Raining

Today in Macondo, NY, it rained for most of the day. “Qué llueva, qué llueva, la vieja está en la cueva” sang my memory on and off throughout the day. My son and I had our radio show——our last show for the semester. He decided to play Manu Chao’s La Despedida (as in our despedida from the audience: “Ya estoy curado, anestesiado/ya me he olvidado de ti [audience]/Hoy me despido/de tú ausencia/ya estoy en paz...”). I asked my daughter if she thought we remember everything that happened in our lives. She answered, “It depends.” “It depends? What do you mean?” “Well, if you have a very good memory, you could.” I guess I am glad I do not have a very good memory.

Playing Time

In the morning, I coached my daughter’s football (as in soccer) team. I told them soccer was called football (as in fútbol) almost everywhere else in the world (but the USA, Canada, Australia and New Zealand). If they travel one day outside the USA, they will know, when people talks about football, they mean people hitting a ball with their feet. Traveling is about gaining familiarity with new vocabularies, with new ways of mixing ingredients, and with types of lights and colors unimaginable. Cubans, it seams, will be able to travel soon, if the reforms in traveling are implemented as the Cuban government intends to do. The team (it was our first meeting) did well. Later, my daughter an I played in the backyard. We had a beautiful day in Macondo, NY.

Bed Time

I just put my daughter in bed. She was tired; we did not read tonight. It was my night to decide the reading. Oh, well. Yesterday was World Book Day (April 23), and Amsterdam, Holland, succeeded Bogotá, Colombia, as the World Book Capital. On the 23rd of April 1616 the writers Inca Garcilaso de la Vega, Miguel de Cervantes, and William Shakespeare died and that is why April 23 is World Book Day. Santo Domingo, Bogotá, and Buenos Aires opened book fairs this week. I will read tomorrow to my daughter before going to bed. In Macondo, NY, the night is cold and clear. I can hear the students walking along the streets (this is a small college town). Earlier today, I saw my neighbor’s daughter crying on their porch: tomorrow her mother begins radiation for her cancer. I hope for the best.