Sometime in social science classes, studying the first period of Arturo Alessandri Palma surely heard as the story of "saber rattling" and not pay greater attention. The year was 1924 and the draft parliamentary allowance would be the catalyst that sparked the current malaise in the Army. The officers attended meetings of the Senate to express their displeasure when the Minister of Defence asked to withdraw, the military noted their discomfort rattling their sabers. Ibanez leads the movement. Alessandri leave the country and raises the Board Government in September 1924. Then came the 1925 constitution and history is well known. All this happened in September
When we were kids the illusion of the arrival of the month the country was great. September, in our fantasies, meant kites, crafts making garlands tricolor, but especially for us girls: buying the diciochera taken. It was a time when you had the school uniform and taken a couple of Sundays. Cuesta convey the excitement and joy that accompanied the arrival of September, just imagine going to "Santiago" to buy a dress and a pair of white shoes Bata, was the greatest. Now people go to La Cisterna to the Centre. We went to Santiago.
September 35 years ago is another. We changed the country and transform ourselves. The cueca is started dancing around the world, exiles making eight in the most remote places on Earth and in Chile, the Cueca Sola. in the name of the memory, to transmit the memory of the disappeared.
celebrate joyfully spend August, which means no wait for September with the same spirit. The weight of the deep pain of a company becomes a burden which is difficult to walk the streets in those days.
is September 11th, sooner I get a mail from my friend Laura where I said: "Amiga hope that is at peace with his soul and heart. Impossible not to remember your dad this day, as if the body is lying and that 35 years is one day, are hours. Where were we, what we were doing, how we knew that the currency was attacked. What happened to that strength, that we were changing, how we came to be with conformism conformist. As we become today, so I'm not very proud, we hug. "
Then I talk to my brother Bernardo and tells me that already served. Early left with a small group to leave a wreath on the street in Moscow Salvador Allende. He commented that unlike previous years I will not go to the tribute organized by the Party, but I'll go alone to pay my respects to President Salvador Allende. I still remember the pain that I caused the event last year.
Since I'm in the middle, I decided to go see Laura Brown and give back to the hug I received by mail early. We give a big hug and we talked for a latte.
As we talk on the complicity of the day, suddenly you account the deep pain that afflicts me: For a couple of months have been working on the street London (where my office), replacing the cobblestones. Everything is almost finished. I leave to go and stop at London 38 and I find plaques on the floor the name and age of the youth killed in the torture center. I feel helpless so great when I realize what I'm standing and I wonder who came up with brilliant idea was it not possible to make a memorial on the wall? Or our desire to imitate others he be obsessed our consciousness?
In the midst of my relief, I tell Laura that being in Tunisia, I was always careful to go through the front sidewalk when he saw a coffee with Arab men enjoying their pipes as a sign of respect ...
Back my office happened to the Party, entered the memorial is in the home and share with my dear friends. Suddenly my eyes stop on a name Bernardo Maldonado. I remember green eyes and the last time I saw him ... I was walking down a street in Temuco with poncho that my father had given me for my birthday ... went to college ... never came home ... was killed on September 26, 1973.
Can we show our respect without trampling on the memory of the fallen?
When we were kids the illusion of the arrival of the month the country was great. September, in our fantasies, meant kites, crafts making garlands tricolor, but especially for us girls: buying the diciochera taken. It was a time when you had the school uniform and taken a couple of Sundays. Cuesta convey the excitement and joy that accompanied the arrival of September, just imagine going to "Santiago" to buy a dress and a pair of white shoes Bata, was the greatest. Now people go to La Cisterna to the Centre. We went to Santiago.
September 35 years ago is another. We changed the country and transform ourselves. The cueca is started dancing around the world, exiles making eight in the most remote places on Earth and in Chile, the Cueca Sola. in the name of the memory, to transmit the memory of the disappeared.
celebrate joyfully spend August, which means no wait for September with the same spirit. The weight of the deep pain of a company becomes a burden which is difficult to walk the streets in those days.
is September 11th, sooner I get a mail from my friend Laura where I said: "Amiga hope that is at peace with his soul and heart. Impossible not to remember your dad this day, as if the body is lying and that 35 years is one day, are hours. Where were we, what we were doing, how we knew that the currency was attacked. What happened to that strength, that we were changing, how we came to be with conformism conformist. As we become today, so I'm not very proud, we hug. "
Then I talk to my brother Bernardo and tells me that already served. Early left with a small group to leave a wreath on the street in Moscow Salvador Allende. He commented that unlike previous years I will not go to the tribute organized by the Party, but I'll go alone to pay my respects to President Salvador Allende. I still remember the pain that I caused the event last year.
Since I'm in the middle, I decided to go see Laura Brown and give back to the hug I received by mail early. We give a big hug and we talked for a latte.
As we talk on the complicity of the day, suddenly you account the deep pain that afflicts me: For a couple of months have been working on the street London (where my office), replacing the cobblestones. Everything is almost finished. I leave to go and stop at London 38 and I find plaques on the floor the name and age of the youth killed in the torture center. I feel helpless so great when I realize what I'm standing and I wonder who came up with brilliant idea was it not possible to make a memorial on the wall? Or our desire to imitate others he be obsessed our consciousness?
In the midst of my relief, I tell Laura that being in Tunisia, I was always careful to go through the front sidewalk when he saw a coffee with Arab men enjoying their pipes as a sign of respect ...
Back my office happened to the Party, entered the memorial is in the home and share with my dear friends. Suddenly my eyes stop on a name Bernardo Maldonado. I remember green eyes and the last time I saw him ... I was walking down a street in Temuco with poncho that my father had given me for my birthday ... went to college ... never came home ... was killed on September 26, 1973.
Can we show our respect without trampling on the memory of the fallen?
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