“My son’s namesake, Ciro Menotti, dared to dream that. He dared to stand up to the Austrians and tell them that they could not oppress us any longer. That there would be an Italy and it would be glorious. But Ciro Menotti paid dearly for that dream. The Austrians killed him, all because he wanted a free fatherland.

“We are on the brink of seeing that dream come true. We are the lucky few who can stand here today and bear witness to the creation of a country. If you are lucky enough to see the hairs on your head go white or for your bones to creak, you can sit with your grandchildren on your knee and you can tell them you were here. You can tell them that you did something that mattered, that because of you they have a future. A future that is full of hope. A future that is free.”

The crowd erupted into loud cheers. “Will you stand by and watch while others bear the burden of history, or will you rise up so that your children can go forth with pride, so that they can say, ‘This is who I am. This is where I come from.’ So that they can say, ‘I am an Italian.’”

“Viva Italia!” The crowd erupted. “Viva Italia!”

I walked back to José and the other men. “You’re welcome.” I kissed José on the cheek as he took my place at the podium.

I listened to José as he rode on the energy of the crowd. For a while, he chanted with them. “Viva Italia! Viva Italia!” He grinned like he had on the day Menotti was born. He held up his hand and immediately the crowd stilled. “My compagni, wasn’t my wife something? You can see why I stole her from Brazil, yes? As she so eloquently stated, we need unification.” He looked around the crowd. “But France has determined that Rome should be its own country. That they shall not take part in our dream of Italy. How can we be unified when we have a country within a country? If your son is missing, do you not search for him? Do you not bring him back into the fold of the family hearth?

“While in exile I prayed, nay, implored God that I would see Rome one more time. The cradle of our civilization. The birthplace of everything we are. Everything we hope to be is controlled by a man who dares elevate himself to the level of sainthood. Who calls himself pope.” Gasps rippled through the crowd. “Yes, I said it. The pope is only a man. For how can he call himself the voice of God when he does not want equality for every Italian, regardless of the color of their skin, their gender, or their religion? Pope Pius seeks to stifle us. Every day he passes edicts that restrict the Romans’ freedom. That creates inequality. Join me! Together we will march on Rome and say, ‘No more!’ We are one people united by our devotion to justice! To freedom! To Italy! Together we will tell the world that we will no longer stand for other countries interfering in the business of this peninsula!”