Dictionaries no longer required.

Newly-admitted patient Ignazio walked into the room. In the emergency ward of the Italian hospital. He looked distinguished. Like an Italian gentleman. Neatly trimmed black and gray hair. I felt sorry for him.  Because he was greeted with silence. From the three of us (patients) already settled in the room. Including me. I didn't know what to say. At a loss for words. Because I don't speak Italian. If I did, I would have welcomed him. Instead, I hoped that the others would take charge. And make Ignazio feel part of the gang. Anyway, eventually Ignazio was duly welcomed. By his fellow Italians. Of course, I didn't catch must of what was being  said. Until later. The next day, Ignazio and I were the only two patients left in the room. And we were communicating. Mostly, with single words. His Italian. My English. It helped. That both of us had Italian/English dictionaries. We were innovative, too. Speaking in sign language. Ignazio came from the nearby picturesque village of Portoscuso. On the Mediterranean Sea. Ignazio looked old enough to retire. I asked for his occupation. He raised his hands and arms in a heavy lifting motion. Yes, he was a laborer.  With Alcoa, the American aluminum manufactuer. Until Alcoa picked up and moved its Sardinian plant to another country. A bitter blow for Sardinia's sagging economy. But all is well. Between Americano me and Italiano Ignazio. We exchanged words. Warmly. Intimately. Despite the language barrier. Ignazio introduced me to his two visitors --wife Lucia and daughter Serena.  And in walked Cristina,  my amore mio, and much-appreciated translator.  A godsend. Everybody got involved in the conversation. Camaraderie.  In two languages. Dictionaries no longer required. --Jim Broede