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¡Una vez que
encuentres tu pasión, hay que seguirla!
A instancias de mi cuñada, fuimos a visitar el lugar. Tan sólo conocer al dueño, cambié de opinión.
Un hombre de 92 años que ha dedicado más de cincuenta años de su vida a
decorar cada una de las 1100 tapas de inodoros.
Barney Smith te recibe con una gran sonrisa y te hace sentir realmente bienvenido. No tiene horario, el museo es un garage en la
parte de atrás de su terreno. Tan solo pide que le llamen antes de ir y con mucho gusto
te abre siempre y cuando sea antes de las 10 de la noche.
Al hablar de sus obras le brillan los ojos, pues ha encontrado su pasión y su
misión en esta vida. El decorar tapas de
inodoros le ha brindado la oportunidad de viajar, de conocer gente, de hacer
amigos y de dejar su huella en este mundo.
Pasamos una hora inolvidable en su compañía y sinceramente, me quito el
sombrero. Mis respetos para este gran hombre.
Cuando ya salíamos nos dice: No me han preguntado cual es mi tapa
favorita. Aquí esta la foto y anexo el poema que Barney recitó para nosotros de
memoria. Una lección de cómo vivir la
vida al máximo.
Gracias Barney, y gracias a mi cuñada por insistir en que fueramos a
conocerlo.
When Earth's Last Picture Is Painted
Rudyard
Kipling
1865 - 1936
When Earth's last picture is painted
And the tubes are twisted and dried
When the oldest colors have faded
And the youngest critic has died
We shall rest, and faith, we shall need it
Lie down for an aeon or two
'Till the Master of all good workmen
Shall put us to work anew
And those that were good shall be happy
They'll sit in a golden chair
They'll splash at a ten league canvas
With brushes of comet's hair
They'll find real saints to draw from
Magdalene, Peter, and Paul
They'll work for an age at a sitting
And never be tired at all.
And only the Master shall praise us.
And only the Master shall blame.
And no one will work for the money.
No one will work for the fame.
But each for the joy of the working,
And each, in his separate star,
Will draw the thing as he sees it.
For the God of things as they are!
And the tubes are twisted and dried
When the oldest colors have faded
And the youngest critic has died
We shall rest, and faith, we shall need it
Lie down for an aeon or two
'Till the Master of all good workmen
Shall put us to work anew
And those that were good shall be happy
They'll sit in a golden chair
They'll splash at a ten league canvas
With brushes of comet's hair
They'll find real saints to draw from
Magdalene, Peter, and Paul
They'll work for an age at a sitting
And never be tired at all.
And only the Master shall praise us.
And only the Master shall blame.
And no one will work for the money.
No one will work for the fame.
But each for the joy of the working,
And each, in his separate star,
Will draw the thing as he sees it.
For the God of things as they are!
1 comment :
Supongo que el caballero después de tanto trajín cotidiano, desfallece del cansancio y cae como la consabida tapa de inodoro que él mismo produce: ¡aquí no hay lugar para la monotonía!
André
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