Casting my vote

In a stunning shift, the Swiss decided to accept the ultra-conservative SVP initiative extending immigration quotas to EU nationals. It was accepted by a hair-thin 50.3%, with 49.7% voting to reject it. Voter turnout was one of the highest in years, 55.8%. As I feared, the canton of Ticino did indeed vote in favor or it, but what was incredible was the scale of the support – a whopping 68.2%. In Pura, 408 people voted for the initiative (70.34%) while 171 people and I (29.66%) voted against it.I never thought it was going to be that high. Of course, ever since the vote on Sunday, the newspaper headlines trumpet the obvious consequences. Our Corriere del Ticino’s banner headline on Monday: Free Movement of People Stops; Tuesday: Switzerland Will Have Serious Problems; Wednesday: The European Union Pulls the Plug; today, The European Union Closes the Door.
What were the Swiss thinking? A twitter posting from the German SPD politician Ralf Stegner: “Die spinnen, die Schweizer”, The Swiss, they’re crazy.

It’s a beautiful day, in the middle of the wettest winter that I can remember, and it’s an important voting day. I always say, with admiration, that Switzerland has a strong and supple democracy, one that gives great power to its people. Our system of direct democracy means that any referendum or initiative which gathers 100,000 signatures can force a ballot. One of the items, the most significant one, that we are voting on today is the initiative, which got 135,000 signatures, put forward by the extreme right Swiss People’s Party (SVP) which would reintroduce immigration quotas, extending the quotas to EU nationals as well. This would blow up Switzerland’s carefully constructed set of bilateral agreements with the EU and gravely endanger Switzerland’s economic health. I can’t remember another vote in which government AND industry have so loudly banged the drums against a proposal. I have been at home in this country for 31 years, and I am deeply connected to my little village of Pura in this tiny canton of Ticino. But everyone I talk to says that Ticino is going to vote for this initiative. I received a telephone call this morning from a young guy that I know, who has been eligible to vote for 5 years. I was surprised to hear from him – it had been months since I had seen him, and it was 10:30 am on a Sunday. He was calling to ask, as he had never voted before and “since you always know how things work here”, where the voting place was and when it closed. Despite the fact that his mother is from Poland and I am American – and Swiss thanks to my marriage to a Swiss –  he told me that he HAS to vote on this initiative and he is voting for it. His reasoning is that Switzerland is becoming a country only for the rich and that in 10 years he won’t be able to even buy a house here, that he will have to buy a house in Italy in order to find something affordable.

SVP street billboard

This vote is important – and I am worried.

GL messaged me when he arrived back in DC.  I wrote him back that I couldn’t stop the tears, but my IPhone kept auto-correcting to years. It made me smile ruefully; I couldn’t stop either tears or years. And that seems to be the story of my life since I married and moved to Switzerland. The fabric of my life is joyful, but each separation is heart-rending. It tears this happy whole of my life into far-flung components and it takes me a moment to weave it all back together again, allowing, once again, the elasticity of love to bind us together across the ocean.

It started yesterday, just a flash of that familiar gnawing, nagging feeling of dread. It’s what happens before every departure, whether it’s my children leaving me, or it’s me leaving my family. My son, GL, returned to his last semester at college in the States, where he will probably remain after graduation. His next planned visit will be next Christmas. He left early this morning and I am here this evening looking tearily first at his empty room, and then, across the hall, at his slippers which he has left tucked neatly underneath the table in front of the sofa. It’s the sight of his empty slippers which grabs my heart – like awaiting a phantom presence. I’ll be fine tomorrow. It’s like a molecular composition; a component of my being is pulled out, torn away, and I have to recompose myself into a whole. I have plenty of practice, 31 years of it. In the very beginning of this story of separation, which feels like the story of my life, it was the division of my life with my twin which tore me asunder. Tore us both. 31 years of recomposing myself; 31 years of building a life here in Switzerland.

My husband Giancarlo and I got married 31 years ago today; those years went by in such a blend of events and emotions that I feel like we hurtled through time. It doesn’t seem possible that that many years have gone by. Our two children – the blessings of our life- are the anchoring points of that blitz through time. That we stayed the course is amazing. An American girl meets a Swiss man one evening in Washington, D.C., and that was it- instant, enduring connection. Falling in love,  my heart was taken. I have reason to be thinking back to our first months of marriage, which for me meant life in a new country, because my wonderful, beautiful Goddaughter fell in love deeply and completely with a man who reminds me a bit of Giancarlo and she moved to a new city yesterday to be with him. What I want to write her is this: there will be times when you will want to leave, when you will think, I don’t want to be with this man anymore. There will be lows where you will think the only way out is out. But stay the course, live through the lows as you will emerge with a stronger union. Remember the passion, remember the love,remember that breath-taking appreciation of all of his best qualities,  remember that magnetic, chemical pull that drew you to that man, and have faith that those are the ties that bind.

LOVE

On this last day of the holiday season, I think back to the day which starts the season for Swiss children – San Nicolao. In the Middle Ages, St. Nicholas was the Bishop of Myra and became known for his acts of generosity and piety. Legend has it that he gave 3 poor children red apples which where transformed into gold; centuries later his holy day, December 6, has become the traditional day for St. Nicholas to visit children all over Switzerland, bringing gifts of sweets and fruit. My first Christmas here in Switzerland was spent in Berne, my home for my first three years in this country. In the Swiss-German part of Switzerland December 6 is the day of ‘Samichlaus’, and parents enlist the aid of their male friends to dress up as Samichlaus so that their children can have a personal visit from St. Nick. My husband Giancarlo played just such a role for the two children of good friends; the little boy in the photo is his godson.

I found the whole idea enchanting. And it’s not just a jolly little visit – the children all know that St. Nick will know if they have been naughty or nice. They just don’t know that it’s their parents who have provided Santa with a list, so that he can look into their eyes and say ‘I hear that you have been fighting with your brother’ or ‘I hear that you have been cleaning up your toys nicely’. The book that Samichlaus is looking at is a volume of the Encylopedia Britannica with the list stuck to one of the pages. In the photos, you can see the children looking up a bit anxiously to Samichlaus. But of course it always ends happily, with Samichlaus pulling out sweets from his bag for the children. In the German part of Switzerland, grocery stores are full of chocolate laden branches which are given to the children. Naturally I was keen to participate so I hand sewed special chocolate treats to branches that I had collected in the nearby woods, embellishing it even more by using different colored embroidery thread. Another traditional St. Nick sweet that it seems every household buys are the Grittibanz, or Pupazzi, little dough men with raisins for eyes, some holding little pipes or shovels.

This is a week where my two worlds crossed: on Thursday I celebrated Thanksgiving with my family in Chicago; a week later I was back in Switzerland for the day of San Nicolao  – Saint Nicholas. Chicago has become the focus of our family Thanksgiving since last year, when my brother Bill convinced our then 91-year old father to move into the same fabulous building where he and his wife Ann live. Billy is the cook in the family and he goes all out. This year he prepared 3 turkeys, one traditionally roasted, one in his smoker with his secret barbeque sauce and one in his new fryer. Here he is just putting the turkey in to cook on the terrace of his 78th floor apartment. Billy and Ann incorporate every great value of Thanksgiving, of home and hearth, family and friends, warmth and care, and of laughter and love.
Ann and my father
My brother and I
Last year I was giddy with happiness – it was my first Thanksgiving in America in 29 years and I celebrated it with my 2 sons, Alessandro (his first US Thanksgiving) and Gianluca and my father, together with most members of my family. I truly give thanks.
I am so grateful to have such a loving, caring family.

Everyone looks for their place in the world. I have been between worlds, one American, one Swiss, for 30 years. It’s only recently that I realized I have crossed over. I now say “I am Swiss”. That it has taken this long is indicative of Switzerland. It is a country that is difficult to truly know. So this is my take on Switzerland, my slice of Swiss Life. I am finally home.