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Rating: June 6, 2017, will be marked on my calendar with a nice red circle.
The Memory
12:00 PM, my daughter's elementary school. The children from the second grade organized a small "exhibition" for parents/relatives focused on the importance of memory. There's the smile of my little girl who greets me and moves me. On the walls, I find short texts written by the kids where they recount their innocent stories, I lose myself in a myriad of photographs capturing moments from their short lives. On the desks, some belongings are carefully arranged: small clothes, stuffed animals, pacifiers, toys, everything that might have had value in their psychological and physical growth. It's time to leave, but I still need to write a thought in a notebook. I more or less write, "Days pass, but memories last. Take good care of them..." And, believe me, I will take great care to cherish the memory of Cat Power on the stage of the Latteria Molloy, finally and rightly full of people. I won't have to struggle much. Aged, stately, with tousled hair like the High Priestess of Rock, alone with an electric guitar and a piano. Few chords repeated in total support of her voice, beautiful and unsurpassed. Sparse, sketched songs, difficult to recognize. "I don’t blame you", "Fool", "The Greatest", "3, 6, 9" among the most famous and a final gift only-voice that leaves you speechless.
The Awareness
About 2:00 PM, at home, my son and his summer vacation homework. Papi-papi, the teacher told us to choose 4 books to read this summer. I don't have much to offer in my small library, but what I do have is worth a world. I hand him a halved viscount, a nonexistent knight, Marcovaldo, a little seagull and a cat(power). He adds a snail by Sepulveda gifted by some relative. His eyes sparkle, perhaps he's thinking he's grown up, he has "adult" books in his hands, perhaps he is aware that he's taking an important step in life. I hold back my emotion, and my thoughts take me to when in the future, I can introduce him to the first records of Charlyn Marshall, "Myra Lee" and "What Would The Community Think" above all, where, leaving any embellishments aside, my love from Atlanta poured out her sadness and autobiographical melancholies. Last night, however, there was neither sadness nor pain but only passion, awareness, and sweetness. She was calm, engaged, serene, and sure of her abilities. The audience was close to her (too close for my jealous tastes), everyone was enchanted, everyone astonished after an abundant hour and a half of a (honey) full river. Motherhood has done her good, children do good (sometimes, however, they meticulously grind certain male appendages...).
June 6 will remain etched in my heart for a long time. Three memories, three different situations, three repressed tears. Sometimes I wish I could cry, I would like to learn not to leave tears only for sad moments. Continuing to listen to Cat Power can't do me anything but good…
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