Category Archives: life

Presidente della Repubblica

today election of the new President of Italy. I post one of my old poems (sorry in Italian), in which I mention Pertini who was the president in the 80’s. The first president I remember is Saragat, in Tuscany people were calling him Zaragatte!

once Italian always Italian. Wish Italy all the best!!! We should never loose hope.

Pensa avevo anche i bisnonni, un’allegra confusione

la mia mamma col pancione

Palla Pallina la Pavone canta

siamo negli anni 60

Nel 70 leggo e nuoto

Aldo Moro hanno rapito

ho scoperto la Fallaci

quasi quasi i primi baci

Arrivan gli anni dei motori

feste vespe e calcolatori

l’Italia e’ campione del mondo

con Craxi e Pertini non si va a fondo

Il 90 inizia funesto

si son portati via Agusto

io mi impegno a lavorare

nessuno mi potra’ fermare

Zero e’ l’anno

oh che affanno

dal passeggino alla bicicletta

i bimbi sciano gia’ in fretta

 in rete tutti collegati

 ma il babbo e la nonna se ne sono andati

 Ho le rughe intorno agli occhi

 mi fan male anche i ginocchi

 niente e’ dato per scontato

 l’anno dieci ormai e’ passato

 gli studenti irrispettosi

 noi non resteremo oziosi

 ho imparato a respirare

 e gli altri provo a ascoltare

 guardo e spero anche in Obama

 e c’e’ anche il Dalai Lama

Pisa 1966-1967

I see this picture on facebook and this is my first memory. My father who says – let us drive to see the flood. But it is not possible to drive there. Too much water too much rain and the bridge Solferino has falled down. I was not even 2 years and during the years I have heard the feedback – no it is not possible that you remember. Fortunately my memories are mine and no feedback’s or reviewers can doubt about what I remember.

Habemus Papam

“Please do not post jokes about the new Pope” is my first reaction when my son who is looking at Norwegian News, shouts in Italian “Mamma mamma fumata bianca”. He has noted the text below the TV image. Norwegian TV keeps on talking about something else. We switch to RAI. I take the mobile and update my status “Please do not post jokes about the new Pope”. Somebody of my 700 Facebook friends has already managed to post the picture of the pink smoke. It follows one hour of RAI 1, comments on facebook. The Italian journalist Bruno Vespa, I do not know why, is again at RAI 1 and exchange the Italian National song with the Vatican song. People, thousands of people are standing, praying and crying in Rome.

It is my fourth conclave. I think of an Autumn of more than thirty years ago, when the first new Pope was elected, and I, 14 years old, travel alone to Rome, by bus, starting from Pisa station at 01.30 in the night to see the new Pope. It is the day I smoke my first Malboro cigarette, on a bus full of young people singing and playing guitar.

I look at my mobile, I look at my past. Roberto is again more concentrated than me and shouts again “Mamma la tenda si muove”.

It is when the Pope says “Buonasera” and I see that one of my colleagues has written “Congrats to my Catholic friends on the election of a South American Pope! (Just heard live on CNN :-)» that I first cry a bit. It was my fourth conclave. The first on social media for me and for the Pope. But with physical tears.


On the very woman day 8th March, I met Selda, funny, intelligent, positive, courageous, beautiful TV science presenter. She made my woman-day. Selda reminds me that we have achieved a lot since the early 90’s when I was a whitefly teacher with girl clothes  and I was dreaming about explaining Information Technology easy for everybody.


Special 8.03 this year in Norway since there are 100 years since women have vote rights. According to my friend Laura Giarre’ in Italy first time in 1946, but in Tuscany (at the time Grand Duchy of Tuscany, where we come from) women could vote since 1848. But only “rich” women. I want to mention that my grandgrandmother Maria Pia Castelli Jaccheri (born 1878 in Barga) studied at the University in Nice. So we Italians are, as usually in a way in advance and in a behind.

Thanks also to my grandmother Isabella for being a teacher for 40 years even if she did not need to work being the wife of a medium/small company owner.

Thanks to my mother Fernanda who does not work outside the house but has always owned screwdriver, hammer and drill and still teaches Latin and math to his grandchildren at an age of 76!

My reflections about Trygve Lundemo’s article in Adressa today (in Norwegian)

Det er ikke nytt at jeg tyr til tårene men første gangen at jeg lar tårene falle ned på en papir utgave av adressa. Og kanskje det blir sist, siden vi har nettopp avbestilt papir adressa. Men dette var ikke det jeg ville si.

Jeg tror jeg ble gammel en gang i tidlig 2000 når jeg så en film ( du ville like den som fikk meg til å se tilbake på familie historie, fascismen, de Røde Brigaden og det hele.

I år griner jeg igjen foran Halvbror og Hvem tror du er og ser tilbake. For meg som har bodd her 50% av livet og som i slutten av 80 tallet sa til meg at jeg hadde mer i felles med tøffe norske venner på Gløshaugen enn mine jålete italienske venninner, er dette kanskje enda større enn for dere som tross alt befinner dere fremdeles i Trøndelag regionen. Jeg tenker mer og mer på mine italienske venner.

Anyway, jeg må begynne igjen å jobbe nå og slutte å tenke på Halvbror (var de egentlig brødrene? Er Fred egentlig halvbror med sin mor?).