The kite's tail

Today we had a class, run by young people. These kids have ideas from our own time, very structured, and it reminded me of a story I once heard. A grandson asks his grandmother how old are you? The grandmother says let's see, in my youth there were no cell phones, TV, washing machines, electric refrigerators, air conditioning, etc. the grandson interrupts her and says, "Then you're more than a hundred years old."

These young professionals brought in ads from the olden days, but they forget there was no TV, only radio, the ads appeared in magazines and those didn't reach every home. In some because the people living there didn't read Spanish, others for lack of time, others for lack of money. Our old friend the Singer sewing machine turned up, a brother's sneakers, cutlery sets in their own cabinets, some with a lock, a treasured gift because it was the fruit of the whole family chipping in, and that many people now sell to the antique dealer, because the young ones don't want them. They're after more practical things.

I thought about how many memories these things carry, pinned on loosely, like the tail of a kite. I remembered Lechuguita, who never wanted for anything, years — and now does she have too many? Yes, years. The baby who used to be announced with little booties ("Crespi has arrived") has grown up now, must be about 40 years old. But the kite's tail touches ground, I'm trying not to lose my memory, so I'm still going to the course.