For a long time in our village, the passing of time was marked only by religious rhythms. Daily life, mostly made up of farmers, followed the chime of the church bells: in the morning, at noon, and again at dusk.
That familiar sound was our alarm clock, our timekeeper — the voice of a day that began and ended always the same, in a slow, reassuring cycle.
Then, in the early 1950s, in the midst of the long and tiring post-war reconstruction, something changed. In Sant’Angelo del Pesco, a new sound echoed for the first time through the narrow streets and rooftops.
It was different, full of meaning, breaking the morning quiet with a sharp and unmistakable call — the siren on the parish church tower.
It wasn’t like the factory sirens of the big industrial cities, announcing the start of a shift.Ours had a different voice: less a call to work than a sign of change. It marked the start of the school day, and for us children, it was the signal that lessons were about to begin.
Its high, clear note carried over houses and fields, even reaching the farmers who, of course, had already been at work for hours.
SANT’ANGELO DEL PESCO, 2025 – The siren has returned to its place, right where it has always belonged: on the parish church bell tower.
That siren spoke to the adults, too. It was the symbol of a new vitality, something we had never known before. A village that, despite hardship, loss, and the absence of so many who had emigrated, was trying to stand again and look ahead. It was the sound of change — and perhaps, for the first time, a tangible sign that a different, possible future was beginning to take shape.
In time, that sound felt natural, quietly finding its way into our hearts.
Behind it were the stories of many families who, over the years, had found the strength to rebuild their homes and reclaim their dignity. It was the first siren in the area to sound every day, like a wish, like a silent announcement of progress.
Day after day, it became a symbol of belonging, a deep stirring of both personal and shared pride. And among all of us, Don Vincenzo was its most steadfast face: with his persistence, determination, innovative spirit, and desire for redemption — not only social but also economic — he became a driving force for true change in our small village.
And so, for years, that sound formed the backdrop to village life.
It marked the passing of generations, moments of celebration and moments of sorrow, the waves of emigration and depopulation — but also the returns, the reunions, the new beginnings. For those of us who lived it as teenagers, the memory carries the vivid taste of an experience felt in the flesh. What remains, indelible, is the pride of having been part of a real and meaningful story, one worth telling.
But toward the late 1970s and early 1980s, a silent yet relentless change began. It marked the start of a slow decline for our community. The kindergarten, the primary school, and the middle school all closed their doors. Fields once cared for with love and hard work were left untended.
And as life seemed to drift toward the larger towns, the small villages of inland Molise — Sant’Angelo del Pesco among them — began to empty, day by day, family by family.
Even the siren, which for so long had given voice to our daily rhythm, started to fade. Its once familiar and reassuring call grew weaker with time, like a memory slowly dissolving.
Then, one ordinary day, the siren on the parish church tower was silent.
No chime, no signal — only quiet. And in that quiet came a shared awareness: an era had ended, a chapter had closed. It was a sad day. That sound, which had marked our lives for so many years, was gone. And with it, a piece of our identity.
June 8, 2025: the siren is back.
SANT’ANGELO DEL PESCO, June 8, 2025 – A sound restored. After years of silence, the historic siren on the parish church tower is ringing once again — a call rich with memory, now renewed as a symbol of revival and unity for the whole community.
It was the morning of June 8, 2025, when a familiar voice returned to Sant’Angelo del Pesco.
For some, it was a new sound; for others, it was the same one that had marked the rhythm of village life for years. After so long, the historic siren on the parish church tower rang out once more, breaking the silence with a call both familiar and powerful enough to stir deep emotions.
That sound, which from the 1950s onward marked the start of each school day, has returned after decades of silence — now resonating once again over the rooftops, stirring the memories of those who remember it and the curiosity of those hearing it for the first time.
Restoring the siren is more than a technical act; it is a symbolic gesture.
It is as if, for a moment, time had stepped back to embrace the present — a small yet powerful sign of continuity, identity, and hope.
And so, after nearly half a century, determination, ingenuity, and a love for memory prevailed. From this came the desire to return to the village something that had once belonged to everyone: a sound, an identity, an emotional landmark able to unite past and present.
On June 8, 2025, driven by passion and a deep sense of belonging, Guglielmo, Mario, and Dominique became the promoters and guardians of an initiative as noble as it was meaningful. Thanks to their dedication, the historic siren — silent for decades — was once again in their hands. After careful maintenance, several days of reassembly, and further fine-tuning and adjustments, its sound finally echoed once more.
The project was made possible with the support of the parish priest, don Paolo Rossi, who covered all expenses on behalf of the Parish of San Michele Arcangelo.
Costing around one thousand euros, the work was entrusted to a company from Bergamo, which also involved Marco Balduzzi, son of our fellow villager Consiglia Sciulli. Marco, who lives in that area, personally oversaw the reconstruction of the device at a trusted local workshop. The entire project was completed in less than a year.
And so, thanks to the passion of these fellow villagers, something changed.
With courage and skill, they climbed up to the bell tower, to the very place where the siren’s voice had echoed for years. They carefully dismantled the old device, handling it with the respect reserved for something cherished, and sent it to a trusted specialist workshop in northern Italy. A mechanism worn by time, rusted, and almost forgotten — it had seemed destined for oblivion.
«Bringing back to life that small but precious piece of our historical and cultural heritage was no easy task.» – Guglielmo Delle Donne
«We have always believed that our urban, historical, and cultural heritage deserves to be protected and carefully preserved.» – Mario Delle Donne
«We successfully completed the safeguarding of a small yet treasured part of our historical and cultural heritage.”» – Dominique D’Abruzzo
It was the beginning of a new chapter — a concrete gesture to preserve an intangible legacy: a siren that was not just metal and gears, but living memory, now returned to tell its story — and ours.
It has gone back to where it always belonged: on the parish church bell tower, in the exact spot where it once stood at the heart of daily life during the dark years after the war. The memory of an entire community has come home — a fragment of our history and a tangible symbol of our identity.
Our old siren is sounding again. Its familiar, powerful call still echoes among the houses and hills of Sant’Angelo del Pesco. But today, its role is no longer the same. The school is gone, the farmers in the fields are now a distant memory. The world that once moved to the rhythm of its call has changed — slowly, silently.
And yet, the siren has returned. Even though its purpose is no longer to mark the days of a hard-working community, today it stands for something perhaps even more precious: it has become both symbol and memory, a small landmark that tells the story of who we were, that binds us to our roots, to our history. Now it sounds to remember — to keep alive the memory of what we once were. And the most important thing is that it keeps doing so, even if only for a moment. Because that siren, today as in the past, is — and will always be — everyone’s siren.
To close this story, we wanted to hear the voices of those who truly knew it.
We asked some of the village’s elders what the return of its sound means to them today. Their answers, different in tone yet united in spirit, revealed a deep and shared feeling:
«We grew up with the clock and the siren,» one of them said with a wistful smile. «Hearing it again, after so many years, is like finding a piece of ourselves.»
And that’s exactly it: the voice now echoing once more through the village streets is not just a sound from the past, but a living link to what we once were — and, in truth, to what we have never stopped being. The sound of the siren is a living memory, urging us to look ahead with the same strength, determination, and trust with which, once upon a time, each day began anew.
Because if we were able to build so much then — amid the rubble and hardship — we can still, inspired by that past, imagine and rebuild our future today.