Petilla de Aragón is where my great-grandfather Antonio Silvestre Visauta was born 127 years ago. (It’s also where the grandfather of the person who posted this video was born.) We never met. He died twenty years before I was an idea. My aunt Carol told me he didn’t talk much. He just stared out their window in Oakland. That’s where the whole family lived.
I was hoping that if I learned Spanish that maybe it would open the doors to spiritual communication. I had heard that that can happen sometimes, in those moments just before you drift off to sleep. I learned Spanish after everyone who spoke Spanish in my family had died. So I was hoping for a little celestial immersion.
So far, nothing. All I can do is wonder, when Antonio stared out the window, is this what he saw? I mean, minus the paved roads, street signs, and with a different underscore sans the techno beats, of course.
Que nos veamos en mis sueños, mi bisabuelito.