The words of the prophets
are written on the subway walls
and tenement halls
and whispered in the sounds of silence.
Above: people fastened Post-it notes to the walls of the subway in New York City yesterday, prayers laical and religious, uttered in disbelief (photos by via Ben Shapiro).
“You’re going back to a different America than the one you left,” said one of my best friends in Italy yesterday as we continued to parse the meaning of the Trump presidency, the uncertainties it brings, and the dark future it conjures.
“Our only hope is in the Republicans,” he added, noting that the party of the American Right is the only political force that can reel in our newly elected, often unpredictable, and famously temperamental president.
From the 20-something students at the University of Gastronomic Sciences to my middle-aged Italian wine trade counterparts, not one person I spoke to expressed optimism this week in the wake of the election. I’ll just leave it at that.
Driving to Milan from Piedmont yesterday evening, I realized that actually I’m not going back to a different America. In fact, I’m going back to the America that always was and has been: the America I had conveniently (however wrongly and unwisely) chosen to ignore and the America who elected Donald Trump and delivered him and all the baggage that comes with him to the White House.
His overt misogyny, his latent and manifest bigotry, and his revolting macho swagger were no match for the hopes, desires, and dreams of the socially, culturally, and economically disenfranchised among us. In the end, their aspirations for our country trumped Trump. And so be it. So it is and so it will be. It’s their fair-and-square turn to lead us into the future. Echoing the vanquished, I believe that we owe it to them to let them lead and we owe it to them to support them in their endeavor to succeed.
Congratulations, Mr. Trump, and congratulations to all those who supported him. Let me be the first to say that I am with you even though I wasn’t among you. You are my sisters and brothers and I am your countryman. Lead on and I will follow and support you, not begrudgingly but earnestly and hopefully however mindfully.
And the words of the prophets are written on the subway walls and tenement halls…

Please see
What a thrill for me to lead my first seminar on the UniSG campus this morning! 
Above: Taking a photograph of grapes (like these Chardonnay grapes) is a form of enography or wine writing. Some would argue it’s one of the purest forms because it simply captures a fleeting moment in the grape vine’s (and the wine’s) growing cycle.
Dear Georgia P and Lila Jane, 
Recently, I read Alfonso Cevola’s blog post
Our thoughts and prayers go out to our sisters and brothers in central Italy this morning: a 6.6 magnitude earthquake struck Norcia (Umbria) shortly before 8 a.m. today (local time).
I’m heading back to Italy tomorrow and will be driving through central Italy on my way to Naples later this week. I’ll report back if I learn anything new about the situation on the ground there.
How could I not share the photo of the pizza (above) that I devoured joyfully last night at Bufalina in Austin.
Above: like me, Sotto’s new wine director Christine Veys attended U.C.L.A. She was featured this summer in U.C.L.A. Magazine.
As I continue to prepare for the seminars on English-language wine writing and wine blogging that I will be leading next week and the following (as part of the UniSG