My surname comes from scattered houses on hills not far from Fornovo Taro, in the province of Parma. The paternal grandmother's family had roots in the town of Medesano, because of what it is. In short, those parts of my ancestors were there for centuries: some interesting history, perhaps I remember it still. There is also a remarkable similarity between our first and last name of that hamlet, which curiously coincides with that of a suburb of Naples: Miano. And Uncle Cap d'Ail (actually it was my grandmother's cousin!), The which I have already mentioned other times, it was Bernini's last name, as the great artist of the Baroque, from Campania, as you know. Coincidence, of course, but sufficient to allow some simple jest!
The first time, little boy, I went over there I was pleased to find that their uncle on vacation there, which made regular reference to the here and across the border with France.
Another person at that time I began to know better, as the first popular only in Milan, where he worked as a taxi driver, a brother of his grandmother, whose form is jovial and generous to me it is becoming clearer with each passing year . That fu mio cicerone per farmi conoscere lontani parenti soprattutto dal lato Maini e tanti posti, nonché autista praticamente personale, così come faceva volentieri, specie poi una volta in pensione, per tutti noi. Storie di emigrazione, dunque, e ce ne sono state tante altre in quelle famiglie. Ma in genere, a diversità dalle condizioni tratteggiate in "Novecento" di Bertolucci, la ricerca di lavoro altrove derivava dallo spezzettamento di poderi causato dagli incrementi di prole, ancora diffusi tra Ottocento e Novecento. Ho conosciuto dunque tanti prozii, con relativi cugini per me di secondo grado, all'insegna di un ritrovarsi sempre casuale e gioioso.
Another person at that time I began to know better, as the first popular only in Milan, where he worked as a taxi driver, a brother of his grandmother, whose form is jovial and generous to me it is becoming clearer with each passing year . That fu mio cicerone per farmi conoscere lontani parenti soprattutto dal lato Maini e tanti posti, nonché autista praticamente personale, così come faceva volentieri, specie poi una volta in pensione, per tutti noi. Storie di emigrazione, dunque, e ce ne sono state tante altre in quelle famiglie. Ma in genere, a diversità dalle condizioni tratteggiate in "Novecento" di Bertolucci, la ricerca di lavoro altrove derivava dallo spezzettamento di poderi causato dagli incrementi di prole, ancora diffusi tra Ottocento e Novecento. Ho conosciuto dunque tanti prozii, con relativi cugini per me di secondo grado, all'insegna di un ritrovarsi sempre casuale e gioioso.
Indubbiamente film come "Novecento", cui ho appena fatto cenno, ma ancor più "Questa specie di amore" di Bevilacqua, alla loro uscita mi fecero d'improvviso ripensare con intensità a queste mie origini che ormai, preso dal mio pieno ingresso nell'età adulta, stavo discretamente trascurando. Questi film, non altri, non altre opere letterarie, per diverse motivazioni, alcune proprio d'impatto con una mia personale rivisitazione della nostra saga familiare: da cui adesso estrapolo tuttavia solo il forte messaggio sociale, democratico ed antifascista contenuto in quelle pellicole, perché mi sembra di forte, stringente, amara attualità.
In fact, in all honesty, even now if I happen to think of those lands are naturally reminded me of the curious things, minimal. There are so many, so I will confine myself to a few examples. Sgambati long bike up to Parma, which I forgot when I talked about cycling, even more interesting because I saw for the first time (imagine how many years have passed!) Of bicycle paths, all on the sidelines of the Via Emilia. Castelli, many castles, all well preserved. The fog in mid-morning, arriving by train from Milan. September, a lovely September in the lands, the colors of nature and the warmth of the air.
In separate boxes for different reasons, I put two more memories, more clear, connected to that my first visit. At the time, especially down at the Taro, there were vast expanses of tomatoes, a sign of that wealth, I was told, after the war finally came forward so widespread. And then I was impressed the explorer Bottego monument in front of the station of Parma, of which my father made me a comprehensive explanation on the occasion: a memory left in mind, perhaps because they are interested in stories like "Heart of Darkness "Conrad and other so-called explorers, who, indeed, they took me away now if only you mentioned. Except that I recently learned that the statue lies, because the long redesign of the airport passengers, some in stock. But I learned why - the combination of life! - I was told in telephone conversation by a blogger of Parma, as it happens my childhood friend in Ventimiglia, with whom I took a few months ago, the contacts through the streets of an inscrutable socialnetwork that is the most popular. This friend of mine has also talked about recent archaeological discoveries, hoping they know as soon as something more than an inverter in the light of the intriguing ancient story of Parma.
Yeah. Parma city. Of course, l'incomparabile bellezza di Battistero e Duomo, la Pilotta, Palazzo Ducale, tanti altri monumenti, la storia, l'arte, il Parmigianino, la letteratura, nella letteratura: io mi limito a citare solo quello che un po' ho conosciuto. Tanto é stato scritto, ma tanto sarebbe, come mi auguro venga fatto, ancora da scrivere.
La mia é solo, come sempre, una storia un po' così. Con una differenza. Che questa volta questa storia - prendo abusivamente a prestito una frase abbastanza nota in questo periodo - é solo un'anteprima!
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