By Ricardo García Blaya

think this is the only time, since I belong to the Academia Nacional del Tango, when the commission to write a note was not originated by him.

Faruk, Ricardo García Blaya and his wife

I’m listening to Gardel, while I try to write the lines I would have never liked to write.

This big tender man, a blend of a little old night creature and a refined gentleman, in fact was a prince that, because of a crazy fate, made me his friend. Why not admit it? I admired and loved him very much. The news of his death meant a hard cross to my heart, a knockout in our souls.

By chance we were linked by family ties, on the side of my wife and, in a strange way, by other facts of our relationship.

In La Academia we came to know each other better and it seemed as if we were acquainted since the beginning of our whole lifetime.

He had some defects but I even found them pleasant in him, for example, he was fan of Boca. But we shared the same taste in tango, we liked the mezza voce singers, the easy listening orchestras and easy to be danced to, the women who feel what they sang, the bandoneon players who do not open the bellows too much, the poets profound and simple at the same time, the dancers that walk the dancehall. In sum, popular art.

It was not a coincidence, ideologically we were very close, but with some differences in the latter times.

There was some kind of affinity between us which was evident in the meetings of the council when some speech or issue made us cross our looks, wink an eye or show a smile.

He was a person so intelligent that he devoted to humor, possibly, one of the most difficult arts. He made it with talent, plainly, honestly, with that elegant flavor of the gentlemen of his class, with the simplicity of those who know.

Coco, even though it would seem a little strange to you, a tear of mine dropped. But don’t you worry, it’s not your fault, it’s my stubborn selfishness that knows that tomorrow when I climb the wooden ladder I won’t find you.