Out of curiosity
A little story on unlikely investigations and pieces falling into place
When my father retired we were rather concerned. I remember that odd itinerary from the sofa to the garden and backwards with the dog that faithfully followed his feet. Every day, for weeks. Then something happened and the pattern changed. Looking backwards I am still amazed of how an act of simple inquisitiveness had turned into a labor of love, inspiring a renewed phase of creativity and growth. Here is how the story went, I’m writing it for Mozaic.
Picking clues
One day my father came back home with a bunch of pictures of his father-in-law. My grandfather had served during the Second World War under the Polish army and one of his main duty stations happened to be my home town. That is where he met my unconventional grandmother before they married and emigrated to Argentina, where both my mother and aunts were born. Long story short, some years after my grandparents broke up and all the women in the family sailed back to Italy, to stay.
I have never met my grandfather in person and now his youngest version was staring at us in military uniform from three blurry black-and-white pictures from 75 years ago, together with some fellow soldiers and shining tanks distributed along very familiar places in town. My curiosity soon boiled off while that of my father was heightening. The polish army had been staying in his native town for two years, many mixed marriage were celebrated and apparently the Polish soldiers contributed significantly to the Italian liberation campaign beside the British army. They were forgotten heroes and he started to wonder if there was more to be known.
An exhibit is in town
As the time passed I witnessed that first spark of curiosity growing into a mixture of excitement and obsession (oh please spare me another conference on Polish history at dinner!). He looked focused, interested, with a newfound energy rising from within and pushing out words, endless conversations, international phone calls, veterans interviews and many other unprecedented activities for him. What had started as three mundane pictures on the dining table evolved into a photography exhibition to be held the 25 of April in the occasion of Italy’s liberation day, as the main official celebration activity of my home town. He was scared, doubtful, with impostor syndrome ambushing his bad days.
Who am I to do this? I’m not an historian, I’m not an artist — he used to say — at my age is passion enough to allow me leading something I’ve never done before?
Reality check confirmed it was enough indeed. Complemented by a huge amount of work and a team of wonderful crazy people that had offered their support throughout the journey. Hundreds of people visited the exhibit, many expressing their gratitude for the forgotten memories they had retrieved. Some suggested he should organize something for schools to raise children awareness about cultural identity and other contemporary social issues. Many more ideas came and went through that day. He didn’t reply to any. He looked moved, proud, grateful and exhausted.
Curiouser and curiouser!
Some weeks passed by and we were worried to see that light go away, the energy run out. But we were wrong, again. He was just waiting for curiosity to take him back into the journey. He finally decided that the next step would have been a picture book, to let the memory of the exhibition spread. He is currently working on it and I bet it will not be the final stop, although I have learnt not to mention long term plans. I haven’t seen him so passionate in years. It’s much more than a “side project” for him, it’s a work he loves.
The road to meaning and back
When asked to tell how the idea of the book was born he now looks back and finds meaning everywhere. A sort of coherence has brought him to this intention from a very faraway past, from choices almost forgotten and hints harvested along the way.
I cannot help but notice that the very same meaning was apparently missing, not even required, the day he brought the pictures home and started to wonder what kind of story they treasured. This insight makes me think of all the times I’ve found myself stuck in the search for significant ventures, struggling to understand where to start.
Now I think I’ve got a clue. The path to a meaningful place starts exactly where you are, here, right now, always. Something catches your attention, invites you to follow and, if you do, meaning will emerge naturally along the way out of a strand of acts of aimless curiosity and cheerful trust.
