I wouldn’t need to because now we have something called the “blogosphere,” a place where readers and viewers can post their own thoughts at the bottom of my journals. Good times. I see my lack of shaving has more than my mother fussing at me.

And one woman just doesn’t get me at all. Bless her. She must run screaming out of the room when I poke fun at the cultural differences between Americans and Italians. No matter. I have the rest of you and AUTHENTIC EUROPEANS who get me and are supportive (this is where my people come from), and they, more than 50 members strong, were born and bred here in the Torino area.

They are salt of the earth. I was humbled to be their guest of honor at lunch last Sunday. I promise to write about the whole gang and introduce them to you all on TV next week. They are such beautiful people… and very funny. I see now where my nutty sense of humor comes from. I have more cousins in Italy than I do in America. It was unbelievable meeting them all for the first time.

Anyway, as it turns out, I am going to post one viewer e-mail. And that means I lied to myself. You know what happens next? Of course you do. I have to go about rebuilding the trust and respect in my “self” relationship. It’ll take a few minutes while I work through this. There will be tears, heated internal debate. I’ll bring up the past. I’ll tell myself not to dwell on failures and lies from yesteryear. And healing will slowly come. Self work is no picnic my friends.

Now about that viewer e-mail. It comes from a woman in London who grew up in Italy.

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Dear Mike,
Many thanks for your article about “Monte San Savino”.
I come from that picturesque place but actually I am living in London.
I really liked your article and I will try to translate it (into Italian) and send it to someone to see if it can be published in some local newspaper.
Regards,
Francesca

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How fun is that?

On a complete lark we ramble off the highway between Rome and Florence and into this tiny village of Monte San Savino (pronounced Mohn-tay Sahn Suh-veen-oh). I write a journal about it and whammo, the magic of the three w’s kicks in. The world wide web, www to you and me, has reduced the six degrees of separation to what? Two degrees, maybe.

It turns out Monte San Savino was sort of a saving grace for Andy and me. We flew into Rome from Atlanta the day before, shot what felt like two so-so stories in Rome and hit the road about 24 hours after first setting foot in Rome.

Rome felt like London, like New York City, like Los Angeles, like most mega cities do… impersonal, distant, too large to capture on tape. It’s architecture and history are staggering. But it’s so large, inhabited by almost four million Romans, I would need a week or two to find the real Rome and the old-time locals who can breathe life into a story.

So despite the magnificence of the city, we left feeling down, like we didn’t do our job.

Discouraged we completely by chance drive into Monte San Savino and our energy level goes through the roof. I wrote all about it in Wednesday’s blog so I won’t go on and on again. If you’re interested you can click here to read that. And tonight at 5 PM and 7:30 PM on WCNC I’ll be showing you the TV version. See it for yourself. It’s an amazing place. I can’t imagine growing up there as Francesca did.

Johnny Weir answers reporter questions after finishing fifth overall after his performance in the long program.

On other news or non-news, American figure skater Johnny Weir is a few feet away being interviewed by a dozen TV stations. When the bright lights of the media point to the same location all at once, I always look off into the shadows just outside the spotlight. There’s usually a better story there.

A woman is standing in the background watching as Johnny answers the same questions over and over about how he didn’t win a medal last night. One intelligent reporter finally breaks the monotony and asks Johnny about his shoes and the two have a good chuckle together.

I figure the woman in the shadow is Johnny’s media liaison. So I walk over and ask “Do you work with Johnny?” She turns and says, “I’m his mom.” I said, “So you’ve been working with him for a long time,” and we both laughed.

I know losing is tough when you’re the loser. You work hard at something all your life and things fall apart in the end… someone else gets the jubilation, the honor, the gold. You have to live with the defeat. But I wonder if it’s even harder to watch your baby lose? To be a mom who has endured the inconceivable schedule required to raise an Olympian, not to mention the expense, because your child has a dream.

All any parent really wants is for their kids to be happy, safe and healthy. But when you witness sadness in your child, when they lose the big one, when your little one’s (no matter how old they are) heart is broken, you don’t sleep, you feel helpless, because you can’t take away their pain.

So here’s to Patti Weir, a good and gracious mom, who stood by her son for years as he flopped all over the ice as a child, then jubilantly watched him soar to win two National Championships, and is still standing there strong and true, when it all came crashing down in Italy.

When all the cameras stop rolling and the bright lights are switched off here at NBC headquarters in Torino, Patti gets in the car and holds Johnny’s hand as they drive off. If Patti is anything like my mom, I suspect that will always be the case. That’s what moms do.

Be well everyone.

See you on TV tonight and Saturday night and I’ll blog to you again on Monday.

Ciao for now,

Mike Redding