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Il Pallone (1)

Updated: Jul 5, 2022

Dopo l’emigrazione negli Stati Uniti nel 1966, mio padre, ogni tanto, mi chiedeva di aiutarlo con piccoli lavoretti che voleva completare attorno alla casa che aveva comprato nel 1971 a Watertown, Massachusetts. Io ero sempre desideroso di aiutarlo ma, allo stesso tempo, ansioso di quello che eventualmente sarebbe successo. L’aiuto consisteva di fare esattamente come lui pensava le cose, escludendo qualsiasi tipo di suggerimenti o collaborazione.


Lavorare per mio padre era quasi’ una schiavitu’. Dovevo stare zitto, fare esattamente come lui diceva, e basta. Cominciavo sempre con entusiasmo però, dopo un’ora non vedevo l’ora che il lavoro terminasse. Quasi mai soddisfatto di come avevo compiuto i miei compiti, mi diceva spesso:


“Tu sei bravo solo con i libri e il pallone!”


A quei tempi non ci pensavo troppo su’ quello che mio padre concludeva con le sue parole. Non vedevo l’ora di tornare a quello che mi piaceva fare spesso: pensare con la testa. Ironicamente, adesso che ci penso (con la testa), da lontano col tempo, mio padre aveva ragione al cento per cento.


Vedendo che facevo le cose con le mani senza gioia o passione, riconosceva che non ero contento e, allo stesso tempo, non completavo quello che dovevo fare con massimo impegno. Conclusione: il lavoro che completavo non era mai preciso come lui desiderava. Bastava metterci piu’ impegno e passione.


Allora, come tutti i siciliani, con breve e brave frasi, mio padre mi spingeva a fare quelle cose che mi piaceva fare: pensare con i libri e giocare col pallone. Cose che facevo con eccellenza al punto di rompermi il naso durante una partita di calcio o rimanere sveglio tutta la notte per studiare per i miei esami.


Fin di bambino ho sempre avuto due cose nelle mani: o un libro o un pallone. Quando ero stanco di uno, prendevo l’altro. Uno scambio che faccio spesso nella mia testa senza gli oggetti in mano. Pero’, stanco di questo travaglio, spesso abbandono i pensieri dei libri e del pallone, per seguire l’esempio di mio padre: il lavoro con le mani.


Ritorno con la zappa a fare il contadino. Un lavoro antico che da’ soddisfazioni concrete e risveglia la vera natura di quello che anticamente ho sempre evitato ma sempre sono stato: un lavoratore della terra, un uomo che ama le bellezze del mondo, un uomo che rispetta il lavoro fatto con passione, resilienza, e delizia.




The Soccer Ball


After emigrating to the United States in 1966, my father occasionally asked me to help him with small jobs that he wanted to complete around the house he bought in 1971 in Watertown. I was always eager to help him but, at the same time, anxious about what would eventually happen. The help consisted of doing exactly as he thought, excluding any suggestions or collaboration.


Working for my father was almost slavery. I had to shut up, do exactly as he said, and that’s it. I always started with enthusiasm; however, after an hour, I couldn’t wait for the work to finish. Rarely satisfied with how I had done my job, he often said to me:


“You are only clever with books and the soccer ball!”


I didn’t overthink about what my father concluded with his words. I couldn’t wait to go back to what I often liked to do: think with my head. But, ironically, now that I think about it (with my head), my father was one hundred percent right from afar in time.


Seeing that I was doing things with my hands without joy or passion, he recognized that I was not happy and, simultaneously, I was not completing what I had to do with maximum effort. Bottom line: The work I completed was never as accurate as it should be. All I had to do was to put more effort and passion into it to satisfy my father's wishes.


Then, like all Sicilians, with short and good sentences, my father pushed me to do those things I liked to do: think with books and play with the ball. Something I did with excellence to the point of breaking my nose during a soccer match or staying up all night to study for my exams.


I have always had these two things: in my hands: a book or a soccer ball. I took one in my hands when I was tired of the other. I still do an exchange in my head without the objects in sight. However, tired of this labor, I usually abandon the thoughts of books and soccer to follow my father’s example: working with my hands.


I go back with the hoe to be a farmer. An ancient work that gives concrete satisfactions and awakens the true nature of what I always avoided to be but always have been: a worker of the earth, a man who loves the beauties of the world, a man who respects work done with passion, resilience, and delight.


(1) Il pallone is a colloquial word in Italian culture for football, a soccer ball in the USA.

 
 
 

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