In addition, he was eight years councilor, counselor and president of the governments of Tenerife and the Canary Islands for 20 years.
He hurriedly lived over a century in 67 years; and somehow continues at it. He read tons of paper. He listened endlessly to what was not even written (hence his fights with the clock). And he tricked tiredness with intermittent microsiestas, so that no effort would be made uphill or deprive him of giving himself to the fullest.
He was not and is not one of those Stoics who aspire to accept the world as it is to achieve peaceful placidity. Not those liberals in love with the freedom of doing nothing or doing the least thing and that no one imposes limits on them. But, hyperactive, he does not pursue the impossible and that is why he always went (and goes) to the future to look for the stones with which to cement each present.
He did not barely entertain himself in the face of the personal evils that crossed his path, I do not know if not to be distracted from what is important or because he always knew that there is no better contempt than not appreciating; or both. The truth is that he did not find time to lose it in hatred and he did to earn it in gifts of attentive tenderness with the least thought and in ordering with Franciscan patience listening to all as the nutrient of dozens of common and generous plans, which gave him a just fame of be an atypical ruler. Programs and efforts that even today continue to bear fruit, almost anonymous, quiet, two decades later.
Like the Jesus of Bethlehem, he was not infallible. And they also disloyally denied him, in difficult and critical moments, some very close, of those that he helped the most, promoted and wanted. They were covered in historical shame and a certain poetic justice has finally come to put them in their place, more than tiny.
And yet, with constant doubt as a painful way of life and a tool of knowledge, he was a very lucky man. Much.
And, in humble lower case, magnificent. As much or more. Of those explorers who find happiness in opening beautiful paths that we all now travel better.
Always a brother, a boss with a silk glove and a bottomless friend, detached and forgetful of evil, every minute with him was and is a gift, which I still seek and pursue.
He died apparently and prematurely at the age of 67. Or so the vast majority believe.
Adan Martin was born on October 19, like today, 78 years ago, Congratulations! .
Adam
We talk and we talk
very, very vividly.
And in those, however,
I wake up sleepy.
Do not know where.
I look and listen.
It must be within a dream
because you’re not here.
I look again.
I can not find you.
I close my eyes and sleep
so that we can talk again.
