I met Carlo in January 1982. By then, my husband Paolo, our children, and I were already part of the Fede e Luce Group "S. Gaetano" in Milan.
Carlo was fifty-five at the time, and had recently lost his father, leaving him alone in the same public housing unit where he'd been born. His parents had raised him there with loving, thoughtful care that allowed him, despite his handicap, to grow into a lively, curious person with an exceptional sense of humor. I often talk with him about his parents and remember them together in prayer.
From that January nearly twenty years ago, Carlo quickly became fully part of our group. It was impossible not to notice him. He took part happily in the singing and games at our gatherings. We had to make sure he was invited to everything on time, or there'd be trouble: trips, camping, pizza nights, parties—they were all his!
After those first few months of getting to know each other, Carlo began visiting many of our homes regularly. A quiet dinner, a weekend, an afternoon together—all of this made his friendship with us more intimate and warm.
One of Carlo's favorite activities is drawing; albums and markers are always welcome gifts for him. Speaking of which, I remember an afternoon last June when he was with us in Laveno, sitting at a little table in the garden with Giulia, our three-year-old granddaughter. Neither of them is naturally generous, and as they drew, they were both watchful and suspicious that the other might grab their own supplies. But after a while, I noticed Giulia eyeing a certain marker of Carlo's, and Carlo needed an eraser that belonged to her. I watched them, both curious and a little worried about how it would end. With perfect simplicity, those two gently made fun of me, and the exchange happened naturally, without a fuss.
Carlo's drawings are in a naïf style. He creates beautiful cityscapes, buildings, streets, cars, antennas. He draws for hours without tiring. It helps him pass his time alone at home, listening to the radio or watching television.
He's also an avid reader. He reads everything—from Famiglia Cristiana to Ombre e Luci, full novels, and lately the Brothers Karamazov. He loves books about animals, history, and geography. He can spend hours studying an atlas or a road map. Friends of ours, the Pintos, know this well—when they invite him to dinner, they often have him read aloud from books on topics that interest him. He's informed about everything and speaks willingly during his daily phone calls.
Carlo is now seventy-three. He doesn't get out as much as he once did, and a kind woman from his building has taken it upon herself to care for him. She's become a precious "mother and friend" to him. Our brother-in-law Berto also visits regularly to shave him, and the friendship grows.
"Hello! This is Carlo, your Beatrice, how are you?" Carlo calls me every day around 6:30 p.m., and if he doesn't reach me, he tries again after dinner, leaving a message about his disappointment on the answering machine. Of course, it's not always an idyll between us—especially on the phone. Sometimes I'm busy, I don't have time, and I rush to reschedule for tomorrow. Sometimes he gets anxious and has a magical way of passing that nervousness on to me. But usually, if I just step away from my own time for a moment, the conversation flows peacefully from the news, to the weather, to updates about our children and their families, to what we ate, to community plans, and so on.
Carlo is a dear friend to me. The greatest gift he's taught me is loyalty—which at Fede e Luce is truly everything. Thank you, Carlo.
- Beatrice (Trixi) Pezzoli, 2001
