Half a world away from Narrowsburg, on a Tuscan hillside, I send my thoughts back home like little arrows across the sea. It is relatively easy now, in the Internet era, to give and get thoughts and images from here to there. Although the distances remain great, breaching them requires only a leap of faith and a modem. 

In a pre-arranged moment of connectivity, my husband and children waved to me from the bridge on our property in Narrowsburg as I watched them on a computer screen from a sitting room in Rome, Italy. The technology we used was rustic compared to some in use today, but it enabled me to see real-time images of my son and daughter and husband kicking snow into the Delaware as I sipped cappuccino and exclaimed to the locals, “Mi famiglia!”

As with my family, I am communicating this week’s column via Internet. It is a kind of post-card, minus the pretty picture. I have been blessed with two week’s vacation in Europe, traveling with a childhood friend and without family. It is a rare treat and sweeter for its rarity.

Our journey began in Rome, progressed by train to Florence and will take us by car through parts of Tuscany. I write this from the medieval city of Siena, roughly halfway between Rome and Florence. 

Siena is a walled city. There are many of them in this part of the world. Sited on a high hill to protect it from approaching armies, it is a fortress against enemies and a treasure chest of Renaissance art and architecture. 

Earlier this week, in Rome, I toured the Coliseum with a young Italian guide who warned us that early documents threaten “when the Coliseum falls, so will the world.” Looking at the colossal but half-standing structure, I thought I would not want to bet the farm on it. All over Rome, there are ruins of that early empire that is so often compared to our own great democracy.  So, too, are specters of the war to come, in headlines and graffiti written on Roman walls: “No guerra!”

Looking for souvenirs for my children, I found t-shirts newly designed for the contemporary conflict with slogans like “No War 100%.” Europe is braced for the worst. The world is much smaller here. With no ocean to insulate them from the spectacle of war, Europeans take this conflict very personally.

As my friend and I crossed one of the many hillsides here on our way from Florence, a roaring jet punctured the still air and brought back flashes of destruction in both our minds. It may have been a military jet from one of the American bases near here, or a passenger jet flying low, but its sound recalled fear.

Medieval leaders put up walls against their enemies. The sturdy fortification of cities like San Gemignano and Siena remind us of the need to insulate against destruction. But what would 13th century politicians have done to protect us from modern threats? In their day bubonic plague wiped out whole cities. Now plagues are manufactured as weapons, and delivered with missiles. Their walls are useless against modern warfare.

This weekend, my family will travel to Washington, D.C. to add their voices to the many who are asking for a peaceful solution to our current version of this ancient problem of conflict. As they do, I will descend from the walled cities of Tuscany and, in my own leap of faith, find my way home in a modern jet.