My phone was bursting with the sound of Rommy’s uncontrollable laughter. There was joy (and a touch of Latina mischievousness) in her mirth.
“Speak now, or forever hold your pieces,” I said. This usually entices her to start singing my name in a mixture of terrible opera and exaggerated Spanish accent (yes, we have issues). But on this occasion, it had no effect. She just giggled… and snorted. “What is it, woman?”
“Candles!” she said. “I found a shop that sells candles of sainted writers. Oh my gods, Magaly, wait until you see Saint Gabriel. They don’t have Terry Pratchett, but Neil Gaiman and J.K. Rowling have also been sanctified. I’m getting Gaiman and Rowling. I have to.”
She sent me the link to Saint Gabriel’s candle, and the moment I saw his smirking haloed face, I roared until I nearly choked. I mean, look at that expression!
If you’ve read Love in the Time of Cholera, “A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings”, One Hundred Years of Solitude… or pretty much any of García Márquez’s tales, you probably already know that his dance with religion—particularly South American Catholicism—was always bedecked with layers upon layers of satire and humor.
“I think he would have found the idea of himself as a saint completely hysterical,” I said to Rommy. “I’m getting him.”
I’ve placed my smirking sainted writer candle next to my little brother’s ashes. Something tells me that both, my little brother and Gabriel García Márquez, would find the whole thing amusing… And nothing is holier or nobler than good old jollity that makes the belly rumble.
After the thought of this post first kissed my mind, I spent some time wondering if anyone would find the idea of a sainted writer candle offensive; and if so, why might they feel that way? What do you think, my Wicked Luvs? Speculate away… and don’t forget to wave at Saint Gabriel García Márquez, the Smirker.