I feel a compulsion to write about what was Aaron but have no idea where it will take me. The powerful impact of suicide is being felt in my extended family. Today most of our family lives contain ex’s. These are never ex-ed out as most are bound by early bonds of marriage, children, and family-in-laws.
Last night, an eleven o’clock call brought the tearful news from my former wife that her nephew, my daughter’s close cousin, had killed himself. A shotgun blast left the twenty-seven year old behind their house to be found by his wife and three year old son. Those most torn, are loving parents and a brother wondering where they went wrong. An aunt and uncle clutch to their children concerned for a strand of that seed in their offspring, reeling from such proximity, and deepest sympathy for the trauma of their brother and his wife. His grandmother forms another callous to allow her vigilance as a surviving matriarch.
The lack of understanding drops us to our knees, even in my distant role. Busily getting through the day at work keeps it at bay till the silence of a drive home leaves nothing but Aaron on your mind. What can possibly repudiate the beauty of living?
The will to live is so paramount in all animal species with some exceptions in ours. Years ago, I remember catching a rancid tomcat with my bare hands. He had been raiding my garbage can for some time. I felt his instinctive will to survive in the grip of my hands. What can possibly take that from Homo-sapiens?It is not within me to understand.
What could have been a routine assignment for my customer service duties became a tremor that rocked my world for years to come. I was assigned to a Volkswagen engine plant in Sao Bernardo de Campo constructed by our Brasilian licensee. Enco-Zolcsak was founded by a Hungarian refugee Estivan Zolcsak.
I left for Brasil in November 1974 and returned February 1975. I will never to be the same again, because of Brasil but mostly because of Rosinha.
This adventure could go on to equal a volume of "Atlas Shrugged" but the first chapter was certainly the most enchanting. Keyed into her power from those who feared her in stories that made it back to the States about this vixen possessing the financial reins of Enco-Zolcsak Ltda, I knew the challenge was great and I wanted her before I ever saw her.
I met her cold rejection with glancing blows to overcome a barrier, as I do not think anyone ever dared meet her head to head. By the time the company Christmas party came I had earned her respect. Something happened that night that changed both of us forever. Her shield dropped for a moment and a flame started between us. I saw her compassion for others and knew we had an opportunity. I volunteered to stay over Christmas, they thought to handle the Volkswagen problems but this gave Rosinha a chance to play host during the holidays for my "sacrifice". Christmas Eve at Steve's was nice but Christmas Day at Rosinha's was a real beginning to understanding the people of Brasil and getting close to Rosinha.
Her enchantment was so overwhelming. Nightlife in Sao Paulo was ours, swapping ice cubes during a kiss was very erotic after the initial shock. In her realm of restaurants and boites, she had a charm and majesty that brought her adoration from waiters. She showed a great deal of respect for servants and the impoverished, much to the contrast of her dealings with workers at Enco. In spite of her control over me there was always the bending of her ways to accommodate me.
I was quite enchanted by her belief in her "Protector" this was definitely Brasilian. An old lady's picture was displayed in her car and my questions concerning her were ignored outside of once acknowledging her to be her protector. One day I realized I was getting very close to Rosinha when on a Saturday drive we arrived at a house and were greeted by the old lady. She was definitely what I would call a mystic with candles, deities and the like. I think the base was Catholicism with major ties to Candomblé. I expect Rosinha used her as a seer and fortuneteller with palm readings and the like. Rosinha showed her the type of admiration you gave your mother. I was honored by being formally introduced. I believe Rosinha was supporting her financially.
What could have been my last day in Brasil, marked my return. Now Roger Whittiker's “Last Farewell” recalls the passion of that night when we parted. Never before or never again will my heart beat as fast as it did that night. Within the grounds of her family abode, we lost all sense of surroundings and consciousness to encompass each other.
Oppression has never, anywhere,
succeeded in suppressing
the eternal desire of people
to live as free men,
free to think their own thoughts,
free to act
in their best interest and welfare
and to live as human beings
rather than robots or slaves.
The Tibetans believe that
even if the Chinese leave nothing
but ashes in their sacred
land,Tibet will rise from them
as a free country
even if it takes a lot of time
to do so.
--His Holiness the XIVth Dalai Lama
Last night, an eleven o’clock call brought the tearful news from my former wife that her nephew, my daughter’s close cousin, had killed himself. A shotgun blast left the twenty-seven year old behind their house to be found by his wife and three year old son. Those most torn, are loving parents and a brother wondering where they went wrong. An aunt and uncle clutch to their children concerned for a strand of that seed in their offspring, reeling from such proximity, and deepest sympathy for the trauma of their brother and his wife. His grandmother forms another callous to allow her vigilance as a surviving matriarch.
