After 10 days of hospitalization, the lady of the air returned to the Miter weekends from her home. She could not celebrate 100 years of radio, but she continues with her radio crusade against loneliness.
If loneliness and nostalgia had a voice, it would be Nora Perlé’s. A photo of her strings, of the feeling her tone provokes at the time of Sunday syndrome, of the Sunday existential emptiness.
His is a form of remote therapeutic accompaniment. A master’s degree in emotional first aid, a virtual clinic for lonely people when sadness reaches a deep state of saudade. “I’m calling you because I feel so lonely “,” If you knew how it feels to have no one “, Miter listeners stab the dagger on Saturday and Sunday night. And she not only names them on the air and gives them entity, encouragement and a track of her Long Plays: she writes down their phone numbers to contact them later from her home, she gives them her voice as a patch.
The 100 years of radio found Madame Radio in silence, within the walls of the Anchorena Sanatorium. The coronavirus demanded 10 days of hospitalization, a plasma donation and an absence from the dial that on weekends from 9:30 p.m. to 1:00 p.m. felt like an auditory hole. His public desperately called the Miter switch, crying, asking for clues, sending prayers. Until Perlé took up the microphone from her living room to say with a syrup tone the three words that have worked like syrup for 19 years, Songs are loves.
“I, who am so active and mobile, still have a certain weakness, I am numb”, admits the lady remembered by Miss Ylang and her music. “I was quite committed, the fatigue was tremendous, it was a brave pneumonia. With plasma the recovery was fantastic. My biggest concern was not my health, because I was well protected: it was my husband Ismael, who was distraught, with whom we could not maintain contact “.
In those days he reconfirmed what he sensed in 60 years of locution: that his audience “is family.” She says that even the director of the sanatorium admitted that it was his ritual to listen to her. There were calls of concern even from exiled ears in Washington and Paris, while Andrea Estevez Mirson, who co-hosts the cycle, placated the pearlistic Fandom. “Doing radio again healed my soul.”
-From the experience of having suffered the coronavirus, can you advise something, do you learn something?
-I was isolated in one house for 160 days, and my husband isolated in another for 160 days. I did not go out to buy, they brought me things, they left them at the door of my apartment, I opened with bags in my hands, I added bleach and alcohol, I washed again with bleach and alcohol. It’s the strangest thing in the world what happened to me. The doctors themselves told me “it’s a curious case.” What can I advise? I took extreme care of cleaning. I have been a retailer and I got sick anyway. It was a big question mark. Anyway, I continue to take care of myself and I ask everyone to do so.
For Lidia Nora Zisman -as it appears in his DNI- the radio was never “time-temperature-humidity”. Not in times of tired body. The nine hours of air per week in Miter are added to a column on AM Radio de la Ciudad and another program that he carries on La 2×4. Spend the entire week planning “your” air. Work each section. Listening to it involves walking around the block of Music to calm the beasts, in which voices like Brenda Lee sound, or Singing people understand in which he proposes interpreters who sing in Russian or Arabic.
“I have a disco that lines the walls of the house. About 2,000 LPs, and an amount that I cannot calculate of CDs “, he says while the music of the barking of his two dogs, Homero and Pepe plays.
-Which album could you listen to until the end of your days without getting tired?
–The seaby Charles Trenet. I love french.
-What is the brake, the limit, what music could never sound in your program?
-The most extreme rock is not part. Because the program creates an atmosphere. There are a lot of college students listening because music doesn’t distract them, it appeases them. I believe in inducing with music.
-How do you describe the feeling of being about to go on the air? Sixty years later it must not be the same …
-It does not matter. I can’t explain the feeling of nerves to you. It’s like a warm-up, an imprint of trembling, and I soften with the minutes. And that’s the measure: when that passes, I’m going. That is called respect for the radio.
-What do you remember about that first time on the air when radio was still a young medium that did not reach half a century?