Robi de campana a martel

A  [fair] warning. 

This is an autobiographical piece, mostly about my parents; it has likely degenerated in yet another rant, and hopefully one that may not appeal to you at all.

Hopefully because, if it does, you are as hopelessly in-adapted to modern life as I feel that I am. 

In which case, my condolences and let's get drunk together, some day.

The title roughly translate to "Things [so preposterous that they are] worthy of being announced to the people, by tolling bells with hammers".

I  suppose that an actual Briton or American could write the same far more succinctly, in English, but for my purposes this translation is clear enough.

It was one of the preferred phrases of my parents.

It really translates to "Kid, this thing you want to do embarrasses me greatly" - only, put this way, it would mean to admit that the problem lies with the parent, more than with the kid, which would require an ability to put oneself under examination well beyond my parents fairly narrow limits.

And herein lies the problem:

What exactly embarrassed my parents? A kid wanting to go in vacation at Islas Baleares in 1983, for example - from Italy, not from the U.S.

Or another one that preferred computers and electronics to building structural engineering, in 1992.

You fail to see where were the problem was, in both cases?  The same did I.

In reality - it took years to me, to get his - that phrase was a knee-jerk response, one that they resorted to when confronted with any thing that went beyond their experience.

Instead of saying "I do not have any idea about this; let's take a step back, and try to see how things are, eventually asking around" they felt threatened, and did their best to dismiss any idea or concept that stayed out of their very tight boxes.

They felt diminished, and answered with anger and derision.   

All along my childhood, I saw my brother (some years older) fight for this or that, with them, and never, ever, ever win.

Worse, every now and then he inadvertently stepped inside "Robi'" territory and, afterwards, he was accused, for a couple of years or so (!), of having "embarrassed them" with a "crazy request".

Now, I have been accused of many things (being a huge pervert that really hates women and a very gentle asshole chiefs among them - both, not without a certain degree of truth) but being unable to extrapolate a trend, from a very repetitive pattern, is not among them.

It was not before long that I learned that they couldn't be trusted for anything that had even a passing importance for me, and that they were the last persons to involve in - uh - anything.

My parents were the last persons on Earth whom I trusted.

As a consequence  of this, when I was - about -  twelve, they started calling me the "Calabro-Siculo-Sardo" ("Sicilian-Calabrian-Sardinian") because I respected omertà even more religiously than a stereotypical inhabitant of one of those Italians regions.

At every question, I always answered "I do not know".

Because, sometimes, I really did not know.

Sometimes, I just did not know which answer would not make them mad.

And, always, I knew that they didn't really want to know any inconvenient truth... they just wanted to be reassured that they were still in control.

Answer to any question, or say something actually personal, was pointless and or dangerous - so I simply stopped.

And, because assertive refusal of doing anything was also NOT an option, I ended up becoming a MOUNTAIN of passive aggression, too.

I won't say no to you, but you will die before I do anything that I do not really want to do

Literally.

It is bad? yes it is.

Yet, my chief at work was bright enough to understand what my parents never could.

To get me doing something, it is enough to tell me "There is something to do; it's kind of hard but interesting, would you mind do it?" - he asked, so I pulled it off, time and again, because someone had to do it and I could, and it was kind of fun.

But if you give me an actual order, I rather die before caving in - I won't explicitly refuse, but I'll fuck things up with a silent yet unyielding sabotage.

My parents never got this (even though every professor since primary school spelled it to them "He can do everything he wants, but HE must want to do it. If you give him orders, it is the end" - my parents refused to take note, of course, of anything after "he can do everything").

They were always giving orders, and framing things in terms of ultimatums, or duties out of some god-like authority.

Or things that were "necessary for the family", like some pathetic "Tywin Lannister" of the North-Italian low-middle class.

But, as Tirion could tell you, were he around, if they keep telling you that you are but a mail in a [pretty pathetic, small town] family chain, you start thinking...

"Fuck Off The Family."

Which, in turn, translates to "I will never, ever reproduce".

Now, it would be perfect if my brother hadn't had two kids, or if they were not kind of sweet.

Hopefully, life is long and they may still earn a Darwin award by themselves.

Let's hope.