an audience with the Pope, lots of sight-seeing, and delicious meals.
Here is how we all looked on the big night:
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| The souvenir program and menu |
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| I arrived early and inspected the premises. They could not have been more lovely. |
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| The Clark/King/Steen contingent. |
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| The food was spectacular. |
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| Lots of dancing to a band of Sicilian musicians who could play anything! |
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| Two of my schoolmates were among the guests. |
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| HAPPY NEW MILLENNIUM! |
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This is my favorite photo of the event. My granddaughter Emma was 17 months old.
I love to imagine her thoughts when she looks at this image in the years to come. |
Some events have lifetime significance. This one occupied my imagination for
decades before it happened. The realization of that dream stands out for me and always will.
Annamaria - the Monday
before 2015. Happy New Year!
