The closest thing I have to a piazza

It occurred to me the other evening, as I was watching my youngest learn to ride a bike for the first time without training wheels, that the elementary school playground, with its vast expanse of asphalt, was similar to an Italian piazza. At certain times of day, the black top comes alive with vibrant activity. A real neighborhood community exists upon this black top and it reminds me of every Italian piazza that I have ever strolled across in Italy. In Italy, the neighborhood piazza is the center of activity. It is where young boys kick around a soccer ball and it is the meeting ground, where couples young and old, come out to walk and enjoy each other's company.

We live on a hill, thus making it difficult to learn to ride a two-wheel bike. So, the other evening I suggested to my son that we go to the elementary school playground where he could learn to ride on a beautiful flat surface. As I sat there watching my son gain the confidence to ride off on his own (and I must proudly note that he is a very adept biker rider) I took a moment to look around and observe the activity around me. And it hit, me. This was my piazza! Here the children come to play after dinner. Here, the women stroll arm and arm around the black top as the sun hangs low in the sky drenching the black top in amber light. Here the toddlers ride their two wheel bikes around and around and around. Here the Indian ladies in their saris and the chinese grandmothers dressed in silks converse quietly amongst themselves and scold or laugh at their children. Here young men turn out for impromtu games of basketball.


Well, there it is. The elementary school playground in all it's glory. No baroque fountains spritzing water, no marble benches or cobblestones, but yet it reminds me of an Italian piazza. Here a neighborhood comes out to play and to enjoy a summers' evening.