A random publication in social media shows some old photos from your hometown. Black and white photos of a Subway station in the 70s, to be precise. The surroundings are familiar to you, who have passed through that station countless times—someone even tried to robbed you there. Some other elements are unmistakable thanks to the stories your dad used to tell you when you were a kid. It’s surprising how a random photo can transform itself into the perfect set for a train of memories.
Those were the times when your dad used to attend several soccer matches. He would usually leave his seat at least ten minutes before the match ended to secure his transport back home. He downsized the crowd, but not the emotion. 40 strangers in a bus hoped for a tying goal, or a final emotion. How many times did Dad hear the narrator describing a winning goal with ecstasy, almost as if he had scored it?
In the 70s, Mexico hosted the World Cup and Dad’s team won almost everything. That’s when the club cemented its reputation as one of the “Greatest” in the league. Do you recall how your club gained your dad’s favor for the simple—even random—reason of having been founded in the same city where his uncle was born. Do you remember how fixated you were with getting a jersey from that era? “With four stars, like in the 70’s”, you told your dad proudly when you finally got it. Now you shifted from one blue to another.
Grab your camera and go on a walk. Call your dad. Ask him to wear that jersey for you. Ask him to tell you again why Quintano was one of the greatest of that time, or how Trelles coached the team until reaching a second championship. Listen carefully; keep the memories; trigger the shutter. You never know what other people will think fifty years later when they see the CN Tower framed by red maple leafs.
Morning Musings 