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CENTOQUARANTADUE DOES THE ENCORE

Dec 19, 2021 | THE X-MAS CAROLS

I have already told you about the blog Centoquarantadue and how it is made up of two Souls: She, who wrote the story n. 3 of the Advent calendar, and He.

On this Sunday before Christmas Centoquarantadue does an encore and gives us the story by He.

I state that I already had my eyes to heart reading the presentation: I am He, who adores She. Writing together allows us to maintain a deep bond, despite the distance and other unspecified adversities.

Simply wonderful words.

And as if that weren’t enough, the story also moved me particularly because it awakened a memory linked to my Mom.

I don’t want to reveal anything but I advise you not to miss this Christmas Surprise:

There were just a few days before Christmas and, like every year, the delivery of the prize for kindness was held in the village: during the year, whoever wanted, could report one or more people who had distinguished themselves for acts of generosity, and at the end of the year , just before Christmas, the chosen ones were rewarded during an official ceremony attended by almost the whole country … go on here.

PRACTICE RANDOM KINDNESS AND SENSELESS ACTS OF BEAUTY

Nov 13, 2021 | WORLD

Practice random kindness and senseless acts of beauty Anne Herbert’s popular precept has been expanded by Margaret Pavel into a powerful message for our era, and for all ages. Combined with Mayumi Oda’s watercolor art in the playful style of picture scrolls from 12th century Japan, offers delight and timeless wisdom.

I don’t know about you, but these days I really feel the need to re-share this sentence.

It is said that it was written on a restaurant’s paper placemat and I believe exactly that all the best inspirations are born more or less like this.

So I would like to write it wherever possible, but especially on the heart.

I would like to write keep calm and spread random kindness.

I hear and read too much hate.

I don’t care one side or the other, I don’t care above, below, sooner or later, because when hatred spreads, no one is right.

Yet we have a lot of history behind us, and we certainly do not lack examples.

‘Tis but thy name that is my enemy…
What’s in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other word would smell as sweet.

These are words that we all know practically by heart.

They are “ancient” words, but only because they were written in 1595 but sadly they could be from yesterday.

No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion, people must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite..

Another creepy example, you don’t even need to write about who these words are.

We remind them, let’s spread them.

If mine are too stupid, use those of The Great … precursor of the concept of spreading goodness:

We have developed speed, but we have shut ourselves in. Machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical. Our cleverness, hard and unkind. We think too much and feel too little. More than machinery we need humanity. More than cleverness we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost.

DIAVAL, STRIA, PANGIALD E OSS DI MORT – DEVIL, WITCH, YELLOW BREAD AND DEAD’S BONES COOKIES

Oct 28, 2021 | ITALY

These are days of heavy thoughts and perhaps for this reason even more I feel an instinctive call towards traditions, as if I could find a kind of refuge.

So I re-launch the invitation to share ideas or recipes that refer to Halloween rather than Samhain.

After having definitely appreciated the pumpkin pie, I wanted to try to recover the recipes of Lomellina.

But apparently we are more predisposed to the oral tradition without then bothering to transfer in writing …

In fact, it is a feat to find sources other than the same phrase bounced more or less at random without confirmation.

Annalisa Alberici wrote very well about this in the book Cucina del Pavese della Lomellina and Oltrepo

on page 13 there is an important question:
Does Pavese cuisine exist?

The answer is long and complex, but in short:
I must admit: over the centuries the cuisine of Pavia was never written. Or it was by chance.

Apparently Pavia cuisine is just like the beautiful silence… and as soon as I read this sentence I could not help but smile, thinking back to the memory of the sentence my grandmother used to repeat to me.

In reality, however, I also found another book that talks about Milan with reference to the Visconti‘s period, which therefore it can be considered extended to Vigevano

and it also mentions Pavia:

At the table, the sadness of the day of the dead, with its traditional visits to the cemetery, yields to the traditional dishes that require the biella (pot) with supa coi sisar (chickpea soup) enriched with pork rinds, and pangiald or bread of the dead. Now pangiald can be bought in bakeries or pastry shops, but it was once baked in the home oven.

It is true that my family is contaminated, but we have never eaten chickpeas… so the pangiald remains right.

All Saints’ Day, bread … this phrase comes to mind:
The two best and holiest smells are those of warm bread and rain-soaked earth.
Ardengo Soffici

Here it rains less and less, but the earth is still wet: by fog.

So, rather than for the kitchen, it is on the scary side that Lomellina has nothing to envy, our atmospheres lend themselves a lot!

In fact, unlike the recipes, there is no shortage of legends.

Al diaval: the devil, for example, would have unleashed all his fury on the church of Santa Maria in Lomello to prevent the second marriage between Queen Teodolinda, a Catholic, and Agilulfo instead of Arian.

Among the various versions handed down, the official website of the municipality has published the most suggestive.

About the stria: witch, as you can imagine, there are many stories and it seems there are also direct testimonies … but you know, this part is the “soul” of these stories … forgive the pun.

Among all I would opt for the one that gave the name to The Branch of the Witches which is actually a wonderful branch of the Ticino river

It is said that The Branch of the Witches was named after the misfortune of a woman suffering from strange symptoms who on a full moon night, in order to purify herself in the waters with the help of her friends, finds herself having to face the devil and ends up transformed into a giant seaweed that drags all the other women to the bottom as well.

And the algae, which are the characteristic of that stretch of river, are said to resemble the hair of witches.

Here is the picture I prefer.

And you tell me a story?

In return, I do not limit myself to pangiald: I could not fail to present the classic “treat” as well.

These are the most similar to the oss di mort (Dead’s Bones) version that I remember eating: rather large, oval in shape, and vaguely similar to the panforte.

But if we abounded with chocolate for the Keep Calm variant, would it be serious?

C’ERO ANCH’IO SU QUEL TRENO – THERE WAS ME ON THAT TRAIN TOO

Oct 26, 2021 | BOOKS, ITALY

In thanking Giovanni Rinaldi once again, I am happy to tell you about his new book There was me on that train too The true story of the children who united Italy published by Solferino.

There was me on that train too is published exactly twelve years after Happiness trains, years during which Giovanni Rinaldi never interrupted his historical research which, with his tireless human commitment, has turned into a real mission to bring together the protagonists of a chain of wonderful solidarity.

In the post-war years, thousands of children were hosted by generous families who pledged to offer them what they had been deprived of for various reasons, welcoming them and treating them as their own children.

Giovanni Rinaldi’s essay starts from the tragic consequences of a strike in San Severo in 1950 following which more than a hundred people were arrested: mothers, fathers, leaving many children in the middle of a street.

A song recorded by Giovanni begins like this

The venditré of March

Succèsse ‘na rruìna …

I know, I have already written it, but for me the dialect, as well as the oral tradition, are an absolute heritage that, if it were not for people like Giovanni, we would lose.

And instead with his persevering efforts, Giovanni continues in the collection of testimonies that extends to children forced to work in Naples, to children who survived the bombing of Cassino, and to many other cases in which conditions of extreme difficulty have made the help to parents providential, since they were unable to support them.

The organization, transfers, communications between families of origin and host families took place at the initiative of the Communist Party but in particular by the UDI: Unione Donne Italiane.

In this regard, with my love for Christmas, I read with particular emotion the part in which Ida tells of her commitment to collect from various shopkeepers, the necessary to make a Tree set up with candies, biscuits and gifts.

The magic, however, breaks to the point where Ida remembers how the secretary, annoyed at this initiative of hers, even scolded her with a slap …

Women.

Women and Mothers who weave their lives in function of the good for the children, managing to put themselves in each other’s shoes, understanding, working, sacrificing.

I particularly want to remember with affection Americo to which I am grateful for the great teaching on maternal love that he has given me.

The letter from Umberto’s mother is also enchanting:

… The hearts of us mothers of the tormented Frosinone greet all of you who come to meet us, and we greet this beautiful work organized by our Communist Party.

… I hope to receive more news, and if the Lord will provide me before Umberto returns I will come to see you.

Not that words to thank her for what you are doing for my son, but may the Lord give you back all the good you deserve …

She thanks the party and hopes in the Lord and yet I find no contradiction, on the contrary I admire the wonderful coexistence of thoughts that have the heart as a common denominator.

Heart that I found on every page.

Among the chapters of There was me on that train too, dedicated to each of the children he managed to track down, Giovanni Rinaldi tells us how he managed to trace the families who offered generous hospitality, starting from fragments of memories, names often lacking of references, photographs of a very distant time.

A meticulous work but above all a strong sensitivity combined with the noble intent to realize the desire for reunification of these people who life has inevitably led to distance themselves.

I don’t know if you were able to follow the interview on Rai Uno, otherwise you can retrieve it here at approximately 1 hour and 1 minute.

I advise you to see him to realize how Giovanni’s attitude towards the people he met is: while Severino and Diego tell their experience, he observes them with a smile that says more than any word.

And this is the feeling of extreme respect that runs throughout the book. Giovanni himself tells us that “these elderly gentlemen, when they speak, are the children of the time who tell … and it is also a therapy: going back to those moments means bringing out both the traumas and the joys.”

On tiptoe listening first.

And as much as Giovanni acts as a channel that allows memories and stories to flow that are faithfully reported, he also gives us descriptions of the context so precise as to make us feel transported to the same place, enveloped by the suggestion that the scope of enormous loads of emotions encloses.

I conclude by leaving you this beautiful metaphor about Benedict:

… opens the door: a beam of light illuminates the darkness. Outside and inside, as on a border, they all remain still, suspended ...

WALKING ON THE VIA FRANCIGENA

Oct 16, 2020 | WOMEN, ITALY, ITALY, WOMEN

As often happens, Monica tells me a good story, but this time it is not written in a book: the story of Cindy Nanette and Mina, and it is only at the beginning.

They left Pontarlier in France on September 10th and are planning to arrive in Rome for Christmas.

These days they are in Lomellina: today in particular in Mortara, after having made a stop yesterday in Robbio

I, who was a child, let’s say … a little earlier I immediately thought of Remi, Joli Coeur, Capi and Zerbino, but beyond the poetic image I find the message that embodies leaving now really important.

Since it was declared a Cultural Itinerary, the Via Francigena has taken on a further role in addition to the spiritual one and initiatives connections and contacts have multiplied, thanks also to the web network that offers valid background support.

What struck me, however, is the particular “historical moment”: while everyone closes, while more or less visible barriers arise, Cindy Chopard sets out, relying on the good heart of the people and hospitality.

The idea of reaching the goal for Christmas is not of secondary importance. Curious coincidence: I underlined the 100 days countdown exactly one month ago.

But as the scenario changes from day to day, perhaps never as now we are all living in the uncertainty of what this Autumn, which is presenting its first colds, and the next Winter will have in store for us.

So everyone has before her/him a sort of journey made up of different steps, to be taken more or less metaphorically, during which we can perhaps follow some other stages of Cindy and her traveling companions.