When Melitón García Lara was born on March 17, 1928,
the world was in turmoil. Mexico was fighting its last civil war; Sonora had
gone through a few military uprisings and from the horizon appeared the shadow
of a great economic depression that would shake the entire planet for many
years to come.
Although this was the world he was born into, it is
not the one he saw firsthand. His early life was spent in a rural world, in the
Altar Desert, his homeland and that of his ancestors, the ancient Sonorans, before
there was even a Sonora, since time immemorial. He learned how to work at his
father’s ranch from a young age, assuming the role of an adult man, helping his
parents and his many brothers and sisters, of whom he was the eldest and whom
they affectionately called "Noñi". His only contact with the outside
world was a radio from which voices and distant news came forth. That
technology never ceased to amaze him, even in the year 2020, when he shared stories
of those days with his grandchildren sitting at the table in the house where
three generations were born and raised, generations of which he was the beloved
patriarch.
After working in the ranch, he also worked raising ranch
fences, as mounted police, in farm fields and selling cheese and, eventually,
scrap iron from the flatbed of his beloved trucks.
All who knew him never forgot his mettle and
character. Everyone in his family saw with appreciation the incredible number
of people who would greet him, shake hands, speak to him with respect and
affection, as well as all the people from all over the state who, upon learning
of our relationship to him, always asked how Don Melitón was doing.
He was a man of his word and spoke frankly and in a
very straightforward manner. His dusky skin, green eyes and tall height made
him a memorable physical presence. The way he would look at his surroundings and
the overall appearance of his face gave him a serious countenance, but in daily
conversation one realized how much and how easily he laughed. He smiled with
his lips, but also with his eyes and his laugh was like a gentle hiss of joy that
stayed etched in your mind, echoing for hours. Watching him and hearing him
laugh was one of life's great pleasures, second only to his great ability to
make others laugh with his witty statements and famous quotes of which there
are many. As an impersonator, he was out of this world, because he imitated
other people’s gestures and voices of people with uncanny accuracy.
He was a humble man from the country, but with a great
understanding of life and people. His children and family are proof of his
teachings and great capacity for affection. As a grandfather, he is second to
none. He did not like to scold or speak harshly, and he did not like to see us scolded
by our parents, nor did he like it when we roughhoused with each other. He had
a childhood and a life that was more "uncomfortable" than his
descendants are accustomed to now, but even so he had a soft heart and an
attitude of respect for everyone.
With babies, he was tender in his displays of affection.
His greeting to his young grandchildren was a very sincere and merry "What
are you doing?" and a laugh at any response we gave him. As adults, it was
customary to hug him from the side, around the shoulders, or to give him a
strong handshake, squeezing his hand for a moment. He shared with us lots of advice
and slices of his personal philosophy, not as a person who likes to give
speeches, but naturally, as true wise men do, in the middle of a casual
conversation where one stopped to listen to the authentic voice of experience.
His voice, his tone, his accent ... everything contributed so what he said to
you would remain engraved in your heart and in your mind forever.
Melitón García Lara had to live in a changing world. He
was a man that embodied history, with a perspective and a lifetime of
experience that is becoming more and more rare. I will never be able to fully
grasp or understand everything that he must have thought during his lifetime,
seeing so many changes, especially those that occurred at a frenzied pace these
past fifteen years. But he still lived as he always had, heating water and
coffee between five and six in the morning, walking through his backyard,
watching television and sporadically drinking a few drinks of bacanora that he
and many (including some doctors) believed to have contributed to his impressive
health, strength and longevity. Even a stroke at the beginning of this century
did not stop him. He regained most of his old motor skills and if it were not
for the cane that he used for walking, nobody would’ve known that he had gone
through a stroke nor that he was as old as he really was. Reading the
newspaper, eating sweet bread, and listening to the music of Lorenzo de
Monteclaro were among his lifelong pleasures.
This past March 14th we celebrated his birthday
earlier. We celebrated it, without knowing it, for the last time. Like every
year, we argued how many years he was celebrating, we enjoyed laughing at jokes
and silly things we do as family and, as a new activity this year, he was the
judge of a dance-off between one of his daughter and a granddaughter. He wanted
to give his daughter victory despite the rest of his panel favoring his
granddaughter. He was a very fair man.
At that time, the world had not yet begun to go
through all the events that have marked these last troubled months. Melitón
García Lara was born in times of conflict and left out world during similar
times.
I will always remember my Tata Meli every day of my
life. He lived almost 100 years and if it would have been possible, I would
have liked to see him live for another hundred years. But now that he is gone, it
is clear to me how much he meant in our lives. Sometimes, in the face of losses
like this, people talk about the big voids that can be felt within families.
But here there can be no great void. Although his physical presence is no
longer with us, all his children, his grandchildren, his family, friends, and
everyone who knew him have been marked by him. Personally, there will not be a major
action or work that I do in which I will not ask myself what my Tata would have
thought about it or how he would have felt.
Yes, I will miss my Tata forever. But what I will
never miss is the love I felt for him and that I felt from him since I was
born. That love will always be present with me, and with all of us, every day
of our lives, even if we live as long as he did.
Rest in peace, Tata. Hug your people and enjoy your
new state, free of all the ailments that bothered you. Someday we will hold you
in our arms again.
