A preposterous story of the year-end ... ... dedicated to my fellow countryman Frank Capra, who died the day, she twenty-five and sixty years ago realized that one of the best movies in cinema history, and James Stewart, an honest person and sincere, ten years after his death.
Brother, Where Art Thou, or better Oh Brother, Where Are Thou?, for film buffs (not for dog lovers) is the original title of a Cohen Brothers movie, with a wonderful soundtrack, but also "loosely based on Homer's Odyssey," the story of a homecoming set in the grasslands of the southern United States. This question has bounced violently the other night on the walls of my brain, driven by a chemical tsunami of adrenaline as I tried desperately to return to my home.
course, for someone who was in New York, London, Chicago, Rome, Milan, Palermo, Boston, Paris, and also to Partinico, Cesano Boscone and Melide, and that claims to have lost just once in a tissue urban, and this time for a clear intervention of Providence, what you want to make South Bend, so small that even the city is named when it comes to the University of Notre Dame and the hosts who lives alone with the memory of being the place where they produced the Studebaker in the 50's? For one who, having lived for forty years, rubbing of the label "human tourist, who likes to make a day pass for the media when they go to a new city and then jump from one medium to another at random, what can represent the "city" on the border between Michigan and Indiana? It can be a midlife crisis, depression, suicidal feelings, the loss of all certainty, the sinking of existential awareness of being thrown into being, or even worse ... Destiny was perhaps led to steep fork in Heidegger, Nietzsche, Hamlet, Pascal, Dante, Michael Jackson and maybe even Paris Hilton had experienced the thrill of existential abyss.
Sure, my approach was opinionated, but also unlucky, if you think that I had taken (for safety) but that the topographical map of the nearby city, Elkhart, which helped to increase the entropy of the system without and yet give no assurance that it was a hoax, as we shall see later fully understood. Alright And it was raining. And also that steps had already dark.
So, calmly, Volume Volume, I went to Mass at the end of the year the Cathedral of St. Matthews, that all except it seems a cathedral in contrast to the Basilica of Notre Dame. And in five minutes I was there, I promise. The Mass for those who do not remember, lasts an hour and as we have seen in previous chapters, is timed by the presbytery. In that short time there was a phenomenon that happened to me before, but this time, under cover of darkness and the rain (thanks for the favor!) Has proved lethal. Get the car, turn on the radio and relive the same road in the opposite direction. All right. It has been five minutes, exactly the opposite, as the rewind a DVD, you have reviewed all the houses, crossings, buildings of relief, roads that had met the first leg. The only problem is that you were not there anymore, that there , in the final to the point where you started, the house in fact.
for this phenomenon, I could think of only one plausible explanation
That could be explained as follows 
mean, I was in a completely different dimension, in a time when, back along the same road, I ended up in a different world or even in the same world, but on another date. These are things that can happen on December 31. My pride was safe living compass, the one that was able to exchange time again with the space, ie find the right path. Usually we try to find yourself at year end, for me this was not a purpose, rather than a requirement: if it would happen at midnight, Cinderella Man had not found its place in the world? Its Camry would be turned into a pumpkin? And what would become of him? course, as in all the thought experiments, I could not use a map, that is, in fact I had it, but by mistake, reading the subtitle Indiana, I took the map of another city. And of course, just on that occasion I had left home the phone. Okay, I always have a car and are basically in a small town. Probably around the corner, I'll find a clue, a name, a road that I know and I will return in the world I left.
I have seen American movies and things like that happen. Committed the same color that you met in the morning, you begin with a Ferrari and escort you to the courtyard. In short, the usual magic American. A wry smile appears in my brain, but not to give satisfaction to the usual New Year's director, did not report it to his lips. But inside are more than certain. In fact, after a few meters, I run into Ironwood Road, I have traveled thousands of times, America has always predictable, maybe too: immediately after, there was the cross with the four corners respectively Walgreen's and CVS (two drugstores that also sell medicines, those shops which do crazy pharmacist because my cousin in Italy steal the work and who share the U.S., facing its own line of 'Indiana ...).; and on opposite sides, usually the Marathon gas station and restaurant Speedway. Sure, I keep on the same street and passed a few more isolated, another household name. WoW! I find the St. Joseph River, which is always the reference point and the step, until arrival at the University of Indiana: I know I have a few minutes from home and, after twenty minutes are in open country, no signal. I feel betrayed, like Tom Hanks from FedEx. And do not even Wilson.
U-turn, going back to the famous crossroads, of course I'm wrong, I took the road to the opposite direction (the signs are positioned at right angles and not on the side of the road) and I'm confused, logical. And after a while 'usually cross the river, with the usual bridge piers, the city lights nearby, I read well-known names, I should be in downtown and begin the typical fact streets of the Centro: Main, Center, etc.; Now, I bet with myself, to the left is the municipal library, the Library and it appears immediately
treatment as soon as I turn on time as the discovery of Pluto, only instead of St. Joseph have written, looks like the Mishawaka Library: My first thought is that the name has changed from day to day, the second is that after an hour's drive I am practically on the border with Michigan. That is, say, Michigan! Another State! No doubt my twenty years of driving skills or knowledge of road signs, or topography. And then I saw a lot of movies and I read all the Peanuts. The smile that still clung to some synapses in my memory, at the same time attracted by the wrath of the amygdala, and this caused some headaches and a copious production of adrenaline. My face could hardly avoid the wrath of the popular image of Jack Nicholson. And this, though with difficulty, I led to the following reasoning, while the Camry was going on, heedless of the concerns of its helmsman. The border between Indiana and Michigan, Michiana area defined (which includes the four cities of South Bend, Mishawaka, Osceola, and Elkhart, whose topographic maps are absolutely identical, and of course I had to Elkhart, the most useless) is crossed twisted by a river, St. Joseph, through an indefinite number of cities, all with the same urban structure, crossed by parallel roads that keep their names forever in the east-west or the opposite, as he said Heraclitus. These are Ironwood, Hickory, and many others, that at this point I pass through the entire subcontinent, pass beneath the mountains (the Rockies and the Appalachians, the Alps and Apennines that is) and probably arrived in New York or Los Angeles sinks in the oceans, to re-emerge, perhaps in correspondence with the Trans-Siberian Vladivostok and west, perhaps in the Camino de Santiago, Synthesis refers to a cosmic origin of the universe probably. I was, even angry, in what is called the path of metaphysics , that I was almost to my house.
Now, in the stretch that I had the opportunity to explore, that is precisely Michiana , between the cities there are neighborhoods with identical houses with their beautiful garden, which then, as we will see maybe one more time, are the real city , separated from crosses perpendicular repeated in the same order gradually the names of presidents, saints, cities and so on. At major intersections there are always CVS, Walgreen's, Marathon and Speedway. Heidegger teaches me that the unnecessary repetition of daily existence is a sign of inauthentic and Marx's critique of the market economy, and good recovery today from a number of followers who lead the fight against globalization, he told me that the road was not the right one. Risk of ending up in the vortex of nihilism at the heart of the United States.
My internal battery showed signs of dangerous exhaustion, I stopped at a McDonald's, perhaps unconsciously, to give the opportunity for a young clerk who
have sadly spent the last year, to do his good deed and in extremis win the prize courtesy. To be, was polite, but sent me exactly the opposite cardinal point, and so, going back in front of Indiana University, I ended up in the countryside in the opposite direction, like Moses in the desert when I thought to be almost entered the Promised Land, the smile, marinated in the meantime by adrenaline, now sunk into the mists of the nightmare from the hypothalamus, was reflected in a helpless recent discovery of mirror neurons, revealing a grin crazy and delusional, while under St. Joseph ran tumultuous. But I, unlike Moses and the Chosen People, at least that night, I had not betrayed any alliance rose for me and perhaps the prayers that Frank Capra put into the mouths of relatives and friends of George Bailey: many people love me, even at a distance, fortunately, more for my own merit.
I owe everything to George Bailey ...
Help HIM, dear Father.
Joseph, Jesus and Mary.
Help my friend, Mr. Bailey.
Help my son, George, tonight.
He Never Thinks about Himself, God,
that's why he's in trouble.
George is a good guy.
Give HIM a break, God ...
I love him, dear Lord.
HIM Watch over tonight ...
Please, God,
something's the matter with Daddy ...
Please bring Daddy back.
be clear, I do not attribute any of the merits of the hero of Bedford Falls, who saved the city from the grim Potter
However, it will be a chance that those prayers, in Capra's film, coming to a merciful Saint Joseph ( Hello, Joseph. Trouble? ), so, as already recited my last prayers in a car with his automatic transmission was now drifting inexorably, as when James Stewart was the pun 
threatening to end up in the river, mostly it happens in San Jose (which, however, continued to cross into reality, knowing that the city I saw in the background, were now only mirages), my guardian angel he appears, in the guise of a gas station ( Marathon course) indicate the only direction that I lacked respect the standard compass, which had lost all meaning, but warned that I would come home no earlier than three quarters of an hour at that point, moved to Illinois, after taking the first respectively the way to Missouri, Michigan and Iowa. Okay I'm in the North Indiana, but it's been real, that is, type Italy, France and Germany, and spend the New Year's Eve around the world to assure you, is not the most pleasant thing. Those three quarters of an hour by car but me back in the area where imagination and reality touch: I had passed a test, and morality, was partly in the words of a poem I had read that day. not matter if at the end of my Odyssey, the food the day before had ended in the stomach of the suitors, who took delight in watching a football game. I had arrived home at last.
Home, Where My thought's escaping,
Home, Where my music's playing,
Home, Where my love lies waiting Silently for me
.
Home, Where my music's playing,
Home, Where my love lies waiting Silently for me
.
The same evening I express my intentions for the new year, sure of two things: neither heaven nor the film would have never left me, if I had faith in both, God And in my dreams, which often are often competing to outdo. There hope to have made good resolutions for this year and especially not having them abandoned. If you have not, start over riformulateli better.
Good Night and Good Luck!
Marco
We thank the city of South Bend to stay where he remained (will never reveal my true error), and I apologize to the mayor of the city if my story, or metaphor or adventure took place in his city. At the same time I thank all the people of Mishawaka, Elkhart and Osceola for your patience.
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