Don't Forget...

As so often happens, the last days of vacation were the bittersweet best. For Jacqueline Kennedy, returning late last week to the U.S. and her place as First Lady, there were the memories of the dancing, the lilting music, the faces of friendly people, the beaches, the blue, starred nights--and of the sadness of leaving Ravello.

There had been the moment when Ravello's mayor presented Jackie with a parchment scroll making her an honorary citizen. Speaking in slightly imperfect Italian, she said: "I am very happy that the only place to which I belong outside my own country is Ravello, a beautiful city in one of the countries I love most--where people are so noble and gentle, and where my daughter and I have passed days of peace and happiness." There was a reception afterward, the band played a specially composed march, Jacqueliniana and the Marine Corps Hymn--the leader, for some reason, thought it was the U.S.

national anthem.

All this took place during Ravello's celebration of the Feast of St. Pantaleone.

There little Caroline--looking like a Sargent painting come to life--appeared in native costume and a kerchief, and kept time to the music with a little tambourine. And back at the villa, serenaders filled the night sky with their songs--Torna a Surriento, 0 sole mio, and Maria, Marl. There was even a lullaby composed just for Caroline, called Tarantella Ravellese. It lost something in translation but nothing in sentiment: A welcome like this we From Ravello must give to you, Returning to America, and happy You remember Italy.

Caroline, go to sleep; Dream, my dear, and the waves and The children of all the world Send you a little kiss.

Don't forget this little town, Beautiful, simple and kind, That would be grateful If you did not leave at all.

But leave they had to. There was one last journey to the beach, one last session at the hairdresser's, one last ice creamcone--both for Caroline and her mother.

In those final hours, Jackie and some friends motorboated to the Isle of Capri to shop and stroll through the main square and its sea of cafe tables. Then back to Ravello--and farewell. Crowds lined the streets, from the villa to the town square, to wave addio. But for all her happiness to be home, the melody could only linger on: Don't forget this little town Beautiful, simple and kind . . .

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.