“No Basta”(It’s Not Enough)
A Story of 80’s Latin Rock and Generation X Parenthood



Franco De Vita, the man who would become one of the faces of Latin Rock, is a Venezuelan Latin Grammy winning singer/songwriter whose career mushroomed in the late 80’s. De Vita was born in Caracas, Venezuela on January 23, 1954 and thirty years later he released his first disc “Franco De Vits” as a solo artist in 1984. For wider international exposure, De Vita joined the CBS label. In 2014, he was inducted into the Billboard Latin Music of Fame. As a songwriter, he has written songs for the likes of Ricky Martin and Chayanne.

Some of Franco De vita’s international smash hits that lead him to stardom include, “Solo Importas Tu (Only You Matter),” “Te Amo (I Love You)” and of course, my favorite from the 1990 “Extranjero (Stranger)” album, “No Basta (It’s Not Enough)” This song is as timely today as it was in 1990. It is the story of a father raising his son as best as he can, but the father feels that he can never do enough for his son. As a single mother with two children I feel his heart wrenching dilemma. How do I give my child all that I possibly can while she or he learns to value what is truly important in life?

I am a half-Argentinean, half-Irish first generation American and like many immigrants from a Latin background, my mother expected to be what she was unable to be; as I dream of my daughter and son being what I feel I can not be. De Vita speaks directly to this concept in his song “No Basta” He proclaims, “ser lo que tu padre no pudo ser (‘be what your father could not be’)”

The relationship between the father and the son is particularly impactful to me and my interactions with my sixteen year old daughter. It is a very similarly trying and touching relationship from my eyes. An especially palpable line that hits home for me is when De Vita sings,”y cuando te queria hablarle de sexo se le subieron los colores al rostro(‘…and when he wanted to talk to you about sex, your whole face turned red’). This has particular meaning to me because of my backass backwards, blue collar, Catholic upbringing which doesn’t instinctively allow me to do anything but giggle idiotically when sex is mentioned. You see, my daughter knew she was a lesbian at thirteen years of age. I, the stereotypically clueless blonde (self-depreciating humor is a specialty of mine), would not have imagined it in a million years. I could see that there was something going on in her that I couldn’t figure out what was bothering her, nor could I persuade her to tell me. She cried a lot, threatened to hurt herself and started changing her appearance. Finally, an answer! She officially “came out” at fourteen. Then another problem, she was angry with me! She said that I had made a joke in bad taste. I begged her to forgive me if I had ever made some corny, stupid slight against the LGBTQ community. Fortunately, we reconciled with each other that day. I still haven’t officially left the church because I cling fervently to the apparent delusion (and yes many of you will call it a delusion, and you may well be right) that my daughter may someday be accepted by my faith and be allowed to take the holy sacrament in public. That being said, it is very difficult for me to accept that my church, that is supposed to be the bastion of my faith, won’t accept my daughter for who she is.

And as for my daughter, I have this one hope that De Vita sings about in “No Basta”. He sings, “si no has caido tu chico ya es un hombre, ahora mas alto y mas fuerte que tu) ‘and before you know it, your child is an adult, now much taller and stronger than you’).”

Martie Pynes is a school psychologist and real estate investor who loves to read and write. She got Bachelor of Arts in Comparative Literature from the University of California, Berkeley. Her love of differing forms of literature has inspired her writing style and her love of bringing her perspective to informative pieces.