Leopoldo Genova

It is 10 years since Sergio left us, but his force is still strong.
His soul and body are still present in the places he lived, in the objects he touched and in the people he loved.
I can see him peep out behind every tree, with his sweet smile and his warm voice who greets me.
In the flickering of the fireplace flames I can see his deep expression lines, facial features that give me warmth and strength, a safe haven in which to take refuge.
I imagine his smiling face, shaving his beard in front of the bathroom mirror.
He stops at a thought that he absolutely must write down right away to not lose the magic of his poetry, and he does it in one go, by writing the verses on the bathroom wall.
This was Sergio.
Growing up in the first years of my youth accompanied by Sergio was an amazing journey that forged my soul, my way of thinking and to face life’s joy and adversities with security and determination.
A long journey that enabled me to discover new worlds and new songs.
Sergio, you are still teaching me, your work will never end.
I would like to become like you: “ a man as pure as the wind of your mountains”.

12th January 2023
Leopoldo
________________________

Here we are talking about Sergio once again. Sergio has been many things, many people, many lives, many experiences, but always and only so much love. All he touched was love. Love for his family when, as a child, he did things as a child. Love for the Fatherland, when he did great things as a young partisan boy, he participated with fervor and self-sacrifice in the struggle for freedom and justice. Love for his work as an elementary teacher, with which, in addition to transmitting the doctrinal teachings, he gently accompanied, measured for each of them, the growth of his students for five years. Then love for the companion of her life, Elizabeth, with whom she shared this great project of life, of love for the earth, for the work of the fields, for animals and men, for nature that with its labors and his seasons make sense of everything. Sergio was my primary teacher from 1956 to 1961 at the Embriaco Fieschi school in Genoa. It was the post-war years of hope … after so much horror. My parents were more likely not to talk about what had happened … but near my house in Carignano there were still collapsed houses, the rubble …  Hope, however, was a strong feeling that was breathed, it was in the air. A new society founded on civic foundations of freedom and equality, of respect for others, of welcoming solidarity for your brothers and your companions. This was taught by Maestro Sergio Muratori. His teaching method was to give space to the imagination and freedom of us children. How many are the memories of the things we did … I remember the trips to Superga, the Egyptian Museum of Turin and the bus on the return to Genoa cheered by Santo’s songs. Our class newspaper “the Grillo” where each of us participated with articles, drawings, stories, cartoons and even crossword puzzles. And then the carpentry workshops with my classmates Claudio, Gianluigi and Giampiero, classmates with whom we competed to earn the Sheriff star! Prize that the Master granted to the deserving ones every week !! I remember the visit to a print shop where my partner Elpidio’s father worked who printed a newspaper “il MoHere we are talking about Sergio once again. Sergio has been many things, many people, many lives, many experiences, but always and only so much love. All he touched was love. Love for his family when, as a child, he did things as a child. Love for the Fatherland, when he did great things as a young partisan boy, he participated with fervor and self-sacrifice in the struggle for freedom and justice. Love for his work as an elementary teacher, with which, in addition to transmitting the doctrinal teachings, he gently accompanied, measured for each of them, the growth of his students for five years. Then love for the companion of her life, Elizabeth, with whom she shared this great project of life, of love for the earth, for the work of the fields, for animals and men, for nature that with its labors and his seasons make sense of everything. Sergio was my primary teacher from 1956 to 1961 at the Embriaco Fieschi school in Genoa. It was the post-war years of hope … after so much horror. My parents were more likely not to talk about what had happened … but near my house in Carignano there were still collapsed houses, the rubble …  Hope, however, was a strong feeling that was breathed, it was in the air. A new society founded on civic foundations of freedom and equality, of respect for others, of welcoming solidarity for your brothers and your companions. This was taught by Maestro Sergio Muratori. His teaching method was to give space to the imagination and freedom of us children. How many are the memories of the things we did … I remember the trips to Superga, the Egyptian Museum of Turin and the bus on the return to Genoa cheered by Santo’s songs. Our class newspaper “the Grillo” where each of us participated with articles, drawings, stories, cartoons and even crossword puzzles. And then the carpentry workshops with my classmates Claudio, Gianluigi and Giampiero, classmates with whom we competed to earn the Sheriff star! Prize that the Master granted to the deserving ones every week !! I remember the visit to a print shop where my partner Elpidio’s father worked who printed a newspaper “il Monello” I still remember the smell of the presses and the ink! And then again the lessons of the teacher … once he explained to us how the newspaper had to be folded before getting on the bus, in order to read the whole article, during the journey, without disturbing the other passengers. … Life lessons and civic education, the real one. I have an image of the Maestro, printed in memory, that crosses the courtyard of the school, the sure step, the smile on his lips, his camel-colored jacket and I who looked at him with deep admiration. The teacher was the farmer. Already then! He took our souls and marked them forever. With the plow of his words engraved deep and straight furrows. Our souls lengthened as the furrow lengthened, amplified as the plowed field widened and became aware of the infinite. His words, his smiles, his ability to go deep into each of us have been the fertilizer that has enriched our lives. It made it poetic. Hi Big Oak My heart is always there with you Leopoldo Genovanello” I still remember the smell of the presses and the ink! And then again the lessons of the teacher … once he explained to us how the newspaper had to be folded before getting on the bus, in order to read the whole article, during the journey, without disturbing the other passengers. … Life lessons and civic education, the real one. I have an image of the Maestro, printed in memory, that crosses the courtyard of the school, the sure step, the smile on his lips, his camel-colored jacket and I who looked at him with deep admiration. The teacher was the farmer. Already then! He took our souls and marked them forever. With the plow of his words engraved deep and straight furrows. Our souls lengthened as the furrow lengthened, amplified as the plowed field widened and became aware of the infinite. His words, his smiles, his ability to go deep into each of us have been the fertilizer that has enriched our lives. It made it poetic. Hi Big Oak My heart is always there with you.
Leopoldo Genova