summoned Jose Luis Perez Mogena and he was 33 years old. Until a while ago, for almost all of you, like me, this name remained indifferent in the multitude of identity sacks that make up this penalized and overpopulated planet. A prestigious scientist? Provincial attorney? A stock market economist or that ambitious Second Division forward? José Luís Pérez would be another José Luís Pérez on the long list of common names, if his mother’s last name weren’t for the more original, more musical. Thus, he would definitely become ‘Mogena’ in the classroom or among his professional colleagues. to dry At least that’s how it would be in my environment.
No matter, Jose Luis one day he left the house to go to work at the age of 33 and didn’t come back again. He had a wife, a seven-year-old son, and a 4-year-old daughter who, if all went well, would now be 56 and 51 years old respectively. That day, José Luis went to work. driver. I’m waiting for the customer, they hit the road, and when it all happened, his body was found meters from the collision. His mother was visiting a friend in a hospital, and José Luis’ body still came to the same center with a thread of life. Together at the beginning and at the end. How is life….
In the hours that followed, the country—an iron dictatorship that had lasted for years—became astonished and asked thousands of questions, above all, about its future. His client’s photo occupied all the newspaper headlines, and his name burst through transistor radios like the never-ending song of the children of San Idelfonso on the day of his death. Christmas is fat. Unceasingly.
Days, months, and years passed, and his name was lost in the Encyclopedia of Universal Truths that should not be forgotten, crushed by the ‘important’ name of his deceased client, but the last one—despite his role capitalized on Headlines and History. , just one man, one more man. José Luis Pérez Mogena remained for the other story of his family and friends, always written in lowercase. First White Carrier and second, the young driver.
I was thinking about these when I was getting TV screen transfers the other day. coffin II. Isabella on the streets of London. I was thinking about the crowds waiting for hours, the scale of the show, the British simultaneity, and the infantilisation of modern society when suddenly I saw it. It was there, anonymous, discreet and willing to wear the element of millions of glances. queen’s chauffeur. He was going to get into the most watched and watched hearse of the year! Just getting off the road would be fatal after suffering undue braking, a gear that won’t engage and engage the clutch, more speed than expected, or the unexpected sting of a British and Republican bee. The fading layoff from the Real company.
it occurred to me too kennedy driver, Recorded in the super eight in Dallas of 63, he made history in that movie. Or train and subway drivers who are always blamed for all accidents because they went ‘too fast’, ‘too slow’ or stopped in the middle of a fire. Or the pilots who went to great lengths to recover from dire situations and died in their cockpits before their plane crashed into the side of two towers. None of them, like you and me, will see their names written in the Great Encyclopedia, but they were there. He’s doing his job. Like the queen’s patient English chauffeur or José Luis, who does his job every day.