Explanation of the letter I have written to Regina Oliveira. She was an important part of the surreal story of my life from 1984 to 1991, then she disappeared. Her love sustained us in a very difficult time. This story teaches that you can't know how much the kindness you do today will change the world forty years from now.
My next article will be the one I will not write first in Spanish. I will write it only in poor Portuguese – the only form of Portuguese I know how to write. And I’m not going to give a translation, because it’s a letter, not to you, but to a Brazilian friend who was very important in our lives. A friend I haven’t known how to find for a very long time.
However, I will explain it.
Regina Oliveira was an important part of the surreal story of my life. We met as co-workers at the University of Kansas library in the fall of 1984. Regina had been an English teacher in Rio de Janeiro, her hometown. She came to Kansas on a Fulbright scholarship to study radio, film, and television program production. We were friends almost in an instant. And by the end of that year, my wife and Regina were like sisters.
But our friendship was a rarity. Often, she had to be very patient with my prejudices. She sometimes said that I—and the church I attended—seemed to see a national enemy behind every doorknob. Or that we seemed to believe that we could get some disease by touching anyone who wasn’t exactly like us. And she was correct. I accepted her correction because she was so different; but yet so good. And she loved us.
Regina loathed Lawrence and K.U., but she loved us. This was important. She graduated from K.U. in the first week of June 1985 and was able to go back to Rio — except that she loved us.
In May 1985, the disaster—or the great mercy?—that sent me to the old Topeka State Hospital that July occurred. Many people, including some in our church, told my wife that she should divorce me. But Regina remained in Lawrence, which she detested, until almost the end of July, to ensure that my wife would survive the situation without divorcing me. We will never forget her!
We saw Regina one other time, in the summer of 1986. She visited Lawrence for a day on her way back to Brazil from an internship in New Jersey. On that visit, Regina told me that my life would (even then) “make a good soap opera, except no one would ever believe it!” But now, her words about my unbelievable life have inspired me. Perhaps, since my life resembles surreal fiction, some parts of my life can be told as surrealist fiction with a good purpose?
We continued to exchange letters until February 1991, when her most recent letter, which contained a new address, burned in a fire. All attempts to locate her after that failed. It was as if she had existed for six years and then disappeared. More surrealism–or suprarealism?
After my letter to Regina, I will return to my ordinary mode of teaching for a while. But maybe not forever!
What does this part of my story teach? You simply cannot know how much the kindness you do today will change the world forty years from now.
