When Bluma And Vegeta Fall In Love Episode Number

GINO



car trip and I brought my parents to stay in Switzerland

In transit for the Veneto region, we stopped for a day to say goodbye to Gary and his family.

His mother was not more the non-presence was felt even more pronounced for the melancholy of the child who spoke on the sidelines and at length with his old teacher

In the afternoon, while my father slept, my mother asked me to bring it out in one place.

I did not ask - even the flowers that he brought with him.

We got into the car and followed the directions until I gave in the open countryside, we found ourselves at the entrance of a cemetery.

Just then, Mom said "I have to try the tomb of Gino, your brother"

enough and I knew that Mom had told me once: In the first few months of his son, who died for enterocolitis along the return journey - from Puglia to Veneto to resume work as a teacher - after mourning her husband's twenty-two and already ... waiting for my sister.

Entering the cemetery and tried to get information but they were over forty years and I knew immediately that we would not find anything in such a short time.


He understood, however, is that Mom also call forwarding and weeping
"Gino - Gino my baby - there's your mom Gino - Gino" And it took away some of the deck and lays them, crossing, on a grave, then another, then another ...
And he called ... called ...

I was thrilled with pain - again - suddenly - I made it for the first time, really brother-

now looking through my, tears and trembling, which made the vision of things like that in the late afternoon and it seemed Mother could disappear, that could be taken away from that dense and most painful past away in another time that had belonged to a very few joys, trials of immeasurable ... ..!

So I cleaned with strong eyes, but my Mother came back to me already meeting - this to his son - that he took the few remaining flowers and laid them on other graves, those in the ground

Then Mother embraced strong that ... I thought so baby ...

I looked over his head, towards the sunset amber - beautiful - in that cemetery of sacred memories, since they are screwed and never ends, in my mind.

We left the cemetery without talking about this, either then or never.

<<<>>>

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Bassano del Grappa




Mom, my sister and Gaetano had left in the car at a time of Bassano del Grappa

Me and the sister of Gaetano - by bicycle - to cover tens of kilometers and was the first time - Sicilian backward habits - that I was riding in the company of a beautiful blonde twenty-five - relaxed and did not bother to wash the skirt, aided by the wind, and after a while it seemed normal to me that they were so beautiful sun-kissed legs.
So, we were flying agile long flat roads, between rows of trees and farms along with seeding order, boundary fences and farmer friendly pastures motteggianti something that made you laugh my friend.

When we walked in Bassano, architecture was all new to me, perhaps in alpine style at least since the steep roofs and in the background, looming, the majestic massif of Grappa, from snow-capped peaks seemed all very slightly.

converges to the meeting point in the center , In an avenue of young people - perhaps - oaks.

The tragedy had set upon them and bore eloquent memory, photo porcelain set on each log
For some only a few names with a blank oval.

The Germans had hanged a partisan for tree and had demanded that remained suspended for a few days - warning.

While my mother I was crying, shaken well, and I distanziai somewhat distracted me thinking, futilely, to: ... ...: in ten years those portraits would have gone well above banners and more real - and in justice to off ... more ... to consider my 1.72 high and the branches are too low ... ... E.. Hanged them had turned to the mountains. ... Their last look at what they saw .. and their prayers or curses ... ... ... pride or mute?

I went back to the mother continued to cry and head elsewhere, including churches and homes.

then hurried return the next day because his mother would be shared.

Gaetano's sister chose the path back through the wooden bridge of Bassano, really impressive, with coverage of the same material and pouring water down sul'alveo transparent and pebbles from which rose more than fresh air: cold.

We stopped to look on the one hand, leaning on the railing and then the other, compared with the Grappa. No not kissed her



I was a shy Southern.

But perhaps because of it, remains a clear, soft and mysterious past.

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THE STORY OF MOTHER'S TALE OF GAETANO





We found ourselves - sitting outside - next to the house and around the old lady

When he began to speak, as we felt enveloped in the magic of that gentle voice - evocative.

<<< Erano i giorni di Caporetto ed il fronte si era da poco infranto, con gli austriaci che avanzavano in fretta.

Our claims to be and where they could. For us, a young officer had to have what was left of his platoon around our house and just beyond a line of our infantry riflemen, resisted to cover the retreat

The tension was high and it was clear that our lieutenant was on its last legs too

To make matters worse, our official had chained one of our soldier - he had mentioned to desert - all 'railing in that warehouse .... beside them, sure it was awaiting the court-martial, but the terror of the moment prevailed, and the poor, terrified, called for his mother.

We women - with children - we were against the wall, ready to retreat when they did our soldiers.

My husband stepped forward and asked the officer: "sir, please, free the poor man ... .. does not see how many mothers ... and in this torment ...

But the lieutenant was now out of it himself and grabbed my husband by the throat shouted "I shot him, and now you ... traitors! "

I stepped forward, saying" Mister officer rifles even me, who am the wife and I will not survive much ... "

Now all the other women:" We ... we all guns .. We are all mothers ... all ... "

Lieutenant pushed my husband away and" dissolve "said

hesitated a few seconds and then ... He ordered the attack and ran all, all along the line Fire>>>

<>
I was too young, and so moved to do what he did but our mother's mother embracing long Gaetano.

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GAETANO FONTANA




<<< Era intorno a quest’ora……. Si.

The Germans were in retreat for several days.

The front line was moving more toward the north and the partisans were biting on the sides, trying to isolate pockets of scattered

I saw him move from there - at the bottom. Only



Alto - without his cap - blond - very young - in uniform and boots territorial

Palace, across the shoulders, a heavy machine gun position, and - a diagonal - different spirals of ribbon ammunition

seemed the god Mars

had fear in the eyes of a boy - hunted short - very tired.

When I passed by him, in his language suggested that he surrender.

only bent his head, saying nothing, accepting the flask of water held out to him and immediately went on - nell'avvallamento dry down there - to put the gun

few minutes later they arrived they were

in number - were forts were armed to the teeth and faces from Cain

They had been drinking and were in no hurry

The prey was ready - Stan - no escape

They stopped to rest well and they were not the case with me.

I approached, saying "you won ... give up, I talked to him ... it's just a boy ...."

one answered: "Shut up you! or in pairs as well ... you traitor!

The others laughed.

"No: I have never betrayed the homeland and I have served and are here because you gave me ...." But

not listen to me more - available in semi-circle began to shoot and throw grenades
Only a few
minute I heard the crackle of machine gun

When all was silence - was brown already - I reached the ditch and dug a deep hole long

The sepolsi there.

<<>>

Gaetano was now silent. Stroked his sleeve and lit another cigarette, then stood up - sorry - because someone called him from home.

<>

Whenever I return this memory - and I think the young soldier - in a ditch, which opened in a tomb - carved and upholstered and equipped with only the arm of Gary .... I let myself go to the same fantasy: That in that place, some aurora may have generated a Valkyrie that - on the wings of legend - has shown that young in the forests of North Siegfried.

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FRATTA CASONI




ripartisse Before our mother, we went and stayed with the pupil Gaetano - now with family - owner of a factory and lime - very close - a nice and large farmhouse and a large cohort.


GAETANO had returned from the second war without an arm - and in the hospital - where he had been treated and placed in rehabilitation - the nurse had known what would become his wife

When they had laid off, when they saw the mother, had told :

"if I cry, I'll kill myself"

Now he was to manage his own company, drove the car - without a auxiliary controls As Mickey also made use of vans and tractors.

It was in the middle of summer in the plains and the Brenta was very hot but he
- dry, sunburned and his face glistening with sweat - he always wore a jacket and - on one side - the empty sleeve disappeared into the pocket

spoke, turning to his old teacher, bending a little 'head and deep voice hoarse but smoke.

lit one cigarette after another, which triggered a huge fire with lighter fuel and a wick, made by hand by a bullet of the gun.

For the smoke, he apologized often with the teacher who urged him to quit.

had healthy children and loving and a sister - younger and very beautiful.

's wife - of Teutonic efficiency - it was clear - from the bunch of keys at his belt - which had long taken the direction of the old house to his mother - a lady with white hair, gathered behind the neck - in the stately ' mood and manner - and that voice - discreet - it is recommended that the easement continues to provide himself with care guests.

The daughter could not bear even this with great depth and Gaetano, blunted the embarrassment whisper, "It takes patience ... it takes patience ...."

After lunch, we were - and we Gaetano - sitting in the dooryard

He lit another cigarette repeating the gesture of raising one shoulder and a hand sliding along the empty sleeve. Without any preamble

- began to tell.

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The teacher of the "low"
(southern Italy low)


Our mother would have been just so the next morning - a carriage with agriculture - was accompanied by the near Fontana (where it was my sister was born) we biking.

We ended up at a dirt road that was all one square with the square of a small church from which the first starting to feed people, mostly elderly women

took off the handkerchief from his head, fanning herself and wiping the sweat from his face

Our mother said something to one of them - a kind farmer, from the lines are damaged. This had been staring at it and then ....

? ... but she's not the master of low ?..... Yes, it is she! Rina, Gina, come, you come back, is our teacher ...! .. and this is Nina? .... But it is a miss ... .. In a

anything we were surrounded by a group of girls - About forty - which were added many others, curious and noisy - to demand - to know - to remember - to share. ... After so long

When we recover our mother ....

few times I saw his face so bright, where tears and sweat like dew had melted and his eyes - amazing - we just made a gift of his great joy - as if to say: "... you just get your .... It is your ... "No


Mom - that wave of genuine warmth - and deep affection deserved - the fruit of thy God knows how many sacrifices - including people who you knew - poor - who sent their children to school between hope and suffering - that magical moment - Mamma - everything you belonged there and being present for us, that it was a gift - such as privileged witnesses - emotions - gratitude - proud, of course, too - on the great stage of life

The teacher finds it hard to leave and to take leave.
I knew - right away - I was living an added page of De Amicis - you heard it read - Mamma - when I was small enough to just listen. ... And still feel.

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MEMORIES VENETI




My mother spoke of her first year of teaching - when reached by Puglia, Veneto - shortly after the end of War and remained there for some years.

At that time, I had buried a child, was born and my sister was widowed of her first husband - taking advantage of the dramatically deep and experiences that are added to the southern ones. already intensely lived.

I was seventeen when the whole family - based on staggered from Sicily - converse in the province of Padua.

My father had preceded us to Battaglia Terme, it be restored to a bad sciatica Then I, with my sister and one of her friends and peers and we would have detained a month.

Our mother had joined us after a few days - having first had to fulfill the duties of School Year - In that of Siracusa - and then, soon, back to Sicily with my father

We were invited - and guests of Lina, who was one of the first pupils of our mother and now married to the owner of a beautiful farm, near the river Brenta.

Behind the barn - there was a canal, a couple of meters wide and with a considerable quantity of water-

From the first day I noticed that: Just open the barn because the six cows and two calves start - from alone - and over the canal, stopping briefly to cool off and so the subject of an involuntary bath, and then proceed to their pasture. Then

cattle fell from him in the stable - in the meantime nectar and provided with additional feed - each to their bushels - to continue the rumen. Completing the fauna

a huge sow with an unknown number of pigs - a mare and her foal - a large group of fat razzolanti hens and cockerels quarrelsome small (the most vociferous were identified by the owner finally ... on the table, with polenta and tocio)

For me it was a whole new and amazing - fabulous - and then, the talk nice, smooth, once the defining traits of my sister (nine years older) and who had gone through the years was

then - the only time - I spent with the other one night in the yard - with only darkness around, looking on - on your back - the stars and let us sleep enveloping, to deliver at dawn surprise.

Upon arrival, our guests, we have provided three bicycles, though, the friend of my sister always had to take me - in the chamber - because she could not and would not learn to behave themselves

I, as thin as a nail, I managed to get by for those plans and well-maintained trails - dirt - that enabled us to move easily from one village to another of the vast plain

so I knew the villages of Piazzola, Grangemouth, Fratta Casoni, Fontana, Citadel and - close del Grappa - Bassano the mythical and its bridge over the Brenta.

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When where and how?
We were alone - not to believe than to wait
Suns who did not return
And do not go to those who waited

Suns and disunited - to watch the same sunsets
Suns and disunited - to dream the same sunrises

When where and how ?
dreamed of being iridescent clouds
Between Heaven intense and deep seas
guarding memories of sorrows and joys


With eyes that did not weep for crimes that did not understand

When where and how?
no longer a goal - we lost the same dunes
Wind dissolved in the footsteps
We lost our shadows

only caused pain
only obtaining convictions

When where and how? A rainbow

It was not away for us a door for a new principle


... understand ... understand ... But - again - together -
before sunset the sun will rise and fall on the last night

from "Words dense "A. Cammisa


<<<>>>
How dreadful it can be the truth When the truth
is of no help
Sophocles
<<<>>> Once you have eliminated the impossible

What remains, however improbable must be the truth

<<<>>>