Famiglia

“I hope that reading what is happening in Italy, people are convinced that the biggest mistake would be to underestimate this virus and do not make the same mistakes that other European states have made.” Mauro Quaglia, my cousin

So, we’re not going to Italy this year. In light of a global pandemic, however, it hardly seems worth mentioning.

Next month I have a milestone birthday. (Hint: It’s the new 50.) Our plan was to visit my mother’s birthplace and see relatives who live near Milan in northern Italy, where fashion meets finance.

That’s in the Lombardy region, ground zero for the coronavirus epidemic now raging through Italy.

Trust me when I say those colorful children’s drawings of rainbows hanging from their windows and families singing from apartment balconies belie the underlying dire scenario.

Outside of mainland China, Italy now has the highest number of deaths in the world from COVID-19, the disease caused by the new coronavirus. The nation’s 60 million people are essentially under house arrest.

As of Sunday, the death toll rose to nearly 1,800 people. Perhaps it’s because Italy has the oldest population in Europe, with about 23% of residents 65 or older, according to The New York Times.

My initial email last week to two of my Italian cousins living near Milan went something like this: Ciao, cugini. Stai bene? xoxo Jennifer, your Michigan (USA) cousin

Along with my butchered bilingual message, I forwarded them a news story about the 16 million people quarantined in Italy at that time to prevent the spread of coronavirus.

As much as I detest Facebook, I can’t help but be grateful to the social media platform for bringing us together across the miles. My mother, who was born in Biella, a small town in the northwest Piedmont region, would have been proud of our newfound connection.

I first heard back from Lisa Cantono, who lives in Vercelli, between Turin and Milan, in Piedmont, and works for the Poste Italiane, the post office.

We’re related through her father, Sergio Cantono. Our maternal grandmothers, Terezina and Domenica Bonino, were sisters.

When Terezina married Decimo Cantono, they had three children, Sandra, Lorenzo and Sergio, Lisa’s father.

Now in her mid-40s, Lisa looks fun and friendly from her Facebook photos. We were hoping to meet in person this year. Here’s what she wrote back:

Hello, Jennifer. Thank you. We are all fine! The government is worried about the expansion of this virus, since there is the real possibility to overload our medical structures. Currently, they are asking people to minimize contact between people, closing schools and asking companies to allow us to work from home. This situation is likely to protract for at least a few more weeks. I still need to be going to work to the post office anyway. And what about you? I hope you are all well. See you soon! Lisa

Not anytime soon, I’m afraid.

Another cousin, Mauro Quaglia, lives in Settimo Milanese, a small town of about 1,700 just west of Milan. Again, our maternal grandmothers, Domenica and Rita Bonino, were sisters.

When Rita married Umberto Quaglia, they had two sons. One of them, Vincenzo, married Mariolina, and they had two sons: Mauro and Luca.

At 55, Mauro works at the public prosecutor’s office in Milan. He is married to Marisa, and they have a daughter, Aurora, 20.

Mauro’s brother, Luca, 51, lives in Zogno, a small town near the Bergamo province, where the local priest rings a death knell once a day to keep from doing it all day long. On Sunday, 368 deaths were reported there in just one day.

Over the weekend, I received Mauro’s response, translation courtesy of Google:

We’re fine. Here we are in a truly strange situation. We cannot understand how in 2020 a very small cell can bring a country to its knees. From today, everything is closed, only the essential services remain open (food, pharmacies and petrol stations, as well as a few other public utility activities). Air traffic has stopped, and I live in a city where the routes to Malpensa airport pass by. Until a few days ago, it was a continuous passage of planes. For a few days, a plane has not been seen. The streets are almost deserted, it seems to be like actors in a science-fiction film. The situation is not beautiful. To date, the data says that we have more than 10,000 positive cases and more than 800 deaths, but the trend is expected to increase. The big problem is that there are hardly any intensive care posts in hospitals. And consider that health care works very well in northern Italy. I work three days a week from home. The remaining days I have to go to work. My wife works with a family, and my daughter who attends university is at home because the university, like all schools, is closed. By now, the virus is also expanding in Europe. I hope that the leaders of European countries, the United States and all states understand that the only way to contain the virus is to do like us and China. At the moment, unfortunately, there are no alternatives. The Italian people understood, and this was not obvious. Hopefully, soon. A big hug to all of you. Mauro, Marisa and Aurora

Not surprisingly, my sister Corky summed it up nicely: “I’m humbled by their acceptance of the situation and their understanding of how necessary it is,” she said. “Grace under difficult circumstances and faith that all will be well.”

Yesterday, I received another message from Mauro, but his tone wasn’t as confident. Of brother Luca, a married father of two, Mauro wrote these bittersweet words, and my heart sank:

He is fine, but where he lives there have been many deaths. So much death. They can’t keep up with the cremations. Imagine, indeed I hope that reading what is happening in Italy, people are convinced that the biggest mistake would be to underestimate this virus and do not make the same mistakes that other European states have made. Pretending not to see, not to believe that this virus will not arrive in your country or if it will arrive, it will be less destructive, it would be a huge mistake. You have the example of ours and also of France, Spain and Germany. Treasure it. A hug.

And then, this afternoon, another message arrived.

My high school Italian helped me understand this sentence, and I knew it was bad: Questo virus che pazzo infido e vigliacco.

Translation: This virus is more than mad and treacherous and cowardly. My heart sank. Mauro continued:

Here in Italy, but especially in my Lombardy region, in Emilia Romagna and Veneto, the situation is really bad. A person is well, and then suddenly starts to feel sick overnight. Here in Lombardy, the hospitals are almost collapsing. The intensive care units are full. Yesterday’s data provided a frightening picture: We have 28,000 positive cases, and more than 2,000 deaths. Yesterday, more than 200 people died in Lombardy alone. It feels like we’re living in a science-fiction movie. The streets and squares of Milan are empty. You live in a surreal climate, if I look out onto the balcony of my house, I can only hear the chirping of birds. Everything else is muffled. Everything is closed except food, pharmacies and petrol stations. I sincerely hope that your governor and your president do not underestimate this virus. It is very important to be prepared in case the contagion should increase. In Lombardy, there is health care at the highest levels, hospitals guarantee assistance to all citizens, and yet we have reached a critical point. There are no doctors, beds and health tools such as ventilators. Now we must focus only on this problem, then we will evaluate the economic effects that I believe will be disastrous. You will see that everything will pass, but you must not be hasty or impatient. And you will surely be able to come to Italy, which is a wonderful country. I hug you tight and also your sisters and families! Mauro, Marisa and Aurora

Ti abbraccio forte anche, cugino. I hug you tight, too, cousin.