Calling by name
Does it matter to our friends of so many seasons — Nicola, Mariangela, Pasquale — to our "young people" of Fede e Luce, whether we call their wounds "handicap", "disability", "differing ability"? What interest does the debate on "politically correct" language hold for them — reported, among various other things, in Elisabetta de Rino's interesting account of the seminar on "Disability and information" held in Turin some months ago (see the last issue of Ombre e Luci)? We can imagine they have other priorities! Is that enough to say that debate is useless? No, provided we accept that it serves us more than it serves them. "Political correctness" is a kind of thermometer of society's sensitivity toward certain issues. From this point of view, I hope I won't seem too paradoxical if I say that I am glad the debate exists, but that the solutions found interest me very little. Let me explain: it is good that we ask ourselves about the needs of disabled people, that we try to identify the boundaries of their sensitivities, their material needs, their intellectual or emotional aspirations; but there will never be a word in the world precise and respectful enough to be capable, on the one hand, of lessening the burden of suffering for them and their families, and on the other, of attenuating society's responsibility toward them. In short, let us ask ourselves how we should call Nicola, Mariangela and Pasquale — whether handicapped, disabled, differently able, or something else again — provided that "fine words" do not become the alibi for "doing nothing". What they continue to need is friendship, assistance, opportunities for enjoyment and cultural growth, usable urban spaces, and then also fitting words. As for me, I would like to address a small prayer to Jesus: that I may have a heart large enough to call them by name.
Vito Giannulo
In the grandiose Beijing...
This year there has been so much talk, and it has also been felt, that the world economy has serious problems; perhaps each of us has revised certain habits, has tried to become more attentive in daily choices, and has begun to discover that "being is worth more than having!" At Huiling too (a welcoming community for the disabled in Hong Kong, ed.) we felt uneasy because, while we were growing accustomed to continual improvement — all of a sudden — we found ourselves losing colleagues and even being evicted. Just think that in the very grandiose Beijing of the last pharaonic Olympics, some forty differently able people who were sustaining themselves by performing simple shows in a Hutong (a building in the ancient style that recalls the popular alleyways of the time of the emperors) were forced to leave due to eviction, losing their work as well... but all the effort of these years has not been lost. On the contrary! The Spirit of God touched the hearts of our workers, who took, out of their own pockets and with great courage, not a few of their savings to rent a similar space in another part of the city. Thus, both they and the mentally disabled can continue to have their own meeting place and can offer tourists a fine show. And who knows — perhaps one day you too will have the chance to see it, in China or in Italy!
Padre Fernando Cagnin
Do you want to deprive us of all this?
For many years I have been a subscriber to your magazine, which I always read with great interest.
Every now and then, however, I catch some hint of your difficulties as an editorial team, and I would not want the effort you make to end up overwhelming you.
These are certainly real difficulties, and I would like to be able to help you, but I do not know how. I know that I would be very sorry not to receive Ombre e Luci any more. I would miss the lead articles, often very touching, which make resonate within me things lived in F.L. and in everyday life, feelings I would like to communicate to others — above all to those who never hear these subjects spoken of in this way.
I would miss the news about the lives of F.L. friends scattered all across Italy, and the letters from some parents that reflect their daily struggles, sometimes immense ones, sustained by their love for their children, their tenacity in this love, and sometimes their great faith.
I would miss the words you occasionally bring from Jean Vanier — those things he says that have helped me so much in this difficult moment of my life as a wounded eighty-year-old. I would miss the very acute book reviews on titles rarely chosen by other magazines. And so many other small and lovely surprises in the form of small but savory articles. Do you want to deprive us of all this? I truly hope not. Thank you in any case for everything you give us.
Sergio de Rino
Remembering someone's death can be a comfort to those who knew that person, but it can sadden others. It may lead one to decide to pass over it, legitimately.
But the two people remembered below — Maurizio through a poem written by a dear friend, and Alberto through a letter from the many who knew him — are people who, despite their handicap and the difficulties connected to it, leave a great void around them.
To my dearest friend
Your brothers are already flying,
you, little sparrow,
take a few uncertain steps, you stop.
You poke your head out of the nest,
you love discovering the light so much,
you would like to soar out, to let the wind caress you,
and then glide lightly into the blue but,
if you lean out even just a little your flight becomes a fall
and the light disappears into darkness.
And so,
you return to the warmth.
Your mother feeds you,
your little body grows,
but your wings are always broken you remain the little sparrow, with your fragility
and your strange chirping
and springtime wonders why!
But before your nest the eagles will come, the hawks, the swallows
and you, you yourself
will teach them something. You will show them skies where one flies without wings
you will show them a deeper blue.
Many of them will understand and will fly with you with joy and will thank you little sparrow!
Mimmo Cuda
Goodbye Alberto
Goodbye Alberto, your mother sends her greetings. She who has loved you and loves you above all others greets you with aching love. How many joys from this "particular" son, and at the same time how many sorrows — but sorrows that were amply repaid by your smiles, your witticisms, your being present in every situation and every circumstance. This mother, and your father with her, spent her whole life making you feel accepted, equal to others, making you live with the same rights as everyone. Your parents took you to restaurants, on boat trips, on holidays, to concerts of the singers you loved so much.
Goodbye Dik Dik, your sister Antonella sends her greetings.
Your little sister who wanted to cut out your tongue because you talked too much, but who used to make your coffee when you came home from work, and whom you, as a good older brother, treated with condescension. Antonella, with her very particular way of communicating, is looking for you and waiting for you, refusing to surrender to reality.
Goodbye Alberto, your friends and work colleagues from the "bibitina", the bottling Cooperative, send their greetings. Your companions cannot understand how you simply stopped coming in from one day to the next. How many fine moments you spent at the "bibitina" — there you felt completely at ease, you joked with everyone, you gave orders, everyone helped you and was fond of you. You were always the first to get on the minibus and you always knew what day of the week the 10th of each month fell on, because you had to organize yourself to collect your wages!!! Now the mornings without you are empty — you are no longer there to hold court.
Goodbye Alberto, your companions from the gym send their greetings. They were all with you as you pedaled on the exercise bike and did sit-ups on the floor; everyone noticed the eager commitment you put into doing the exercises to have your "good hand", your tenacity and your stubbornness were truly out of the ordinary.
Goodbye Alberto, your friends from Fede e Luce send their greetings. The whole Community would like to have you with them still, to share moments of reflection and prayer, to have fun together, to eat, to celebrate and go on outings — but above all for the warmth you radiated and for your comic streak (in other words, you made what you meant to say perfectly clear). Everyone will always remember the last pilgrimage, lived with you as your last gift of your presence, to Rome with the moving Audience with the Pope.
Goodbye Alberto, all the people you met send their greetings — the friends from ANNFFAS and those from the "Centro delle Occasioni", the friends from the bar; everyone carries a weight in their heart and the regret of thinking that you left too soon.
Goodbye Alberto, we will miss you!