Cal
___________________________________________
To: Cal Langdon <cal.langdon@thenyjournal.com>
Fr: Jane Harris <jane@wondercat.com>
Re: Time to talk
Isn’t it true that the only reason you’re so anti-love-and-marriage is because your own didn’t work out?
J
___________________________________________
To: Jane Harris <jane@wondercat.com>
Fr: Cal Langdon <cal.langdon@thenyjournal.com>
Re: Time to talk
Absolutely not. The failure of my own marriage plays absolutely no part in my conviction that human beings are genetically incapable of monogamy. I believe we were meant to have seven or eight partners in a lifetime, not one. The idea that as a community we applaud those couples who manage to stay together forty or fifty years or longer is simply ridiculous. There’s something inherently wrong with celebrating couples like that. It simply isn’t natural to want to spend that much time with another human being.
Cal
___________________________________________
To: Cal Langdon <cal.langdon@thenyjournal.com>
Fr: Jane Harris <jane@wondercat.com>
Re: Time to talk
My parents will be celebrating their fortieth wedding anniversary next year. Are you saying there’s something inherently wrong with them?
J
___________________________________________
To: Jane Harris <jane@wondercat.com>
Fr: Cal Langdon <cal.langdon@thenyjournal.com>
Re: Time to talk
No offense to your parents, but basically, yes. Are you going to tell me that in all of those forty years, they’ve never fought or cheated on each other?
Cal
___________________________________________
To: Cal Langdon <cal.langdon@thenyjournal.com>
Fr: Jane Harris <jane@wondercat.com>
Re: Time to talk
Sure they’ve fought. They’re HUMAN. But cheated on each other? No way.
J
PS You’re an ass.
___________________________________________
To: Jane Harris <jane@wondercat.com>
Fr: Cal Langdon <cal.langdon@thenyjournal.com>
Re: Time to talk
I never said my theory was a very popular one. But it happens to be true.
Cal
PS Has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of cute when you’re mad?
___________________________________________
To: Cal Langdon <cal.langdon@thenyjournal.com>
Fr: Jane Harris <jane@wondercat.com>
Re: Time to talk
Are you FLIRTING with me?
It won’t work. I’m a little brighter than the women you’re so obviously used to.
Stop e-ing me, we’re here.
J
PS You’re still an ass.
___________________________________________
Marriage of an American Citizen in Italy
An American citizen planning to marry in Italy must obtain a declaration (called STATO LIBERO) sworn by four (4) witnesses before the Italian consulate, stating that according to the laws in which the citizen is subject in the United States there is no obstacle to his/her marriage. Therefore he/she must appear at this Consulate General with four unrelated friends not related to him/her nor to each other. Each of them has to bring a valid identification (Passport or Drivers License).
The citizen’s passport must also be presented and, if applicable, evidence of the termination of any previous marriage (final divorce decree or death certificate) translated into Italian and legalized by the competent Department of State with an “Apostille” (see page 2). The sworn statement has three months’ validity.
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Travel Diary of Jane Harris
Travel Diary of
Jane Harris
Cal Langdon is a stupid jerk.
He’s the KING of all jerks. He’s the undisputed CHAMPION of all-time jerks. How can Mark even be friends with him? Really? How?
I mean, I GUESS he can be interesting, and even witty, when he’s talking about some arcane topic such as the accordion-making industry. Which, considering that Castelfidardo is apparently the accordion making capital of the known universe, is at least kind of useful. Who knew Zio Matteo is a world renowned accordionist, and that’s why he bought a villa so close to the town that makes his chosen instrument?
There is even an accordion MUSEUM here, featuring— what else?—the world’s largest playable accordion. It’s as tall as Cal Langdon.
There’s also a statue on the village green of a large man playing the accordion. He is, oddly, in the buff. I’m not sure this would fly in America. I mean, a statue of a naked accordionist in the town square.
Still, topics unrelated to human relationships, such as Saudi Arabia’s declining oil reserves and the history of accordion-making? Those are the only subjects about which Cal Langdon ought to be allowed by law to converse. Because when it comes to people, he’s totally and completely in the dark.
No wonder his wife left him.
I honestly don’t even see how he lasted as long as he did on the foreign correspondence trail. I mean, Cal Langdon has been flying around the world—when he wasn’t apparently bouncing around it in the back of a jeep—interviewing dignitaries and world leaders and guerrillas alike.
And yet he seems to know less about people than ME, and I’ve barely left my apartment these past five years, I’ve been so busy drawing. How can someone who knows so many people know so little about them? That’s what I’d like to know.
Whatever. I’m not going to let him spoil this beautiful moment for me. We’re sitting outside the Office of the Secretary of Castelfidardo, which is where they give out the marriage license applications and schedule the town weddings. Mark and Holly are up at the desk, trying to make the clerk understand what they want. They already have all these forms they filled out back at the Italian consulate in New York. It turns out that if an American citizen wants to elope in a foreign country, they can’t just do it all willy-nilly. You have to fill out a bunch of paperwork first, back in the States. For one of the forms, Mark and Holly even had to drag four separate witnesses—unrelated to them, or to each other—to the Italian embassy to swear that they weren’t already married to anyone else (Holly and Mark, I mean).
I don’t know why this is taking so long. Or why Cal Langdon felt compelled to go up there too, and listen in. I’m keeping an eye on him to make sure he isn’t trying to sabotage the proceedings. Now the secretario himself has come out to join in the conversation.
Still, the secretario keeps going, “Non.”
This doesn’t sound good. Shouldn’t he be saying, “Si”?
Holly keeps gesturing to the paperwork from the Italian consulate and going, “But in New York they said—”
And the secretario keeps going, in his broken English, “Yessa, but, in New Yorka, thees is not how we do the engs here in Italia.”
Hmmm. Holly looks stressed. I sense trouble brewing.
Now the secretario is starting to look annoyed.
“I donna understand,” he’s saying. “Why you have to get married here in Castelfidardo? Why not Las Vegas, like normal Americans?”
Uh-oh. Holly’s mad now.
“Because we’re NOT normal Americans,” she says. “We want to get married here in Castelfidardo. We have the right forms. What’s the problem? Just open your calendar and tell us when the mayor has a time available to perform the ceremony, and we’ll be on our—”