«Not even politics has divided us- Corriere.it

The funeral of Roberto Maroni, former minister and governor of Lombardy, who died of an illness at the age of 67 was held today in Varese. Marco Dal Fior, Corriere journalist and longtime friend of «Bobo» Maroni wanted to remember him in an article for the Corriere and for the «Varesenoi» site.

You know Bobo, these lines cost me a lot of tears. Because not even politics had succeeded in dividing our friendship born on the dirt fields where we played the Cairoli high school football tournaments. The Third E, older and full of glory for the victories in past editions, and you impertinent quarter note who you made us dance in the middle of the court and spit sweat and curses. We then met immediately after on Lake Varese. I’m a sailing instructor, you are a passionate and amused student. So much so that, when the Varese section of the Naval League found an invitation for an award cruise on the Amerigo Vespucci, you did not hesitate to apply among the possible participants. Thus we found ourselves polishing brasses and polishing the ship in view of the embarkation of the cadets. Sanremo-Cagliari-Livorno, anything but a cruise. But we had a lot of fun.

Then came the radio, the microphones of Radio VareseI who had proposed a broadcast of Lombard popular music and traditions, you who knew how to use the mixer and for this You offered to be my sparring partner. And since then I’ve been wondering what my involuntary contribution was to push you into the League (Naval or Lombard, maybe you got confused) and to spur you on to defend the values ​​of this land, certainly exaggerating a bit when it came to calling for secession.

Then I remember Mondays for lunch at the «Matarel» in Milan. You with your court of aficionados at the table on the far left, I with my colleagues in the small room on the right. And Marco Comini, the patron, teases us with virulent sagacity, seasoned however with an underlying love that always came to light between «cassoeula che l’è pussée legera de ‘na paillard» And «the ossbus that Elide incoeu made special».

On December I can no longer remember which year I am entering the Galleria Manzoni e a trio of Santas dressed in red and with white beards he comes towards me swinging Christmas lullabies. They hand me a hat with some change in it. I try to dribble and reach the front door. «Pirla, don’t you put some money for Christmas for the poorest?». I turn abruptly. Under the beard of the accordionist you were hiding, then Minister of the Interior, that you didn’t want to give up on the tradition of District 51 and you wanted to participate as always in the group’s charity quest. I gave you a few thousand bills and a hug.

The same one we exchanged on 1 August 2009. Upon leaving the church of San Vittore, where my son’s funeral had just taken place Paolo, you came to meet me making your way through the people who crowded the square and leaving the escort at a distance who was in danger of a heart attack. You were Minister of the Interior again, but you wanted to be there to give us your comfort in that abyss of pain in which me and Ge, my wife, had fallen. I haven’t forgotten it, I don’t forget it. And today I would like to embrace Emi, Chelo, Filippo and Fabrizio with the same affection. You have had a great husband and a great father. We have lost a great travel companion. On different routes but with the same pace.