Welcome, Dear Giulia Foundation
Thank you so much for coming today. Welcome to this event—a concert offered by wonderful musicians and close friends—to launch the Giulia Foundation.
Imagine a small bird, its features still ruffled, standing at the edge of her nest. Looking out. She has practiced, she has imagined deploying her wings, dreamed of soaring into the sky. But lurching into this unknown remains a little impressive. It is far easier to do so among friends, in your company.
Thank you for being here.
Dear children, you too are most welcome. This is a day celebrating children.
Don’t be disappointed if I don’t climb up a ladder and attempt to fly in front of your eyes.
I was speaking figuratively. Today, it is the Giulia Foundation that takes for the skies; that begins its journey to help children who are not as fortunate as you are. Children who are alone, without parents, or with parents who are not well, unable to care for them, children who have travelled from countries with wars, or famines—without food, looking for a safer place to also lead their lives, to bloom, on this little planet of ours.
Today, the Giulia Foundation becomes public. It is a registered non-profit. Its website went live this morning. Its programs, which have been small scale pilots so far, will grow, drawing in more volunteers, touching more children.
We organized this concert to mark the occasion, and to offer something back to you, who have been so kind, so interested, so supportive.
But not just that. The hope is that we are all lifted by today’s music. So we can accompany the Giulia Foundation in its maiden flight and beyond. Participate in this project together. Take a child, together, by his or her other hand to fly fourth.
This is your Foundation too. We are sharing its beginnings—that means a lot. Many of you have already so kindly offered to donate to the Foundation. We have received pledges in excess of 40’000 dollars, for which we are incredibly grateful, and which will make an enormous difference to develop the programs of the Giulia Foundation.
But there are other ways to fly together too. You may want to volunteer, you may have ideas, precious experiences to offer. Or just your presence, a message, a smile will always make an enormous difference. Flying, in fact, is simple.
The Giulia Foundation finds source, and inspiration, in this same simplicity. From the beginning, it was perfectly clear what the Foundation would be about. Giulia told us. She did not whisper it, nor did she tug us forward. We walked along her side, as always, skipping to keep up, holding her hand; one hand, as in the other she clasped that of a child in need.
Giulia was always a little mother to others, and dreamt of becoming a mother of many children. She does so in part through this Foundation.
William, who just played today, recalls, “[Giulia] would pretend to take care of me for real. She would tell me what time it was and whether or not it was time to go to bed. She would always protect me from bad guys.” Sammy added, “Giulia picked up people who don't have any friends, or whose friends don't want to play with them anymore, and she let them play with her."
We are following Giulia’s example of generosity, of sensitivity, of joy, strength and stability, of simplicity.
Giving, caring, is living. Our simplest, yet most essential, gesture—breathing—is just that. We don’t serve ourselves of air, nor does air spring into us. We create space, by expanding our lungs, to invite air in…if it wants to. It is an adoption—gentle, respectful, loving. We breathe as we cradle a baby that is not ours—no baby is ours—as we take a child by the hand.
We are trying to maintain this same simplicity, the same connection to what is fundamental, with the Giulia Foundation.
We have spent the last year trying to understand the needs of vulnerable children in the Washington DC area. I have worked weekly, along with volunteers in this room, Ladina Braun among others, with children in a homeless shelter. And Deborah has undergone a hands-on certification to care for refugee children.
These are children with enormous needs. Beyond the basic and immediate physiological needs—food and health—their access to learning is poor and irregular, they may have missed important years of cognitive development, they may lack role models, connections, social acceptance. But never hope. Never completely.
One fundamental need is emotional stability. That is the first area we have targeted in our pilot projects over the last year. And will be our focus for the year ahead, as we grow what we call the “heart-and-soul” program.
The hope is to allow children to express themselves through art, while building confidence in themselves, and in life.
Vulnerable children have stories to tell, feelings to let out, hardships to externalize, worries to contend with. Words often make them feel vulnerable, and are difficult to muster—as they are for anyone trying to express complicated emotions.
Art is instead a much more indirect form of expression, though one that can be deeper, if anything because its creative and playful character helps appease restraints and apprehensions.
Working with one’s hands, moving, singing is in-itself soothing, centering. It teaches children they have talents, that it is worth pursuing their imagination, being confident of their ideas, working in groups, relying on others, and helping their peers.
I remember well one night at the homeless shelter. We wanted to build houses of cardboard, but the person running the shelter told us no way, it may stir past traumas in the kids. So we told the kids they could make whatever they wanted. And of course, they made, houses! All except for little Ajay, 7 years old, who remained hidden behind chairs in a corner of the room. “You can’t see me,” he told me after some time. “No-one can see me.” But slowly, the laughter of his peers, and the first cardboard houses that emerged, began to lure him into the group. Gradually he came to the tables, and took up a piece of cardboard himself, along with some scissors and scotch tape, and began his own creation. He was meticulous, careful, absorbed in his work—and quiet. As he eventually placed the stairs to the first floor, he asked me in a gentle voice, if I could pass him the glue stick. He had forgotten that I could not see him. He later told me his house would be red; he would continue working on it.
That is the magic of art.
We intend to grow the heart-and-soul program next year by working with schools to establish regular volunteer programs, so children can work with children—well, teens— with artists to offer more variety of crafts, with existing organizations to also bring music to vulnerable children. We hope to establish a small physical presence, a room perhaps, closer to where the children reside, where we can host workshops, maybe have a potter’s wheel, a set of instruments, a wall to expose their artwork.
Our aim is to offer strength through psycho-emotional balance. And on this more solid ground, later build other programs. Two are planned. The “hand-in-hand” program to establish mentors and role models will aim to offer inspiration. And the “grow a skill” program, built in part on the arts, will aim to enhance the employment opportunities of older children.
Eventually, our goal is to also to partner with respected and well established organizations abroad, in Vietnam and Nepal to start with—places where we have lived and worked for some time—to jointly develop a heart-and-soul program there.
That is the vision. But for now our focus will be in DC, where we can be involved directly, intensely, hopefully also with you.
We invite you to join hands with us, with the many volunteers and donors here today, and with the children the Giulia Foundation aims to support.
Thank you so much.