We receive and publish one open letter from a fellow citizen who remembers him with affectionate words.
«The first time I saw Ignazio we were at school, at Cesare Battisti, we were sitting. It was September 2008, his mother had just passed away. He was distant and absorbed. He didn’t speak and didn’t seem to want to be there. I had just arrived at my new school which I will soon have to leave.
Even though I worked in the same class, I kept my distance for a long time, a time he told me later that seemed unjustified. I, however, felt young and inexperienced. He then scrutinized me, touching his beard with that gesture typical of him while I saw those eyes that I would later love, those bright and expressive eyes.
He was a problem solver, he wanted to solve the problems, he thought about how to make the relationship between colleagues more frank but I was a stumbling block due to my reluctance mixed with fear. Ignazio was capable of finding a solution to everything and for this reason so many people turned to him, he was literally overwhelmed by people, wherever he went, he was always friendly and joked with everyone.
His smile, his desire to joke about life’s events was what distinguished him most, he was a great joker. He told me, laughing, that the best ideas for solving problems came to him while he was washing the dishes.
He seemed to ignore the pain and misfortunes that life had in store for him. He was strong, affable, ready to react. He was authoritative, tenacious, always with a smile on his face but it was better to stay away from him when he was furious. He fell silent and stood aside. He was dark in mood, frightening and impenetrable.
At school, he was sometimes unable to return to class and when this happened we missed him. He was often held back by the Manager and other colleagues, and in important decisions his opinion was taken into great consideration
We colleagues felt lucky, compared to the others, for the fact that he taught with us. We were important to him.
I don’t think I have ever met a more lovable person than Ignazio, he was adorable and knew how to make others feel loved, he was full of manners and attention even though, sometimes, his reactions betrayed a destructive force. It happened to see him furious in the corridors of Cesare Battisti, him walking almost touching the wall from time to time. He was intolerant of dishonesty, of those who wanted to make fun of him. He got furious, you could hear him shouting from afar.
He was of too high a level for the environment he found himself in and this, however, was lucky for me because he was able to be my mentor, the person who shaped my character.
Today, while I teach, I think I resemble him in not considering the students as vessels to be filled, in my attention to current events which were his, in my wandering, in the ideas that are associated with each other. From him I got intolerance towards injustice, the ability to protest without fear, contempt towards amorality. It didn’t seem like it but it’s as if I got used to it and having him always in front of me, I shared and took on his ways and this, for me, is the greatest legacy, a gift without value.
He was the backbone of Cesare Battisti and many things would not have gone as they did if he had been there, he was fearless, never satisfied with justice.
He had some typical gestures, which denoted his mood but also sometimes the annoyance he had due to his white hair being too long. He stroked his hair, slowly and to bring it up, together with a quick tilt of the head or when, suddenly, you no longer recognized him, he arrived at school and had cut his beard and hair together.
It seemed like it wasn’t him anymore and even the children were in shock, perhaps he too was embarrassed because a long beard and long hair characterized his appearance but also his identity. And then his belly, round and welcoming, generations of children rested their heads delicately in his arms and on it, clustered around him and all leaned on him, in a state of bliss between jokes continue.
His lessons were never boring and valued the interventions of the children, attending them was a pleasure. He didn’t use notebooks and this worried him in front of his parents; as he said, he couldn’t see much, so it would be difficult to correct the mistakes.
What he said he could do, I would discover much later, had to be compared to what he was able to see.
He was perfectly skilled in everything he did, he even made parmigiana and never accepted being considered different, he hated showing it or having people find out, he feared that others could take advantage of his weakness, especially children during lessons. I like to think that he is now reunited with Angelica. I like to think of their reunion.”
