I interviewed Pinky in February 2006, in the same department of Palermo where he would die on December 8, 2022, at the age of 87. That time I was impressed by her timeless elegance and her iron character: an iron lady.
The original idea of the report was to talk regarding television; we ended up chatting regarding politics. We review the milestone of having starred in a founding broadcast on the small screen: the first face that Argentines saw in full color on their televisions was his. That time, in May 1980, Pinky wore a dark dress that the producers asked, begged, and demanded she change. It would be in vain. “I’m wearing black because the color is me,” she clarified to them. No one dared to contradict her. Truths are accepted, not discussed.
We repair that unpleasantness that were 24 hours for Malvinasthe marathon cycle that he led with jorge fontana, intended to raise funds for the boys of the war. By Bunch he had adoration: he said it, he highlighted it. And between one thing and another, a professional experience, a personal anecdote, Mirtha, tinelli, Suzanne, and the eventual figure of the moment, lovingly mentioned his two children. and with love to Raúl Lavie.
At the end of a meeting of almost two hours, I asked him a single question regarding politics, even though it was not what was agreed. I understood that Pinky was waiting for her. She tied up her hair, modified her voice: from there, she would sound more severe.
He displayed a huge map of La Matanza on the floor of that ocher living room, overloaded with works of art, books, paintings and personal stories. She stood on top. He focused the light of a nearby nightstand on the plane; his figure remained in the shadows. Wordy, she explained to me -marking areas and also pointing to specific blocks- what she would have done as the mayor she was for just a little while. There was in 1999. It still hurt.
At the end he accompanied me to the entrance of the building. I was following her down a long hallway when I told her the one thing I wanted her to hear. “My mother always tells that she found you by chance, in Mar del Plata, many years ago. And she always repeats the same thing: ‘She was on the beach, in full midday sun and without a drop of makeup: she is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life!’”.
Pinky stopped for a moment. She turned around and looked at me like she hadn’t before. Behind her armor I perceived nostalgia. “Tell your mom that…thank you very much,” she smiled, blushing. And tell him that I send him a big kiss”. She opened the front door. She greeted me with studied courtesy. I got lost in the city and she, in her memories.
A few days later I complied with the errand, conveying the greeting. It was my old lady who smiled then, before giving me the same look. Only then did I understand that there was so much in common between these two women. The name, from the beginning: both were called Lidia. One, Satragno; the other, Peace. Also the origin: they had grown up in San Justo, a couple of decades apart. And there was also temperance: two personalities forged by dissimilar, antagonistic experiences, but similar in their tracks, in their grooves. And elegance, that class that distracts time, that confuses it, disorients it. That even invalidates it.
Although… yes: not in beauty. No no. In that, no. Because the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life is my mom. She is my Lydia. Sorry for the boldness, Pinky; I can’t lie to you. And this time, the one who asks you for a greeting is me: can you send him a big kiss from me? I’m sure they’ll cross paths now.
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