Rosemary Petracca Cappello

I always wanted to paint but felt inadequate to do so; therefore, I decided to paint with words and have been an active poet since 1971.  However, one day in 1989 when my grandchildren were tots and spending their weekends with me, my granddaughter, Ilia, asked me to paint with her.  I was surprised to find that not only did I enjoy doing so, but I wasn't as inept with a paintbrush as I thought I'd be.  Since then, I have added painting watercolors to writing poetry as a means of expression.  I didn’t take my first attempts seriously, but my family, friends and co-workers expressed an interest in them.  In fact, some of my co-workers and attorneys at the Kohn law firm where I worked actually wanted to buy them.  Before long, I was exhibiting my paintings at places such as the Manayunk Art Center, Art Institute of Philadelphia, Bourse, William Penn House, and Chancellor Park. Also, I won an “Award of Excellence” for my painting, “Last Summer Night,” in the Artists Guild of Delaware Valley 1991 Open Competition and Exhibition. My paintings have been called abstract expressionist.  One critic asks of a particular painting, "What is that flower?"  I reply that it is a flower of my own invention, and add that gardening runs in my family.  My grandfather, Antonio Petracca, who died before I was born, was a gardener.  My father, John Petracca, a shoemaker by trade, gave everyone roses and gladioli, tomatoes and lettuce, grown in his garden.  When I lived in the suburbs, I followed that tradition, and became known as “the flower lady.”  Now that I live in the city, I have no garden space to grow flowers, so I paint them.

EDGAR ALLAN POE’S BIRTHDAY (Published in The William Penn House Reporter, November 2008)

April this year has been absolutely beautiful.  We did have some rain early on, but by and large there haven't been many April showers.  The flowers are blooming wildly!  The temperature has been perfect.  Out front of my apartment house stands a multitude of tulips.  I've placed a photo of them in the photo section.  Back in 1987 I went to Russia, leaving the end of March, and after that I vowed never again to leave this area in spring.  Daffodils were blooming here when we left; in Russia, people were fishing through holes in the ice of the river near Moscow.  Ice has its good points, but not when one is on vacation, preferring to get away from winter.  Of course, I remember some Aprils when we've had a day of a wintry mix, or a day of a measurable snow storm, but they never lasted more than a day or perhaps a half day.  As for April showers, I find that it is usually rainier in May.  Our annual Flower Show in Rittenhouse Square is generally rained out in May.  We'll see what happens this year. 

The beautiful April weather I've been raving about took a turn for the worse yesterday and today, when the temperature turned colder and the sun completely disappeared.  The only way to describe it is "raw" and it makes a body want to head for the tea kettle and the heating pad.  But in spite of the weather, I went out to a memorial service that was held for Toni Brown, gifted poet and teacher who passed away on April 2.  This celebration of Toni's life took place at The Painted Bride Art Center, located between 2nd and 3rd on Vine.  A large number of people assembled to recall the marvelous work that Toni accomplished and the many facets of her life.  Two beautiful enlarged photos of Toni graced the stage as her friends and family spoke -- her brother, sister, son, niece, her closest friends.  Many of Toni's poems were read; her spirit filled the room.  Her young niece was especially endearing as she spoke of the many things she and her Aunt had done together.  The impact that Toni made as teacher was greatly felt, as voiced by one of her  students.  Though overcome with emotion, this young lady spoke of what a positive turn her writing took when she accepted Toni as her mentor.  She went on to read a poem of her own, and though I don't know this young lady's name, I think we all will know it soon; she is obviously quite talented.  Toni as poet, teacher, human being touched a great many lives, and the enormous crowd that came out to honor her memory today gave testimony to that.  Her influence will continue to be felt; her spirit lives on. . . I came to know Toni when she helped me to assemble poems for a special section of Philadelphia Poets in honor of the late Almitra David.  Almitra's poems were published in the October 2004 issue, with an introduction by Toni, and two of Toni's poems appeared as well.  It was a pleasure to work with her on that project.  Thank you, Toni, for all that you have given the world, for the difference you made.  Rest in Peace.

It must have been at least twenty years ago that Sid and I took our first ride together to Manhattan. We stayed at a hotel of Sid's choosing, and I never let him select a hotel again. It was on some side street skid row. Our view was rather indelicate; the TV hung precariously on a wobbly stand, and didn't work anyway. Nevertheless, we "tripped the light fantastic," whatever that means, which included a browse through Henri Bendel's department store. It was there that I saw it: the silk scarf of many colors that I just had to have. It was on sale for a very low price, despite the fact that it bore the signature of Yves St. Laurent, and became the only item I ever bought at Henri Bendel. For those who may not know, St. Laurent was the successor to Christian Dior, the famous coutourier who created the "New Look" which caused such a sensation way back when that a song was even written about it. Well, twenty years later, this scarf remains as fresh and colorful as it was then; and why I bother to write about it at all is because I never cease to be amazed at the comments I get on it, from friends and strangers alike. A friend of mine used to tell me, "You are always shocked." (She'd probably still say it, except she died some years ago.) Anyway, yes, I continue to be shocked as people I don't know from Adam or Eve stop me and tell me how much they like my scarf. I thought I lost it twice, and both times I was so distraught that people gave me replacements.  Meta gave me a yellow scarf she bought in Turkey and Sam gave me a green scarf with a geometric design. After Meta gave me the Turkish scarf, I found my Yves scarf at work, in my desk drawer.  After Sam gave me the fractal scarf, I retrieved my St. Laurent as it was being swept up with popcorn and candy wrappers in the old theater that is now a CVS. As much as I appreciate Meta's gesture, and Sam's, those scarfs don't get compliments. They're not by St. Laurent. Here's my problem: I find myself wondering if St. Laurent knew the joy he brought to people with his designs. I just hope he did. Yves, wherever you are, no matter how many things of beauty you created, this one scarf alone brings brightness to the days of everyone who sees it; a smile to the face and a spring to the step.  Just so you know.

Okay, just when I thought I was going along so well in the formation of this website, I wrote a long and sometimes touching account of yesterday's events -- and lost it!  What the heck happened?  I clicked on "Save," then went to retrieve it, and it was gone!  Oy, vey.  I was like the woman in the Beethoven piece, enraged over the lost penny.  Well, not really enraged, but there must be a new word to express that feeling that dresses our body when caught in the frustration of computer glitches.  I can't replicate that "lost penny" but will try. 

Yesterday started out on the cloudy side, and rain was more or less expected, but instead, it blossomed into another gorgeous day.  I decided to have my lunch in the Square, and as I set out, walking down Walnut Street, my eyes perceived a group of unusually dressed people who seemed to swing out of the trees of Sherwood Forest.  Yes, they were Robin Hood, his Merry Men, and Maid Marian, here not to kill the royal stag and toss it at the phony king, but to tout a new series that is starting on TV.  I enjoyed a bit of cheery repartee with the handsome group, and received a pouch of gold (chocolates wrapped in foil) from the hand of Will Scarlett himself!  I said to him, "So, you take from the rich and give to the senior citizen.  That's great!" I forgot to ask them if they knew the song, "Robin Hood."  I can recall most every word.  Truly, I'm a fan of that great old movie with Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland so my advance feeling regarding yet another Robin Hood epic is that Errol will continue to be irreplaceable.

I proceeded to the Square and found a bench.  Before long, a woman sat next to me.  We were strangers to each other, and yet none of us are really strangers.  I soon learned that she is a high school counsellor from Michigan, named Cathy, here visiting her daughter.  I'd thought that the bench I'd chosen was in the shade, but it soon was penetrated by strong sunlight.  We were surrounded by many others who were eating, talking, exercising, or sunbathing, not to mention the inevitable dog walkers.  Besides the sound of voices and barks, there was the jazz sax-playing of the resident musician.  We were seemingly oblivious to the activity around us, though, as we engaged in an in-depth conversation.  Cathy expressed her love of literature, and as I always happen to have a few copies of Philadelphia Poets with me, I showed it to her.  She read a few poems, and was impressed; so much so, that she read them again aloud -- an impromptu reading in the Square.  We had been speaking of many things, but here's one thought that I carried away with me: Cathy said that she often feels regret that she has nothing tangible to give people, such as a book like Philadelphia Poets.  Her statement brought tears to my eyes, as I wanted to tell her what it was that she gives; she listens, she talks, she hears, she understands, she expresses.  Perhaps these are things that cannot be gift-wrapped, but they are, nevertheless, gifts. 

This morning, I noticed that I acquired something else, besides the pouch of golden-wrapped chocolates, the memory of the Sherwood Forest rogues and roguettes, and the serendipity of meeting Cathy:  I'm sunburned!          

Buck Howard, demanding, aloof, and mysterious, is a mentalist portrayed by John Malkovich. The major thrust of the film is that after 40 years in show business and at a time when his career has waned, Howard performs an amazing feat that brings him to the forefront again. He is then summoned to perform in Las Vegas but soon realizes that this is not where he wants to be. Rather, he prefers performing to grass roots audiences in small towns who appreciate the corny aspects of his act, which he had to forego in Las Vegas in favor of a glitzier routine. This is a sweet premise, but somehow the film remains largely repetitive and lacking in the kind of excitement that Kreskin, on whom the character is based, generates. Though thought-provoking at times, the film is mostly light fare, the best parts occurring when Howard appears on several talk shows. The supporting cast of Colin Hanks, Emily Blunt, and Tom Hanks does not add any pizzazz to the proceedings, which leaves Malkovich virtually alone to carry the film. Written and directed by Sean McGinley.

The Italian film, “Gomorrah,” is in keeping with the cinemaverite tradition begun by Roberto Rossellini in the 1940s. Rossellini’s landmark films dealt with WWII whereas “Gomorrah” has to do with the war being waged by the criminal element in Naples. Organized crime, there, is called the camorra; thus, the play on words, the comparison with the decadent city of Biblical days. The film is two and a half hours long, and the action is non-stop. However, don’t expect a glorification of crime, or a sympathetic portrayal of criminals. The book’s author, Roberto Saviano, has told it like it is, and as a result, is under constant police protection. The entire film is gripping, but the last scene, when two young would-be thugs who have defied the camorra suffer the inevitable, is devastating. Symbolically, Mount Vesuvius appears in the background, the volcano that caused so much death and destruction in the past, and continues to pose a threat.  Vesuvius’ eruptions, as well as earthquakes, wars, specifically extensive destruction in WWII, have all taken their toll, and now, the camorra holds the city in its grip. The people of Naples are adamant in their desire to bring it to an end, and have cooperated in the making of this film. Director Mateo Garrone has done an admirable job, and the acting by all involved is superb.

The film “The Reader” tells a rather complex story that is narrated by the main character, Michael Berg (Ralph Fiennes), and unfolds in flashbacks. It starts with a love affair between Michael when a teenager (David Kross) and an older woman, Hanna Schmitz (Kate Winslet) in post-World War II Germany.  This part of the film, in spite of the strange behavior of Hanna (she scrubs everything in sight with vigor, hardly talks, and moves like a storm trooper) holds the most promise. Maybe that’s because Michael is happy and blossoms in this relationship, and the filmmaker handles the love scenes with care.  Also, Michael’s role as the reader is rather sweet; Hanna asks him to read to her from his school books and that’s a part of every one of their meetings.  However, the affair ends abruptly when Hanna inexplicably moves away.  Later, as a law student, Michael attends a trial for war criminals, and the story takes a shocking turn when Hanna appears as a defendant.  It seems that she was a prison guard during the war, and was responsible for the murder of hundreds of Jews.  This second part of the film is in direct contrast to the first, causing the brightness of Michael’s feelings of first love to turn into torment.  To make matters worse, an unnecessary epilogue is tacked on, which appears to be an awkward apology to anyone who might be offended by the film’s content. During  Hanna’s imprisonment, there’s a moment when a glimmer of hope appears, but it is short-lived, and a film that starts out with promise ends on a disappointing note.   Kate Winslet does an excellent job of creating a strange and unsympathetic character. David Kross is an asset to this film; he has the ability to convey what he feels without speaking, as well as an endearing charm.  Bruno Ganz is perfect as the law professor who discusses critical questions with his students.  

“Doubt” is the story of an overzealous nun, Sister Aloysius (Meryl Streep) who becomes suspicious of the parish priest, Father Flynn (Philip Seymour Hoffman) and accuses him of untoward behavior with an altar boy.  It seems that Flynn’s sermon on the subject of Doubt has led Sr. Aloysius to wonder if perhaps he has something to hide.  She begins a crusade to discover what his sin could be, and recruits young Sister James (Amy Adams) as a spy.  Sr. James is the opposite of Sr. Aloysius; she has an optimistic view of life and people, and a kindly attitude towards the students in her classroom.  Sr. Aloysius, as the superior of the school, rules with an iron hand.  Before long, an incident happens that does make it look as if Fr. Flynn and a boy in Sr. James’ class could be involved in a secret relationship.  Sr. Aloysius confronts Flynn with her accusation in the presence of Sr. James.  He presents a reasonable story as to the nature of the incident.  Sr. James is happy.  “There!” she says, “Nothing happened! Now we can go back to our lives the way they were before.” But Sr. Aloysius chides Sr. James for being simple.  “Doubt” raises several subjects to ponder, including racial and gender issues.  It also focuses on the patriarchal nature of the Church through presenting the disparity between the lives of nuns and the lives of priests.  With actors such as Meryl Streep and Philip Seymour Hoffman, one expects the best, and gets it.  The mother of the young boy, Viola Davis, has a small but impressive part.  When presented as a play, “Doubt” won both a Pulitzer Prize and a Tony.  In the film, the cinematography is quite apropos and expressive, very much in line with the issues addressed in the film.  For example, wind, rain, and storms abound, and a final scene is frozen in snow. There is also a beautifully descriptive scene while Fr. Flynn gives a sermon on Gossip. 

Andrzej Wajda, the Polish filmmaker, is now in his 80s and has a large body of work to his credit, for which he won an honorary Oscar in 2000. Recently, I saw two of his films,   “The Young Girls of Wilko” and “Pan Tadeusz.” The former film was made in the 1970s, and tells the story of a young man who moves from his rural birthplace to the city of Warsaw and for a period of 19 years is totally out of touch with the people of his past. Health concerns come up, and on the recommendation of his doctor, he takes a vacation, returning to his village. His parents now being deceased, he stays at the home of his aunt and uncle. The story centers on several women of Wilko who had a crush on him at one time. The teenaged daughter of one of his past romances also falls in love with him, which proves disastrous. An element of melancholy hovers over the proceedings, pointing out that one can’t go home again, and certainly one can’t relive or change the past. The best parts of the story involve the philosophical conversations he holds with his aging, dying uncle. These elevate the film beyond the nostalgia, regret, and brooding that otherwise prevail.

One of Wajda’s best films, “Pan Tadeusz,” filmed in 1999, is an epic account of the Napoleonic era (early 19^th century) and involves two Polish families of different political persuasions who are at odds with each other. The acting is very strong, as strong as the sound of Eastern European languages. The dialog is based on a historic narrative by the great Polish poet, Adam Mickiwicz, and the English translation adheres to poetic form. In this film, there are battle scenes and political diatribes and all the stuff of war, but the theme that Wajda handles most strikingly is that of the personification of Poland as a young woman. In her scenes, she is bathed in brilliant light and surrounded by symbols of fecundity. At the end, although she is directed by a domineering aunt to wear modern dress, she insists on donning native attire. She is representative of the Poland that survives in spite of invasion, partition, and the ravages of war.

THE WRESTLER The beginning of “The Wrestler,” written by Robert D. Siegel and directed by Warren Aronofsky, is hard to take, especially for one who is not an aficionado of the sport. It starts out as a bloody and seedy spectacle. However, as the personality of the title character unfolds, the film becomes an enthralling and moving character study. Randy the Ram Robinson, born Robin Ramzinski (Mickey Rourke), is at a crossroads. His star days are over, but he continues to wrestle, for that is his life. Noted for his own singular and dangerous move, he still has some fans to urge him on. Then, he undergoes emergency bypass surgery, and the doctor’s orders are to give up wrestling. As he recovers, he finds himself in the midst of loneliness. He tries to court his stripper girl friend Cassidy (Marisa Tomei), but she regards him as a customer whom she can’t see outside the club. His daughter Stephanie (Evan Rachel Wood), from whom he has been estranged for years, hates him. Beautiful and tender scenes occur as he strives for relationships with the two women, but there are also bitter arguments. Two thought-provoking segments take place: one, when Cassidy looks at his battered body and quotes a line from “The Passion of the Christ.” Another, when he is in the company of war veterans; he notes their battle scars as the camera focuses on his. To the filmmaker’s credit, a sentimental ending was avoided. “The Wrestler” is an intimate glimpse into the wrestling world, where the men seem to comprise a tight-knit group whose antagonism to each other in the ring is staged. While many awards were bestowed on this film for acting, writing, and directing, Mickey Rourke did not win a much-deserved Oscar. The film itself is his “Oscar,” for he has poured his body, heart, and soul into a superlative performance.  

“Artemisia”

I missed the film “Artemisia” when it was presented in the theaters, so I recently rented it on DVD.  The subject of the film, Artemisia Gentileschi, was a notable 17^th century artist, so I looked forward to a beautiful and inspiring film.  However, I was sadly disappointed.  Instead of focusing on the many facets of her life, her art and the times she lived in, the film centers around a specific incident of her teen years that did indeed impact on her life and art, but made for an incomplete study.  This was disappointing to me, because women artists have been grossly overlooked.  About fifteen years ago, when I realized this oversight, I read books on the subject, such as "Women, Art and Society," by Whitney Chadwick and “Women Artists in History,” by Wendy Slatkin.  These books have since been updated and are available, and I would urge you to read them.  You will discover that Artemisia specialized in the painting of Biblical figures, and was already an accomplished artist at the age of 17, when she painted her amazing interpretation of “Susanna and the Elders.”  Though a follower of Caravaggio, she brought her personal touch to her paintings, and that, while containing her woman’s sensitivities, was far from dainty, but strong and understanding to the point of being fierce.  Perhaps her most famous painting is “Judith Decapitating Holofernes.”  With such fascinating material to work with, it is a wonder that the filmmakers failed. 

“Impromptu”

“Impromptu” is a film I never cease to enjoy.  It tells the story of how Frederic Chopin and George Sand met.  While this is certainly a brief segment in the lives and fascinating careers of these great and talented persons, both of whom loomed large in the 19^th Century, it is, nevertheless, complete and satisfying.   I came to this film long after having read a good bit by and about both Sand and Chopin, and with that understanding, must say that Hugh Grant, as the composer, and Judy Davis, as the writer, are admirable in bringing those personages to life.  Needless to say, the sound track is utterly beautiful.  Since Franz Liszt was a friend of Chopin, his character is depicted in the film, and his music heard also.  For further reading either before or after seeing the film, I recommend “Infamous Woman: The Life of George Sand,” by Joseph Barry, and “My Life,” by George Sand. 

“Mickybo and Me”

Recently, I saw a really good film on the Sundance channel, an Irish movie, called "Mickybo and Me."  It's about two ten-year-old boys in Belfast, the city divided by a bridge, with Catholics living on one side and Protestants on the other.  The two boys, from opposite sides of the bridge, are oblivious to political matters.  One (his name is Jon-jo) lives a nondescript life until Mickeybo enters the scene. They then become bosom buddies and take to watching the movie, "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid," over and over again, until they fancy themselves Butch and Sundance and go off on a series of escapades. The film is amusing/serious.  The end gets heavy when the battle between the Catholics and Protestants hits home for one of them, and this causes the boys to have a change of heart and their relationship to end on a note of conflict.  The amazing thing about this film is that it is never sentimental and not even a tear jerker in spite of its touching content.  There's a good bit of humor in it, and something to be said about the tolerant way Irish people treat their ten-year-olds who go off and behave in the manner of Butch and Sundance.  It is a study of two young boys and the fantasy world that they create, until being rudely awakened.  It just came out in March 2005 and is not yet available on either DVD or VHS, but is likely to soon be.  In the meantime, perhaps Sundance (channel 55) or the Independent Film Channel (96) will show it again. 

“The Diving Bell and the Butterfly,” directed by Julian Schnabel, tells the true story of Elle editor Jean-Dominique Bauby, and is based on his novel. Though this is an American production, Schnabel, in his quest for authenticity, chose French stars for the entire cast, and French as the language spoken. Many people have told me that they choose not to see a film that is about a stroke victim; a young man in his forties who wakes up one day and finds he is paralyzed except for his eyelids – and he loses the use of one of them as well. I can only tell them that this is one of the best films I have ever seen. Schnabel handles the material in a unique manner; it is as if the viewer is inside Bauby’s body, sees what he sees, thinks his thoughts, feels his feelings. The film is not depressing, although Bauby does have one moment of despair. He recovers from that immediately, though, and from there on the film is life-affirming.  Who wouldn’t be motivated by seeing Bauby learn to dictate by blinking his eye, coached by a therapist who teaches him how many blinks per letter. In this manner, with insight, wit, and intelligence, his book is “written.” What a tribute to the human spirit! This is a story to be cherished.

“Frozen River” is an especially good film, written and directed by Courtney Hunt.  The story, though fictitious, is based on the fact that many single mothers in upstate New York, desperate for money to support their children, take on the dangerous job of transporting illegal Chinese and Pakistani immigrants from Canada to the U.S.  Adding to the peril involved, they must drive the immigrants over the frozen St. Lawrence River.  A Mohawk Indian reservation lies on the border; within its confines, they are safe from U.S. laws, but once outside, they are subject to arrest and prosecution. Besides these risks, the area is ferociously cold. Extenuating circumstances add to the film’s tension. This makes for an exciting film, but the thought that such events are really happening is sobering. Melissa Leo as the main character, Ray, engages the viewer in her plight. Misty Upham is Lila, the Mohawk Indian who brings Ray into the smuggling operation. The film’s many attributes include insight into the Mohawk way of life.    

THE DUCHESS

England excels at producing films extolling its history and its countryside, and “The Duchess” is a fine example. Added to the lush scenery, extravagant estates, and 18^th Century costumes of this film, there is the superb acting of all involved, particularly Keira Knightly.  Through her interpretation, we see the transformation that takes place after Georgiana Spencer, a spirited and ebullient 17-year-old, marries the Duke of Devonshire (Ralph Fiennes).  Alas, they are sadly mismatched.  Her behavior leaves him constantly nonplussed, and he cannot understand why “Gee,” as he calls her, isn’t delighted with his staid and aloof manner.  It seems ironic that he addresses Georgiana by a nickname, for that would indicate an intimacy that he is loath to share. As for his behavior, suffice it to say the double standard was very much in place. Early on, Gee complains to her mother, Lady Spencer (Charlotte Rampling), “He doesn’t talk to me!”  Talk to her he could have, for she was an intellectual, a writer, and a poet who had a novel to her credit at the tender age of 16. As the beautiful and stylish Duchess of Devonshire, she became influential in the sphere of fashion, but her knowledge of politics made her useful in that arena as well.  She hobnobbed with writer Richard Brinsley Sheridan (Aidan McArdle), prominent Whig statesman Charles Fox (Simon McBurney), and Charles Grey (Dominic Cooper), who later became Prime Minister of England.  How Knightly carries off the metamorphosis that Georgiana undergoes as her life unfolds before us is nothing short of amazing.  Early on, we’re told this is based on a true story, and “based” is a key word.  Obviously, some facts of Georgiana’s life remain either untold or are subtly presented, but the filmmakers were wise to avoid an overabundance of pathos.  As it stands, you’d better bring along a supply of tissues. 

BURN AFTER READING

That filmmaking duo, the Coen Brothers, is at it again, this time with a dark comedy, a different genre from their previous “No Country for Old Men,” which I preferred.  However, this one is an often funny, witty, and sly diversion, showing the comic skills of George Clooney and Brad Pitt, who are cast in roles quite different from their usual.  Fine actors Frances McDormand and John Malkovich also have key roles.  The story centers around Osbourne Cox (Malkovich), who is fired from his job as a CIA agent, and thus decides to write his memoirs.  Meanwhile, his wife Katie, played by Tilda Swinton, seeks a reason to divorce him, and inadvertently copies to a disc some classified information from his computer.  This disc ends up in the hands of Linda (McDormand) and Chad (Pitt), who seize this opportunity to blackmail Cox.  Linda is desperate for money, as she longs for expensive cosmetic surgery, and recruits Chad’s help in order to negotiate the matter.  It takes tons of chutzpah, which includes going to the Russian embassy when Cox won’t give in to their demands, but Linda is up to it.  This is a cast of three Oscar winners and two nominees, and their work reflects that.  The characters in this story are all drawn as having psychiatric disorders, notably obsessions, and it ends up being, under its amusing and exaggerated facade, a penetrating look at our institutions and mores.   

Having missed “Cautiva” when it first came out in 2003, and discovering that it was a highly rated film, my curiosity dictated that I give it a look.  It’s the story of  Christina Quadri, a 15-year-old native of  Buenos Aires, Argentina; a Catholic school student who is living a normal if sheltered life with her  parents.  One day, she is celebrating her birthday in the warmth of her home.  The next, she is abruptly taken out of school, told that her name is Sofia Lombardi, and moved to the custody of a woman who claims to be her real grandmother.  Slowly, the story of Christina’s life unfolds: that the couple who raised her are not her biological parents; that her real parents were political activists, who were imprisoned under the dictatorial regime of the 70s and have been missing ever since.  She was born during her mother’s confinement at one of Argentina’s notorious clandestine prisons.  When Christina first hears this news, she is incredulous and rebellious, but after the initial shock wears off, she begins to research the story on her own.  The film becomes a thriller, as the truth of her parents’ sufferings as political dissidents is exposed; a thriller, not just in the knowledge of what Christina’s parents and others like them suffered, but because of the danger Christina places herself in as she searches for the truth.  She learns through her research that she is actually a year older than she was led to believe, but as she delves into the past and views the reconstructed story, she matures considerably more than one year.  This sobering film, based on fact, estimates that  30,000 people went missing in Argentina in the 70s, and is the story of one child who was born to a couple who “disappeared.”  The filmmaker, Gaston Biraben, evidently felt strongly that this segment of history should not be forgotten.  The story is ably told and well depicted, and the film has many fine actors, especially Barbara Lombardo who plays the part of Christina/Sofia.

Some films, such as the above, are viewed, in spite of their grim subject matter, in the interest of gaining information and understanding.  Other films are watched for sheer enjoyment, and such is the case with “Antonia’s Line.”  Filmed in the Netherlands by Marleen Gorris, this was another that I missed seeing on its first run, which was back in 1995.  It is fiction/fantasy, as opposed to the fact of “Cautiva,” and yet its universality of theme, which basically is in defense of  acceptance, gives it credence.  My first reaction as the narrative unfolded was, “This is a real, well-constructed story!”  In an age when we find ourselves watching films in which we’re hard pressed to figure out their symmetry, this was a refreshing discovery.  Also, as in tales of yore, the story possessed real characters; people who are rich in personality, no two alike.  It starts out when Antonia, her teen-age daughter in tow, returns to the town of her youth to be with her mother, who is on her deathbed.  Enter laughter, as we’re introduced to a crusty old individual who, immediately after she endears herself to us by way of her feistiness of spirit and unorthodox tongue, dies.  Antonia remains in the town, and one by one we meet its other inhabitants.  In this well-told tale, strong-willed Antonia becomes the matriarch of an offbeat family.  Only her daughter and her offspring are biologically related to her, but Antonia adopts, as well, a family of diverse and striking characters, possessive of a  myriad of idiosyncrasies.  As in all fables, ogres exist, but are dealt with.  There’s lots of meaning behind the fantasy, but it’s unobtrusive in this offbeat film.

I've long been a film fan; perhaps not as much as my sister Fran, who never wanted to leave the theater when a film was over.  I can still see her, popcorn poised and ready to be slowly slipped into her mouth and savored, as she stared straight ahead for the second showing of a featured film.  Once is usually enough for me, though there are some films I don't mind seeing again and again.  Not on the same day, though.  I write movie reviews for our in-house newsletter, "The Reporter," and here are my most recent:

“Into the Wild” is based on the true story of Chris McCandless, who abandons his affluent existence to trek cross continent without a cent.  McCandless’ inspirations are authors Jack London (The Call of the Wild) and Thoreau (Walden Pond).  But his main personal motivation is his desire to escape his problematic family situation, notably his parents.   Actor Emile Hirsch is young enough to portray the main character, a recent college graduate with a streak of immaturity.  The finest section of this film is the one that defines his relationship with Ron Franz, the part played by Hal Holbrook which earned him an Oscar nomination.  McCandless hitches a ride with this elderly gentleman and they develop a friendship.  When Franz asks McCandless about his family, he answers, with a lie, that he has none.  Franz comments, “That’s a shame.”  Those three simple words, as uttered by Holbrook, contain a depth of understanding, meaning, and compassion; the entire film seems to hinge on this exchange.  Franz wants to adopt him, but McCandless turns down his offer, for he is strongly fixated on the idea of living alone in the Alaskan wilderness.  After he reaches his destination, there’s a brief but notable scene when a bear walks nonchalantly by him, indicating how one with  nature he has become.  This film, brought to the screen by veteran actor turned producer/director Sean Penn, is overlong as it chronicles its protagonist’s escape from “civilization and its discontents.”  Some amazing scenes provide impact, such as when McCandless’ rides the rapids of the Colorado River.  The musical sound track, featuring the distinctive voice and appropriate songs of Eddie Vedder, is a real plus.  But be prepared, for “Into the Wild” is not your usual “road” story.  It delivers a mixed message and lacks what many of us crave—the happy ending.

 “The Band’s Visit” is about an Egyptian orchestra composed of policemen that’s invited to play in a small town in Israel.  Because of the language barrier, they take the wrong bus and are deposited in the middle of the desert.  They come across a sparsely populated town, where they rely on the kindness of Israelis to house and feed them until they get their bearings.  It’s a quiet, gentle film and the message isn’t blatant, but it’s there: that Arab and Israeli can get along together.  The story boasts many diverse characters: the elderly, ceremonial bandleader; the young and lively trumpet player; the earthy restaurant owner, and more.  The members of the two ethnic groups learn from each other; also, the old learn from the young and vice versa.  At the end, the band finally reaches its destination and gives its concert of Egyptian classical music.  The music is unique and I wanted to hear more of it.  In this heartwarming movie—which also might be regarded as a kind of “road” film—you  see the growth and development of several of the characters, which makes for a satisfying film. 

"Young at Heart" tells the story of a chorus composed of men and women whose average age is 80.  Though several of them are seriously ill, you'd never know it from their voices, for when they get together to sing the difficult punk rock songs their leader teaches them, their warbling is loud and clear.  One favorite scene takes place at a prison where they give a performance.  The reaction of the audience, and their interaction, is a lesson in communication.  The group doesn't balk at taking their show on the road and has performed in Europe.  I always marvel at the strength of the human voice, and here, I marvel as well at the strength of the human spirit in the face of advanced age and illness.

Two awards, the John and Rose Petracca & Family Award and the Amy Tritsch Needle Award, are given annually by Philadelphia Poets. The winners announced below have been selected from the 2008—Volume 14 issue.       

The Third Annual John and Rose Petracca & Family Award Judged by Diana Cavallo 

First Prize: Kay Peters for  “The Beginning” and “Grief.” Diana Cavallo wrote, "In “The Beginning” I like the way the poet has echoed the creation of the world in the out-of-nothingness act of creating a poem. The stages are clearly demarcated,  the parallels sustained, and the spare Eliot-like voice re-charges the familiar account in Genesis, “In the Beginning was the Word. . .” with the inflection of poetry. Also to be commended is “Grief,” more in the natural voice of the poet, which presents a tableau of collective witness to the final moments between life and death, and encapsulates in the image, “A babble of words/ rises like balloons/ above your bed,” the faint echo of last words and the silent ascent of the soul."

Second Prize:  d.n. simmers for  “Open as a Child.” Diana Cavallo chose this poem because "[it] conveys a lost wonder restored by abandoning the man-made “bushland of the cities,” the egocentric world of conflict and competition, which the poet graphically depicts as the scrambling of “the high glass gladiator,” the descent of the “low flier/ to corporate thinning.” In a return to an almost primeval “back there”—as the poet says, “. . .back to the beach, to the day when hours/ and seconds were my own. . .”—he can see once again with the child’s eyes, when “. . .thoughts like new music could come and go and be/ wind and waves, washing the dirty tide of day, away.” 

Third Prize:  Mary Ann Mannino for “Glitter in the Night.”  "This poem contrasts two kinds of love: a long-lasting, though more quotidian blanket-love: a heavy, “sturdy something/ you pull up around you on cold winter nights” or “take to a picnic in the Spring/ . . . to keep out wetness/ ward off chill” with the more glamorous chiffon-scarf love, which the poet describes as “thin and sequined,” something that is merely  “glitter in the night.”    

Special Mention:  Joseph Farina for “The Argument” 

Ray Greenblatt for “Atlantic City: 2007” 

Tommi Avicolli Mecca for “La Famiglia é Tutta” 

"I found many other find poems to admire and commend, but limited my list to those mentioned above."—Diana Cavallo, Philadelphia, PA 

Diana Cavallo has just completed a series of monologues for women, as well as a one-act play in which Primo Levi is a principal character. Sections of her novel-in-progress, Juniper Street Sketches, were published in the Special Fiction issue of The Philadelphia Inquirer and in various anthologies. Her first novel, A Bridge of Leaves, published by Atheneum, was reissued by Guernica Editions of Canada. A non-fiction work, The Lower East Side: A Portrait in Time, was published by MacMillan. Her writings, including poetry, have appeared in various literary journals and magazines, most recently in Confrontation.  Now retired, she taught creative writing at the University of Pennsylvania for 18 years, and during the six years she lived in Italy, taught American Literature as a Fulbright Teaching Fellow and as a Special Guest Lecturer at the University of Pisa.      

The Gemini Award for Distinguished Collaboration in the Art of Poetry is bestowed on Lili Bita and Robert Zaller

for the poems “Arson” and Alabaster” 

Our judge for the John and Rose Petracca & Family Award, Diana Cavallo, recommended that this special award be instituted, “to recognize the joint success of Lili Bita and Robert Zaller in uniting her poetic vision and his remarkable apprehension of it; the conversion of her poetry’s unique qualities from one language to another—in this case, from Greek to English—a truly remarkable feat.”

The Fourth Annual Amy Tritsch Needle Award  

Selected by the readers of Philadelphia Poets, Volume 14—2008. 

First Prize: Peter Baroth for “Earth Mother”  

Second Prize: Mel Brake for “America’s Most Wanted”  

Third Prize: Debbie McIntyre for “Friends” and “The Poet” 

Special Mention: James E. Deahl for “A Clear Night in Early Spring” and “Mersey” 

Jennifer Williamson for “In the Last Days of the Earth” 

Maria Ligos for “Sunday Morning”

See events section for Award Presentation Readings dates.

PHILADELPHIA POETS Annual Ethnic Voices Reading took place at Robin’s Book Store on Sunday, July 13, 2008 at 2:00 p.m.  Featured poets were Andy Macera, Ashini J. Desai and Elliott Levin, followed by an Open Mic.  Here’s the text of my intro:  "Welcome to Philadelphia Poets’ Annual Ethnic Voices Reading.  Philadelphia Poets sponsors several readings throughout the year, but this one is especially dear to the hearts of many of us who feel a great closeness to our “old countries,” no matter how many years have passed between our forebears coming here, and now.  But there is a lot more to Ethnic Voices than nostalgia and that kind of love of country that was expressed by the great Giuseppe Verdi through his heroine, Aida, in her aria, “O patria mia.” I see this reading as a way for us to come together, to realize that although we or our forebears have come from different countries, with different languages, religions, and customs, basically, we are all human beings with the same feelings and emotions.  I believe in appreciating and embracing those differences while at the same time acknowledging and loving our similarities.  I carry this through, also, in Philadelphia Poets journal.  The current issue has several poems in German, Spanish, and Greek, as well as English, and past issues have featured other languages as well.   Of course, they are accompanied by their English translations, but I like to use the original languages, too, for even if one can’t understand them, they appear as works of art on the printed page and hearing them spoken is listening to music. Today, for the first time, we have representatives of the Indian and Armenian cultures.  I welcome them, and all of you." 

About our featured poets: 

Andy Macera was voted by the readers of Philadelphia Poets to receive the first John and Rose Petracca & Family Award, which is presented annually.  His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Pearl, Mudfish, Slant, Plainsongs, Mad Poets Review, Schuylkill Valley Journal, The Blind Man’s Rainbow, Barbaric Yawp, Freefall, and Ibbetson Street.

Ashini J. Desai holds a B.A. in English and an M.S. in Information Science, though her passion lies in her creative expressions.  Her poetry has been published in Thema Literary Journal and included in the anthologies Sulekha Select (2001) and Shakti Ki Awaaz (1997). She writes book reviews, articles, and blogs for many South Asian websites. 

Elliott Levin, a Philadelphia born and based poet and musician, studied musical and literary composition at the University of Oregon and has continued studying with many renowned musicians and composers.  He has performed his music and poetry throughout the world.  His first book of poetry, does it swing?, was published in 1996 by Heat Press.  Elliott’s musical and poetic inspirations are drawn from the roots of American jazz and blues, along with other cultural, folk, classical and international forms.    

Maria Fama followed Elliott, and at my request, read her poem, “Watching Dizzy Gillespie on TV,” to continue on the theme of Jazz as an ethnic voice. 

Other readers in the Open Mic were Al Tacconelli, Mel Brake, Ruth Rouff, Meredith Z. Avakian, Ray Garman, Peter Krok, and Cheryl Sanders, with a finale featuring Bruno Gran and Rosemary Cappello.

Photos from our July 13, 2008 Ethnic Voices reading can be seen at http://picasaweb.google.com/rosemary.cappello143/EthnicVoicesPoetryReading.  When I sent California poet Ann Menebroker the link, she wrote back, saying that I looked happy. I might, then, sum up my feelings of the day by saying, yes, happiness ruled. I was happy to hear so many of our good poets at this annual event and also to enjoy the performance poetry and unique jazz of Elliott Levin.

Philadelphia Poets Second Annual John and Rose Petracca & Family Award reading/presentation took place on Sunday, April 20, 2008 at  Robin’s Book Store, 108 S. 13^th Street, Philadelphia, PA.  We started out the program with a reading of the winning poems.  Since several of the poets live out of town and were unable to make it, here’s how it worked:  First to the podium was Beth Philips Brown reading Jane Stuart's winning poem, “Kyrielle.”  Jane Stuart lives in Kentucky and was unable to be here.  As for the runners-up, Robert Zaller read his poem, “The Meaning of Islands;” Ann E. Michael’s “My Daughter Studies the Mosses” was read by me; Andy Macera read Arthur Winfield Knight’s poem, “Dancing Barefoot;” Marion Cohen read her poem, “Autistic Savant;” and Beth returned to the stage to read “When the Mafia Said Nice Things and Didn’t Make Me a Movie Star” by Joan Jobe Smith.  Jane, Ann, Arthur, and Joan, we missed you, but rest assured your poetry was well presented and appreciated.  Following the reading of the award-winning poems, we moved on to the featured readers:  Robert Zaller and Marion Cohen, who are among this year’s winners, and Andy Macera and Beth Phillips Brown, last year’s.  Their readings were followed by an open reading, with Mel Brake officiating.  Readers in the open included Richard Bank, Amy Barone, Peter Baroth, Lili Bita, Lynn Blue, Mel Brake, Maria Fama, Jean Galliano, Emiliano Martin, Janet Melnyk, Tree Riesener, Ruth Rouff, and Al Tacconelli.  It was wonderful to hear these fine poets, both those we know well and those who were welcomed for the first time to Philadelphia Poets' Open Mic.  Philadelphia Poets’ Open Mics have acquired a good reputation; deservedly so.  My thanks once again go to James Morrison, our Judge; to the poets who submitted the prize-winning poems; to those who were there to read them, and to our audience who accepted all the poets and poetry so warmly.  Several poets had contacted me prior to the reading to tell me they were sorry they couldn’t make it, either because of Passover or family obligations.  My apologies—I hadn’t realized that the reading date was the same as Passover.  Gone are the days when I would host the seder with Sidney, and since his passing, I haven’t been keeping track of the holiday.  I’ll be more careful of the date in the future, and who knows, perhaps next holiday, return to the preparation of matzoh balls from Molly Goldberg’s  recipe.  Ooops!  Pardon my sidling into memory lane.  Anyway, those who couldn’t come yesterday were missed, but there’s always next time.  Now, I’m giving some thought to our annual Ethnic Voices reading which will probably be in July.  I will keep you posted.  June will be busy with other readings, aside from those I organize for Philadelphia Poets.  I will advise you of those, too, once I have all information.  An important reminder:  Please read the current issue of Philadelphia Poets, Volume 14, 2008, and vote for the next winner of the Amy Tritsch Needle Award.  Deadline for voting is not till November 1, 2008, but please do it!  Philadelphia Poets is on sale at Robin’s Book Store, 108 S. 13^th Street, and Giovanni’s Room, 12^th & Pine.  If you have not yet purchased a copy, see Robin, Giovanni, or me. 

Here, I'd like to acknowledge the work of the many fine artists whose art has graced "Philadelphia Poets" since I resumed its publication in 2003.  In the April 2003 issue, Volume 9, No. 1, the logo that the late Sid Shupak created for the latter issues of the 1980s appears on the cover.  Several of Aschak's fine sketches appear as inside illustrations.  The cover for the October 2003 issue, Volume 9, No. 2, "Olde City Sunset," is by Sean Wholey.  This was an experiment with a color cover, and proved to be so successful that I can't imagine ever going back to black and white.  Inside this issue are photos of many of the poets active in the "Writers and Readers Showcase" of the 1980s.  Our cover artist for April 2004, Vol. 10, No. 1, is Barbara Barasch Rosin, with her painting, "Zembla."  Two of Barbara's illustrations appear inside this issue.  October 2004, Vol. 10, No. 2's cover, "Still Life with Mango," is by Lynn Liberman, with an inside illustration by Sean Wholey.  April 2005, Vol. 11, No. 1, features the cover art of Peter Quarracino, "Since You've Been Gone."  Inside illustrations are by Sylvia Romig Apple and Eleanor J. Hall.  October 2005, Vol. 11, No. 2's cover, "The Color Red," and inside illustrations are by Clifford Ward.  April 2006, Vol. 12, No. 1's cover, "A Poetic Moment," is by Nina Nocella.  Inside illustrations are two photos, one of Amy Tritsch Needle and the other of John and Rose Petracca, in whose names Philadelphia Poets' two awards are given.  October 2006, Vol. 12, No. 2, bears an art work titled "The Cello Player," by Eleanor J. Hall.  Inside are two of Eleanor's illustrations, as well as three by Jeffrey Morabito.  Vol. 13, 2007, takes us to Morocco, with the cover art, "Moroccan Scene," by Al Tacconelli.  Inside are three illustrations by Al, four by Peter Baroth, and three by Peter Cunicelli.  Vol. 14, 2008, contains the art work of the late Karl Hagedorn.  His cover painting is titled "Inversion on White," and inside there are five of his illustrations.  I'd like to add more about these artists, and my process of selecting the art, and will do so later.  For now, I just wanted to place on record the fact of art's importance in the publication of "Philadelphia Poets," and publicize the names of the wonderful artists whose work I've used.  Meanwhile, you can get an idea of what the cover art looks like by clicking into "Photos" on this website.  The first photo, taken by Paola Nogueras for "Milestones" in November 2007, shows me holding the 2007 issue, cover by Al Tacconelli, with the others spread before me.

The Third Annual Amy Tritsch Needle Award Presentation and Reading took place at Robin’s Book Store, March 2, 2008.  The following winner and runners-up were selected by the readers of Philadelphia Poets: Winner:  Lili Bita; First Runners Up:  Michele Belluomini and Anne Kaier; Second Runner Up:  Robert Zaller; Special Mention:  John Amen, Janet Mason, Tommi Avicolli Mecca, and Ann E. Michael.  John Amen and Tommi Avicolli Mecca couldn’t be with us.    Richard Bank read in place of John Amen, and Maralyn Lois Polak, in place of Tommi Avicolli Mecca. My opening words were as follows: “First, I’d like to say a few words about Amy Tritsch Needle, in whose memory this award is named.  Amy was my son Anthony’s girl friend.  She died when in her mid-40’s.  Amy was an avid pursuer of the arts; painted, played the guitar, read voraciously, attended readings and enthusiastically supported the arts.  At the time of her untimely death, as I was preparing the next issue of Philadelphia Poets, it occurred to me to create an award and name it in her honor, not just as a memorial to Amy, but as an incentive to poets to perfect their writing and send me their very best work.  The April 2006 issue contains a photo of Amy as well as a biography.  The poems that have won the award this year are lessons in how to write good poetry, and I hope that new poets will read them and learn from them.  I am honored and pleased today to have Amy’s mother, Diana Tritsch, here to present the first prize award to Lili Bita.  Diana currently lives in Lancaster and has long been a supporter of  the arts, and worked in Theater for many years.”  Diana then presented the award to Lili Bita, who read her poetry, followed by presentations to, and readings by, Michele Belluomini, Anne Kaier, Richard Bank, Janet Mason, Maralyn Lois Polak, and Ann E. Michael.  Lili, our first prize winner, was at her absolute best and that is saying something, since she is always a good and dynamic performer.  Ann Michael doesn’t often make it to Center City readings, so I was quite glad that she was able to be here, with her daughter along. It was truly a special occasion, but the presence of Diana Tritsch and our wonderful audience made it even more so. Yes, we had an S.R.O. audience.  Someone asked me if I were pleased with the crowd, and I said, the impresario is never pleased; there are always those who should have been there who didn’t show.  But then I added let me be happy for those who are here.  Yes. With Don, my neighbor who makes delicious lemon squares; Linda, who was a temp when I worked at Kleinbard; my  proofer & friend Barb & her two daughters; Kassia, a lovely poet from Poland; Estelle, who offered advice for my next award reading, which I took; and so many others.  At one point, I did a Jackie Gleason imitation, “Mmm, what a good group!”  I was in my element. I wrote to my friend Joan Jobe Smith about it, and she replied, “It sounds like a tender moment in time.”  Indeed!

On Sunday, June 1, 2008, the Fifth Annual “Celebration of New Jersey’s Literary Journals (and Some Neighbors)” was held at the West Caldwell Public Library in northern New Jersey.  Philadelphia Poets took part in this festival, which is organized annually by Diane Lockward.  June 1st was one of those beautiful days when everything came together serendipitously.  The weather was definitely on our side, and from that point on, all systems were “go.”  Diane Lockward did an amazing job of bringing together the editors of thirteen journals, each of whom brought two poets to represent their publication.  Amy Barone and Lisa Alexander Baron read for Philadelphia Poets.  I was proud of Amy and Lisa for their excellent and strong readings, which brought many good responses from the audience.  To see a complete list of the program and all who participated, go to Diane Lockward’s website, www.dianelockward.com. Two sets of photographs were taken of the event, and you can see them at http://picasaweb.google.com/Anthonysworld/PoetryFestivalWestCaldwellLibraryWestCaldwellNJ and http://www.davidvincenti.com/njjournals/2008.  The West Caldwell library was roomy enough for all of us to display and sell our books, with a separate auditorium for the readings. My thanks to Diane Lockward and the library for organizing and hosting this wonderful and important event.

The Philadelphia Sketch Club, 235 S. Camac Street, Philadelphia, once again hosted an “Artist and Poet Show: Image and Word” and for the second time, it was my pleasure to team up with artist Peter Quarracino.  Two of Peter’s paintings are on display, accompanied by my poems.  The opening took place on June 22, with the exhibit will continue for awhile.  On Sunday, June 29, the Sketch Club held an Open Mic from 1:00 to 4:00 p.m.   Two photos from this event are in the photo section of this site. For further information, check out www.sketchclub.org. 

The new issue of the annual Philadelphia Poets, Volume 14, 2008, has been out since the end of March, and it is indeed a beauty in every way: wonderful art by the late Karl Hagedorn and 172 pages of poetry and reviews.  Of the 57 poets whose work appears here, you'll find regulars, such as Peter Baroth (painter as well as poet), Lili Bita, Maria Fama, Andy Macera, Lou McKee, Maralyn Lois Polak, and Al Tacconelli (his art apears on 2007's cover), and newcomers to us, such as Alex Abelson, Roberta Greifer, B.E. Kahn, and Christine Klocek-Lim.  Every poet in this issue, as in every issue we put out, is worth mentioning.  Many of the poets here read at our April 20th reading and will be featured in upcoming events.  Philadelphia Poets, in spite of its title, is not limited to poets from the Philadelphia area.  Approximately half of the poets in this issue come from Canada, California, Ohio, New York, Nevada, and other parts.  Some poets, I've known for years; others, I've come across at readings and was impressed enough with their work so that I asked them to send me poetry.  Mel Brake falls into this category.  Several in this issue came to me at Philadelphia Stories' "Push to Publish Workshop" for a critique of their work, and I accepted it.  They are B.E. Kahn, Ashini Desai, and Roberta Greifer.  As editor of Philadelphia Poets, I am always on the lookout for good poetry.  I found it big time at the Calandra Institute's day-long reading of Italian/American poets in April 2007 and that day, I urged many to send me poetry, and those who did are Diana Festa and Maria Lisella.  Later that day, I heard Amy Barone, Angelo Zeolla and Susan Scutti at the Cornelia Street Cafe, and they, too, have poems in this issue.  Angelo also showed up at one of our Philadelphia Poets readings last summer and read in the open.  Amy Barone is usually a welcome sight and voice at our readings.  Maria Lisella and Gil Fagiani gave a terrific reading for us last September. There is a closer liaison, now, with the New York poets, thanks to the Calandra Institute and the Italian American Writers Association.  I'm very happy to have included those poets who are new to our publication in this issue, as well as the "old faithfuls."  Of course, there are always those who come to me out of the blue--I haven't a clue how they heard about Philadelphia Poets, and am thrilled with their work.  One of these is veteran poet John Wheatcroft.  Another is young Alex Abelson.  Among the chapbooks reviewed in this issue is Rooks, poetry by New York's Gil Fagiani, reviewed by Canada's Venera Fazio.  To purchase a copy of the latest Philadelphia Poets, send $15, check made out to me, Rosemary Cappello, address 1919 Chestnut Street, Apartment 1721, Philadelphia, PA 19103.  Cost of book is $12 plus $3 shipping.  Submissions of no more than eight pages can be sent to the same address.  For further information, contact me.  All back issues are available.