The above saying, loosely translated from
Spanish, means that singing (music) allows you to whittle away at life’s
problems.
Ever since I
remember, when as a very small child I used to hide behind my grandmother’s
skirts, I was a witness and a willing participant in a burgeoning love for
music, in all its variants. Later, at the ripe old age of 8 or so, and in the
arms of that same grandmother, I would learn to dance the common dances of the
time… and of my grandmother’s youth. Boleros, danzones, cha-chas, as well as
waltzes and pasodobles (this last from
Spain).
Those were times during
which I, in the midst of a very innocent period of my life, used to believe
that musicians were all live somewhere in a giant radio studio, waiting for us
to call in with our requests. They would then dutifully march to the microphone
and start singing… whatever we had asked for. These were definitely much more innocent
times, compared with today… when we relegate fairy tales, imagination, and
heroic adventures on to a growing mountain of forgotten lore.
One of my very
favorite programs, to which I listened every day while waiting for the school
bus to pick us up to bring us back to school after lunch (yes, Virginia, we used to go home for lunch…) was called “Los
Hermanos Villalobo” (The Villalobo
brothers) These were three cowboy brothers (yes, I know… there were no western cowhands in Cuba but, hey… a script
is a script) who, much in the same way the Cartwright Family would in later
TV land years, roam the countryside looking for wrongs to right. This was a
basic program, but it would be the talking topic in the afternoon recesses and
during one or another boring class… The discussions were an ode to the
imagination and to all that we were sure we could manage to do with the help of
the three hreroic brothers.
Along with a love of
music, of the imagination and of the worlds created by that magical little
radio box, there was a growing love to question everything, to be curious about
life in general and to expect a real answer to any real question. I was blessed
to grow in a family where that final edict of “BECAUSE I SAID SO” was never
used… even though I am sure the adults were tired and frustrated at times with
our constant badgering.
As years went by, I
realized that the beautiful music I so loved was not coming from a huge live
theater somewhere in the world, but from records being played by an engineer… I
also had to accept –not very willingly in the beginning- that my beloved
Villalobos were, in fact, three badly paid older and paunchy actors who were acting
out their own fantasies in a small studio in Havana… and that all the
background noises heard were the product of an old genius working his fingers
off at the old sound box.
Yet, what has
remained from all these midafternoon adventures of my childhood, is an
everlasting love of music and an even more all-encompassing belief in the
imagination and what it can envision… sometimes even to be made into reality. The imagination, which resides relegated to a semi forgotten attic in our minds, when
exercised, allows us to create, look into and explore other worlds, other
concepts and other creatures and… maybe… Who knows...they may be looking back at us!!
You say no?? … Are
you sure they are not??
Be Well … Be Back!!!
Final
Notes:
· Pray for those who are fighting an illness
which may take them away from their loved ones… Every request is heard, and
counts!!
· Follow us on Twitter … @RJAsPandora
