«NThe Craxis had become outcasts. Nobody invited us to dinner, nobody wanted to see us. To me that situation didn’t seem so unbearable, I had small children and I was happy to stay at home. My husband, on the other hand, suffered more… The banks withdrew our loans, even personal onesthey woke us up in the morning and called a bank manager who summoned us to the office, received us with the day’s newspaper in hand and told us: “I’m sorry, I can’t do otherwise”.
Every father would like to have a daughter like Stefania Craxi. I remember her twenty-five years ago in Hammamet, in the days of Bettino’s agony. She wore a very beautiful Berber dress, green with silver decorations, floor-length, of which she constantly tormented the sleeve; and she was very angry.
With everyone: the judges, the communists, Luciano Violante who had defined his family as “South American”, Giuliano Amato and the other socialists whom she defined as traitors and slothful, and obviously us journalists.
Aldo Cazzullo (photo by Carlo Furgeri Gilbert).
I didn’t know Stefania, and she struck me a lot. His anger always seemed on the verge of explodingin aggression or in crying, but at the same time it was her fuel, her way of staying connected to people and things.
“In the shadow of history. My life between politics and affections” by Stefania Craxi (Piemme).
Now I find it in a beautiful book, In the shadow of history. My life between politics and affectionspublished by Piemme. «One day Toni Muzi Falcone, a well-known Milanese advertiser, without any reason, since I didn’t even know him, wrote a letter to the newspapers full of falsehoods, claiming that I was detoxing in a recovery center».
A family friend, Pippo Baudo, calls Stefania’s husband, who clarifies: “She is breastfeeding.” Pippo then advises the couple to show themselves around, to put an end to the rumors. Because the real protagonist of the book is not the father; it’s her, the daughter. Which is told in a violated everyday life, in a slow descent into hell, in a rise full of dignity.
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