Pazzo!

During my farming career, I kept bees as a hobby and also to generate extra income. Customers believed honey from local hives alleviated their children’s allergy problems.

One day a commercial apiary representative made me an offer. “We’re looking for more beekeepers,” he said, “and will supply as many hives as you can manage. You can sell much more honey, and we can rent your hives to farmers when their crops are blooming. They know honeybees are excellent pollinators, and are willing to pay top dollar for our services.” My responsibilities as Dad’s farm manager were demanding, but at least I had enough spare time to keep a few hives, play with the kids, garden, and hunt and fish with friends. Even so, I promised him I’d think about it. I could certainly use the additional income.

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A few days later, Mama and I were sitting on her patio, enjoying a glass of sweet tea and some of her famous lemon cookies. I mentioned the prospect of increasing the number of hives and stepping up to beekeeping on a commercial level. “Pazzo!” she said. Mama was Italian, and often switched from English to her native language. I had heard her use the expression countless times, and knew that, translated, one of the word’s meanings is fool. To convince me that large-scale beekeeping wasn’t a good idea, she told a story about an Italian fisherman. A self-styled entrepreneur was visiting a small, peaceful seashore village and saw a fisherman headed home with a nice catch. He asked how long he’d fished that morning. “Only a few hours,” The Italian said. “Good gracious, man! Some of those fish are the tastiest in the Mediterranean Sea. Restaurants would buy all you can catch. I’ll be your middleman, and we’ll both get rich.” “Maybe so, but by catching just enough to feed my family and earn a decent living, I have time to be with my wife, play with my children, go to the village piazza in the evenings and enjoy the company of my friends.” “I can secure financing to buy you a larger boat, hire a crew, and set up accounts with restaurants,” the entrepreneur persisted. “In time you could own several boats, become a wealthy man, build a big beautiful home, and send your kids to the finest universities.” “How long would it take do all these things?” The fisherman asked. “If you work hard and spend long days at sea, probably no more than twenty years,” responded the entrepreneur. “And then what?” “You can retire, live in a peaceful little village on the seacoast, sleep late, play with your children, spend quality time with your wife, and go to the piazza in the evenings to be with your friends.” The Italian walked away, laughing to himself. Confident that I had caught the drift of her story, Mama sipped her tea, gave me that listen-to-me-boy look, and said, “If you expand your apiary, I will call you what you are: Pazzo!”