Sailing across the immense ocean, they saw these heretofore unseen stars.
The Southern Cross pointed the way to America.
Humboldt and Bonpland did not come to conquer. They wished not to take but to give. And give they did, these scientist adventurers who helped us to see and know ourselves.
Years later, at the end of their trip deep into the South American heartland, Humboldt returned to Europe.
Aimé, “Don Amado,” chose to remain behind in this land that had become his own.
To the end of his days, Don Amado collected and classified thousands of unknown plants. He rediscovered lost medicinal herbs from the indigenous store of knowledge and set up free herbal pharmacies for all. He hoed, planted, harvested; he raised children and chickens. He learned and taught, endured prison and practiced love thy neighbor (“starting with the females,” he liked to say).
July 5. THE RIGHT TO LAUGH
According to the Bible, King Solomon of Israel did not have a high opinion of laughter. “It’s crazy,” he said.
And on happiness: “What good is it?”
According to scripture, Jesus never once laughed.
The right to laugh without sin had to wait until this day in 1182, when a baby named Francis was born in the town of Assisi.
Saint Francis of Assisi was born smiling and years later he instructed his disciples, “Be happy. Avoid sad faces, frowns, scowls. ”
July 6. FOOL ME
Today in 1810 Phineas Barnum was baptized in Connecticut.
The baby grew up to found the most famous circus in the world.
It began as a museum of rarities and monstrosities that drew multitudes:
they bowed before a blind slave woman, 161 years old, who had suckled George Washington;
they kissed the hand of Napoleon Bonaparte, 25 inches tall;
and they confirmed that the Siamese twins Chang and Eng were truly attached and that the circus mermaids had genuine fishtails.
Professional politicians of every epoch envy Barnum more than any other man. He was the undisputed master at putting into practice his great discovery: People love to be fooled.
July 7. FRIDAMANIA
In 1954 a Communist demonstration marched through the streets of Mexico City.
Frida Kahlo was there in her wheelchair.
It was the last time she was seen alive.
She died shortly thereafter, without fanfare.
A number of years passed before the huge uproar of Fridamania awakened her.
A just restitution or just business? Did this woman, who hated the pursuit of success and prettiness, deserve this? Did the artist of pitiless self-portraits, complete with unibrow and moustache, and bristling with pins and needles and the scars of thirty-two operations, deserve such treatment?
What if all this were much more than a profit-making manipulation? What if it really were time’s homage to a woman who turned her agony into art?
July 8. LEADER FOR LIFE
In 1994 the immortal one died.
His life ended but he lived on.
According to the constitution of North Korea, written by himself, Kim Il Sung was born on the first day of the New Era of Humanity and he was its Eternal Leader.
The New Era he inaugurated carries on. So does he: Kim Il Sung continues ruling from his statues, which happen to be the country’s tallest edifices.
July 9. THE SUNS THE NIGHT HIDES
In the year 1909 Vitalino was born in Brazil’s Northeast.
And the dry earth, where nothing grows, became wet earth to bring forth its children of clay.
In the beginning these were toys shaped by his hands to keep him company in childhood.
The passing of time turned his toys into small sculptures of tigers and hunters, workers with their hoes digging into the hard earth, desert warriors hoisting their rifles, caravans of refugees fleeing drought, guitar players, dancing girls, lovers, processions, saints.
Thus Vitalino’s magic fingers told the tragedy and the festivity of his people.
July 10. MANUFACTURING NOVELS
On this fateful day in 1844, the French were left with nothing to read. The magazine Le Siècle published the final installment of the nineteen-chapter adventure novel devoured by all France.
It was over. What now? Without The Three Musketeers, in reality four, who would risk his life, day in, day out, for the honor of the queen?
Alexandre Dumas wrote this work and three hundred more at a pace of six thousand words a day. His envious detractors said his feat of literary athleticism was only possible because he tended to put his name on pages stolen from other books or bought from the poorly paid pen-pushers he employed.
His interminable banquets, which swelled his belly and emptied his pockets, may have obliged him to mass-produce works for hire.
The French government, for example, paid him to write the novel Montevideo or the New Troy, dedicated to “the heroic defenders” of the port city that Adolphe Thiers called “our colony” and that Dumas had never even heard of. The book raised to epic heights the defense of the port against the men of the land, those shoeless gauchos that Dumas called “savage scourges of Civilization.”
July 11. MANUFACTURING TEARS
In 1941 all Brazil wept through the first radio soap opera:
Colgate toothpaste presents.
“In Search of Happiness!”
The show had been imported from Cuba and adapted to the local context. The characters had plenty of money, but they were doomed. Anytime happiness was within their grasp, cruel Fate ruined everything. Three years went by like this, episode after episode, and not a fly moved when showtime arrived.
Some villages lost in the hinterland had no radios. But there was always someone willing to ride the few leagues to the next village, listen closely to the episode, commit it to memory and return by gallop. Then the rider would recount what he had heard. An anxious crowd gathered to hear his version, much longer than the original, and to savor the latest misfortune, with that unappeasable pleasure the poor feel when they can pity the rich.
July 12. CONSECRATION OF THE TOP SCORER
In 1949 Giampiero Boniperti was the top scorer of the Italian championship and its brightest star.
According to what people say, he was born backwards, kicking-foot first, and he began his voyage to soccer glory in the crib.
The club Juventus paid him a cow for every goal.
Altri tempi.
July 13. THE GOAL OF THE CENTURY
On this day in the year 2002, organized soccer’s top brass announced the result of their global online poll, “Pick the goal of the century.”
By a landslide, the winner was Diego Maradona’s in the 1986 World Cup, when he danced with the ball glued to his foot and left six Englishmen foundering in his wake.
That was the last image of the world for Manuel Alba Olivares.
He was eleven and at that magical moment his eyes tuned out forever. He kept the goal intact in his memory and he recounts it better than the best commentators.
Ever since, to see soccer and other things not quite so important, Manuel borrows the eyes of his friends.