Sunday, March 13, 2005 / domingo, 13 de março de 2005
Aristeu in front of the house - 2004
Aristeu Rosa
June 3, 1936 – March 13, 2005 / 3 de junho de 1936 a 13 de março de 2005
Milton’s father died this morning. / O Pai de Milton faleceu esta manhã.
We were awoken last night about 1:30am (6:30am in Amparo), M’s sister called to say the nurses had just told them that he could go at any minute. He had been suffering a long time with cancer, and the last few days were pretty bad. We tried to change our tickets to go sooner, but decided that not knowing what was happening and the HUGE cost in the ticket change, were going to be worse than being able to call from here from now until we get there next Sunday. In Brasil they bury folks with in 24 hours, and since we are a good 30 hrs door to door we wouldn’t make it any way. So here we sit, grieving a bit, and sharing stories.
Aristeu was a great man. The reason that Milton has no middle name is that his father doesn’t either. Though I suspect that it was for the reason that when Milton was born, Aristeu forgot to write it down… if my cherished walks about town were any indication.
My favorite memory of Milton’s father is when his parents a few summers (USA), winter (BR) had a bit of a row and M took his mother into another room, and I asked his Dad if he didn’t want to go for a walk with me to the post office… so off we went. I, asking questions about growing up and meeting Dona Helena, and having kids; and he asking me about why I had grown to love Brasil so much. Well if you walk any where with Milton’s father, you know that one cannot go more than 50 meters with out running into someone he knows… We had about a KM to go to mail my postcard… various stops, a beer here, a pinga there, a pastel and another beer here, sitting talking to his friends… each time we stopped, he would put his arm around me and introduce me as his son from California who does not like Bush either - “Este homem e meu filho de Califórnia, que tambem não gosta de Bush”. We would laugh, and they would complain about Brasil, and would pour another beer or soda or whatever… and off we would go down the street some more… One time they asked him if I was a missionary… he soundly retorted "now, does he look like a Mormon?" again, much laughter. Soon another old friend, “Oi Aristeu, tudo bom?" – Oh Aristeu, how are you?” “Quem e seu amigo – who is your friend?” It worked well, as we were greeted with “oba!” here have a beer… a couple of hours later we rolled into the house, I want to say singing, but just well lubricated in the Brazilian fashion. I promised to invite him the next day, if my head was able to, when I needed to go the hardware store….
Aristeu was a good man. Born in Sorocaba and moved to Amparo many years ago where he raised a family while managing a number of movie theatres for years. Sometimes, Milton’s mother - Dona Helena - made and sold popcorn. When VCRs took off, it spelled the demise of most movie theatres in many places. And when the last theatre closed he took a very tough and degrading job in a car parts factory in town until his retirement.
He, like Milton could never sit still. Doing nothing is in neither Rosa’s vocabulary... though it might be in the nephews… Aristeu was constantly tinkering on his car. That by most accounts no longer had any of the original parts, but was literally held together with wire, and tape, and tubes and parts salvaged from his recycling business. The car was a fiat station wagon, that I affectionately named the “cheirona”… the stinky one” because… well as the repository of all sorts of sordid plastic and cardboard and whatevers, it had taken on a certain bouquet… whew! One always rides in it with the windows down, and his recycled radio blaring. But it was his hard work and humanity that touched me greatly. He was always making things from things he came across, painting this, rebuilding that…
Because of his knowledge of film, he could talk to you at depth about film and content in a way that belied his simple 4th grade education. He had a complete collection of films and telenovelas taped from TV, and other ordered from the Folha de São Paulo or wherever. Talking to him about movies was great. He would show you this or that scene he had taped, I think he liked talking to me about it because I was as interested as he is in what is happening to films where special effects now out do plot or story. He was a great help in teaching me about older films and the stories… I remember him bringing me a stack of his Alfred Hitchcock films to watch and sitting through all of them on a very cold day with nothing to do (with M’s brother snoring away, and the kids coming and going).
Another fond memory was a few years ago when M needed to go to the consulate to get his visa or retrieve his passport, we took Aristeu with us. It was a grand day out by any standard, getting up early, riding the 3 hrs to Terminal Rodoviário Tietê, and taking the metrô to Paulista, and watching him just enjoy walking around in the biggest city in South America, which I think everyone for bad or worse cannot help at marvel at. But with him it was a good day, taking the metrô, buying lunch, seeing this or that site before returning to town. My regret is not being able to take him places with us. He really wanted to go on an airplane ride, and we had planned to take him last year, but by then he was too sick.
Yesterday when I sent out an email to my family re: Aristeu’s decline, my Aunt here in town wrote Milton a nice note:
Sorry to hear about Milton’s Dad but glad he was able to go earlier and visit with him. Will keep him in my prayers but it is a blessing his suffering is over and he is about to have the biggest adventure of his life where pain is no more.
That is true, like so many kind, decent, loving people of simple means in Brasil, he deserved so much more. He loved adventure, even if he was resigned to experience it by television or film. His suffering is over, he is now in paradise that is to my mind indescribable, as he was already living in a Paradise of sorts – with dogs, and beer, and friends, and family, in Brasil…