Greetings Lunch - Crevalcore, December 2, 2012

Dearest,

Here we are the day after another very special day experienced thanks to our MGs and thanks to the positive spirit that reigns in our club.
Some die-hards weren't deterred by the dire weather forecast and promptly met up with the others at the Crevalcore meeting point under a grey sky that didn't bode well.

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But the challenge posed by the open hoods of a couple of MGs won over Jupiter Pluvius and the weather website owls, so much so that around midday the sky even opened up, letting the pale early winter sun shine through while we were in the courtyard of the Nonantola Abbey, yet another treasure chest that our beautiful Italy is dotted with.
It was a Sunday of mixed feelings: on the one hand, the pain of seeing places so severely hit by the recent earthquake, and on the other, getting to know the people who live there, so dignified and strong, with a great desire to start living again, as evidenced by the day's slogan: "I don't tremble!"
And then, above all, our desire to share emotions on occasions when we manage to be together.
The charity raffle initiative is wonderful, and I'd like to take a moment to pay tribute to the wonderful Gloria and Manuela, who masterfully led the initiative.
Woe to you dear male organizers of events and demonstrations if you dare slow down your pace: our women demonstrate in a big way that they can do as well as us, if not better, in leading the game!!!
Naturally, congratulations also go to Giorgio and Valter, rangers of the day, but a special thanks goes to Ennia and Italo Bortoli.
They are not yet Emmegiisti in the sense that they don't have an MG yet, but they have amply demonstrated both in Cilento and yesterday in particular that they have a big heart and enthusiasm at least equal to ours, so we already consider them part of the family.


Warm greetings to everyone and once again, best wishes for a peaceful Christmas.

John Tesauro


Crevalcore in MG: The Sound of Silence

Prologue:
On May 29, 2012, at 9.03 am, a strong seismic shock measuring 5.8 on the Richter scale shook all of Northern Italy, with the earth trembling even in Switzerland, Croatia and Slovenia.
I was at home, in the kitchen with my brother, and we were talking about the beautiful, clear sky shining through the windows. In an instant, our moods quickly changed:
the whole room shakes, I immediately think far away and say out loud: "if we felt this strong shock in Monza, there in the epicenter it will have certainly caused a disaster". A few hours later my prediction unfortunately had a sad and disheartening confirmation: 20 victims, 350 injured and many houses simply crumbled into dust and rubble.
Event: December 2, 2012 Crevalcore( Emilia R. ) birthplace in MG.
From the brilliant minds of some kind, courteous and gentle ladies comes this evocative journey to that tormented land, as a "soothing" event for the great wounds open in that soil in order to fill the deep furrows left with much love and great generosity.
Instead, from our "Supreme Poet", Pierpaolo Parma, solid "Trellis" of our telematic communication and information, meticulous weaver of contacts, who holds and acts as an "Inspirational Muse" for our legendary journeys back to times gone by, comes the splendid communication: on December 2nd we will all go with our "Old Ladies" in MG to Crevalcore, in the heart of our wounded Italy to bring a little joy, serenity and Christmas spirit.
I don't think twice and, together with my whole family, I give my consent to the event.
Real facts:
On Saturday 1st December 2012 I left Monza with the whole family in tow, namely: my wife (I didn't know which of my two loves to put first: my sweet Teresa or my legendary 1953 MG TD?) and my two adored puppies Lorena and Simone.
We set off in the pouring rain for a good 200 km of dark road to be covered with my modern car towing my old Lady MG TD (it's always better not to tire her out given her advanced age and then I know that she really likes being pulled in a carriage by many powerful horses, spoiled she is, what can I do!).
We arrived a few hours later and found ourselves in the darkness, immersed in the vast Emilian countryside. The devastation wrought by the earthquake was not yet visible. Only the next day was it possible to see the desolation of the place, shrouded in a freezing winter fog that made those places even more melancholy.
It was impressive to walk through the town of Crevalcore, among the deserted alleys covered in dust from the remains of the rubble one could sadly only hear "the sound of silence".
The Sound of Silence like the notes of an old and famous 1965 song by Paul Simon.
Peace, Loneliness, Anger, Fear, Helplessness, Sadness, all these were the thoughts that crowded my mind:
Peace: As after a violent storm!!
Solitude: For those places left devoid of any form of life!!
Anger: Because nature had punished them so unfairly!!
Fear: That everything could collapse at any moment!!
Impotence: In the face of the violent force of nature!!
Sadness: Having to abandon your homes!!
Among the deserted streets one could glimpse the facades of some historic buildings, marked on their faces by visible and fresh scars still "Bleeding", supported by the fearless poles of large trees, born to support large and showy foliage and ended up supporting rickety houses, cut to measure to support what remained of the glorious past that was!
Gloomy faces and silent, resigned faces of rare passers-by wandered through those narrow streets where the "echo" of their light footsteps resounded, so as not to betray the silence that reigned there, on that pavement which was also deformed and diseased, worthy of care and attention!
Walking along the cobbled streets of the historic center, I glimpsed the "Great Portal" entrance to the town with its still clock; the hands still pointed to 9:03; that hour which six months earlier had marked that terrible event in my mind and in the minds of all Italians!
That hour when I was still able to feel all the pain and physical suffering of the people who perished under the rubble at that precise moment.
How a few seconds are enough to upset the existence of the human being, always small and alone in the face of the force of nature. What a strange sensation I felt, a cold shiver had run down my entire spine, while my soul suffered in religious silence at the sight of those now cold hands, forever immobile and no longer able to mark the time of those dusty, broken and sad places.
They will forever mark that event in the minds and eyes of all who pass under that “Great Stone Arch”!
As we drove around in the MG, my mood grew darker as I saw the desolation of those places, once full of life, joy, and dreams for the future, where groups of children ran carefree, happy to grow up, and where the village elders used to take their walks to give meaning to their long, monotonous day.
Ruined houses, fragments of collapsed historic towers, broken roofs, deserted streets and lots and lots of silence.
The Sound of Silence, yes, we could have called this unusual MG event just like that, not the usual event made of laughter, reckless driving and time trials, but a celebratory and commemorative event, in the sad memory of the people who disappeared and in the sweet memory of those people who remained there to slowly recover their lives, their existence!
Thank you, Great and Kind Ladies, for having wanted this simple and timeless event.
Thank you, Great and Kind Ladies, for letting us experience first-hand the other face of our Italy: the one that suffers in silent silence, never gives up and never gives up!
Thank you, Great and Kind Ladies, for having wanted us close to you in sharing this great state of suffering that will remain indelible in the depths of our hearts now distracted by the nothingness, the iniquities and the assiduous pursuit of worldly success that modern life offers us and to which many men unfortunately aspire and yearn continuously, forgetting the love and respect lost between men, between those individuals still called "Men", a simple and solitary traveler on this earthly life!
 
Salvatore and Teresa Arcidiacono