Alex and Abuelita - 1951 - Buenos Aires

 In recent years I have been told that just because I am an old man it does not mean that anybody has to respect me.

I do not understand that. I was raised not only by my mother but also by my grandmother who by 1969 had advanced Alzheimer’s. She got to meet my Rosemary in Veracruz.

All my life my abuelita gave me advice that came from a Don Quixote via Sancho Pancho and also with a smattering of Spanish  from Spain or from Spanish from Argentina.

My favourite was, “El diablo más sabe por viejo que por diablo,” which translates to, “The devil knows more not because he is the devil but because he is an old man.” Close to that was, “Cuando el diablo no tiene que hacer con el rabo espanta moscas.” That delightufully  translates to, “When the devil is bored he swats flies with his tale.”

My grandmother took me to the movies and when my mother was about to whip me with her Chinese slippers she would intervene and point out that I was an artist just like she was and that she should spare me the punishment.

Now in this century seeing how I adored, admired and respected my grandmother I cannot understand the treatment I sometimes get.

In order to stay centered, particularly this melancholic year in my life, I return to two writers. One of them is Harold Bloom and I have many of his books. But there is one in particular called How to Read and Why. I have written about it many times but I will put the important quote below:

There is no single way to read well, though there is a prime reason why we should read. Information is endlessly available to us; where shall freedom be found? If you are fortunate, you encounter a particular teacher who can help, yet finally you are alone, going on without further mediation. Reading well is one of the great pleasures that solitude can afford you, because it is, at least in my experience, the most healing of pleasures. It returns you to otherness, whether in yourself or in friends, or in those who might become friends. Imaginative literature is otherness, and as such alleviates loneliness. We read not only because we cannot know enough people, but because friendship is so vulnerable, so likely to diminish or disappear, overcome by space, time, imperfect sympathies, and all the sorrows of familial life.

Perhaps it is because of Covid that I have been experiencing Bloom’s

but because friendship is so vulnerable, so likely to diminish or disappear, overcome by space, time, imperfect sympathies, and all the sorrows of familial life.

Many of my friends are dead and many others have drifted off. I sometimes think I may have phone bad breath.

The other writer is Joan Didion. I do not have any of her books but after she died in late December I noticed a quote of hers:

“I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.”

What is most interesting is that American photographer Gary Winogrand wrote something that is close to Didion.

“I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.”

And so with Joan Didion, Harold Bloom,Gary Winogrand  and with some help from my Abuelita I believe my compass is on a true course.

I find that writing my daily blog and somehow, in some way connecting almost every one to the memory of my Rosemary,  I feel calmed and a tad less melancholic. Winogrand’s statement about taking photographs to see what one sees, so close to Didion, has enthused me to explore new ways of exploring my photography and going in directions that are all new. I believe that in spite of being an almost 80-year-old man it is cutting edge.

It was Erich Fromm who wrote that in order to love one had to love oneself. Could it be that to find respect one must first respect oneself?