{"id":368,"date":"2020-06-27T02:05:44","date_gmt":"2020-06-27T02:05:44","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/neomano.com\/index.php\/2020\/06\/27\/don-ramon\/"},"modified":"2021-10-29T18:00:30","modified_gmt":"2021-10-29T18:00:30","slug":"don-ramon","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/neomano.com\/en\/don-ramon\/","title":{"rendered":"Mr Ramon"},"content":{"rendered":"

Hace casi 20 a\u00f1os que muri\u00f3 mi abuelo Julio y aun conservo v\u00edvidos los recuerdos de aquella mente inquieta, vivaz, apasionada, met\u00f3dica. Dicen que “tuvo su genio” cuando joven, pero yo conoc\u00ed al viejito trabajador, al inventor, el reparador de todo, que en su taller transformaba cosas viejas en cosas \u00fatiles. Al alquimista. El que me hac\u00eda horquetas (resorteras) con ramas de \u00e1rbol para que jugara. Aquel que soldaba con esta\u00f1o, el que me ense\u00f1\u00f3 a usar el esmeril y a fabricar tarritos con latas de aceite. El que me construy\u00f3 mi primera caja de herramientas de hojalata y me hizo prometer que sus viejas m\u00e1quinas quedar\u00edan en mis manos cuando muera. El que me fue a ver al colegio caminando y me llevaba a comprar chatarra al tianguis dominical, con su peri\u00f3dico de ayer bajo el brazo y su pluma Parker en la guayabera. El que coleccionaba m\u00e1quinas sumadoras, cerraduras y revistas de Mec\u00e1nica Popular, y me ense\u00f1\u00f3 a apreciar lo hermoso de lo antiguo. “Ya nada se fabrica como antes”. El que practicaba caligraf\u00eda por las noches y anotaba todo a pu\u00f1o y letra. El que me ense\u00f1\u00f3 a mitigar mi alergia al polvo oliendo aguardiente de ca\u00f1a y a hacer rompope con un tenedor. De quien aprend\u00ed a preparar la cola de carpintero, a cepillar madera, a reparar duchas el\u00e9ctricas, a hacer l\u00edquidos misteriosamente \u00fatiles con \u00e1cido muri\u00e1tico. Quien me cont\u00f3 para qu\u00e9 se usaba el borax y el que me contagi\u00f3, sin saberlo, el amor por las locomotoras de vapor que aun conservo… Quien vio en mi el retrato de su hijo que extra\u00f1aba.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Contador de historias, sus an\u00e9cdotas siempre guardaban algo de magia. Las haza\u00f1as de la \u00e9poca del ferrocarril, cuando gan\u00f3 la competencia de mecanograf\u00eda, cuando se disfrazaba de fantasma, cuando fue telegrafista, cuando construy\u00f3 su f\u00e1brica de gaseosas de la nada, cuando puso el negocio de la planta de luz en el pueblo, cuando dorm\u00eda con su revolver bajo la almohada para cuidar la casa de la monta\u00f1a. Sus emprendimientos eran historias de aventura para mi. Contador de chistes, su risa a las 6 de la ma\u00f1ana viendo Tres Patines. Su conversaci\u00f3n despu\u00e9s de la merienda. Fue la \u00fanica persona que conoc\u00ed que tomaba caf\u00e9 cargado para poder dormir. Le copi\u00e9 la costumbre de derretir una viruta de mantequilla en el caf\u00e9 caliente.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

No supe darle homenaje en su momento a todo lo que me dej\u00f3. La muerte no me gusta. Pero semanas despu\u00e9s de su partida el homenaje vino de parte de una persona cercana que me comparti\u00f3, conmovida, un escrito en honor a su memoria. Lo le\u00ed una sola vez. Not\u00e9 los nombres cambiados de los personajes y supuse una suerte de camuflaje de emociones. Era lo justo. No lo volv\u00ed a leer, pero lo record\u00e9 claramente hasta hoy, casi 20 a\u00f1os despu\u00e9s, que le dije “aun tendr\u00e1s por ah\u00ed aquello que escribiste” y como si lo hubiera escrito ayer me lo envi\u00f3 en ese instante. Lo ten\u00eda all\u00ed guardado para siempre. Gracias Muoi.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

—–<\/p>\n\n\n\n

DON RAM\u00d3N<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

by Muoi Tran<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Don Ramon, I saw you. I saw your eyes looking at the ceiling. The light was dim in your room, and there was a strong smell of puro and herbal honey tea. There you were, reclining lazily on a bed of pillows. Ready to take a long nap after you grew bored with your faded book, pages torn from routine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But I saw your pinched nerves under the blanket. And the yellow blood under your skin that betrayed the truth of immobility. I saw your eyes beneath the clouds, looking up only, waiting. Not bearing to look straight ahead at us or inwardly at yourself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

*****
\u201cGo to the kitchen, Luisito,\u201d Tia Rosa yelled in a whisper. \u201cYou know your<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Grandfather Ramon can\u2019t drink anything.\u201d
\u201cBut I\u2019m thirsty,\u201d Luisito said again. \u201cHe can\u2019t hear us. Grandfather doesn\u2019t know<\/p>\n\n\n\n

that I\u2019m thirsty.\u201d
\u201cKeep the light on,\u201d Tia Rosa said. \u201cHe is afraid of the dark. Let\u2019s keep the light on<\/p>\n\n\n\n

for my beloved Father. Let\u2019s keep him company.\u201d
After we fell like dominoes, heavy limbs criss-crossing one another, you didn\u2019t dare<\/p>\n\n\n\n

to blink. The artificial light didn\u2019t fool you, Don Ramon. The neighbors\u2019 kids were silent. The darkness from outside penetrated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTake his left hand,\u201d Tia Rosa said. \u201cIt\u2019s the one that works.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You did not let go of whatever was in its clutches. You grabbed onto us for dear life, your life, one that was slipping out from under you and through us. We pulled our hands away. Your eyes began to weep single drops. But your hand gripped. You wanted life. We could not give you ours.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cScream if he stops breathing,\u201d Tia Rosa said. \u201cI\u2019m tired and I need to rest. I\u2019m the only person here who is with him night and day, every day. I have to take care of everything. Tia Berta does not even call. She doesn\u2019t send a dime.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Your breathing made a funny sound. In and out. In and out. Our mouths feed us, quench our thirst and allow us to speak our minds. Your mouth, Don Ramon, was denied of all three functions. But it gave you air. In and out, in and out. We continued to talk and to laugh because we heard your breathing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

*****
Forgive us if we stared sometimes. Forgive us if we asked you questions you could<\/p>\n\n\n\n

not answer. Forgive us if we talked about ourselves in loud voices and about you in tiny ones. Between tears and laughter, we turned to you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRemember how Don Ramon always walked with his eyes down, looking for discarded keys and other metallic objects?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRemember that lamp that Don Ramon built out of the broken antenna? Ha! It\u2019s telescopic.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat was Don Ramon. Our Grandfather. My Father.\u201d Look up now, Don Ramon. Look up now.<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Hace casi 20 a\u00f1os que muri\u00f3 mi abuelo Julio y aun conservo v\u00edvidos los recuerdos de aquella mente<\/p>","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":989,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[65,70],"tags":[],"yoast_head":"\nDon Ram\u00f3n - Neomano.com<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"http:\/\/neomano.com\/en\/don-ramon\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Don Ram\u00f3n - Neomano.com\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Hace casi 20 a\u00f1os que muri\u00f3 mi abuelo Julio y aun conservo v\u00edvidos los recuerdos de aquella mente\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"http:\/\/neomano.com\/en\/don-ramon\/\" \/>\n<meta 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