This is one of many memories that accompany me from many years, one of the best.
I was young and my father had rented a restaurant: to my child's eyes all was very big, with many, too much things to manage, but it had to be really great because it took about 30 people, including waiters, bartenders, dishwashers, lifeguards, etc.
The place was known, but you could also say at the same time isolated: there was no phone, there was no television, there was no gas, no electricity (only one supplied by the local generator, the "engine", that every morning at 7 am >my father lit and extinguished at 11 in the evening, spending the night with a case of batteries, which gave a light so weak that it even attracted the moths and mosquitoes.A place so now only found in some backwater planet and no one wants to be there.
The train, that yes, there was one the national line was nearby, and the night from the bedroom when it passed was a show, and the feeling that there was something else out there!
And the nights ........ How many stars in the sky!
Everywhere you turned your head were piles of stars, so many stars, perhaps too many stars!
And with a huge moon that was enough to reach out and take it.
Even the speeches of that time were different about now: it came straight to the point without beating about the bush, and then we laughed so much.But in those days I heard about only one thing: it was the only argument, indeed it was the TOPIC on which everyone had something to say with satisfaction and admiration, and with so much hope.And in my mind of child TOPIC was the only one worthy of attention (in addition to doing damage and playing).
In those days I was in that place but on the one hand I was sad because I could not follow what was happening on television but which I knew everything, and that night, about the time that had been said, I remember the beautiful moon in the sky where a small hero was going to do something, and one of the many trains passing by race, but on the other I was happy because I knew that the day after I returned home where there was television.
I could not wait to get there, the trains were still on time!
And finally, the next day, at home with my mother, and gave the TV recording of what had happened the day before, that the little hero had done on behalf of all of us, young and old, and for those who still were born.
The past week the little big hero when I was a kid is dead, so without much fanfare stadium: something said and relaunched by now ubiquitous digital TV, from squalid idiots who call themselves journalists, but that would be a great compliment call newsboys, that just to fill the time of the news.
The fate of the little heroes is this!
Bye Neil, and from there, where you are now before all of us, from time to time send a benevolent greeting.
