Né troppo, né troppo poco

CORAGGIOSA PILOTA DI aerei negli anni Trenta e moglie di Charles Lindbergh (quello della prima trasvolata atlantica, anche se la sua storia e le sue idee sono molto più complesse e controverse), Anne Morrow ha scritto una bella pagina sul saluto, che si accompagna naturalmente all'idea del viaggio.

For Sayonara, literally translated, "Since it must be so," of all the good-bys I have heard is the most beautiful. Unlike the Auf Wiedersehens and Au revoirs, it does not cheat itself by any bravado "Till we meet again," any sedative to postpone the pain of separation. It does not evade the issue like the sturdy blinking Farewell. Farewell is a father's good-by. It is - "Go out in the world and do well, my son." It is encouragement and admonition. It is hope and faith. But it passes over the significance of the moment; of parting it says nothing. It hides its emotion. It says too little. While Good-by ("God be with you") and Adios say too much. They try to bridge the distance, almost to deny it. Good-by is a prayer, a ringing cry. "You must not go - I cannot bear to have you go! But you shall not go alone, unwatched. God will be with you. God's hand will be over you" and even - underneath, hidden, but it is there incorrigible - "I will be with you; I will watch you - always." It is a mother's good-by. But Sayonara says neither too much nor too little.