While I was at Il Poggio there was a death in my family.
Bro Joe, that good guy, found out where I was (which took some detective work) and telephoned that Dad (Andy Wold) had died at home of a brain aneurism in Ventura, California. This was the only phone call I got during the long pilgrimage.
Dad had been feeling weak and had some painful back trouble before I left but both he and my mother, Lorene, seemed healthy enough to last some time--at least until I had finished this pilgrimage and had returned to the USA.
Dad had always been very good to me.
After Joe called I walked to the little church in San Vicenzo a Torre and sat for a while thinking about everything.
There is really nothing like the death of a parent to set one thinking as you either know or will find out some day.
In a way I was sorry I was not there to help out and in another way I was glad I had missed all the emotion and sadness of my grieving family the my parent's friends.
I was a long way away from Ventura, there was nothing I could do and I would continue my slow pilgrimage to Holy Mountain in Greece in the spring.
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