XLIX - My cousin the Baron
In my first year of university, attending with me there was an illegitimate son of a cousin of my father whose name was Salvatore, like me, and that everybody knew in Catania as the cavalier. I do not think it was really a cavalier, I think it was a faccendiere who had become a millionaire many times and in as many times failed. His son took the surname of her mother and had a mania for nobility. He had even invented a noble family name of the Barons of Valasquo to which he claimed to belong and in his business cards and letterhead had this emblem with five balls. I remember one day we went together to the post office, which was run by a distant relative of mine, Tano Di Bella. When he saw the five balls on the envelope said, “Wow, five balls!” And my cousin back, “and two seven. All at your disposal.” The poor Tano did not add anything. In those times I used tp paint a lot and my cousin asked me to paint for him a coat of arms with a shield and a rampant lion as the emblem of the house of the barons of Valasquo. While we were doing this work, one day came the father of my cousin and said to his son: “Instead of the shield and the lion there I would put a fuscella of ricotta and a dog herd. We shepherders are!” This cousin of mine, used to attend all the nobility of Catania and had introduced me to many of them as the son of the biggest landowner of Bronte. He could tell bales with naturalness unheard of and could make people believe impossible things. Although illegitimate was a true son of his father. I lost sight of him during the war. I do not know if he is still alive, but someone told me that during the war he had married in a small town in Tuscany, and returned to Catania, had married the widow of a baron of Catania, for which it seems has been convicted of bigamy. I do not know if this is true or false. I was told that as a They say. I would not swear to the veracity of these facts. 30/12/2013 L - My first pair of shorts
You could ask yourself: Can a man of ninety three years of age remember when he was three years old? Well, I do remember. And I remember very well. In those days male children, up to three or four years of age, were wearing small women’s dresses. When I was three and a half years old my mother made me a pair of blue shorts with pockets - pants similar to those worn by men. I wore them and I was proud to be able to put my hands in my pockets. I decided to go out to the street and let everyone see my new shorts. Outside there was a tinsmith who had lit some charcoal in a corner of the street, and was tinning a large copper cauldron. There a lot of people milling around and I went with my hands in my pockets, hoping that someone would notice me. No one noticed anything - absolutely no one! I can still clearly remember the disillusionment and disappointment I felt at that age when I returned to the door of my house that I had left open. I was about to climb the stairs when I saw my sister Linda, two years younger than me, then just a toddler and only beginning to walk. Suddenly she came tumbling down the stairs. I rested my elbows on a step and waited until she reached me, though by this time she was screaming like crazy. My mother thought that it was my fault as, when coming down that stairs, I had not closed the gate that prevented my sister from falling down them. At the time, my sister was called Clorinda, and it was me who had given her the name of Linda when I was twelve or thirteen years old. I had learned that in Spanish Linda meant clean while Clorinda, the name of our aunt who had baptized her, was a name I did not like at all. 3/01/2014 LI - English for children
As I think I may have mentioned earlier, I started to use the computer when I was sixty years old with an Apple II, and I quite quickly learned how to do some things with it. When, in 1984, Apple invented the MacIntosh, that little magic box with which you could really do so many things, I think I was the first owner of that object in Sydney – well, at least that’s what the supplier from whom I had ordered the computer told me. He said that it had just been released in the United States. I had even brought this Macintosh to Italy with me when I came here to stay, and I gave it to my grandnephew and godson. Though it’s an old relic, it still works. With that device I did many extraordinary things. With the help of the program ToolBook I had even begun to put together a program called ‘English for Children’ which consisted of a long series of drawings, below which, I used to label each photo in Italian and English. Clicking on the name you could hear the English or Italian pronunciation of the object you had touched. It was a very simple thing but twenty-seven years ago it meant something. I had given this program to my daughter Sandra who had installed it in her computer. I was told that my first grandchild Sarah, who was then two and a half or three years old, would use it when they sat down to breakfast. She used to go into her mother’s study, click on the picture of the horse and then go back into the kitchen saying, “Cavalo”. Now, many years later, that same adorable granddaughter has a degree in environmental informatics, is married to a charming and very tall mining engineer and lives happily in a town near Sydney. 06/01/2014 LII - At Anne’s wedding
I have a niece, my sister’s Rosa daughter, who, poor thing, was named Emerenziana Romeo. Now, Romeo as a surname is not too bad, but you have to be straight-out irresponsible to give a child a name like Emerenziana. Luckily we have always called her Zina and the problem has been somewhat resolved, but when she has to sign legal documents the problem arises again and they are bitter pills for her to swallow. Having said all of that, Zina had two children for whom she chose brilliant names - Richard and Annamaria. Why I am telling you these things is because some thirteen years ago, Annamaria got married. Miss Rosetta Costanzo, her nephew John, my niece Zina and I attended Annamaria’s wedding. For this we had to go to Australia on the opposite side of the world. The wedding was in Liverpool, a suburb of Sydney where my niece Zina (Emerenziana) lived with her brother Sandro, an excellent painter of beautiful flowers, and four dachshunds of a particularly glossy black. The house was big enough to accommodate all of us. The plane ride was rather long, and John very much enjoyed listening to the jokes that I kept telling. On arrival, we met the boyfriend of Anna, a young Australian of, from memory, Germanic origin. He is very intelligent and has a very pleasant appearance. John quickly made friends with Richard, Anna’s brother, who was about the same age. I must start by saying that when my sister Rosa and her husband Angelo were still alive, I would go, at least once a week, and stay and eat with them, so I had known Anna since she was a little girl and I watched her grow up and become a woman. She was a very intelligent and beautiful girl, who wrote really well. I had suggested to her that she choose a career in journalism. She undertook this course of study and enjoyed considerable success. In fact, I remember that during the wedding ceremony, which was attended by many colleagues and some newspaper editors, they congratulated me for having suggested that Anna choose journalism as a career. She now has two beautiful children that I saw on Facebook. I hope to see them soon on Skype just as soon as I can connect with my attractive great grandchild. A few weeks after the wedding, Rosetta and John decided to return to Bronte for school commitments of the young John, and I and my niece, after spending some time with my daughters and participating with them in several unforgettable lunches and dinners at some of the best Sydney’s restaurants, went to stay for a couple of weeks, in a luxurious apartment of Main Beach in Queensland. If I remember correctly, we were guests of my daughter, Marilyn. After that we decided to return to Italy, but we stopped for a day or two in Singapore, where I was able to show my niece some of the wonders of these areas of the world that are greatly surpassing the development of European countries. This trip was definitely a pleasant one, though that was my last visit to the land that was for me, a true second homeland. 9/2/2014 LIII - Professor De Cavicchi
When I was in high school attending Capizzi College , I had a professor of history and philosophy named De Cavicchi. He was tall and robust, serene, unruffled but with certain personal characteristics that made him unique and memorable. He had a manner of doing things that, sometimes, could appear to be strange and incomprehensible, however, he was very pleasant to all of us. Every school day, he came into the classroom with the newspaper La Sicilia. After greeting us, he would sit in his chair and often called a student called Bruno Minissale saying, “Let’s hear what you have studied today!” As Bruno spoke, the Professor would read the newspaper. Poor Bruno was not always prepared, thus he would often stand next to the chair without saying a single word. After about five or six minutes, the Professor used to say: “Louder, please! I can’t hear you!” Minissale shrugged but kept silent. After several more minutes the Professor folded up the newspaper, sent the student to his place, without saying a word and began the lesson that, if I remember correctly, was always polished and very learned. This happened every single day but we were used to it and no one was surprised. Another thing that he would often say, turning to me, was: “Now we’ll hear Di Bello!” I clarified that my name was Di Bella and he asked me: “Are you female?” One day in class I said, “Excuse me, Professor De Cavicco …” He replied, “De Cavicchi, please!” And I replied, “Are you two?” The professor thought for a moment and then said, “Point taken”. From that day on he did not call me Di Bello ever again. 20/02/2014 LIV - Carmelo Genovese
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