Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Lord Of The Ring Free Font

The scent of memories. Ode to Aunt Jolene

you like this evocative title? To me a lot, because it represents my mood at the moment. I think they are the first signs of spring, even though today there are two degrees and the bora as never before. But obviously feel some pollen in the air that makes me a bit 'nostalgic, a bit' sad, a bit 'boring, and strangely a little' sound. Perhaps more than in the spring I need a vacation, let's face it. is that yesterday I read a beautiful post I talked about faraway places, but Italian . Of those many small places that many do not know, but that ooze charm from every street. I was struck by this post (because it is one of the few without spelling mistakes) and I recalled pieces of pictures, sounds and sensations of my past. I do not know why, but I remembered an old great-aunt who lived in Naples. Aunt Yolanda, Jole said. When I was twelve I went to see with my parents. He lived in an apartment in an old palace Naples, one of those where there was the goalkeeper who were giving money to make you use the elevator. The windows of my room opened onto a small balcony from which you could see the sea. I have good impression in the mind the image of my awakening, in a summer morning with the smell of laundry hung in the sun mixed with the coffee just came out and the light that came into the room and the blue sea. In this picture you add up the memories of the traffic noise and voices of people walking down the street. The voice of the grocery store, one of the news, the children playing football on the sidewalk and called themselves all Diego, in honor of Maradona. For me, memories are exciting because ever since we found little of poetry, ed è piacevole farli riaffiorare oggi, in mezzo a tutta la tecnologia da cui sono circondata, in mezzo alle scartoffie del lavoro, alle preoccupazioni e alle incombenze della vita quotidiana.
E poi c'era zia Jole. Una dei sei fratelli di mio nonno. Bellissima in gioventù e dotata di un'energia che oggi ce la sogniamo. Zia Jole non si è mai sposata, né ha avuto figli. Vantava spasimanti e fidanzati illustri, ai quali però non ha mai detto "sì". Non in senso coniugale, almeno. Zia Jole ed io avevamo un rapporto speciale. Sebbene ci vedessimo molto raramente, avevamo instaurato un bellissimo feeling. Mi comprava un sacco di libri e di riviste, chiacchieravamo per ore di tutto e di niente, ci volevamo bene. Quando ancora there was no food globalization, she would come for short periods of Trieste and took us to the buffalo that had nothing to do with what we used to eat us. And since ended up in about a half-day, Aunt Jolene, age 85, was preparing the stock market, was started at the door and told us: "Did you like? Then I jump in Naples and I will carry." As if it falls to local supermarket and not be one thousand kilometers by train. Then we had to stop at five.
Aunt Jolene was not exactly the stereotype of southern women. At least not of that era. He was skinny, single, independent and somewhat 'revolutionary. A careful examination, however, even his other brothers were very "normal". Starting precisely from my grandfather, who strengthened by its two degrees, one in chemical engineering, the other drugs, he took the liberty of creating poisonous potions to preserve in case one day he had been diagnosed with an incurable disease. "So me and I will not be fooled suicide by doctors, who are all balls." He liked to say.
But there was something that made her special Aunt Jolene. And that was his serenity of his life in doing what he wanted. Without giving credence to the expectations of others, without giving in to "suggestions" of society. Surely my beloved great-aunt would not be taken to the streets for the event If not now when, or concern itself with the problem of shares rose. So she did what he wanted anyway. And he did it with a light from which many of us would have to learn. Me included. Sure, you probably did not have the desire to sit in a board of directors of a listed company, but even if he had, would surely have found a way to do it. And I'd still have her here, Aunt Jolene, who passed away at the tender age of 96 years. I'd love to hear from you what he thinks of the current situation of Italian women. And I would like to hear what would come out. I would talk to her about all these things, maybe on that balcony overlooking the sea, watching the sheets hanging in the wind and one of his legendary drinking coffee.
Ah, my dear aunt, how I miss you.

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