Mauricio Saravia, the artist and poet in this website, who suffered McCune-Albright and Lion's Face Syndrome, really had a "magical life" and it is very well explained in his biography book. The book tells about his birth, his childhood in Uruguay, South America; Springfield, Massachusetts, and San Francisco, California; his 8 major surgeries, his dreams, achievements and frustrations later, as a young man. His frustrations in his own country and in N.Y., his struggles and achievements in Denver and Los Angeles as an illegal immigrant; everyone who enlightened his life and helped him to go on trying; those who filled his life with joy, encouraged him, and made him forget he was different, his long path to faith, and his painful departure.
The story has a little bit of everything, as well as real life.
Mau used to go out with many girls who were very good friends of him, and they all said he was a very nice gentleman, and that it was fun to hang out with him. So, there were always girls in his life.
I remember one evening, in Los Angeles, that he came and told me: "I'm going out with Marie and another girl. They are coming to pick me up in Marie's car. I am going to be back late. Don't worry about me and go to sleep early."
He was back around 3 in the morning. He passed by my room and I woke up and got up to talk with him. I always wanted to know how his night had been and if he needed something to eat or drink. I was used to that. Besides, he always came back with an interesting anecdote and it was fun listening to his stories. This time was not different.
"We had a great time! We went to two clubs. One of the clubs we went was a karaoke pub, which was packed. I went up the stage, told the piano man what I was going to sing and I sang with the piano."
I couldn't believe him. His voice was rougher than Leonard Cohen's voice. Besides, I couldn't help thinking how brave he had had to be, to get on a stage in front of a big audience, since just walking along the street he usually received offensive comments to his face and body.
"What? What did you sing?”
"I'm just a gigolo.”
We were laughing a long while.
"The audience was rolling in laughter. I was the performer who received more applause. I laughed a lot and enjoyed all that a lot."
That was so Mau! He could make people laugh with him, not of him, without feeling offended or embarrassed, and even laugh with them and enjoy the moment.
One afternoon, I realized that Mauricio had been working at his computer too hard. His hunchback even more bent for the position at the keyboard for many hours and his only sight, tired of watching the screen.
"Let's have a snack and rest," I said
Mauricio said: "I need to finish this graphic design as soon as possible, so I can cash the money. We need to pay the rent in a few days and you haven't had enough cleaning work lately."
"I have made almost all the amount for the rent, already. We are going to make it. Relax!" I said.
He said: "Yes, but if we are late, for any reason, they charge a fee. You know that".
"Ok, fine, but don't overdo it. If you get sick, everything is going to be worse. I think you need a break. Let's go out and walk a little before it gets dark.
"Alright, we can go to Barns & Nobles. Let's eat and dress up." He said.
We walked down to the 16th St. Mall, and we took the shuttle.
After going down the three stair cases, Mauricio painfully limped down the two blocks to the Shuttle stop. Some days were more painful than others.
We had a good time in the bookstore. We both loved books and magazines and we were also looking for ideas for our online art magazine.
We went out of the book store and we walked another three blocks looking at the store windows, enjoying the fresh evening air, not paying attention to people who stared in awe at Mauricio's looks; some of them in astonishment and some others disrespectfully.
He looked at the shop windows full of things he would love to buy: CDs, T-shirts, shirts, some decoration for home and he showed me what he liked.
I told him: "You will be able to buy lots of those things, some day. Anyway, when you had that good job last year, you decorated your apartment very well. I love the tall lamps and big pots with plants on pedestals, as well as the brown sofa you bought. And you have enough clothes for now. I will try to do some extra work next month and I'll give you the money so you can buy a new pair of pants, a t-shirt and a shirt."
The air became chilly and windy in that Denver early spring evening . We took the shuttle back home. We sat at the only seat available: the large seat which is in front of another one, near the back door. We didn't like to sit there because we didn't want to be in front of the persons on the seat across, but luckily, this time the seat in front of us was empty and there were no other free seats.
On the next stop, a lady and her beautiful, blonde, angel face girl, around four or five years old, got on the bus and sat in front of us. The girl stared at Mauricio immediately.
I thought: "Oh no! Please, don't say anything, honey!"
Children use to be cruel in their statements and they usually said things about Mauricio's non symmetric features and his large head.
I prayed to myself: "Oh, God! Don't let her say anything cruel! He is feeling tired and kind of down, already. Today he is not strong enough to bare a cruel comment."
Suddenly, the girl looked at her mother and pointing Mauricio she asked: "Mom, look. Is he an angel?"
I was shocked! I froze. Nobody had said something like that to him.
Mauricio looked at the girl in the eyes, smiled and waved his hand shyly and friendly. The girl's mother looked at me and saw my eyes were wet. At first she didn't say anything but I could see she was moved too. Then, she whispered something on her daughter's ear but I couldn't hear.
We stood up to get off the bus. Mauricio waved and smiled again to the girl and we got off and started walking with difficulty, up the steep hill to Sherman St.,. I saw that the girl and her mother had also got off the shuttle and they were walking behind us.
I then, heard the girl saying to her mother: "I told you. He is an angel! Look at his back”
I was impressed and confused with the girl's remark. Did the girl think his hunched back was hiding wings? What did she think? What was in her mind? How did she really see Mauricio? Anyway, that was the sweetest comment about him that Mauricio and I had ever heard. He looked back, and smiled to the girl again.
Next corner, on Sherman St., we turned right and they went left, crossing the street. When we were back home I was thinking over about our encounter with the little girl. We didn't make any comment. I thought: What if Mauricio is just a mirror to all of us and we see in Mauricio what we really are? I had always seen Mauricio as a filter, the good and spiritual people stayed and the shallow and materialistic, went away. But maybe, he could be a mirror as well. That little girl looked a real angel to me and she believed that Maury was an angel when she looked at him.
For Mauricio, and for myself too, that was another magical moment.