Robert Broekman :: 13.09.25 – 21.10.11
In Italy obituaries are plastered on the walls throughout town. They strike me as operatic in nature, great big announcements for everyone to see. My father didn’t want a service, or even an obituary – ha voluto niente. None-the-less, I am compelled to say something, to pay tribute in some way.
Though we didn’t always see eye to eye, he was my father, and at times it seems that this nut didn’t fall very far from his tree. I’m sure that my stubborn nature is in part inherited from him. It has in many ways served me well. He also taught me a lot that has led me to where I am today. Some of those lessons may, in fact, have been unintentional; but I’m grateful for them even so. I learned from both my parents how to think for myself, and stand up for the things that matter to me. They also both, in their own ways, taught me to be very (maybe sometimes a little too) independent. It is a skill that has taken me far and wide – And may even be part of how I find myself here in Italy at this moment.
While the bottom picture describes the Italian version of obituaries, there was something about that flat twisted tire, and seatless bicycle in the autumn leaves in the top photo that struck me as a more fitting description of endings and loss. Furthermore it’s a much nicer photograph in general, and one I think my father would’ve appreciated – or could even have taken.
His life wasn’t always an easy one, but he made the most of it; he ate chocolate often, and usually first. I will always remember visiting him in Paris, and how he barely ate anything for dinner, but when it came time for dessert, he had one of everything from the cart. That’s what I would call “la dolce vita”.
