When I was growing up in our small town, I knew of a guy who had a say about almost any one in the entire place. That he did have a say about everybody was irritating enough, but saying negative things about anybody, now.. that was extremely annoying.
It seems like nobody pleased him at all. No one did his work well, something was always wrong with someone and a lot more. If he was critical with boys, he was ruthless with girls. Imperfections were always pointed out and every girl was supposed to turn out bad.
Now the unfair part is that, this self appointed critic was a man with deformed legs. He never walked his whole life. Ever since I’ve known him, he was walking on his hands and knees, dragging his bony legs and deformed feet along the streets.
That he droned on and on about the imperfections of others when he couldn’t even stand up straight was a fact that we chose to ignore. But no matter how annoying this guy was, he and I had something in common, we both loved books. Among the materials that I read when I was young were from him. I could say that he was one smart guy. Maybe that’s what made him arrogant and critical.
Last week, I learned in FB that he already died. I felt sincerely sad for this person who introduced me to the world of books. And I wasn’t surprised when I saw a multitude of sincere condolences from people in our hometown. For a critical handicapped guy, he surely had a lot of friends.
Farewell, Francisco, may you rest in peace..