Well, who would we be if we didn’t wish Che Guevara a happy birthday? Not Remezcla. Not Latin. Quizás Republican. Or a wizened young liberal who wants no more of that hippie dippie stuff.
Che would’ve been 84 today–an old man. What would you have gotten him for Father’s Day? A new rooftop garden. That’s the Anarchist way.
We love Che. But the images of him have got me lost in a whirl wind of simulacra. I can’t find the real Che, if ever one existed. Please don’t fault me for not being able to sort out the true man from the endless barrage of photos, movies and T-shirts. The books, the bracelets, the funny dolls. If Che lived today, I don’t think he’d live that way. I imagine him as more of a minimalist, cautious to take too much pleasure in things for thing’sake. Art for arts sake? maybe.
Well, today we wish we could give love to Che–a gift for all he’s given us. The kind of gift you can’t keep forever. The same way the world hasn’t gotten to keep him. We try. Feliz Cumple, Che querido!