When the December/January number arrives I always feel a strong call to chart out an evaluation of what has been up until now, of what will be and of what I would like to happen. Among other things the editorial staff tell me this is also the number that marks our five years of life. They seem few. In reality they are many. But I don’t want to do evaluation because then I become sad and my idea had been, instead, to write something happy about the 80’s.
I’m speaking about that slice from the mid 80’s that I remember and which brings me right back to my mother’s house, my dad on the couch, remote in his hand and “Cacao meravigliao che meraviglia sto cacao meravigliao..”(tv show and jingle): they would send us to bed because Renzo Arbor would come on the tv with his caravan of curvy women, intellectual pleasure-seekers, philosophers and paddle boat representatives with their jokes that made the adults laugh, while my sister and I, still children, understood little to none of that tv irony.
I don’t really know if, in that moment I loved Renzo Arbore, I know for sure that in the following years I learned to grow fond of him: every time I saw him again I would think of that couch at my house and my father who shortly after that had passed away, forever, together with the 80’s, the television cult and my childhood.
Those were the years of Sapori di Mare and of Isabella Ferrari’s bikinis, the years of Promessi Sposi in TV with the trio (Marchesini, Lopez, Solenghi) that ironic acting about the Manzonian romance gluing seventeen million Italians to the TV and triggering controversy from the literary purists.
About Anna Marchesini, remarkable woman, there is a great memory inside this number of the Mag, which on its cover celebrates Renzo Arbore, his 80 years of life, a strong tie with Umbria and an enthusiastic energy to the rhythm of swing.
Staying in theme there is Isabella Ferrari as well and many other stories, which are worth telling, of this 2017 that is passing away under the Christmas lights. And I must say a million thanks to all those who, like always, help us build this paper magazine on which, for five years, we carve out a stage on which to display the beautiful things that happen around us.
We have experimented covers, interviewed hundreds of people, artists and told their stories, we have been moved many times.
We hope to have touched you too.
If we have been able to –as the real Manzoni says in the final writing of his Promessi Sposi- “love him who wrote it. If instead we have managed to bore you, believe that we didn’t do it on purpose”.
Happy New Year
And Thank You!