Giulio is a bit older than I am—I'm forty. We've been friends for a long time, but when his father died, I didn't find out until much later. By then, the two of them, who had been so important to our Fede e Luce group, had stopped coming to our meetings. So when I was asked to write an article for Ombre e Luci, Giulio came to mind at once. I thought he might have something important to say. One quiet winter afternoon, we sat down for a long conversation, and what follows are his thoughts. (A.A.P.)
When I was very young, he taught me how to operate a motorboat—a big one with a Seagull engine. Over the years that followed, we kept going to Circeo, to the house my grandfather had given us. Later we had a sailboat too, and my father had his fishing boat.
I spent a lot of time with him. We'd play bocce together—him, me, my grandfather, and my great-uncle.
When my father got sick, before he died, I tried to keep my spirits up with my friends, tried not to think about it. Because otherwise it was a nightmare. I realized my brothers felt the same way. Even after he died, it was like that. Being at home was hard because I kept thinking of him.
My mother has been a huge help every day. But I've also had real support from my younger sister, who lives downstairs. My brother-in-law wanted us all to live in the same building—he arranged for us to have this apartment on the second floor.
My father used to say: be careful when you leave the house. Since you can't drive, ask your sister or your brother or your mother to give you a ride.
Near the end, my father gave me some advice: "Giulio, listen to what Giuseppe—your sister's husband—tells you. He knows what he's doing." So now, for example, I keep my money at the same bank he recommended.
But in general, I've followed my sister and brother-in-law's guidance pretty closely, and I've given them advice too.
The best thing that's happened is what my oldest niece—my sister's daughter—has been learning. Her father explains mathematics to her, the way my father used to explain math to me. Not schoolbook math, but practical, industrial math.
My mother teaches my niece Latin. I see my nieces often. I have a lot of photos in my room—of them, of my father, of me as a child.
There's so much more I could remember about my father, but he's still right here, in front of my eyes. When I watch a TV program, I say to my mother, "He would like this." I talk to him often—almost every day, I'd say.