“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!
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.
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?).