On a blistering hot day in a little town known as Nola, located in the southern half of Naples, Italy. My grandfather was born. He was the eldest out of four sisters; Pasqualina, MariaGrazia, Orsulina, and Saveria. He was given the name Francesco Pecchia. His father Gennaro Pecchia was a butcher and his mother MariaFelchie was a housewife, both cam from a family of farmers. On October 1922, Italy had been slipping into a political crisis. This giving Benito Mussolini the advantage to march him and his black shirts into Rome, presenting himself as the only man capable of restoring order. He overthrew the King Victor Emmanuel and 1925 Italy transitions
from a monarch to a Facisit Italy, as Mussolini proclaims himself as dictator, using the title as " Il Duce" ( The King). Francesco was six at the time and had just begum school.
However under the reign of Mussolini, school was where he shaped and molded the minds of the future fascist's in children. Mussolini took a keen interet in the state's education system and the youth organizations that existed in Italy and anyone who did no obey Mussolini and his black shirts were suitably punished. You can say that the people's daily lives as they could. If anyone would resist or disobey Mussolini's authority were preferably tied to a tree, and was forced to chug down a pint or two of castor oil, down the victim's throat and force him to eat a live toad/frog etc. This was enough of an example to keep their opinions to themselves. With this being said my great grandparents, for the sake of their family, followed the rules.
Reflection:
I have grown as a creative writer from this class because usually I do things very poetically, but from this class I learned how to turn it on and off. How to give facts and for the facts to be factual but creative. This genre of creative writing was different for me because I'm normally so used to doing things poetically, using similes and metaphors. I also am not use to doing blogposts or journalistic mannerism such as going out and exploring. I would usually just write from memory, my thoughts, or of inspiration of something. What I found most challenging at first was how to make my words sound beautiful without the use of poetry and what I found liberating was that I could have said my opinion and how I felt straight with no chaser. The reading that I enjoyed most was The Joan Didion piece because as a Feminist myself I always enjoy another strong woman writer. For their are very few and all need to be celebrated.
