The Good Italian

The Parable of Fabrizio

Are you sitting down?

One of my uncles is Italian.

//Slaps you across the face to snap you out of your shock, and then with the same humanizing energy as when Princess Diana gave a hug on camera to a man with AIDS, says:

Not only is he Italian, he’s one of my favorite people.

//Stares bravely into the crowd, daring anyone to speak a word against the Italians.

The following is a story my uncle has told me approximately ten million times¹ at various family functions.

A man named Fabrizio, known to my uncle’s brother —who owns an import business and sells hiking experiences on the side— was once upon a time on a trek through a country in Southeast Asia. It doesn’t matter exactly where, only that he was walking along a dirt road leading to a remote village when he witnessed a horrific accident.

A broken branch fell out of a tree, struck a young woman on its way down, and broke her neck.

She was alive when the villagers lifted her up and carried her into a hut, however her injury was obviously dire. While he had not planned to stay, Fabrizio felt connected to the young woman because he had witnessed the accident. He inquired as to her condition and the care she would receive.

The village medicine man made assurances that he would prepare a poultice to place on the young woman’s broken neck, but Fabrizio read in his mannerisms that this was merely a bit of play-acting. The poultice wouldn’t do anything other than assure the villagers something was being done while the girl died a slow and painful death.

It should be noted that Fabrizio had some sort of boring corporate job, no experience working in the medical field, and that this was among his first ever vacations of this kind. There was no particular reason he should have felt a duty or obligation to assist in a medical situation given his skills. He had no real connection to this place and there was certainly no expectation upon him to take action. What Fabrizio did have, however, was a lifetime of watching the medical television drama ER. Fabrizio also had the sense to know that in that particular place at that particular time, those well-remembered episodes of ER made him the most qualified medical expert available to assist this young woman.

Fabrizio’s expert opinion was that the young woman needed help at a surgical facility to recover and that she would die if she did not receive it. There were no vehicles in the village and no roads good enough to support a vehicle should one be summoned. So Fabrizio, one of the greatest Italians ever born according to my uncle, took a knife and made a stretcher out of bamboo poles. Then Fabrizio rallied the villagers, determined the location of the nearest hospital, and made a harrowing journey through the jungle with the young girl in tow over the course of several days. The story goes that his hands were covered in blisters and bleeding by the end.

The young woman survived the journey, was given surgery at the local hospital, and made a full recovery.

Don’t ask if you’re the perfect person to do something. Ask if you’re the best available. Every day, each of us underestimates the good we can do with the little that we happen to know.

You only have to be brave enough to try.

1. Ten million being the minimum number of times an Italian can repeat a story before being assured you remember it from a previous telling.