Winemaker Magazine Leaves Precious Memories
ability to get people to talk about themselves. Although conversations rarely lulled at the Conca house, every once in awhile, Romeo would ask poet Kate Reavey about her inspiration for a particular poem, or author Tim McNutt about his wanderings throughout the Olympic Mountains.
Romeo loved the English language and people who also shared a love of words surrounded him. Sometimes the conversations turned to politics, but it rarely got heavy or heated.
Like a patriarch guiding his family, Romeo would steer conversations away from tragic topics or conversations that bordered on the very personal.
"Which comes first for you Christina - the lyrics or the melody?" he asked one night about my songwriting. "Since you are a writer, I would guess the lyrics come first, but I am not a musician."
I thought about it for a few moments and responded.
"It differs from song to song," I said. "After a glass or two of your wine, I will fall asleep and hear music. So, I guess I owe you some royalties - if I ever made any money from it."
Laughter erupted around the table and a new set of conversations began. I looked up and saw Romeo glancing around the table, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.
Romeo was genteel, but I remember once when a group of friends gathered at a French restaurant for dinner Romeo asked if he could open a bottle of his wine.
The waiter sniffed, checked with the proprietor and announced the cork fee. Romeo offered a glass of wine to the owner, who later said to me that French wines were so much better than Italian blends.
I passed the information on to Romeo and watched his face darken. He suddenly smiled.
"The French would have you believe they are God's chosen people," he said with a chuckle. "They would have you believe that grapes grown in France have God's seal of approval."
It's been four years since Romeo died of cancer. The winery is operating smoothly under Steve and Sue's guidance. The house has been remodeled to expand the wine tasting room. The big table where so many dinner conversations took place is gone.
Yet, there is still something of Romeo that lingers in that magical place. Maybe it's the wind whistling through the pine trees surrounding the winery. Or a familiar smell that almost evokes a memory, then quickly disappears. He's there somewhere, and we all miss him.
But, most of us like
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