De libros y un espiritu

Papito was an avid reader and had a library at home. The room was lined in all 4 walls with bookshelves and he had all sorts of books: medical texts, modern and classical literature, a 12-15? volume enciclopedia (it had an entry for tio-abuelo Francisco, hermano de abuelo Antonio) and much more. I don't think he had a copy of the Bible there, though. Both papito and particularly mamita had a bottomless contempt for it and the Church.

At night, if he got home before 8 o'clock (he worked very long days), papito would sometimes sit in the living room by the doors that opened unto the balcony of our second floor apartment to catch cool sea breezes and study medical texts. He would sit on a rocking chair with a book resting on the board made specially for him and wielding a fountain pen to make notes. Sometimes he would retire to his and mamita's bedroom to read while listening to classical music, the only music he liked. As time passed, he became more and more interested in theosophy and read avidly books by Blavatsky, Bailey, Khrishnamurti and others.

Once a week, papito would hold a salon to which usually 12-15 people and even 20+ would come. This displeased the CDR (Comité de Defensa de la Revolución - the local surveillance network) and they politely ordered papito to split the people into 2 groups. Thus, he ended up hosting 2 popular weekly salons.


At first, the primary purpose of the gatherings was to discuss philosophy but, with time, it became theosophy and subjects today termed "New Age". I would hang around sometimes but the topic of white magic, seven rays, El Tibetano, ascended masters, etc. was profoundly boring to me and I would drift back to my bedroom to read.

Occasionally, something interesting happened. One evening, mamita announced that she was seeing un espiritu. This was startling: I had seen mamita exhibit this ability at times (papito only once or twice) but most often she would not declare it openly and publicly. The conversation stopped and, as mamita stared into a particular spot, she described in detail the image of an elderly man: his features, build, height and manner of dress. One detail she reported was the peculiar manner in which the man handled his pocket watch and it was that detail that forced a woman guest to break her silence crying out, pale and fearful, that it was the portrait of her father.

I walked out back to my room as mamita and the woman sorted out why her father had come. Mamita did not know this woman who was attending her first salon that night. The woman had seemed normal, pleasant and her distress had also seemed genuine. By this time, I had frequently witnessed seances and trances but this particular event involving my own mother made me consider for the first time whether espiritus were real. Mamita and papito certainly thought so.