few days in the countryside, enjoying the cool, sunny and deinternettizzato, healthy and restorative, the slope of the Marches, and I'm back in the capital, fearing the insane and depressing early spring, already heralded the awakening of the summer trends caciaroneria of a prevailing minority of citizens. (*) L 'range country house, among other things, allowed me to retrieve the number of Jazz which I mentioned at the beginning of this thing I called CONTINUE (by the way, is a really bad name I'm thinking of changing it). Here is the page to which I referred.
Good.
Bien.
Well.
As the two protagonists in the discographies I have not found records that could indicate if they were actually somewhere else, there's no reason not to dating to May of '67 that dialogue between Art Blakey and Don Byas in "a park in Milan." I guess there is probably some place called Milan in the U.S. or somewhere else in the world, but this does not prevent me to suppose that the "park" in Milan was, say, Piazza Leonardo Da Vinci.
At that time I attended elementary school with some success (I had to be in fourth or so) at the Scuola Leonardo da Vinci, whose doors opened on the large square the same name. The first two years of elementary school teacher we had for "the" Belloni, which I remember as a little lady in meat and attitude tend to mother. He came from Lodi, I believe.
In the third we were hit by a growing need for empowering, not just for the transition from the uniform grayish black apron, but especially for the rotation at the head of the class of the new teacher, "the" Refini. The new management was characterized by setting a bit 'rude most of the teacher-student relationship, be regarded as "little men", so all of a sudden, it was an experience to which some of us were not prepared, while others, it were enthusiastic and excited.
"The" was Refini Arezzo, and, as such, indisputable custodian of the correct use of the Italian language; in particular, did not hide that ruling vaguely open to abhor the voice that marked the speech of us schoolboys meneghini.
In other words, changes which, to use a term that today is strong, should be defined as "momentous."
you leave school at the end of the fifth hour and there are scattered, many parents waiting outside, I am among those who, living not far away, usually return home on foot or by tram if the weather is bad and in both cases I need not pass completely through the square, and it is perhaps for this reason that they know these two gentlemen of color, thin, and the slightly 'older but especially aged, arguing along a path, the one with shambling gait and nervous, the other more cumbersome.
Surely if I had crossed I would have been impressed and I would tell around Milan was not so cosmopolitan, in those years. But perhaps there is someone, somewhere, who remembers something.
(*) A return increasingly steeped incazzitudine, since when we leave, the village comes the stage of the Tirreno-Adriatico. But before I could not tell other arrangements?
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