If you go far enough along carsick-inducing roads up into the hills sufficiently away from Florence as to be actually in the province of Arezzo, you could come to a place where traditions are still wholesome and people still live simply. This place might be called Cetica (Chet-ika).
A lot of the people in Cetica are still self-sustaining. They have fruit trees and chestnut trees and grow potatoes and have abundant gardens. They store up for hard times. Most of them live in single family homes, some very old structurally, but hardly any terribly old within, because the nazis burned the town as punishment for the death of a German soldier, and out of rage that the inhabitants were able to escape first. Since the outer walls of the old houses were formed of stone, they seem to have come through intact.
To me it is a particularly attractive town; there is such a wholesome atmosphere in Cetica in general and at the Rogai homestead in particular, it seems as though the very air is nourishing you.
The Rogai house is full; full of books, full of places to sit, full of food, full of beds, full of good will, and most often this summer, full of people: family, and, in our case, guests. Guests who use it as the center of the beehive of activities that made up Young Women and Young Men Camp - or, as we named it, "Campeggio Express 2015."
Sorella Rogai and daughter Sara
For one week, Blaine did not don a suit and I wore jeans or capris and t shirts. Once in awhile, I forgot my missionary name tag! We slept in the curtained-off room just past the main kitchen (one of three on the premises - three kitchens), but most of the time we were outside with, for the first three days, the Young Women (Giovani Donne), and for the next three, the Young Men (Giovani Uomini).
I can't go into all the details; suffice it to say that we had a big hand in the planning, preparation and execution. The main stars, though, without a doubt, were the youth and their leaders. They jumped in to the adventure, tents, outdoor latrines and showers, open air dining and all.
We always had discussions on the gospel principles exemplified in our activities, for example what was to be learned from the team building game of having everyone’s legs taped to the person’s beside them, and then having to move as a team from one zig-zagged circle to another to the finish line (learning to communicate and work together). That game was particularly challenging to the guys wearing shorts, with their hairy legs!
We challenged abilities and did things they’d never done before, like an orienteering course after ascending a steep but scenic trail; the guys, instead, ascended a nearby summit under a full moon, and spent the night there under a lean-to.
Every girl or guy belonged to a pattuglia or squadra (patrol, squad), and every group had duties to fulfill. There was much making of new friends and little of contention. There were no cell phones. There was scripture study and journal writing, devotionals and firesides. We packed those three days full!
The leaders and the Rogais were great examples of Christlike brotherly kindness and leadership. The scene from the main gathering place looked out over tree-covered hills rolling off in the distance. How could the Spirit not but be there?
I gotta say it: these are some chosen young people.
We are exhausted. It was worth it.
All of this was also the fun thing.
Plus the fact that the Rogai’s daughter Sara and her four daughters were there, and that the baby, Robin, became my particular friend.
I thank God for this bellissima esperienza!
Fratello Rogai, the stake patriarch, drenched at the end of YM Camp. Good sport!
