I have always been fascinated by the British magazine The Economist’s ability to write a memorial. Writing an obituary with intelligence and grace. Every week, the magazine bids farewell to its readers on its last page and reflects on life. The characters may be heroes, villains, or supporting characters, but the stories they tell always enlighten us in some way.
This column is an attempt to go a little beyond the objective reporting of a daily newspaper and pay homage to storytellers. I met Luis Augusto Nunez (35 years old) in 1993 in Globo’s newsroom on Calle Irineu Marinho. The 43-year-old was an experienced reporter who had worked for O Dia (later to work for Jornal do Brasil and CBF). We called him Luiz LUN, after his acronym in the publishing system.
LUN was anxious, rushed, and most of all, funny. He had an uncanny ability to create nicknames and invent sudden suffixes to tell stories. Marcelo Barreto was Barreto. Radio Carmona was Dom Carmo (he only called him “Dom”). Sports editor Cesar Seabra was “Homi.” Zico… was always Garo — LUN was always a believer in red and black.
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There are many stories to tell about Luis Augusto, but the stories back then were strangely mundane. It happened at the end of the day. We left and were walking down the stairs to get to the newspaper parking lot. As soon as we left, Luis Augusto felt cold. He looked at me and whispered in a high-pitched voice.
— How cold! How cold! How cold!
As he said this, he crossed his arms, tucked one hand under his armpit, smiled in his usual way…and hurried off to get his car. For a moment, he became a cartoon character. The image was LUN in its purest form: a play with everyday life, a happy laugh, an unexpected suffix, a rush to reach the future.
Most of the stories he told could not be published. Around 1995, he accepted a job with a Sunday newspaper. The idea was to report on hobbies, what players do on their days off. When he covered Flamengo, his mission was to talk to Romario. Shorty:
— Luis Augusto, My hobby is fashionable…! I like to fuck with balls…!
The subject was dropped. But LUNs told a different story. Politically incorrectness was his specialty. Also, the story in his hometown of Pillai probably started with my imaginary cousin always saying, “You know what?
— I’m going to tell you something… so you won’t come and tell me the same thing…
Losing people is a natural process. Some end early, others at a more or less expected time, when they begin to lose their abilities due to age or illness. In some cases, people’s undesirables begin to become almost desirable.
LUN had been battling cancer for several years. Last Saturday, I went with my friends to say goodbye to him. He was left bedridden at the clinic, but was conscious. I didn’t know he was leaving, but I thought so. He talked about Flamengo and how he kept going to the cinema during matches because he was so nervous. His machine shut down on Sunday.
A mass in his honor is scheduled to be held a week later. In the invitation, the family wrote: “I’m at the cinema. And this time… the game is about nostalgia.” Above the message are only the dates of birth and death, and a photo of a smiling Luis Augusto.
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