Father's 60th Birthday Speeches

The devil can not hear

The Devil

taciturn people fall into two categories:
1) those that have a lot of interesting things to say but do not speak for confidentiality, or do not do it to relieve their wisdom on important occasions. And when you speak you mind that they do so infrequently.
2) Those who do not speak because they have shit to say, those who, in other words, have an EEG - awake - like a third degree coma. And when they speak, do you mind having the gift of speech. Are still preferable to people who talk too much with the same type of brain scan. I
always been attracted to the taciturn people. By failing to distinguish the nose for a nose, people are often disappointed by the recognition - late, alas - for 2 people. E 'statistically more likely to run into people in the second category, and because you do not see more around, no .. simply because they are more numerous, a whole army of people 2. He
, Robyn, was a taciturn type 1. It was silent when he could charm you in another way: it was enough to play the drums.

Devil of a drummer.

spent a lot of time standing, standing there in that room - there were many who attend the trials - to listen to him .. he played for wire and sign the whole piece "Tank" by Emerson Lake and Palmer, the keyboard was a bit 'little and was not a virtuoso bass player but who cares, they were an acceptable outline for the star.
Roby had his atypical behavior compared to most drummers, usually in difficult passages bend your head and take a look of pain in San Sebastian, he, instead, he was looking straight miles of grinding rhythm like a train on old rails - the ones that made you feel tutuntutun - no smudging and no acceleration until the end of the piece. He looked ahead without focusing on any object, without ever looking at the battery - I always wondered why hitting the center of the snare drums and the other two - And worked on the snare drum with quick, light touch, a kind of hummingbird flight. In
that look empty there was something disturbing: a kind of grimace - light, without committing too much mimic muscles - accompanied by a pair of eyes and a lantern on dark circles, a prominent nose and a clump of hair lion , from which lateral locks like the horns of a ram. I remember that also took the same face as a child - a little hair 'shorter, though - while focused on the game of "The Merry surgeon" or retouched as a physical model of Tuscany with his homemade Das.
We had that day, the grimace, sitting on the steps of the bar pastors with a plaid jacket. It seemed that I had seen.
-Hello-Hello Roby
.- .-
-How are the tests? When you play? -
-Boh-..-
But you feel bad? -
His eyes brightened suddenly and looked me over carefully.
No, no, but ..-
He rose from the pavement, revived.
-.. but we make two steps -
- Okay! - I came over these two words with emphasis, accompanied by a gesture of open hands so solemn bordering on ridiculous.
We headed out to sea.
was a cold autumn day, almost dark, and there was a lot of people around. I workout with the bag - I ran every single day, every single day I was with that bag - shoulder, he with the army-green backpack with the words PEACE and its logo, was long strides and quick and I am constantly being Trudging feet behind him.
But where to? -
-In Piazza Bovio, I want to see if there is a Ah-
Berto ..- ..-
The Berto was a guy always dressed in black - even the leather jacket - with face pale, an honorary member of the Addams family and I were on the ball even though I knew him only by sight.
-It 's your friend? - Yes .-

arrived in this square that insinuates itself into the sea, a kind of road on the rocks and in the end, the tip of the promontory, a lighthouse. Nothing Berto.
We sat on a bench, a sharp wind south-west pulled up eddies of dust, the waves were a mess. I softened the bag on the floor, I looked at Robyn. Then I looked to the sea, he did the same. We came splashing on his face, seemed to be on the bow of a boat.
Roby began to harass a lock of hair .- I tried the Berto .. because I do because of "I" for some time ..-
I tried to give a casual - ..- Ah but I was a bit 'strangled. I did not know what to say, came to mind things like: - How much do you? And do you like? And where to find the money? -. Fortunately, I stood in silence, and soon Roby - who had a great guilty conscience - blurted
- Listen, do not try to do the sermon, eh? - I had the confirmation
that in such circumstances it was better not to preach.
No, really
..- I felt at that moment, to belong to people with type 2, at least for a while ', I mean.
And so we sat in silence.
After what seemed to me finally said: - But I'm glad you have told me. They are not easy things you say, I think
..- No, not easy to say, no .. and anyway I wanted to tell you that this thing here .. the good .. I'm managing that, I could stop if I wanted ..-
-E .. do you want? -
No, not now. In a bit 'of time. Quiet
.- Meanwhile the sea was raging, the waves crashing violently against the rocks and splashing took the size of buckets of water. At that time taken to light the lamp, just above us. I saw that his face, accentuated by intermittent light. I wanted to add something, it would not come at all.
He rose from the bench, walked to a stone, kicked him violently, and his bush of hair began to flutter, took his head for a moment the size of a hang glider. A hang glider still on the ground.
retrace our steps and beginning of the course met the Berto.
Roby said goodbye and headed home. I turned a moment: Berto, smiling, had supported him on the shoulder of Roby. They went back to the sea.
I felt cold, it was pitch dark.
Devil of a drummer, I thought.
And I began to run, as fast as I could.

Kates Playground-natural

That evening, broke off earlier than usual from work.
Before going home, the Avenue of the People's swerved and stopped in Piazza Bovio, a peninsula of rock adorned that evening by puffs of sea foam that reached the benches. If you do not go as far as the tip, the long strip of rock seemed to touch the Island of Elba. Giulio
lingered of the sunset. She felt a mixture of colors, most of those in nature which results in the twilight of a winter evening. The horizon was separated by a sharp line - which for him was a bit 'fuzzy - and the sun was going to die on the island, exactly on top of the mountain huts, giving the appearance of an erupting volcano. He could represent an image as an old habit, as that from the square had seen dozens of twilight, but it was not. Lived on visual impressions ever worn, of imagination and fantasy that made up for his weak eyes. Giulio
hung up the old story of the obsession of those days.
"This is the last sunset. I wonder how it will be later. If you will be."
A last look - a dip in extremis - to try to understand something, anything, Christ, an insight that could be entangled in those flashes, flashes that were leaving, a thought that could soar into the sky like a butterfly bursts from its cocoon-house, but nothing, nothing but a thin torment, who was devouring a Magone.

retraced his steps to his home the cocoon. That night was to complete the bag to go to the clinic.

Upon entering the house, he began to peer through the rooms with the same interest as those who want to buy. He looked at the objects, the rooms as if for the first time, or the last. Finally collapsed on the green chair in the living skin. The light curtain on the door window reflects the light from the street lamp down the road, there was also a little 'light of sunset.
He stood in the shade a few minutes. In that light, between him and the others there was no difference. He paused on the silhouettes of the paintings hanging on the wall at the bottom, a square, rectangle and a fifty fifty fifty, seventy. They spoke of buoys, sail in pastel colors, the sapphire sky, he knew them well, and with dim light or light was the same thing. The gaze shifted to the coffee table in mahogany he remembered every little scratch, was the ideal shelf for his Tarot. He said he does not believe that he did for fun, but when he left the "hanging" was hurt. Then came the turn of the Tibetan bell resting on the bookshelf on the right: often weighed in my hands, I noted the tremendous specific weight, and listened carefully to the sound he could produce, with those mysterious harmonics that was near his throat vibrate.
sighed, got up, tried the gym bag, emptied it. We replaced the beauty, two changes, slippers, pajamas and again, as his mother had taught him: "If you were to die in the hospital, you would figure that with the nurses and doctors to be seen with a half faded pajamas? ".
book. No, that would not be served. He picked it up from the table, stroked him, was a paperback, one of his many books, "Dubliners," knew his place, swerved to the library and put it on J. You could enjoy beside the rib in skin of 'Ulysses'. He hoped it was a goodbye, turned a temporary farewell to all those volumes.
closed the bag, finally. He shook his head as if agreeing with himself.
part of it, in fact, tried to play down: after all were only two days of hospitalization, an intervention than an hour. He had decided, for reasons of work, surgery to both eyes simultaneously. It would have been a whole week at the mercy of his mother, the eyes of his eyes.
Another part of him reminded him that his view of things would change, and this gave him uneasiness. However
yet another reminded him that he probably would have seen much better than before, that complications are rare.
The inner conflict was taking place, Julius was a spectator to her and any ifs and buts, that were to blows with each other.
The phone gave a truce.
"Five-minute break," he thought sarcastically before answering.
Ready
"Hello Dad"
"Uei, hello little man, how are you today?"
"Good. I did my homework, then I went to Matthew. There was wind, then we played at home. At home."
"I accompanied my mother?"
"Yes you will operate tomorrow?"
"Yes, tomorrow morning."
"But then you will see clearly?"
"Quiet Yes.. I will continue to see you. On Wednesday and Sunday."
"Afraid?"
"No. .. why?"
"No way. I have a little 'fear, but I do not know why. In short, for a while' I do not see."
"Do not worry, Francis. I will continue to see you. On Wednesday and Sunday. And even on vacation. And, later, whenever you want."
"I always want to see you."
Julie sighed.
"For now be satisfied as well. Wednesday and Sunday."
"So ... good transaction! It says so?"
"is omitted, it says so. Thank you. I love you."
"Me too, Dad."
"So ... hello."
"Hello Babb big and strong."
In his life there were some situations unresolved. At the forefront of these was Francis, that child came to ripe age.
After the separation had experienced a gradually increasing need to see Francis, talk to him, to hug him. It was the most beautiful thing I had done in his life.
one house silently reminded him constantly.
everything tidy, no strip around, no snacks, no hum or sing-song of Nintendo.
The twilight had become night. He felt even in its night life. Now the games were made. A wonderful baby, yes, this was the greatest miracle. Continuity. But in a few years Francis would have soared, and he, Julie, could not continue to live in his shadow, in his loves, his studies, in a word in his life. Luckily there was Francis, but otherwise things were made. He could provide the additional seniority pension from that very day. Which rely on friends, and how many would have run away. Many white hair, wrinkles, her body was losing force. I noted the fact that now women do not even notice his presence. It would not be old next to none, no woman would want more. His wife was gone, and she also Francis for five-sevenths of his time.
No eye surgery could give a different look at this. Night. The next morning found him sore
chair. It was five and a half, he could sleep for another hour, then went into the room, set your alarm and slipped into bed, dress.
He dreamed of a trip to Rome, he had to climb a ten-storey building with his bare hands, jumping on balconies, clinging to the gutters, peering into a living room where he and a she stood in silence, watching tv in the packages, or teleshopping or MTV or on teletext page 700 on the weather. Julius continued to climb, with difficulty saliva, saliva, and he thought he not make it, to let go, when the alarm sounds.
not had breakfast because of blood taken, took a shower, shave, teeth and went out with the bag. Three days
later, the arm of her elderly mother, crossed the threshold of his childhood home. He had his bandage, but acknowledged, recognized the smell. A little 'stale, almost always closed windows, wood chest of drawers in the room, the windows, the carpet with the row of palm trees. He remembered the room and ran to the kitchen with his brother, then a Christmas lying on the ground with an electric train Rivarossi, and, again, his schoolmates with whom he played in the courtyard down below - from where came the barking now of a dog - and that it continued to play in that room at the naval battle at nightfall, not separate from the couch to see each other. He saw nothing, but stood on his head exploding - Like the sudden outbreak of an early Spring - pictures and stories, smells, sounds. Memories. His story, at least part, had soaked those rooms, those walls.
A month later he was at the clinic, to the control. He had before him
Professor Guarducci, eminent luminary, and the bearer of prosperity and health, even in a decentralized and provincial as Piombino. Considered it a mission,.
When he entered Julius, had surprised the professor intended to place the paperweight in alabaster in the right position, parallel to the outer edge of the desk. The embarrassment he had created, at least in the professor. He hurried to get into the situation.
The professor leaned over Julie, folded his hands and cleared his throat: "So, Mr. Scalzi, how are you?"
"Well, sir. I mean. The surgery went well, I guess."
"Oh, that was fine. I've got exams next target for intervention. Curvature of the eye, lens, iris, all right. Although the edema disappeared. In short, I would say that ..."
"Yes, sir, indeed. My vision is clearer."
"So, what can be attributed to his perplexity, and his request to speak to me?"
"of things have happened, after surgery, and I wanted to ask you if this happened to his other patients.
"What kind of things?"
"I definitely I see better now. But .. "
" Ma? "
" ... but I do not feel so well. And I do not feel better. "
" Does hearing loss? "
" No, sir. I intend to feel like everything that gives me an image "Giulio at the time he closed his hands on the armrests of the chair, about to get up" but I would probably be that you're wasting your time. The'm wasting time. "
" No, please. Tell me. "
" Here, sir. When we look at a painting, for example, that picture - which is made with a very specific type of brushes, paints, canvas, and technical - refers to feelings of those who watch, I mean that kind of feeling. I meant as an image is processed, how it is metabolized, it gives me that reaction. I think, sir, have lost some of these capabilities. Now I see a lot of things. Crisp, precise. Edged. And these things are many, I can not do to prepare. I can not make sense of them, at least not all. I do not understand. Probably as you do not understand me now, Professor. No, wait, sir. Do not hasten to answer. You probably can not do anything for me. I realize this only now. And I'm sorry. I'm just here to find out if such a thing have happened to someone else, but then what? Now I see better, she has done his duty. "Julius paused, lowered eyes. Camera. "Now there's pictures on pictures in my head, I do not know where to put them, I lost a part of the capacity to interpret them. Maybe my head now I think seeing us well, it's over there, you know that the history of that image is over with the image itself. First, however, gave me pain to fill the gaps, imagining boundaries, and I - I do not know why - I felt better. ... I seemed to be more inside. "
"Into what?" ventured the professor.
"Inside. Nestled in the images with them. Now, however, I reject it. I'll tell you, Professor: If I had known earlier, I would not have had surgery. Perhaps twenty years is different. But I need to fifty more feel see. "
Julius got up, took his leave and the professor, after all, was speechless.
No, it had never happened.
Julius looked tired in the evening, went to Piazza Bovio, sat on the benches. It would returned to work the next day, Wednesday would come to his house Matteo, would begin four months between the summer vacation, fifteen years would be retired. Exactly as before.
The sunset's piercing eyes.

(The Toni Malfa)

Broken Capillaries Under The Breast

Basilicata coast to coast, another trip to Lucca

Another trip, this time not mine, but the one described and reported in this beautiful film.
I I saw this afternoon and still taste good: as I watched him I wanted to leave immediately to the Basilicata, and that is indisputable about the photograph of the film. Mountains and valleys and villages perched on hills and winding roads and green faded near dry river, and lush forests of emerald green and cobalt blue of the sky, rivers and sea.
Four friends, who will add a woman, a journey of ten days, Basilicata travel from west to east - "Coast to coast, in fact - to get to Scanzano Jonico, where they will play and sing at a festival song. All five are in crisis with their lives, none of them have taken important decisions for themselves and for others, none of them has yet figured out what "will be great," and this trip will give them symbolically valuable suggestions.
The journey is more important than the destination itself, a journey made as slowly as possible: on foot, with a cart pulled by a horse on which they have placed the tools and luggage. Terzani wrote that he did not like air travel - which in spite of himself he had to do - because they played as short as possible and with a detachment from the soil that allows you to understand climate change, cultural, economic, human and earth. On a trip to "slow", like walking or - add personally - by bike, the scenery gradually deteriorate and open floor plan, allowing your state of mind to adapt to new scenarios with time-consuming. Allowing much thought, and giving resonance to pregnant silence of fertile ideas and intentions. This trip will pass through
Aliano, the border post of Carlo Levi, who, after the experience of exile would have expressed the desire to be buried there, transforming the original imposition in a subsequent free choice. Toast always Aliano, the health of Carlo Levi and Gian Maria Volonte, the actor who plays him. Will attend a road accident, paying a providential aid, meet new loves, and quarreled with each other, you will lose and will meet, will be welcomed in stone houses, and take important decisions, as in life, like in the real trip. Moreover
their Ithaca, Scanzano Jonico, is eighteen miles from Rocca Imperiale, where I was born, thus giving me an occasional value added to my movie.
A film that tells of people who love to tell and hear stories, where the lightness, the smile, humor, good music, solidarity and love are the main weapons used to address the fundamental questions of existence.