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April 25


As every year, this past April 25 is due with the events and celebrations. But every year people are less and less, old partisan gradually die, or at least some people tend not to participate in these recollections. With my father I was at Agliana where he and my grandfather Magnino, lived. My brother was Treppio instead, where he was killed in combat Magnin.
Here, for Agliana, April 25 is still felt, many people are participating and sentibile the emotion that accompanies them. This year's parade has gone from all of the fallen stones for Freedom of the City. I was honored to bring my father with a laurel wreath at the monument, located in the central square of the town, and three other Magnino fallen partisans. E 'was great to put the wreath to be close to my father, in front of all the authorities and people to pay homage to aglianese Magnino Germano, Adelmo Paul and Ivan. I'd like to talk about my grandfather ... when released from the hospital a fellow of the strain of Pistoia, when she ordered the coffin to his friend Ivan Paul, uncovering the authorities of the regime, when weaving the web of anti aglianese. Or when he was head of the brigade Bozzi, or his sacrifice on the hill Treppio to save all his companions.
Then in the evening, with his friend, Gaspe, it was the turn of the Modena City Ramblers concert ... and it was the evening of oxymorons. I could hear young people singing ... 'No exploitation' and looked at their clothes, many companies in the black book of multinationals exploiting peoples 'poor'. Other oxymoron: many, many call themselves environmentalists ... rightly support the various campaigns for Nature ... but then leave the area of \u200b\u200bthe concert as one of the worst dumps. They throw on the ground of everything. Last oxymoron : sing hymns and vecchie storie senza sapere cosa comportano, da dove vengono, quanti morti hanno fatto... Insomma... una serata all'insegna degli ossimori.
Foto: Magnino Magni

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is limited only

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VJMbk9dtpdY&translated=1

Questa è la storia di un padre e un figlio che insieme hanno compiuto qualcosa di veramente grande: portare a termine un'Ironman (3.800 metri di nuoto + 180 km in bicicletta + 42,195 km di corsa).

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W LA FRANCE!!!

Confesso di non essere un abituale lettore di questo quotidiano, diciamo che mi è arrivata una "soffiata", But sometimes the information comes also from those who do not expect. Here's what I found on Popotus insert for attachment to the future guys (the newspaper of the CEI) of 8 April 2010.

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The land of spirits






Ci sono momenti in un viaggio e sopratutto nella vita, che le difficoltà sono tante, forse troppe e allora cerchi nuove energie dentro di te, nei tuoi affetti, nel tuo passato. E quando pedali sotto il sole cocente, ad alta quota, o sotto una pioggia sferzante o contro un vento 'animale'... sai che hai scelto tutto ciò e tutto è così come deve essere, come tu lo avevi immaginato. Ma nei momenti bui, nella tua amata solitudine, i pensieri vanno ai tuoi affetti, ai tuoi amici, alla tua famiglia, ad amori perduti o impossibili, ad una ragazza per cui la fatica diventa un piacere. Ma a volte non basta... e allora contro demoni e fantasmi ecco arrivare gli amati spiriti e allora vedo Alessandro, mio zio... parlarmi pacato e sorridente indicarmi la via e darmi una pacca sulla spalla. E odo mio nonno Beppe, uno dei punti di riferimento della mia infanzia, odo le sue parole di conoscenza e coraggio e ricordo così bene il suo volto. Vedo mia nonna Fulvia, moglie di Magnino, che giovane vedova mai si è risposata, sempre fedele al suo amore. E là tra sudore e fatica vedo l'amico Roberto, la sua voglia di giustizia e di amore... e sento grande la sua forza, che mi dice di andare avanti... E poi tra fiori e mare reincontro Veronica, bellissima come sempre, posso toccare ancora una volta i suoi lunghi capelli, il suo bel viso e ascolto il suo canto tra un'onda e un soffio di vento. E poi là dove la fatica sembra prevalere, vedo Magnino, mio nonno, nel rosso di un tramonto, vedo le sue armi e vedo che le getta a terra e mi dice "Queste sono le mie armi, ma non ne hai bisogno, non ora, avanti uomo, vai avanti. Mi dispiace di non averti mai abbracciato, piccolo mio". Allora la fatica si fa dolore ma non la senti, e vai avanti, fino a una meta... non importa quale o se non c'è.
Foto di Paolo e nino

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Sono soddisfazioni

Five years of minority in a small town in Trentino can be very heavy and difficult. It is not easy to resist and continue despite continuing losses. Goes round and round has always been in 5 to 10, and in a democracy the law of numbers is fierce. Especially when the other side do not accept the box. Ultimately, it is easy when you are saying that the minority government is destructive and only ever says no. But 87% of our votes and nearly 100 documents say exactly the opposite. But sometimes it happens that the satisfactions and rewards come when you least expect it. The time limits are now going to see the programs of the two lists of the most outgoing girls. Surprise ... both programs contain many of the proposals recommend that my group has reported over the past 5 years and that they promptly rejected (and this is the file). Repentance late and probably expensive but also admitted that the group "a bridge to the future" is a true force of government and that the programs of our "opponents" are our most beautiful spot election.
Now I am reminded of confidence made friends in the aftermath of the 2005 elections: "if even one our proposal will be taken up and re-submitted by the majority will be a success." At this point I would say that these 5 years have been a triumph.

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Nino Front page

E' uscito sulla Nazione di Martedì 6 Aprile un ampio articolo dedicato all'Ultimocavaliere: una intervista sul suo recente viaggio in sud America.

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man And all of a sudden.




Suddenly I hear it coming, it's night, the wind howls ... Patagonia and the bully back, you hear his call, you hear his voice, his singing. Like the sirens of Odysseus captivate this wanderer ... I do not want wax in your ears, Tie me to the mast, but let me hear the Patagonian wind, the fire of Atacama, the law of the desert. Let me hear the song of women and the moon, the sound of rain falling in the sea, heat fatigue. No, I do not want wax in your ears as the sailors of the man of Penelope. I just want to hear the call of nature, the call of the wild, the words of the starry nights in the desert. I awake for a moment ... where they are ... in bed at my house, but the Patagonian wind now took possession of my soul, parched by the sun Chile. I know that wind, I know his words: he wants to go home. But it's not yet time is not yet time is not yet time. But the decision has long been taken: on his journey.
All photos of this post are Bastianello Paul.