My work history keeps growing, but I haven't found the answer I was hoping for. At 48, I can look back on thirty years of work: sorting and wrapping ceramic cups and other pottery, the wonderful internships at the State Archive and the Museum Complex in Bari where I used computers to catalog ancient documents, and time at the print shop. I've also learned to take the train and other buses around Bari on my own.
My most serious and steady commitment, though, is serving as an altar boy at my parish. I have to say I'm happier now because the new pastor is a friend from my early days as an altar server. Now and then we remember the old days together—the processions, the pranks we pulled when we were "young." Don Gianluca, the pastor, gives me more demanding tasks: preparing the priest's vestments, arranging the missal, setting out the cruets of water and wine for Mass, lighting the candles. It's real work, important work. Maybe I'm tempted to suggest to my "friend the pastor" that he name me sacristan, since there aren't many jobs going around.
Truth is, I pick up odd jobs now and then. Next time I'll tell you about my latest work with Caritas. You should know that our city has opened a community market for people who can't afford the basics—prices have gotten too high for them. But I'll tell you about that next time.