Miracle in the Andes
This book I am finishing is by Nando Parrado.
Miracle in the Andes
I have heard of books that you cannot put down, and even had a few in my hands, but nothing like this one has ever held me so entranced. The story has been told, and a movie was made about it called "Alive," but this first hand account of Nando Parrado is the more compelling because it's not only about the story of the crash of his Rugby teams plane in the Andes in 1972 and their ensuing horror, but it's a reflection of a man's journey within his Dante's coldest hell, and about a true heroic life that pushes mythological dimensions.
He doesn't see himself that way though...
In an interview he gave prior to choosing to write his account, he said, "I have had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, that’s all, I’m not a Messiah who can reveal something important, I’m just like any other person, anyone of Old Boys could have been invited in that plane or that could have happened to Old Boys’ team in some trip. What’s the different thing about us? Nothing. We are rugby players from a school that were in the wrong place at the wrong time.."
Yet, in this book he does have an insight to something most of us will never experience: a deepest suffering that affords an opportunity to hollow out one's personhood to one's deepest humanity to almost religious proportions.
While climbing the Andes peaks with fading hopes of reaching the other side, and rescue, he remembers, "We were quiet for a long time. The sky was as black as ink now, and studded with a billion brilliant stars, each of them impossibly clear and blazing like a point of fire. At this altitude I felt I could reach out and touch them. In another time and place I would have been awestruck by all this beauty. But here, and now, it seemed a brutal show of force. The world was showing me how tiny I was, how weak and insignificant. And temporary. I listen to the own breathing, reminding myself that as long as I drew breath I was still alive. I promised myself I would not think of the future. I would live moment to moment and from breath to breath, until I used up all the life I had..."
He writes from an emotional maturity that is sobering, but as well, it is equally thrilling and inspiring, and without the uncomfortable sentimentality that another less involved person might be inclined to pursue.
If you can get another book in this summer, make it this one.
As I am wrapping up the final chapter which is the epilogue of the survivors and where they went, what they did after rescue, I am listening to Jeff Black's "Gold Heart Locket" with not a few tears. I posted them in one place, so it will be a repeat for some, but chose to post them here as well (you can listen to it at: Jeff Black. There is a radio on his site):
all night long I’ve been riding riding
I should have been there by now
but these old county roads
got a lot of deep holes
and the rain keeps pouring down
the bridge is washed out and the rising rising
waters of the river rush by
and I’m up to my fenders in mud
and to my witness above
I’m really stuck this time
I’ve got a gold heart locket on a silver chain
clinched tight in my fist in the pouring rain
and the only road back home again
is all but washed away
I’m going to cross that river tonight
no matter what it takes
although I might die trying
my true love will remain
in a gold heart locket on a silver chain
open it up and she’s lovely lovely
eyes of hazel green
but I close it up fast because the rain gets past
and lays a tear down on her cheek
i promised her once that i would never ever
break her heart again
so lord take me there
with a silent prayer
and her locket in my hand
the last thing I remember I was fearing for my life
she was calling out my name from over on the other side
well, I reached out to hold her
but the break was just too strong
and the silence just gets colder
as the river rages on
all night long I’ve been riding riding
I should have been there by now
but these old county roads
got a lot of deep holes
and the rain keeps pouring down
the bridge is washed out and the rising rising
waters of the river rush by
and I’m up to my fenders in mud
and to my witness above
I’m really stuck this time....
I’ve got a gold heart locket on a silver chain
clinched tight in my fist in the pouring rain
and the only road back home again
is all but washed away
I’m going to cross that river tonight
no matter what it takes
although I might die trying
my true love will remain
in a gold heart locket on a silver chain...
Miracle in the Andes
I have heard of books that you cannot put down, and even had a few in my hands, but nothing like this one has ever held me so entranced. The story has been told, and a movie was made about it called "Alive," but this first hand account of Nando Parrado is the more compelling because it's not only about the story of the crash of his Rugby teams plane in the Andes in 1972 and their ensuing horror, but it's a reflection of a man's journey within his Dante's coldest hell, and about a true heroic life that pushes mythological dimensions.
He doesn't see himself that way though...
In an interview he gave prior to choosing to write his account, he said, "I have had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, that’s all, I’m not a Messiah who can reveal something important, I’m just like any other person, anyone of Old Boys could have been invited in that plane or that could have happened to Old Boys’ team in some trip. What’s the different thing about us? Nothing. We are rugby players from a school that were in the wrong place at the wrong time.."
Yet, in this book he does have an insight to something most of us will never experience: a deepest suffering that affords an opportunity to hollow out one's personhood to one's deepest humanity to almost religious proportions.
While climbing the Andes peaks with fading hopes of reaching the other side, and rescue, he remembers, "We were quiet for a long time. The sky was as black as ink now, and studded with a billion brilliant stars, each of them impossibly clear and blazing like a point of fire. At this altitude I felt I could reach out and touch them. In another time and place I would have been awestruck by all this beauty. But here, and now, it seemed a brutal show of force. The world was showing me how tiny I was, how weak and insignificant. And temporary. I listen to the own breathing, reminding myself that as long as I drew breath I was still alive. I promised myself I would not think of the future. I would live moment to moment and from breath to breath, until I used up all the life I had..."
He writes from an emotional maturity that is sobering, but as well, it is equally thrilling and inspiring, and without the uncomfortable sentimentality that another less involved person might be inclined to pursue.
If you can get another book in this summer, make it this one.
As I am wrapping up the final chapter which is the epilogue of the survivors and where they went, what they did after rescue, I am listening to Jeff Black's "Gold Heart Locket" with not a few tears. I posted them in one place, so it will be a repeat for some, but chose to post them here as well (you can listen to it at: Jeff Black. There is a radio on his site):
all night long I’ve been riding riding
I should have been there by now
but these old county roads
got a lot of deep holes
and the rain keeps pouring down
the bridge is washed out and the rising rising
waters of the river rush by
and I’m up to my fenders in mud
and to my witness above
I’m really stuck this time
I’ve got a gold heart locket on a silver chain
clinched tight in my fist in the pouring rain
and the only road back home again
is all but washed away
I’m going to cross that river tonight
no matter what it takes
although I might die trying
my true love will remain
in a gold heart locket on a silver chain
open it up and she’s lovely lovely
eyes of hazel green
but I close it up fast because the rain gets past
and lays a tear down on her cheek
i promised her once that i would never ever
break her heart again
so lord take me there
with a silent prayer
and her locket in my hand
the last thing I remember I was fearing for my life
she was calling out my name from over on the other side
well, I reached out to hold her
but the break was just too strong
and the silence just gets colder
as the river rages on
all night long I’ve been riding riding
I should have been there by now
but these old county roads
got a lot of deep holes
and the rain keeps pouring down
the bridge is washed out and the rising rising
waters of the river rush by
and I’m up to my fenders in mud
and to my witness above
I’m really stuck this time....
I’ve got a gold heart locket on a silver chain
clinched tight in my fist in the pouring rain
and the only road back home again
is all but washed away
I’m going to cross that river tonight
no matter what it takes
although I might die trying
my true love will remain
in a gold heart locket on a silver chain...
But then I saw that there was something in the world that was not death, something just as awesome and enduring and profound. There was love, the love in my heart, and for one incredible moment I felt this love swell - love for my father, for my future, for the simple wonder of being alive - death lost it's power. In that moment I stopped running from death. Instead I made every step toward love, and that saved me..
--Nando Parrado
posted by SPOA | 7:58 PM
3 Comments:
Synchronicity alert! I just bought the movie Alive, and watched it two days ago. I wanted to rent it, but the copy at blockbuster was damaged, they had one for sale that included a short documentary with the real survivors, which I hadn't seen before (I saw the movie when it fisrt came out) so I bought it. It is such an amazing story. Now I want to read to book!
Thanks for sharing this book. I think I would like to read it. That last quote is truly amazing.
How wonderful seph, I think we must have very parallel lives.
Let me know if you all read it, what you think.
I saw the movie when I was high school or right after. I remembered it because like most people I was at once completely revolted and fascinated how they kept from starving; but mainly I was bemused by the story: Rugby players in Chile? Anglos playing them in the film? What was this and who are these people, that kind of thing.
Also, there was something going on, it's impact on my psyche, like you seph, there was a deeper resonance I could not put my finger on. I wanted to make it mine. I really felt like there were points of this particular story I wanted to be able to bite into (pardon the pun), than just the shocking parts. I wanted it from a truer perspective.
So, I was poking around the new books at the library last week and falling off the shelf, this one that I mention here, it practically jumped into my arms and I was like, Hey I remember you.
I read it and then it was, Ok I get it, I get this.
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