Tuesday, September 04, 2012


You know. When Ray Bradbury, Will Eisner or Dennis Ritchie died, it was not hard to write about them. I tried to make homages. In my own way...

However, I find it too hard to write about my grandparents who have left us a few years ago.

The father of my father, my grandfather was called Manoel. He was a pragmatic man, quite capable of making computations in his head. I remember when he calculated easily how many seconds a whole year had. He told me everybody used to tell him he should have been an Engineer, something he may have passed onto my father who passed onto me, who became an Engineer. When I remember him, I like to think about large dinner tables, full of food and drinks, smiles and wiseness.

He used to take me and my brothers to know the countryside of Ribeirao Preto. He knew practically everybody there. He used to be a pork farmer, but had to stop this activity because the law did not allow him to raise pigs so close to the town. I remember one day he took us to take care of some of his cows, which are to this day, something quite unforgettable.  My grandfather was also  an artist: played guitar and was great at clay sculpturing. So I like to think about him.

The father of my mother, Rui, was a long time book lover and technology enthusiast. He was a photographer, knew all sort of mind tricks like hypnotism. He was an Officer at the Brazilian IRS ( taxes, money etc), still, I think he would rather like to be called an artist. My best fond memories of him are when he was having some beers before Christmas parties and used to tell my brother and I a big deal of his stories. My uncle Paulo tells me that some of these stories were invented. To be fully honest I prefer to believe in them as real.

He was fond of rock music, and I remember when we just organized my uncle Cleido's LPs or when we repaired part of the ceiling in one of the houses he has lived. He just had this wise look, something that would calm you down by a mere look of his eyes. Sometimes he used to tell me he would pick me up at the school in a helicopter. I spent hours trying to find his helicopter in the skies. So I like to think about him.

They both loved their grandchildren.  I like to think that a great part of the best from me came from them as well as from my parents and grandmothers.

This post is dedicated to my greatest heroes: my parents.

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