The Unseen Threads of Gratitude
In May 2015, I was in Rome producing a Broadway play — a venture that was as thrilling as it was taxing. One evening, seeking a break from the relentless pace, I gathered some friends who were visiting from out of town and we set out to find a place to unwind. We wandered through the maze of ancient streets until we stumbled upon a quaint, unassuming restaurant. Its name didn’t register; all we knew was that it beckoned us inside with the warm glow of its lights and the tantalizing aroma of authentic Italian cooking.
We settled into a cozy corner outdoors under the awning, and I ordered a simple plate of carbonara. When it arrived, the dish was sublime — creamy, rich and perfectly balanced. But what made the night unforgettable wasn’t just the food; it was the laughter that bubbled up from our table, the stories we shared and the sense of camaraderie that enveloped us. Time seemed to blur as the hours slipped by. It was one of those rare nights where joy feels effortless, where everything clicks into place without you even realizing it.
For years after that night, I carried the essence of that experience with me. It inspired me to start hosting dinner parties focused on gratitude, bringing people together to share meals and meaningful conversations. These gatherings became the heart of my first book, Gratitude and Pasta, which chronicles how food and fellowship can transform lives. Yet, despite often recounting the story of that magical evening in Rome, I never recalled the name of the restaurant where it all began. The details had faded, overshadowed by the feeling the night had left me with.
Fast forward to February 2020.
I returned to Rome, this time with my father. Armed with a copy of my new book, I wanted to retrace my steps, to reconnect with the city that had given me so much. As we meandered through the familiar streets, something caught my eye — a sign that read “Poldo e Gianna.” A rush of memories flooded back. This was it. This was the place where that unforgettable night had unfolded.
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“Dad, wait,” I said, stopping in my tracks. “I think this is the restaurant I told you about.”
We stepped inside, and it was as if we had entered a time capsule. The same wooden tables with white tableclothes, the same warm ambiance — it all came rushing back. I realized that I had been telling the story of this place for years, yet I had never thought to remember its name, let alone thank the people who had created the environment for such a pivotal moment in my life.
Feeling a mix of excitement and humility, I approached the maitre’d, a gracious woman with kind eyes. “Your staff won’t remember me,” I began, “but five years ago, I had one of the best nights of my life here. It inspired a journey that’s led me back to you.” I handed her a copy of Gratitude and Pasta. “I wanted to thank you for the role your restaurant played in my story.”
She looked at the book, then back at me. She was not the owner of the restaurant, but nonetheless, I think she understood that I was trying to give her thanks, even though she probably hadn’t worked their five years prior.
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As my father and I enjoyed another plate of their exquisite carbonara, I couldn’t help but reflect on how easily I had overlooked the importance of this place. I had celebrated the experience but forgotten to acknowledge the people and the setting that made it possible.
It struck me how many moments and individuals quietly shape our lives without us ever recognizing their influence. We often express gratitude for the obvious blessings — the supportive friend, the loving family member — but what about the subtle forces that steer us in new directions? The chance encounters, the unnamed places, the people working behind the scenes?
As we left Poldo e Gianna that night, I felt a profound sense of completion. Not only had I reconnected with a lost piece of my history, but I had also been given the chance to express gratitude that was long overdue.
Back home, at my next gratitude dinner, I shared this updated story with my guests. I then posed some new question: “Who or what have you never thought to thank?”
The responses were deeply moving. One guest spoke of a teacher who had encouraged her passion for art, whose name she couldn’t recall but whose impact was undeniable. Another mentioned a stranger who had offered kind words during a tough time, words that had lingered and helped him persevere.
This experience taught me that gratitude isn’t just about acknowledging what’s obvious; it’s about digging deeper to recognize the unseen threads that weave through our lives. It’s about being mindful of the unnoticed gifts that shape us — the restaurant whose name we forget, the people we overlook, the moments we fail to appreciate.
So now, I invite you to reflect: Who or what have you never thought to thank? What is your ‘Poldo e Gianna’? Where have you felt the pure joy of being alive, and who were you with? Perhaps it’s a place you frequented during a pivotal time in your life, a book that changed your perspective or a fleeting interaction that left a lasting impression. Take a moment to delve into those memories. You might find that there’s someone — or something — that played a significant role in your journey without you even realizing it.
And if you can, reach out. Offer your thanks, even if it’s years later. You never know the difference it might make — not just in their life, but in yours as well. Sometimes, closing the loop of gratitude opens new doors of connection and understanding.
After all, it’s often the unnoticed moments and unsung heroes that contribute the most to who we become.