Special Relatives - Third Update
Last June, after leaving the art studio I often visit in Florence, I unlocked my bike to ride home. As I was about to start along my usual bike route, I paused to consider taking a different path home—just for a change. Out of curiosity, I decided to ride past the first apartment where Paul Winteler and Maja Einstein lived when they moved here from Switzerland in 1922. I turned in a different direction, and ten minutes later, I found myself standing at the curb, looking up at the three-story building at Via Ficino 8. I admired the charming three-tone facade and full-length windows.
After taking a few photos, I was about to leave when I challenged myself to go to the front door and talk to someone. “What for?” I then asked myself. I mean, it’s been 100 years since they lived there—what’s the point? I just stood there staring at the building.
Minutes later, I found myself looking at the family names on the gold-plated buzzer next to the door. “What am I going to say if someone answers?” I wondered. “Buongiorno, sono David e sto scrivendo un libro…blah blah blah?” Then what? Why would they care? They’d probably ignore me and glance down to the street from their window, watching the freak bothering them.
I was about to leave when suddenly, my index finger pressed the ground-floor buzzer. “Why did I just do that?!” I asked myself. I paused for a few seconds. Nothing but silence. Then, feeling a bit relieved… I pressed the next buzzer. “What am I doing?!” I waited ten seconds. Expecting the same response, I turned my bike toward the street, extending my arm to press the last buzzer. “Pronto,” came the reply through the speaker. Oh no, I thought. I turned back and said, “Um, Sono David. Sto scrivendo un libro della mia famiglia qui…Winteler e Einstein…and…” I couldn’t even finish my sentence when the excited voice shouted, “Venga! Venga! Venga!” (meaning “Come! Come! Come!”).
Immediately, the front door clicked open. Smiling to myself, I wheeled the bike inside. I couldn’t see her face as I climbed the stairs, but I could hear her welcoming voice echoing all the way up. When I reached the third floor, I saw a smiling, friendly-looking woman. “Sono Vivina,” she said, and without hesitation, she welcomed me into her spacious, beautifully furnished apartment.
She led me down the hall to a room where a man was sitting. I thought he was perhaps Vivina’s 60-year-old brother until she told me he was her 93-year-old father, Guido! Vivina brought refreshments as we talked about Paul and Maja having lived in that building 100 years earlier—which they already knew. Guido—who was born in that same apartment—began reminiscing about growing up there, while Vivina made a phone call to her friend Valeria, who had just finished a book about Einstein in Florence. As Guido kept talking, Vivina handed me the phone. Now, four voices were all talking at once as Valeria and I, two passionate writers, chatted eagerly. She invited me to her place to meet her and her husband, Paolo.
Just a few days ago, I went to Valeria and Paolo’s for the second time. They also invited two lovely friends, Diana and Massimo, to plan a 9 pm dinner. It was an evening like no other - feeling we had known each other forever, it offered a deep sense of companionship. As midnight approached and we said our goodbyes, sharing the Italian due baci - the two kisses on the cheeks - Valeria smiled at me and said, “It’s like we are all family.” I couldn’t agree more, I told her.
What will the next buzzer in my life bring me? I wonder.
Wintelers in Aarau L to R: Marie Winteler, Maja Einstein, Paul Winteler, Anna Winteler, Professor Jost Winteler, Pauline Winteler, Rosa Winteler. Circa 1900.