The Italians of Italy. By Nicole Teller

I want them to smile at me. Those 'nonnas' whom I pass on sidewalks. They are everywhere, wearing babushkas and black podiatric shoes, carrying groceries. I peek through their plastic bags-- vino sancto, castagne, filetti di acciughe. Hmmm....Intriguing. And their shoes, how do they have such tiny feet? I am captivated by this population of Italians. They speak many stories without even opening their mouths. ButI want them to. I want them to know …showed first 75 words of 348 total…

…showed last 75 words of 348 total…a less than complete set of teeth. Full of character and originality, she is a truly beautiful sight. Surely asbeautiful as any painting I studied in art history that day. Though they might deceive you with their cult of babushkas and marshmallowshoes, there are no two identical 'nonnas'. Some smile back and others either do not see or are maybe too introverted. But I've decided it's always worth it to smile anyway. I see you.