Molti anni fa, quando ero ancora un ragazzino, per un certo periodo ho abitato a Forlì.
Tuttora ho l’impressione che la Romagna abbia conservato una particolare vocazione per l’accoglienza di quei personaggi un po’ svitati – e talora matti da legare – che una volta si incontravano facilmente nelle piazze centrali di paesi e cittadine.
Erano soggetti stravaganti ma solitamente innocui, anche se un po’ fastidiosi. Tutti quanti, però, li conoscevano e li rispettavano, e spesso volevano loro anche bene.
There was always someone who takes the trouble to warn the few strangers who picked their nagging presence, lest they become irritated and react badly. And always, among the people of the country, there were those who took care of them, worrying that they had to dress and where to sleep, or at worst giving them a cappuccino and a croissant (though of course those involved would have preferred toast with yet another glass of wine) when they saw them too shabby.
Nobody contradicted these little cute characters of many urban legends, when they began to strike up a button with those who passed through the square, staring, or to improvise meetings, or otherwise disturb others with their antics. And this is not so much for fear of finding trouble, as is done today with the beggars and hawkers washer, but because they are considered part of the community, and they were really.
Once it was thought that even the village idiot they were protected by God and therefore sacred persons. Of subjects so there were many in Bologna, and I think I have met them all during the college years.
Just recently released an instant-book is visionary, and sometimes even prophetic, excellent Danilo "Maso" Masotti, entitled "The Code of Bologna" . Here are portraits of some crops These wacky characters, fewer and fewer, sometimes embody the true human types, now suspended between the past and the future of the collective memory of Bologna. And by the way are much more complex and socially significant than it seems.
Well, in these days of controversy over Berlusconi's private life, and mutual complaints of alleged clashes between prime minister and the Catholic world, I often come to mind is one of those guys that I met a boy at times for center of Forli, on Saturday afternoon. He was a gentleman already quite old, those who would call in Bologna umarell , which always hovered around the square, dressed with a pair of rubber boots, a windbreaker and a military haversack that was said to contain food for comfort, or perhaps actual rations for survival.
In the hands he always carried a transistor radio to , a bit 'bigger and battered than that - before the advent of pay-TV - men "normal" carrying around on Sunday afternoon to listen the radio commentary of Ciotti and America as they strolled through the center with "mad wife alongside," as a memorable song by 883.
Our little man attacked a little rectangle 'with all the passers-by, but could be progressively listen to fewer people. Because the reason for the strange and the transistor radio held to the ear was always convinced that the outbreak of war was imminent, a matter of days if not hours, so we must be ready.
Among other things, the wise character seemed perpetually a bit 'pissed off. Probably was not true, and only me to remind me that, but now it seems to me to think that looks a bit 'to Mourinho, obviously in a more ugly, old and battered by life. He was always moody, but not so much the prospect of war in itself, but because it did not seem to comprehend how they could treat everyone so condescendingly.
You knew very well, and often also said that his countrymen seemed all inexplicably unaware, uncaring, irresponsible and stupidly addicted. To hear him, made him shudder at the thought of how many people could be so stupid and dazed by the painful lies of the press compliant.
According to our little man, all the media did nothing but hide the danger looming horas to us all just to please the government. And this seemed to be the only necessary and sufficient explanation for the fact that - every day - he continued to appear in the square with haversack and radio, without which the war had ever broken out before evening.
Indeed, those who mocked him asking him why they were still there, he said, explaining excited indignation with the stories of new plots always organized by media, and of course by the government. And once again made it clear - with his usual solemn and gravely misunderstood by Cassandra, but also angry black - that just did not realize how certain risks could be underestimated or even ignored by the people ox, were so serious and obvious.
Well, here, as ever these days for some reason every time I meet someone for the way it goes about his business with a copy di Repubblica sotto il braccio, oppure quando lo vedo mentre la legge al tavolino del bar, con una espressione più o meno pensosa e corrucciata, non posso più fare a meno di pensare a quell’ometto con la radiolina.
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