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heart-shaped lips, a dainty nose and
a curious smile.
While making herself useful in the
kitchen, Marilena picked up Italian
and got to know the Sportelli family.
Aldo Sportelli, one year her senior, was
smitten. Lanky, with a shy smile, he
would hang around the kitchen when
he came home from school. “It was my
first infatuation,” Aldo would tell me.
They spoke about their plans for the
future. He wanted to become an engi-
neer. She had no idea what awaited her
when she returned to Brazil.
After school, Aldo served the gla-
morous patrons in the restaurant; my
grandmother spent her nights liste-
ning to the music from the cave be-
low. Every now and then, Aldo joined
her on the terrace, always under the
watchful eye of a family member.One day, as Marilena was going
down the stairs to the kitchen, Aldo
went in for a hug. Unsure of what to
do, she rushed away.
My grandmother’s family was not
happy with the budding romance.
The son of a hotel owner was not
what they had in mind for the family
heiress. Aldo’s mother told him the
social distances between him and
Marilena were too large to bridge. “At
that time, I thought they were right,”
Aldo recalls.
The two continued an awkward but
friendly relationship over her last few
weeks at the hotel. Before she left, she
asked him to sign her memory book.
“Marilena, if you allow it, a friendship
can be an enduring bond,” he wrote.
When she left, he went to the sta-
tion and watched as the train pulledMarilena Lerario and Aldo Sportelli
met in Polignano a Mare, her
grandfather’s hometown, when she
spent a year in Italy in 1951.