Where was I thirty years ago? Right in the "crux" of a revolution of costumes, there I was born at the Ana Coast Hospital. "Grazing in the Grass" by Hugh Masekela and "I Pretend" by Des O'Connor were number one on the radios that day. At two days of living in this planet I was in a mi(l)ca way, predestined by the stars above, brought by my mother's arms to an apartment in the ninth floor in a building named Cineland, right at the corner of a major avenue also named Ana Costa, which translated into English will be something like Ana Coast, there where the best theatres of that city showed the newest movies. And I can still recall my first five years walking into that shore for miles and miles of distance from the sea, running to the big blueish-green ocean. Like a little turtle just getting off its egg, I was eager to be swallowed by a huge wave from the warm and mellow waters of the Atlantic Ocean that gently bathes the Southeast coast of Brazil. I remember very clearly that we were already in the end of a Dictatorship Regimen, and I still did see myself obliged to sing the National Hymn, every morning at seven o'clock sharp and no excuse to be late, right at the patio of my dear Primary School. We had to make a formation, touching each other's shoulders with our arms extended in a type of echelon. Wearing our uniforms in a neat way, we were armed only by our convictions that one day we would be allowed to just remember that as a faded dream that passed by our lives. One or two giggled for stepping in each other's shoes, obliging the other to get off line to incorporate the foot back in line. Our heads and shoulders had to be maintained in a straight position. Then almost always an invited officer with a quite often rumble and bumble speech with a full chest dissimulating a grandeur personality set a platinum disk over a Victrola which played the LP with a sharp niddle slightly touching the strings of a petroleum colorwhich made the music magically play. And after hearing him bloviating an hour or so, we had to sing an Hymn (depending on the occasion) so out loud and in unison, that we would constantly be off tune, as we couldn´t listen ourselves anymore, but a big chorus with so many sounds that made the world an unique orchestra of voices. But that didn´t mean we could work solo, as if we could sing a wrong note, or we were obliged to repeat that again and again until we got it right with the tune. And I mimed my colleagues from my First Grade, for sometimes the National Hymn had so many fancy words my six-year-old brain could not grasp the meaning and I would often forget the second part of the Epopee. I felt like a little ant among many big irrefragable elephants. Whether elephants make love or war, it is the grass, and ants, that suffer thus far! But now I sing proudly every National Hymn (no matter which nationality) as long as it shows the love for the land and for all people, I sing to each flag, a National symbol which do not divide but show respect for each and every diversity in our world that lead us to a unique voice, and to whatever says of the love for humanity. It´s been hard to grow up in such a hardship, so difficult times passed my way, but I am glad "I made it through the rain" like a Manilow, singing it high, or singing it low. I´m a child of the world!
And I also felt as if I were ensorcelled by the moments of inspiration given to me as a gift during my immemorial in-fancy time in Santos. And those are indeed the deeds and the treasures that I will keep inside my heart and soul. And my eternal gratitude for a city that gave me so much enticement beneath its ludic rays of freedom and happiness, that all make me keep on with the chorus of emotions that the enchanting shore still brings to me. And it motivates me to declare with plenty of enthusiasm and my lungs full of light air that "I am a santista, and sportiest, and an artist" to whom Santos is an ever-present praised unprecedented scenario.
Where am I going to be thirty years from now? Probably, with the same happiness and sweetness in my eyes, with the same idealisms, perhaps a little bit wiser and just, but still with the same innocence: For life will never loose its subtle touch for those who remember their childhood with some glimpses of sublime experiences from wishful hearts. Maybe the innocence lies on each small look from a petit child who naively wishes to be happy. And the idealism inhabits the wistful thoughts of those who desirably fight and will never cease striving to bring happiness and freedom to all. It's simple as that morning walking contemplation of a matutinal stroll by the sun in a candent candor from the beginning of summer days at the shores of a roboranting beach city in the name of all Saints.
Check out my book "Many Lives to Love...and The Eternity to Live" with plenty of stories, one of them passed in a fructuous Harbor/Beach city called Santos at: http://www.lulu.com/Virtual Bookstore
"Saudade" it is a word that only exists in Portuguese.
It is from the heart, but it doesn't make it any easy.
(Although it can make it a little cheesy
to rhyme Portuguese so at ease...Please!)
It could be translated just as this:
I, Miss Ana, Miss You...
You could say, "I miss you" but it is in a different tone.
It is even more intense than the sense of missing someone...
You really feel your heart full of the existence of that person
And at the same time it is empty for the lack of that one.
Filling the emptiness...
It is about the way I wished upon a feather,
Just when I left a piece of my heart in that letter
where I said that my love for you wouldn't ever die.
And you thought that it was just another lie...
Like a little gust of a wind blowing,
leaving the earth and saying, "Saudades"
I feel the emptiness even knowing
that I still have the remembrance of us.
"Adeus" or, if you excuse me, "Adios!"
In my Mother Tongue (Brazilian Portuguese)
Em 1968 eu nascia na Maternidade Ana Costa e aos dois dias de idade já estava como que predestinada no apartamento do nono andar no edifício Cinelandia da Av. Ana Costa, no seio de minha família praticamente toda santista. Lembro bem das minhas primeiras cinco "aninhas". Recordo que eu tinha que caminhar o que, para uma criança como eu que sempre foi tamanho petit, eram intermináveis "mil léguas supra-marinas", a distancia da orla no meu percalço rumo ao mar. Lembro que já estávamos no fim da Ditadura e eu me via obrigada a cantar no mais alto e claro tom o Hino Nacional inteiro, e eu que fazia de conta que sabia de cor a segunda parte, imitando com caras e bocas os meus colegas de escola. Hoje a inspiração e a alegria que me trazem aqueles tempos de infância passados na Orla da praia de Santos vividos ao sol da liberdade em raios "lúdicos" e a minha eterna gratidão a tão saudável e saudosa Santos me levam a seguir em meu caminho ao mar de emoções que essas lembranças me trazem, e poder dizer com uma voz clara e feliz que sou santista, e sou artista e esportista dessa minha vida de Cinema onde Santos é cenário imprescindível. Onde eu deverei estar daqui a 30 anos? Provavelmente com a mesma doçura no olhar, com o mesmo idealismo; talvez mais sábia e mais justa, mas igual de inocente. Pois que a vida não perderá jamais a singeleza desde que rememoráveis anos repassem sob nossos corações sempre que assim almejarmos. Talvez a inocência esteja no olhar pequenino de cada menino que esmera ser feliz. E o idealismo seja o de alcançarmos todos a felicidade plena; simples, assim, como o caminhar num dia de sol na orla da praia de Santos.