La Rosa de Cuba Turns 97 Years Old

February 11, 2020

Rosita Fornés arrived late in my life. And I say "late" with regret, more than with melancholic authority. But the day I met her, still not diminished by age, I dared to tell her that within my family her legendary aura and the fervor for her glamorous silhouette were transmitted from generation to generation, just as transcendental values are transferred, those to which we cannot and do not want to renounce.

In a few words: both the artist and the woman were part of my individual heritage. In fact, with sovereign vanity I also confessed to her that her fortune was that I had not been her contemporary, for I would not have missed her, with or without the pardon of René Cabel, Cantinflas, Medel, Armando Bianchi et al.

Since then (compliments back and forth), an instant sympathy that neither of us could calculate, favored that complicity that honors me. More than the Fornés, I can say that I discovered Rosalía Palet Bonavía, the human being who pulses beneath the myth, venerated first of all by an entire people who recognize her authenticity, charisma, worth and permanence.

This February 11th, she, who long ago conquered the summit of the timeless, turns 97 years old. And she does so in the United States, the country where she was born by accident, since no one should doubt her deep-rooted Cuban identity.

As it is not rare for midnight to surprise her awake, almost on edge, I now imagine her appearing in pink, with little makeup and a legendary smile, illuminating everything around her, despite the absences and the voids.

The only thing I wish for you, Rosa of my soul, is health, temperance, serenity and optimism. I want to think that very soon we will embrace in Siboney. Meanwhile, receive my deep kiss and my most sincere affection, which already crosses the 90 miles...