Today was a big one for funerals. I realize that funerals do not make summer beach reading, but they are not scheduled for anybody’s pleasure or convenience. I certainly had no intention of writing about bereavement with the sun shining outside, but here we are.
One was at the basilica of SS. Giovanni e Paolo (for the record, NEVER referred to by Venetians as “Zanipolo”) of an important, famous, probably rich man named Cesare de Michelis (deceased August 10. Sorry you have to rely on google translate to read his biography). The world remembers his heft in the realm of culture; me, I remember that his house was right under/behind our first apartment near Santa Marta. He had a few Brittany spaniels who were somewhat deranged by boredom, so they barked a lot. The garden contained a glorious double-cherry tree whose resplendent blossoming completely filled one of our windows. His daughter often would come home at or about dawn, clanging the iron gate just below our bed. Reveille! But this post isn’t really about him.
Presenting a striking contrast to what must have seemed a sort of state funeral were the obsequies for Natalino Gavagnin and Renzo Rossi (58 and 63 years old, respectively), bosom buddies, from just over the bridge. Here in the depths of Castello, important rich people are somewhat thin on the ground, but they were certainly better-known than De Michelis, half the neighborhood having gone to school or work or just hung out with them since childhood.
On the night of August 3, these inseparable friends got the boat ready and went out fishing, as they loved to do. But they were hardly alone; in the summer the lagoon is far from empty. Plenty of fatal accidents occur, often involving young people in their boats, zooming with life and horsepower, who don’t turn on their lights or in any other way demonstrate the awareness that there might be solid objects in their path. One such object was Natalino and Renzo’s boat.
Around midnight, two young (mid-20’s) couples were returning from dinner riding in a fairly substantial motorboat with a 150-hp motor, and they ran into the two men. In point of fact, the autopsies appear to confirm that the boat actually went over the two fishermen, judging by the fatal injuries inflicted by the fast boat’s propeller.
The driver said he didn’t see their lights, but at the last minute swerved in a failed attempt to avoid collision. Though some have said that they were not going especially fast, the force of the swerve threw his friend 30 meters (98 feet) out of the boat. Maybe it depends on what you mean by “going fast.”
Renzo was taken by ambulance to the hospital, where he died more or less on arrival. Natalino, who died immediately, was borne away by the incoming tide, and was recovered around 1:25 AM near the Morosini Naval School at Sant’ Elena. The two young couples had various minor injuries. The legal proceedings will continue, of course, but that’s not the story.
The other day Lino began to retrieve a poem from his bottomless memory bank — I don’t know what made him think of it, but in his day the teachers crammed poetry into their little students’ heads, some of it quite classic and sometimes very long. Now seems like an appropriate occasion to bring this poem back (translated by me).
“Imitation” by Giacomo Leopardi (1798-1837)
Far from your branch, poor, frail leaf,
Where are you going?
From the beech tree where I was born
The wind divided me.
Turning, from the forest to the countryside,
from the valley to the mountain, it carried me.
Perpetually desiccated,
I go as a pilgrim, and ignore everything else.
I go where everything (goes),
Where naturally
Goes the leaf of the rose,
And the leaf of the laurel.
Lungi dal proprio ramo,
Povera foglia frale,
Dove vai tu? – Dal faggio
Là dov’io nacqui, mi divise il vento.
Esso, tornando, a volo
Dal bosco alla campagna,
Dalla valle mi porta alla montagna.
Seco perpetuamente
Vo pellegrina, e tutto l’altro ignoro.
Vo dove ogni altra cosa,
Dove naturalmente
Va la foglia di rosa,
E la foglia d’alloro.
