“We do not remember days, we remember moments. The richness of life lies in memories we have forgotten.” Cesare Pavese
Inspiration: Memories of Guantanamera... Havana - imagine the music and dad here...
Inspiration: Memories of Guantanamera... and of Cuban cigar days past... sitting in the sun
I was in my living room reading when the song wafted onto the air from the radio… I stopped, looked up, and was immediately transported to a time back in my childhood days, many moons ago, when my father listened to this song. I could see my dad sitting on a recliner, feet elevated, a Cuban cigar in his right hand, a friend sitting to his left; laughter, humor, joyful conversation going back and forth as they discussed the merits of the cigar at hand and the power of a beautiful song.
Guantanamera…♩ ♪ ♫ ♬
Yo soy un hombre sincero
De donde crece la palma
Yo soy un hombre sincero
De donde crece la palma
Y antes de morirme quiero
Echar mis versos del alma
I’m an honest man
From where La Palma grows
I’m an honest man
From where La Palma grows
And before I die I want
To throw my soul verses.
Sometimes, my mom would join them… They would dance and tease each other about who could do the rumba, the salsa, the swing or whatever new dance they learned that month. It was all part of the dance of life and my dad loved it and his song. As I heard the song on the radio, I felt the warmth again of that time and wished it would reappear; just so I can revisit those sunny, carefree days again and perhaps ask my dad about the merits of his cigar… Guantanamera…♩ ♪ ♫ ♬
“Memory is a way of holding on to the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose.” Kevin Arnold
Inspiration: Memories of Guantanamera... memory tirggers of days gone by...
I remember it well, not just because it was one of my dad’s favorite songs, but because the haunting, sad melody always struck a chord in my heart and made me wonder about the beautiful world we inhabited that was filled with very sad and wounded people. Sometimes, my dad and his friends sat in silence and shook their heads sadly to the song…
Guantanamera…♩ ♪ ♫ ♬
Mi verso es de un verde claro
Y de un carmin encendido
Mi verso es de un verde claro
Y de un carmin encendido
Mi verso es un ciervo herido
Que busca en el monte amparo
My verse is of a light green
And of a burning carmine
My verse is of a light green
And of a burning carmine
My verse is a hurt deer
That seeks protection in the forest.
All of us hold memories deep in the recesses of our minds and then suddenly, a trigger appears and we are back in time, living in a frozen bubble that replays events that are complex, confused, beautiful and even sad… I remember singing along to the song and intuitively imagining it was about love; unrequited, complicated love. But I loved to dance to the song too, and I imagined my prince waiting in the wings, with me dressed in my red ball gown, covered in a haze of Cuban cigar smoke… What did I know of cancer then? I was a child, I was curious about the adult lives around me and what made them happy and sad. So when that song played, I danced… Guantanamera…♩ ♪ ♫ ♬
