QUEM SOMOS NÓS?

 

MY DAD

"Canarinho is singing

For seeing the day break

And the hinterland is smiling

For seeing the canary sing..."

With these verses began a very beautiful song, performed by a duo called "Canário e Passarinho". The name of the song was "Cage of Gold". The author's name? I don't remember... it's been a couple of years since I heard it, and when I was a kid I didn't care much about who wrote what. In fact, I haven't heard most of the country songs from my childhood. "Luar do Sertão", "Tristeza do Jeca", "Chuá, Chuá"... in fact, this last one I heard several times performed, live, by "Dupla Coração do Brasil", Tonico and Tinoco. When I was a child, it was common for circuses to go to the outskirts, where they presented radio artists. And, as my father was obsessed with country music (as I mentioned here a few times, he played the viola caipira and whenever he found a partner willing to play a guitar with him, he opened his mouth and let out his voice, interpreting the songs he loved so much that reminded him of the sertão...), whenever the circus came to our neighborhood and the sertaneja duos were going to perform, we would go to watch. Why did I remember this? Again, because of a bird chirping in my backyard...

Funny how something as simple as the chirping of a bird awakens memories that haven't surfaced in a long time... I don't know, maybe it's the fact that it's close to Christmas and that makes us more nostalgic than usual... the fact that tomorrow, the 15th, it will be 20 years since he departed from that plan may have some weight in his memory, too...

My father was a man of medium height. He was always a man of his word. He didn't usually show his feelings. Incidentally, most men at that time were like that. Society demanded them, and they had to fulfill their role. I can't say that I really knew him. At times he was a sweet person, at most times an insufferable ogre, which one did well to keep well away from. But I understand today that it wasn't entirely his fault, in fact the world forged him that way...

In addition to the viola, he really liked playing cards, dominoes, mesh ... and, of course, he liked a cachaça. Most men liked to drink a "cajibrina", as they used to refer to the drink. The problem is, when drunk, he totally transforms. If they were healthy, it wasn't easy to take him in a water bath when he was healthy (my mother is a saint... I managed, most of the time, to take him in the beak, as they say, and he ended up sleeping, without major mishaps ...), when drunk I can only say... get away, things are going to get ugly...

At times when he was with a mistress he was really unbearable. Then, I think that to satisfy some ancestral need, he was often violent towards my mother, and if she hadn't been as slippery as okra, she would probably have died at his hands. When the drunkenness wore off he asked forgiveness for the things he had done, and said that he couldn't remember anything that had happened. I believe him. After all, even without drinking, I keep forgetting things...

I remember that once he wanted to kill her with the ax (which my mother used to chop wood for cooking), and she barely managed to escape. She took me and my little brother, and ran away to the house of one of my father's sisters, who lived in Campo Grande. Good thing my mother got along with all of my father's sisters. When he was out of his mind, those who helped us were our aunts on my father's side. In fact, my mother didn't have anyone in her family living here in São Paulo... well, as I was saying, we "ran away" to my aunt's house, and the next morning my mother's plan was to leave for the interior and be safe in the house of his parents, my grandparents. In the meantime, my father was left alone, curing his drunkenness. We were going to leave for the train station at six o'clock in the morning, and everything was ready when my father arrived at my aunt's gate. When he saw him, his sister went to him and skinned him, as we used to say... gave him a lecture and said that if he mistreated and threatened my mother again as he had done the night before, he would see her, for she would not admit such behavior on his part again. I don't think I've mentioned it yet... my father was the youngest brother in the family, the only man among a group of sisters. And being the youngest, he respected what his sisters said a lot. Well, to close this episode, he addressed my mother, asked forgiveness for what he had done and swore that it would never happen again, that he would not disrespect her like that again. My mother accepted his request and forgave him. Not because she believed what he said, because she knew that at the first opportunity everything would repeat itself again. But because, in his view, he had no other way out. If he insisted on leaving, he might as well. But he wouldn't let her take me and my little brother with her...

Guys, I'm talking about the "dark side" of my father, but he wasn't just that, okay? There were times when he was a true divine angel here on earth... I am talking now...

I think I've already said a lot of bad things about my dear dad... it may not seem like it, based on what I wrote today, but I loved him very much... and I know he loved me too. I was his favorite. That doesn't mean I didn't have to run away sometimes to escape his violent outbursts... as a teenager, every now and then I would go to my grandparents' house for the weekend, to escape him... but despite this situation I loved him so much, even...

I hope that God has reserved a good place for him on the other side, and has forgiven him of all his faults here on this plane. We've already forgiven him a lot, because, as I said at the beginning, he was a product of his times. And running away from the standardization of society is not easy...

Everyone stay with God and may He give us the best Wednesday we've ever experienced in our lives. May He bestow upon our heads all the blessings we deserve, and may He help us to walk the path of light and righteousness. See you tomorrow, God willing... kisses to all...