At
some point during the beginning of 2011, the last year of his life, my brother,
Eduardo Salvador Olivares Bari, Lalo, “el Monkee” to some, mentioned he was
writing a book. He explained some of the different things he wanted to write
about: his youth, his drug use, his search for the mystical and his eventual
return to the Catholic faith of his childhood, now absolute and unshakeable. He
also said he already had the title, The
Acapulco Hilton Experience, something that would give a feel for the era in
which he grew and lived. “Kind of like ‘The Jimmy Hendrix Experience’.”
Near
the beginning of April, Lalo started having a backache that worried him. He was
afraid the cancer had returned. That’s where I come in. He made me promise I
would finish the book for him if he didn’t have enough time to do it himself.
So this is me, trying to keep my promise.
The
bad news is he left little more than a few pages of fully written material and
a lot of notes he jotted down without additional explanation. I have no idea
what many of those notes mean or refer to. I have even less of an idea about
what he intended or wanted to express in recalling some of the experiences of
his life. It is an amazing thing to realize how little you know someone who
meant so much in your life. How so much of another person’s life is a secret to
you.
So,
then, what to do? How can I write about one of the people closest to me knowing
so little about what actually shaped him, and made him who he was? The answer I
found is this. All of the people who knew him, who participated in his life, have
a “piece” of him. They, you, all know at least a little of who he was, what he
thought, and what made him the unique, beautiful, loving person he became. What
I need are all those pieces. I need all of you to send me each one of those
pieces. I need all of you to participate in creating the enormous “jigsaw
puzzle” of his life. I’m holding all of you to the promise. We can ALL write
his book for him. Fulfill his vision. Keep the promise.
How?
Write whatever you want to share and send it to monkee_olivares@hotmail.com Your name will appear as the author of
that particular post. If you wish to remain anonymous, please let me know. I
can’t promise I will post all the material I receive, and I’ll probably edit
some of it, but I can promise I’ll try to respect whatever you wish to say,
good or bad. This is not about making a saint out of Lalo; it’s about trying to
see him as he was, in full color.
Also,
there is the matter of language. I will try to translate as much of the
material I receive in order to make of The
Acapulco Hilton Experience the true, bicultural event he wanted to create.
All translations will be posted in italics;
the original language will appear in regular font. Please be patient, both with
your material and with my translations.
So
let’s begin…
Well Suzy, I think you will have to jog my memory of the early days(the movies, the popcorn and my becoming ill,) when I met you and Lalo when you were just teenagers. I recall how dedicated he was to his music and I was very impressed with him. Not just that he was your mom's son or your brother, but he genuinely a nice kid and an interesting person.
ReplyDeleteI was mostly gone, back in the States, for most of your and Lalo's adult years.
Your mother and I were good friends always remaining in touch over the years as good friends do, and she kept me up to date about the two of you and, of course, when Lalo was diagnosed with cancer.
Trying to give Lalo something else to think of I began sending him copies of The Reader, a Chicago rag that covers the music scene in Chicago very thoroughly. Lalo seemed to enjoy seeing what was going on here in the music world and my ulterior motive, never thinking that Lalo's days were numbered, was for him to come to Chicago, he staying with me while he would join the music scene here, not only as an observer, but able to play, taking advantage of his ability and joy for anything musical.
stopping here to see what else I may remember.........