By Fernie Ruano Jr.
The crosswalk signal must have changed 15 times. I didn’t move. I couldn’t move.
They’re was Cuban flags everywhere; traffic on Biscayne Boulevard was backed up for miles.
Just steps from the Freedom Tower, I had arrived in downtown Miami – along with tens of thousands of mourners – to pay tribute to “La Reina” Celia Cruz, who had succumbed to cancer days earlier.
I was surrounded by black limousines, VIP’s in black suits, black dresses and shiny shoes, and most of whom I knew. And strangers, total strangers, trying to make their way across the street and up the stairs to Cruz’s open casket. I waited with them – no need, no desire for any special privileges on this day.
“No te vayas, mi hijito (Don’t leave, kid),” said an elderly lady behind me, leaning on a walker. “Necesito tu ayuda, por favor. Yo no me voy de aqui sin ver a Celia. (Please help me. I’m not leaving here without seeing Celia).”
I told her I wasn’t going anywhere and that I would help her up the stairs. I wanted to see Celia, too. The elderly lady and I waited close to four hours before getting close enough to Celia that she could murmur a goodbye. I stood silently by her side.
It’s been a while now since July 22, 2003, the day I paid tribute to Celia and the last time I witnessed people of all walks of life come together; young, poor, old, rich, they were all there; Beloved by all.
Time has passed, more than 11 years and I have never seen the elderly-Cuban lady that politely asked for my help that day; she’s probably passed on.
But I still think of her a lot; I think of her a lot because there’s not a day I don’t run without Celia’s piercing voice paving the way, no matter if it’s on sand, water or concrete. As it did for millions of people for over six decades, Celia’s music breathes life into my life; it always has and will continue to do so.
I was 6 the first time I heard “Quimbara”, Celia’s smash-hit off of 1974’s “Celia y Johnny” and a staple at any party you’ve ever been to around Christmas – especially if lechon and whiskey are being served. It was at my grandparent’s house, it was very loud and I was too young to understand all the commotion.
But no matter how loud the crescendo of the voices or clacking of dominos around me, Celia’s voice overpowered it all. Celia’s voice just got louder and louder with each rapid-fire lyric.
Celia was in control; moving mountains with her powerful and distinct voice; just like she will move me for as long as I live.
Happy Birthday, Celia.
Do you want to know more about this 305-reeking, beach-bumming, Cuban food-obsessed dude? Well, then.. You can connect with Fernie @wordbyfernie (Twitter) and Fernie Ruano (Facebook) and visit http://www.latinbeatsvibe.blogspot.com . Who knows? If he really likes you, he might even give you his email.
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