THE SUPERHERO
Gregorio Luke, who was the director of the Museum of Latin American Art in Long Beach (MoLAA), told me about it.
On Halloween, he dressed up as Spider-Man and came to impress his young son.
As soon as his son opened the door he showed himself trying to show off his superhero look.
But the boy, recognizing his belly, poked his navel with a finger.
– You are not Spider-Man, you are my dad.
SANTA CLAUSE
Every year Toni dressed up as Santa Claus to bring gifts to her two children, and her cousins.
One Christmas Eve, as always, he knocked on the door and came to greet the children.
He hugged Evan and asked him with great laughs: did you behave this year? …
Hours later, after handing out the gifts, Aunt Paty asked little Evan if he had spoken to Santa Clause before he returned to the North Pole.
In her aunt’s ear, Evan said, “It was my dad. -He was my dad. ”(But he had been impressed so as not to make him feel bad).
That was the last time Tony pretended to be Santa Clause ????.
BICYCLE VILLAGE
It was the beginning of the 60’s.
There were two ways to travel with my father to the center of Zacapu from the country house on the edge of the city.
One, on the Hercules bicycle rack placed on the bar.
The other, of ‘raite’ in the booth of the police patrol, like the Bad Boys who were arrested in the nightclubs of the Tolerance Zone.
He was a friend of the police commander and was a good cyclist.
The medium was not as important as knowing that he accompanied the best musician and the best tailor in Zacapu.
THE EMIGRATE
He did not drink.
He did not smoke.
At the entrance of his house on Avenida Mauretania, in Wilmington, Don Rafa sat in his armchair as if he were the one who collected the tickets for the party.
He was a bear with a husky voice, seasoned in the work of El Norte.
He liked to see his large family enjoying the pachanga and watching his grandchildren grow up.
Also, although without a beer in hand, he was a good conversationalist.
– Well, yes, Pepe, you see: one makes plans and there are cliffs, he told me when he told me his anecdotes, and he explained to me how unpredictable life tends to be.
EMIGRATE BACK TO THE “TERRI”
The man was disciplined.
Before sunrise he was already on his stationary bike.
After a shower, he had breakfast with plenty of fruit.
At the end, for dessert, he encouraged an after-dinner conversation or a game of Chinese checkers with the cook.
Don Antonio talked slowly, accentuating the details. From his past as a mountaineer, he remembered that a great climb began with one or two steps.
Yes. I had diabetes.
But he never lingered over his worries.
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