5:02

5:02 Five O Two Five Oh Two

Three days in a row, I have woken up at 5:02. It must be summer. Not that anyone else is around at 5:02 - all my neighbors are sleeping at that hour. But wake up I do, and I rummage around the kitchen to see if the carafe has one more cup of coffee left from the morning.

Oh, I'm sorry, I forget to mention, the 5:02 is 5:02 PM. I have been having naps lately, indeed I have been needing naps lately. And for whatever reason, the clock under the TV set in the bedroom seems to always say, or at least three times in a row say, or at least display, the time as 5:02.

Now generally, I do not like naps. But this summer, I need them, and I take them gladly, right after I finish doing the dishes from pranzo, and it seems like I wake up at 5:02. This gives me the energy to go to the performance area of our complex, called the 'Cavea', where I get to see various performances.

Now in years past, the performances always seemed to start with the DJ, one of the animatories the condominium hired to work on their tan during the day, and give dance lessons to folks who were really bored, and also put on the Bocce and Scopa tournaments, playing, at top volume, the Village People singing YMCA. The song was imprinted in our minds, and Fran and I did not care if we never heard it again. After they got tired of playing YMCA, they would switch to YMCA. But the kids would get restless, so they would return to YMCA. Then, just for something new, they would play YMCA. This would go on until about 2 every morning. If you do not understand how important this is, I beg you to go out and buy a copy, maybe two copies, of YMCA by the Village People, and put it on your CD player, at top volume, and on infinite repeat, and play it as you go to bed. And no fair turning it off until 2 in the morning.

This year is different. There was criticism two years ago, and the entertainment committee responded to the criticism by continuing the program as it was, with the addition that each of the committee members got to wear T shirts with a hand printed on the shirt, with one finger raised. There was also a phrase that ended in 'You', and the first word began and ended like the word 'fire truck'. They might as well have had T shirts that read YMCA.

This year it is different. No more animatories. This year, the committee found a group of local folks who wanted to entertain us, and they are using the budget to help pay the folks (when they do not do it for free), as well as to supply food after each show.

The fireworks started on Sunday night. There was a semi professional dance troupe, the Mambo Kings, who every year seem to win the competition among dancers in the Sciacca Carnevale parade. It is really kids who seem to want to have fun together, and who want to dance. And this group was the crème de la crème.

It started out with four lovely young ladies, who danced their hearts out. I am not sure if they were all still in high school, of if some of them had gone on to University. But they were good, they were together, and they danced as a fogger added to the atmosphere for the night. Now I really do not know a Mambo from a Tango from a Samba, and I suppose I should have spent last winter watching Dancing with the Stars, but these kids were great. And there was a good turn out to watch them. The director of the Mambo Kings School of Dance called them the Mambo Queens, and they were certainly royalty.

Later, three of the dancers were joined by the Kings, or at least the princesses, and they danced together. I think one of the kings did not show up, or there would have been four couples. But it was great entertainment.

After the show, there was pasta with shrimp and zucchini for everyone, along with wine and water and soda. The next night, a first run film starring the great, and I MEAN GREAT, Sicilian comedians Ficcaro and Piccone was shown. The night after that, a wonderful music group, that did one set of duets with piano and sax, making wonderful jazz noises from classic show tune type melodies. The second set, they added a bass player and a vocalist, and they sang modern folk songs in Sicilian that they had written, commemorating the bandit Salvatore Giuliano, the beaches of Sciacca, and life in Sicily. It was like listening to a modern day, Sicilian Woody Guthrie. The only scary part was that I was able to understand the Sicilian.

The night after that, a local film maker came and showed the three short films he had made in Sciacca. They were also in Sicilian, with Italian subtitles, and they won a prize at the Taormina Film Festival. I got a copy of them, and hope to convince someone at the Lake Placid Film Forum to give them an American Premiere. Paolo Santangelo, the cinematographer, is working on English sub titles as I write this.

And on it goes. The shows do not stop until after midnight, well past my bed time. Then there is social time. No wonder I need a nap. I just can not figure out why I keep waking up every morning at 5:02.