Politics weaves its way into memory
Tatjana got me Tony Judt’s book The Memory Chalet, which I’m reading now that I finished the Epstein book. I’m one third of the way into it and already highly recommend. Judt is a historian and his writing is top notch; sadly this book is about his memories as he was dying from Lou Gehrig’s disease when he wrote it.
Yesterday, our friend arrived from Madrid as he will be speaking to the class about an Almodovar film on Monday. We sat out in Plaza San Antonio having a beer when he arrived at midday. I was watching how Tin’s sphere of distance from us has grown since he’s been in Europe – the plazas afford the perfect place for parents to have a coffee or cocktail while kids can run around. He quickly made friends with two Chinese kids whose parents were working the kiosks, and with one little Spanish girl who had a gold hula hoop. I don’t recall that he has ever been so far away from us in terms of measurement with us being so relaxed.
Most of the beginning of Judt’s book talks about how he as a child took the trains alone all over London and about his nightly wanderings. It’s crazy to think these days that our children could be left to their own devices at a mere 10 or 12 years old – the poor things have to be tied to us like a ball and chain because the world we live in is so scary. Or is it?
Like bacteria and the need to sanitize, have we created a world out of fear – has that much changed in the last few decades? Or have we?
Later in the evening, we had our Cuban friend over for a little party (as Tin called it – he loves a party, good old New Orleans boy that he is). We served tapas – Spanish ham, almonds, a salad of cucumbers and tomatoes, truffle pate, cauliflower and carrots while Tatjana made us gin and tonics. Except for our friend for who I made the ubiquitous tinto de verano (red wine mixed with lemon soda).
The conversation turned at once to politics. Cadiz is known for its high unemployment, the highest in Spain, also known for its high unemployment, so now with unemployment at a record high, how is it possible that the largest and most modern parador is being built down the street I wondered. “Mafia,” our friend from Madrid said, “Everything in Spain is controlled and run by the Mafia.” Our Cuban friend who has retired here said that a lot of what she has enjoyed will most likely be unavailable to her children who are now in their 40s. As a retired person, the country offers senior citizen trips everywhere around Spain at low to no cost. She can take a bus anywhere within the city for free, she has health care for free, she basically is enjoying her golden years – something that you cannot say for any American despite the fact that Americans work harder than any other country to obtain their wealth.
Judt talks about how the trains that existed when he was young have been privatized and have lost all their value – no longer is the driver and conductor a familiar face, but instead they are removed from the passengers and only engage for commerce. Our friend talked about how most of why she retired in Cadiz will be gone for her children in Zahara by the time they retire – gone like the days when we as kids played in the streets unattended for hours at a time without a helicopter parent to tug on our leashes.
Spain has 17 autonomous political bodies all of which enjoy privileges and wealth that will most likely have to be done away with – but no one will shed a tear when that happens. Our friend is from Cuba and spent some of the evening reminiscing about her pro-Castro stance as a youth at that time which soured quickly when the firing squads began purging all vestigial politicians – she said, “Can you imagine in a peaceful loving country to have killings like this happening every day?”
The world is again changing because the economy, global that it is, is forcing us all to reconsider entitlements. Meanwhile, mafia, politicians, the dangers in the streets all seem more menacing than in years past – but are they?
As I walked our friend home, despite there being no need – she’s in her late 70s and can walk the streets of Cadiz at midnight with no fear whatsoever of her safety (something that New Orleans has never been able to boast of nor for that matter most any city in the U.S) – I marveled at the fact that the little Chinese kids were still in the plaza – 12 hours later – unattended. She said the kids are out late on the weekends especially, but Spanish kids in general stay up late (no kidding).
I said New Orleans does not offer a safe haven for children to be out late, or for young kids to be out without their parents, and for that matter, for a young brown boy to be out unattended. She said, “Yes, but that is changing isn’t it. By the time Tin grows up that should no longer be a problem?”
Really?