The moment has passed. The choice is known. Now what?
Last night the unprecedented happened. America was driven out of their homes, out of their daily routines and in masses unseen before, make their choice known. Apathy was overcome.
Two incredible men stood a chance to lead an ailing country back into superpower status.
Only one man won.
Regardless of whether your candidate won, whether your issues were supported and whether you feel satisfied with the results, the majority spoke, a leader was elected, and democracy prevails.
Now what? Now comes the hard part. Can you put your differences aside and work to make this country better than it was before? Can you put your prejudices aside and support the man that the majority has chosen and all of us, together, create a better future?
Barack Obama is only one man, he cannot do it all. It will be up to you to do what is necessary to get this country from its current situation to be, once again, the greatest nation in the world.
Mr. Obama’s race, youth, experience and supporters had nothing to do with the reason he was elected. He spoke and touched the heart of his voters and persuaded them to join him as he led us out of these chaotic times and into a better future for our children.
Can you do as he has done? As many have done? Can you put race aside? Can you put your ageist attitudes aside? Can you put all of those things aside and believe in the abilities of this man to inspire millions to get involved?
If you cannot, then we are all doomed.
If this elections have shown us anything is that truly in the United States of America anything can be done. WE can recover. WE can work side by side with our neighbors and rebuild this nation with a stronger foundation than ever before. Chalk aside the previous ways, if WE are to prevail and lead once again, WE have to create ourselves anew.
But WE have to do it together. United we Stand, WE the People. All of the phrases that have been coined became clichés because there is truth to them. WE have to do it together.
As our nation faces turmoil that threatens our livelihood, it won’t take one black man from Chicago to fix it all. It will take the farmer from Iowa, the teacher from California, the nurse from Texas and even the homeless from New York. Not one of us is excluded from this mission. From all corners of this nation, we have to come together and stand together and strong and make the decisions and choices that will empower the next generations.
These changes are not for you and me, they are not even for those that came before us, they are for those that will inherit this world from us. If we cannot learn to love and accept our neighbor, how do we teach it to our children?
As stewards of this planet we have failed. As protectors of our youth and future generations we have failed. As Americans, we have failed in teaching our children the meaning of the basic principles that this land was founded on.
So as we begin a new chapter in our history, what part will YOU play in it? Will you care enough to get involved? Will you let go of your political party, your race, your generation, your background and take a stand to make this a better place?
Change will not come about from just one person; it will not come from a group of people. WE have to consciously and purposefully make that choice. All of us, as one nation.
We stand against our greatest enemy. Ourselves. It won’t be another country that will take down this country; it won’t be special interests, crazed dictators, or any outside threat. It will be brother turning against brother, neighbor against neighbor, idea against idea. This country made up of so many of us, is great because of our diversity and our varied experiences. We have exceeded because of our different backgrounds, our different histories.
Can we take our histories and our experiences and create a common future? Can we stop being a race, a generation and just be people? Can we let go of our prejudices and embrace the tenets and the core principles of this country and let go of everything we have ever been before and be just Americans? Shoulder to shoulder, side by side, making this, yet again, the greatest nation in the world?
WE CANNOT DO IT WITHOUT YOU. YOU MUST MAKE A STAND.
All of us together. Black, White, Hispanic, Asian, European. Young, old, rich, poor.
Together we can make this country better.
Together we can make our world great.
Together we can reach new heights.
Together we can make a new stand.
UNITED WE STAND.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Counting your blessings
How do people count their blessings? Many people count them by the number of dollars in their bank account. Others think of them as their name on a wooden plaque on their door displaying a title and some even think about them as a sum of their possessions. Blessings come in many shapes and sizes; they depend on your age, your background, and even your gender. Mine come in smiles.
I sit across from my living room while my son and his dad sit down and watch a movie about superheroes and I realize that to my boy, his father is his hero. Damian and his father have a particular relationship. They sit in front of the TV and not say a word to each other but every few minutes you see them looking at each other, smiling in complicity.
During summertime, they go outside and work together on the yard and talk about any thing and everything. Damian asks his dad questions as if his dad had all of the answers in the world and Tony tries to explain to his son the world as he sees it and in doing so, lays down the path for his son to walk through later on in life.
They play video games together, they color and paint together. They are a wonder in the kitchen as father brings down the whole spice rack, not an easy feat, and introduces his son to the millions of combinations and together, they discover the joy of concocting their own moments.
When Tony hits the road, Damian comes home and calls his dad to tell him about something exciting about school and to ask when he will be home. Damian makes sure that he calls his dad to say good night and is the first one to check on the weather to make sure that his dad’s path is clear (Hey! He had to get something from me…)
Tony talks to his son about animals and Damian thinks about a father and son team that will travel the country treating animals in their mobile vet hospital. They talk about train sets and swing sets, cars and boats and together they build projects and dreams that transcend reality and still create the cohesiveness of a father and son relationship.
Oh, don’t get me wrong, he loves his girls. Victoria is a source of pride and a buddy to gang up on mom with and Gabriela is, well, Gabriela is the sweetie. He would do anything and everything for his girls and is extremely protective of them. But like every other man, he realizes that they are little women and that women in general are to be loved but not necessarily understood.
But Damian is different. When Damian was a baby and he was more of a mommy’s boy, there was still an understanding that the minor interactions between them were the groundwork for when they reached this level of their relationship. As Damian grew, he gravitated more towards his dad and now I am happy to say that he will run after his dad and involve him in projects of cars, farms and life in general and leave me behind with a kiss and assurance that he loves me but wants to “hang out” with dad.
The role of a father in a child’s life is paramount. In our society a father is often looked at as an assistant’s role to the mother’s and the bond is not encouraged and nurtured. What must it feel like for a father to know that his son grows up without him, without the advice that he wishes his father had given him? We know that all too well. Many men deal with being absent from their children’s life, many men deal with being away because of location, legalities or pride and misunderstandings. Regardless of the reasons why, as a society, we fail to understand that children need that love and interaction that is so unique to a father. We fail to honor the role of a father and therefore we raise our children without teaching them the true value of a paternal figure.
As a I sit at my computer desk and I look out to the couch and I see my son look up at his dad and smile , I realize that my son will learn and accept his father as a man, I see that my husband will learn to see himself with compassion through his son’s eyes and I see that together, they will build a friendship that is everlasting. I count my blessings in smiles.
I sit across from my living room while my son and his dad sit down and watch a movie about superheroes and I realize that to my boy, his father is his hero. Damian and his father have a particular relationship. They sit in front of the TV and not say a word to each other but every few minutes you see them looking at each other, smiling in complicity.
During summertime, they go outside and work together on the yard and talk about any thing and everything. Damian asks his dad questions as if his dad had all of the answers in the world and Tony tries to explain to his son the world as he sees it and in doing so, lays down the path for his son to walk through later on in life.
They play video games together, they color and paint together. They are a wonder in the kitchen as father brings down the whole spice rack, not an easy feat, and introduces his son to the millions of combinations and together, they discover the joy of concocting their own moments.
When Tony hits the road, Damian comes home and calls his dad to tell him about something exciting about school and to ask when he will be home. Damian makes sure that he calls his dad to say good night and is the first one to check on the weather to make sure that his dad’s path is clear (Hey! He had to get something from me…)
Tony talks to his son about animals and Damian thinks about a father and son team that will travel the country treating animals in their mobile vet hospital. They talk about train sets and swing sets, cars and boats and together they build projects and dreams that transcend reality and still create the cohesiveness of a father and son relationship.
Oh, don’t get me wrong, he loves his girls. Victoria is a source of pride and a buddy to gang up on mom with and Gabriela is, well, Gabriela is the sweetie. He would do anything and everything for his girls and is extremely protective of them. But like every other man, he realizes that they are little women and that women in general are to be loved but not necessarily understood.
But Damian is different. When Damian was a baby and he was more of a mommy’s boy, there was still an understanding that the minor interactions between them were the groundwork for when they reached this level of their relationship. As Damian grew, he gravitated more towards his dad and now I am happy to say that he will run after his dad and involve him in projects of cars, farms and life in general and leave me behind with a kiss and assurance that he loves me but wants to “hang out” with dad.
The role of a father in a child’s life is paramount. In our society a father is often looked at as an assistant’s role to the mother’s and the bond is not encouraged and nurtured. What must it feel like for a father to know that his son grows up without him, without the advice that he wishes his father had given him? We know that all too well. Many men deal with being absent from their children’s life, many men deal with being away because of location, legalities or pride and misunderstandings. Regardless of the reasons why, as a society, we fail to understand that children need that love and interaction that is so unique to a father. We fail to honor the role of a father and therefore we raise our children without teaching them the true value of a paternal figure.
As a I sit at my computer desk and I look out to the couch and I see my son look up at his dad and smile , I realize that my son will learn and accept his father as a man, I see that my husband will learn to see himself with compassion through his son’s eyes and I see that together, they will build a friendship that is everlasting. I count my blessings in smiles.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Dear Mr. Future President:
Dear Mr. Future President:
Greetings from the small town of Wilmington, Ohio in the heartland of our country. I am writing you today because I feel that there are a few things that need to be clarified.
Why the anger you ask? I was just at the grocery store sir, a depressing act all by it self, and overheard a conversation between my neighbors; neighbors in the loosest sense of the word.
You see, like every other frustrated consumer that makes their way to the store, my neighbors were complaining about the cost of food, clothing, and health care. They are anticipating the elections and hoping that the new president elected would walk across the aisles with fiery sword in hand and slash the prices that oppress the masses.
Sir, I know better. I know your administration will have nothing to do with prices, I do not hold you responsible nor do I expect the impossible from you. My neighbors, however, were more than ready to assign blame.
Perhaps it was the fact that this morning there were two of us at the grocery store.
Us, you know, Hispanics.
Maybe it is the fact that the vegetables are incredibly expensive and they associate farming with us. Maybe it was that their coffee didn’t taste right this morning. Regardless of the reasons why, they said, loudly, “it is those damn illegals making everything go wrong.”
And see? This is where I have an issue. Let me explain it to you.
For every illegal that works and that is not paying taxes, there is another set of illegals that does work and that works at a company where the taxes are taken from their checks, naturally, as it should be. Now, those illegals cannot file taxes and get that money back. Let me repeat that. They do pay taxes and do not get it back.
What happens to that money??? Where does that money go???
I have never, in the twenty years that I have lived in this country, ever heard of anyone giving that money back to the company. Never have I seen the IRS account for that money, nor explain where it was distributed to. There has never been any acknowledgement of where that money goes.
So let’s get this straight, minimum wages in a heavily “illegal” populated area is 6.55 an hour, if you multiply that by 40 hours a week and then take away the 18% in taxes and then add it up for the whole year, and then you have yearly contributions of $2452.32 per year, per illegal. Now, being that we are so numerous this should take a sizable chunk for all of the liabilities we have created.
Another point that perhaps needs clarification. Illegals taking away jobs.
I am sorry, the last time I spoke to anyone able to work, that had papers and was willing to go out and work wanted a minimum of $10/hour to walk out of their house. Illegals do the job that everyone else refuses to do. From working in farms for far less than minimum wages to taking construction jobs where they work outside, exposed to the weather and risk their life, because remember there is NO workman’s compensation if you are illegal. Has anyone thought of the price of produce if they did not work for as little as they do? No? Well think what would happen if “regular” people did those jobs, where you, sir, would have to make sure they received unemployment benefits and ensure that all Is were dotted and Ts were crossed. What would be the cost of our food? Perhaps, we haven’t considered that.
Another thing, and not to sound disrespectful sir, but….
In the 20 years that I have lived in this country, I have seen illegals work all kinds of hours, living 20 to a house and carpooling to work in order to ensure that they were able to work. I have also seen sir plenty of people, native born, that did not want to work, chose not to work and rode the system. They complained that there weren’t any jobs and that they couldn’t make it happen. Sir, if someone without papers can make it happen, how do we sit back and accept that from people who do have the opportunity to make it work and choose not to work???
They go to the hospital and don’t pay. Yes it is true, they will go to the hospital and uses the hospital and not have the means to pay for it, but half of them are afraid to death to show up there and will self-medicate until the illness is so advanced nothing but a hospital will do.
They don’t learn English and cannot be assimilated. I have worked for the government sir and I know what kind of money the government pays to provide bilingual information for the “illegals” and other “aliens”. You see, what someone has failed to realize is that printing up that information gives work to the people that print that material. Bringing food from other country to indulge “Us” reinforces commerce. We have to hire more people to deal with them and therefore produce more jobs, yes I can see how having illegals is a problem, more jobs, more need for specialized services, more commerce, yes dreadful. The money that we spend at the store is the same color green as everyone else’s. We pay the same fuel tax, sale tax and every other tax that is impinged upon us whenever we are parts of this society.
Even when you are a “legal” alien, you are still expected to have the same responsibilities in paying taxes and going to work and abiding by the rules, but when it comes to election time, I have to let Bubba, who can’t get a job, who did not go to school, who I would not leave in charge of my cats, I have to let him pick the president. I believe that is criminal. It is also taxation without representation.
I know sir; you were going to suggest that I should become a citizen. I am in the interminable process of doing so, it has taken over 2 years and more than 750.00 to accomplish this and I am almost there, I think. You see sir, navigating the immigration system such as your legislators have designed it requires a lawyer’s legal knowledge, an accountant’s accuracy and a saint’s patience, oh yeah, and a bailout plan as well. Most of us who are legalized don’t take the step further because it is price prohibitive. Everyone who has something to say about illegals constantly say that we should become legalized and therefore naturalized but they don’t realize the process.
The cost is outrageous, the bureaucracy that hinders every step is overwhelming and the testing is a joke. I had a harder time answering questions to get a grocery savings card than at passing the naturalization test. One would think, sir, that if becoming part of this great nation was such a feat, you would require more understanding and more knowledgeable comprehension from your “would-be” citizens.
Because even being the “alien” that you have categorized me as, I am more informed, more aware and more educated and cultured than most of your denizens. I arrived in this country and I had to learn another language, learn another set of customs and another set of rules to the game. I have worked hard, studied hard and developed my skills and achieved more than most of your naturalized children have and yet my children will still be looked at funny because of their features and the color of their skin, and when I go to the grocery store, I will still be profiled and called an “illegal”
Therefore, Mr. Future President of the United States, take heart, yours will not be an easy task. You will have to show the country that what ails it are not the illegals, its not teenage pregnancy, it is not even the troubled youth or the education system.
Your biggest problem is greed. Greed that makes it ok for someone to buy cheap and consume endlessly without wondering where those resources and production came from. Greed that allow us to work someone inhuman hours and not pay them decent wages when we know that they have a family to care for. Greed that does not permit us to set up low cost clinics so that everyone has access to healthcare. Greed that thinks it is ok to call Hispanics “illegals” in a derogatory manner just because they left their country to get something better for them and their families (Like the Pilgrims and Italians and Polish and….. well EVERYONE, with the exception of the American Indians)
Greed and Ignorance.
Ours is a socioeconomic cancer that eats away at a culture that is so disconnected from its base it has no idea that it’s attached to the putrefaction at the core. Their “That is them and this is us” attitude which they feel will save them from the world. Poor fools, they haven’t yet realized, we can’t escape each other.
Sir, yours will be a difficult task.
Godspeed.
Greetings from the small town of Wilmington, Ohio in the heartland of our country. I am writing you today because I feel that there are a few things that need to be clarified.
Why the anger you ask? I was just at the grocery store sir, a depressing act all by it self, and overheard a conversation between my neighbors; neighbors in the loosest sense of the word.
You see, like every other frustrated consumer that makes their way to the store, my neighbors were complaining about the cost of food, clothing, and health care. They are anticipating the elections and hoping that the new president elected would walk across the aisles with fiery sword in hand and slash the prices that oppress the masses.
Sir, I know better. I know your administration will have nothing to do with prices, I do not hold you responsible nor do I expect the impossible from you. My neighbors, however, were more than ready to assign blame.
Perhaps it was the fact that this morning there were two of us at the grocery store.
Us, you know, Hispanics.
Maybe it is the fact that the vegetables are incredibly expensive and they associate farming with us. Maybe it was that their coffee didn’t taste right this morning. Regardless of the reasons why, they said, loudly, “it is those damn illegals making everything go wrong.”
And see? This is where I have an issue. Let me explain it to you.
For every illegal that works and that is not paying taxes, there is another set of illegals that does work and that works at a company where the taxes are taken from their checks, naturally, as it should be. Now, those illegals cannot file taxes and get that money back. Let me repeat that. They do pay taxes and do not get it back.
What happens to that money??? Where does that money go???
I have never, in the twenty years that I have lived in this country, ever heard of anyone giving that money back to the company. Never have I seen the IRS account for that money, nor explain where it was distributed to. There has never been any acknowledgement of where that money goes.
So let’s get this straight, minimum wages in a heavily “illegal” populated area is 6.55 an hour, if you multiply that by 40 hours a week and then take away the 18% in taxes and then add it up for the whole year, and then you have yearly contributions of $2452.32 per year, per illegal. Now, being that we are so numerous this should take a sizable chunk for all of the liabilities we have created.
Another point that perhaps needs clarification. Illegals taking away jobs.
I am sorry, the last time I spoke to anyone able to work, that had papers and was willing to go out and work wanted a minimum of $10/hour to walk out of their house. Illegals do the job that everyone else refuses to do. From working in farms for far less than minimum wages to taking construction jobs where they work outside, exposed to the weather and risk their life, because remember there is NO workman’s compensation if you are illegal. Has anyone thought of the price of produce if they did not work for as little as they do? No? Well think what would happen if “regular” people did those jobs, where you, sir, would have to make sure they received unemployment benefits and ensure that all Is were dotted and Ts were crossed. What would be the cost of our food? Perhaps, we haven’t considered that.
Another thing, and not to sound disrespectful sir, but….
In the 20 years that I have lived in this country, I have seen illegals work all kinds of hours, living 20 to a house and carpooling to work in order to ensure that they were able to work. I have also seen sir plenty of people, native born, that did not want to work, chose not to work and rode the system. They complained that there weren’t any jobs and that they couldn’t make it happen. Sir, if someone without papers can make it happen, how do we sit back and accept that from people who do have the opportunity to make it work and choose not to work???
They go to the hospital and don’t pay. Yes it is true, they will go to the hospital and uses the hospital and not have the means to pay for it, but half of them are afraid to death to show up there and will self-medicate until the illness is so advanced nothing but a hospital will do.
They don’t learn English and cannot be assimilated. I have worked for the government sir and I know what kind of money the government pays to provide bilingual information for the “illegals” and other “aliens”. You see, what someone has failed to realize is that printing up that information gives work to the people that print that material. Bringing food from other country to indulge “Us” reinforces commerce. We have to hire more people to deal with them and therefore produce more jobs, yes I can see how having illegals is a problem, more jobs, more need for specialized services, more commerce, yes dreadful. The money that we spend at the store is the same color green as everyone else’s. We pay the same fuel tax, sale tax and every other tax that is impinged upon us whenever we are parts of this society.
Even when you are a “legal” alien, you are still expected to have the same responsibilities in paying taxes and going to work and abiding by the rules, but when it comes to election time, I have to let Bubba, who can’t get a job, who did not go to school, who I would not leave in charge of my cats, I have to let him pick the president. I believe that is criminal. It is also taxation without representation.
I know sir; you were going to suggest that I should become a citizen. I am in the interminable process of doing so, it has taken over 2 years and more than 750.00 to accomplish this and I am almost there, I think. You see sir, navigating the immigration system such as your legislators have designed it requires a lawyer’s legal knowledge, an accountant’s accuracy and a saint’s patience, oh yeah, and a bailout plan as well. Most of us who are legalized don’t take the step further because it is price prohibitive. Everyone who has something to say about illegals constantly say that we should become legalized and therefore naturalized but they don’t realize the process.
The cost is outrageous, the bureaucracy that hinders every step is overwhelming and the testing is a joke. I had a harder time answering questions to get a grocery savings card than at passing the naturalization test. One would think, sir, that if becoming part of this great nation was such a feat, you would require more understanding and more knowledgeable comprehension from your “would-be” citizens.
Because even being the “alien” that you have categorized me as, I am more informed, more aware and more educated and cultured than most of your denizens. I arrived in this country and I had to learn another language, learn another set of customs and another set of rules to the game. I have worked hard, studied hard and developed my skills and achieved more than most of your naturalized children have and yet my children will still be looked at funny because of their features and the color of their skin, and when I go to the grocery store, I will still be profiled and called an “illegal”
Therefore, Mr. Future President of the United States, take heart, yours will not be an easy task. You will have to show the country that what ails it are not the illegals, its not teenage pregnancy, it is not even the troubled youth or the education system.
Your biggest problem is greed. Greed that makes it ok for someone to buy cheap and consume endlessly without wondering where those resources and production came from. Greed that allow us to work someone inhuman hours and not pay them decent wages when we know that they have a family to care for. Greed that does not permit us to set up low cost clinics so that everyone has access to healthcare. Greed that thinks it is ok to call Hispanics “illegals” in a derogatory manner just because they left their country to get something better for them and their families (Like the Pilgrims and Italians and Polish and….. well EVERYONE, with the exception of the American Indians)
Greed and Ignorance.
Ours is a socioeconomic cancer that eats away at a culture that is so disconnected from its base it has no idea that it’s attached to the putrefaction at the core. Their “That is them and this is us” attitude which they feel will save them from the world. Poor fools, they haven’t yet realized, we can’t escape each other.
Sir, yours will be a difficult task.
Godspeed.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Victoria
I understand how Bristol Palin feels. There is certain defiance in being a teenage mom and also a fear that shakes you to the bone. I know that becoming a mother is a life-altering experience but being a young mother is all of that, and more.
I was seventeen when I “officially” found out that I was pregnant and only two weeks out of high school. I had suspected that I may have been pregnant but after an accident I had had x-rays and blood work done and nothing “came up”. I suspect divine intervention.
We finally made the doctor’s appointment and went in to see what could be done. The doctor took his cue and let me listen to my baby’s heart beat and well, the only thing to be done was to get ready. This baby would be born even if it killed me. Thankfully, it didn’t. My mom accepted grudgingly that I would be skipping college until the baby was born and that I would have my child and it would be ok. I told her everything would be alright and apparently all she needed was the reassurance, she just shrugged her shoulders and accepted that she would be a grandma very soon.
What I hadn’t told my mom was that I had wanted this baby since I understood about the birds and the bees. Like a maiden that calls to her love, I had called this baby to me, loving it and carving it out of my dreams and bringing it close to me with every stroke of the clock. The thought of her growing and living inside me made me feel alive and filled with love. I had no idea of the responsibilities and commitments that come with having a child and I lived oblivious of those facts until later. At that moment, I was in love. I sang to her and I talked to her and even though she hadn’t been born, I knew her. I had seen her in my dreams and I knew her soul. Her movements were in answer to my comments and we anticipated the moment when we would meet. Thinking of how it would be…
But nothing happened like I imagined it; nothing.
After passing my due date and wondering when nature would signal the coming of the child, I was urged by my cousin Arturo to go to the hospital. I didn’t feel sick but I felt kind of funny. I waited at the emergency room to be seen and the doctors told me that I had a very bad infection and that I needed to be admitted. No big deal, I thought, they took me to the maternity section and hooked me up to the antibiotics. Something happened and the baby’s heartbeat dropped and I was wheeled into the operating room. An emergency caesarean section got the baby out and she was wheeled away from me onto the newborn intensive care unit.
Victoria Alejandra Urban Martini was born on October 23, 1993 at 2:27 in the morning and was air-lifted to Miami Children’s hospital at 6 in the morning. The doctor was kind enough to let me call my mom and my sister to the hospital before he told me that the baby had a 50/50 chance of making it and that I wasn’t doing well either. As my baby was taken from me to get her treatment, I stayed back at the hospital where an aggressive routine of antibiotics was started and both, my baby and I, began a battle to wellness so that we may be reunited again.
The doctor told me that I would be in the hospital for five days. My baby was far away and Arturo, again saving the day, took my mom and my sister to the hospital so that my little angel knew that we were all on her side in this battle. He came to my hospital room after seeing her and told me, with a certainty and assuredness that the doctors had not transmitted, that she would be fine and that soon her and I would be home.
Victoria was released from the hospital 14 days after being born, pronounced healthy and whole and sent with the best wishes of that wonderful staff at the NICU unit. We came home and I quickly undressed my baby to make sure that she was whole and I took her in my arms and sighed with relief at seeing her, with my own eyes, safe and sound.
Victoria proceeded to steal our hearts and bring joy where few dared enter. She was her grandma’s darling and her aunt’s delight, the only one that pierced the darkness, the only one to make her smile. She walked into her aunt’s room not concerned about the “do not enter” sign on the door and reached out to her aunt’s soul and bonded with the one who refused to be loved. Together they played Cinderella and read books and even danced on Saturday morning cleanings as Victoria chased poor Sable’s tail and Yaly laughed at the merriment of her two loves playing together. Her father fell in love with her when she was one and she continues to enchant us all.
Today, she celebrates her Sweet Fifteen and she is more enchanting then ever. She is my dancing partner and my in-house editor; she is my partner in crime and my research buddy and baking assistant extraordinaire. She is a young woman who thinks for herself and is strong in her convictions and her beliefs. She is a loving sister and a devoted daughter, fiercely loyal, sarcastic like her stepfather and good-natured like her dad. She is everything that I could have wanted and more. She is her own woman.
I would love to tell you that I am glad that we have all done a great job raising her but aside from guiding her, I did nothing. She came hardwired with all of the things that make her who she is. She is instinctively protective and loving and understanding and kind. She is an amazing girl that has brought more love and joy to my life than I could have imagined possible. Having her has brought me enlightenment. Having every wish of mine fulfilled in who she is helps me realize the perfection of the universe and, as we sneak into my bed and giggle and laugh ‘til our sides ache and we can’t breathe, I unravel the mystery of unconditional love.
My Princess:
Let my humble writings show you how proud I am that you chose me. How wonderful life is because I share it with you and how much I have learned from having you in my life. I have enjoyed the past 15 years, getting to know you and growing together, you to be a woman, me to be whole. I look forward to the rest of our lives where I can see what new things you’ll create and what new life you’ll find. Always know that my love to you is unconditional and unshakable and that I am better person for the blessing of your love.
Happy Sweet Fifteen Princess….
Shine on Princess, Shine on!!!! It’s a Whole New World out there!
Love you more than anything in the W.W.W
Mom
I was seventeen when I “officially” found out that I was pregnant and only two weeks out of high school. I had suspected that I may have been pregnant but after an accident I had had x-rays and blood work done and nothing “came up”. I suspect divine intervention.
We finally made the doctor’s appointment and went in to see what could be done. The doctor took his cue and let me listen to my baby’s heart beat and well, the only thing to be done was to get ready. This baby would be born even if it killed me. Thankfully, it didn’t. My mom accepted grudgingly that I would be skipping college until the baby was born and that I would have my child and it would be ok. I told her everything would be alright and apparently all she needed was the reassurance, she just shrugged her shoulders and accepted that she would be a grandma very soon.
What I hadn’t told my mom was that I had wanted this baby since I understood about the birds and the bees. Like a maiden that calls to her love, I had called this baby to me, loving it and carving it out of my dreams and bringing it close to me with every stroke of the clock. The thought of her growing and living inside me made me feel alive and filled with love. I had no idea of the responsibilities and commitments that come with having a child and I lived oblivious of those facts until later. At that moment, I was in love. I sang to her and I talked to her and even though she hadn’t been born, I knew her. I had seen her in my dreams and I knew her soul. Her movements were in answer to my comments and we anticipated the moment when we would meet. Thinking of how it would be…
But nothing happened like I imagined it; nothing.
After passing my due date and wondering when nature would signal the coming of the child, I was urged by my cousin Arturo to go to the hospital. I didn’t feel sick but I felt kind of funny. I waited at the emergency room to be seen and the doctors told me that I had a very bad infection and that I needed to be admitted. No big deal, I thought, they took me to the maternity section and hooked me up to the antibiotics. Something happened and the baby’s heartbeat dropped and I was wheeled into the operating room. An emergency caesarean section got the baby out and she was wheeled away from me onto the newborn intensive care unit.
Victoria Alejandra Urban Martini was born on October 23, 1993 at 2:27 in the morning and was air-lifted to Miami Children’s hospital at 6 in the morning. The doctor was kind enough to let me call my mom and my sister to the hospital before he told me that the baby had a 50/50 chance of making it and that I wasn’t doing well either. As my baby was taken from me to get her treatment, I stayed back at the hospital where an aggressive routine of antibiotics was started and both, my baby and I, began a battle to wellness so that we may be reunited again.
The doctor told me that I would be in the hospital for five days. My baby was far away and Arturo, again saving the day, took my mom and my sister to the hospital so that my little angel knew that we were all on her side in this battle. He came to my hospital room after seeing her and told me, with a certainty and assuredness that the doctors had not transmitted, that she would be fine and that soon her and I would be home.
Victoria was released from the hospital 14 days after being born, pronounced healthy and whole and sent with the best wishes of that wonderful staff at the NICU unit. We came home and I quickly undressed my baby to make sure that she was whole and I took her in my arms and sighed with relief at seeing her, with my own eyes, safe and sound.
Victoria proceeded to steal our hearts and bring joy where few dared enter. She was her grandma’s darling and her aunt’s delight, the only one that pierced the darkness, the only one to make her smile. She walked into her aunt’s room not concerned about the “do not enter” sign on the door and reached out to her aunt’s soul and bonded with the one who refused to be loved. Together they played Cinderella and read books and even danced on Saturday morning cleanings as Victoria chased poor Sable’s tail and Yaly laughed at the merriment of her two loves playing together. Her father fell in love with her when she was one and she continues to enchant us all.
Today, she celebrates her Sweet Fifteen and she is more enchanting then ever. She is my dancing partner and my in-house editor; she is my partner in crime and my research buddy and baking assistant extraordinaire. She is a young woman who thinks for herself and is strong in her convictions and her beliefs. She is a loving sister and a devoted daughter, fiercely loyal, sarcastic like her stepfather and good-natured like her dad. She is everything that I could have wanted and more. She is her own woman.
I would love to tell you that I am glad that we have all done a great job raising her but aside from guiding her, I did nothing. She came hardwired with all of the things that make her who she is. She is instinctively protective and loving and understanding and kind. She is an amazing girl that has brought more love and joy to my life than I could have imagined possible. Having her has brought me enlightenment. Having every wish of mine fulfilled in who she is helps me realize the perfection of the universe and, as we sneak into my bed and giggle and laugh ‘til our sides ache and we can’t breathe, I unravel the mystery of unconditional love.
My Princess:
Let my humble writings show you how proud I am that you chose me. How wonderful life is because I share it with you and how much I have learned from having you in my life. I have enjoyed the past 15 years, getting to know you and growing together, you to be a woman, me to be whole. I look forward to the rest of our lives where I can see what new things you’ll create and what new life you’ll find. Always know that my love to you is unconditional and unshakable and that I am better person for the blessing of your love.
Happy Sweet Fifteen Princess….
Shine on Princess, Shine on!!!! It’s a Whole New World out there!
Love you more than anything in the W.W.W
Mom
Tell her
You have no idea how glad I am to know that she is real. I kept feeling something amiss for such a long while and to hear you tell it, of course, nothing is wrong.
Don’t worry, I am not angry, I am relieved. There is nothing worst than feeling something and hearing someone deny what you are feeling. The confusion it creates is enough to drive anyone crazy, and well I don’t need much help.
But you shouldn’t worry, I know nothing about the details of your friendship, nor do I want to know. Whether you continue them or not, whether it is more or not, it concerns you two, not me.
Tell her that I am relieved that on those days when I wasn’t available to you, at least she was able to be there for you and talk to you. Tell her that I am glad that as you cruised in your truck many, many miles away from here that at least someone else was wondering about you and who knows, perhaps loving you too.
Tell her that in the dark nights when I wonder what you are doing, at least I am grateful to know that it is she that keeps you company and that never do I have to worry about whether or not I do enough or love you enough, there is someone else that can take care of you as well.
Tell her that even though I love you I understand the need for someone else there. Tell her that I knew that she existed long before any suspicions aroused and that perhaps I always knew of the possibility of someone like her in your life.
Tell her that I understand if she says that the relationship is nothing more than a friendship and that all you guys do is talk shop, tell her it is ok, I no longer require any explanations.
Furthermore, I understand why she would have such an important role in your life, someone who understands the trials of always being on the road and always having to be away from home, really, who better than someone who has already been there.
Tell her that I am impressed. There are very few people who command your attention such as she has and that knowing how much she is keeping you interested makes me feel better, because then I realize that it is nothing fleeting and that she will be around for a while. Tell her not to be modest, I know how much you guys are in touch and I think its great that you have so much to share with each other.
Tell her that what remains between us is no more than a partnership based on concern for the well being of our common children and friendship. Tell her that I no longer wish to participate in a physical relationship with you and that I bequeath that role to her. I am a little less than generous in that and if there is the slightest doubt that we would share then I would rather she took on that entire role. I can’t.
Tell her that I love you dearly and unconditionally and that will never change. That long ago your actions stopped dictating my love for you and that I know you far better than you give me credit for and that despite your ways, I still choose to love you.
Tell her that I begrudge her nothing and that I wish for her to be happy and to make you as happy as you deserve to be made.
Tell her that it is pointless now for her to hide her existence, tell her that I know about her and that she no longer has to go through all of those extra steps to block herself from me. Tell her that I know and that it doesn’t matter. I love you because loving you makes me feel good not because I need you to love me. Tell her that if you love each other that I am glad and that I give it my blessing and the children and I will always wish for your happiness, I couldn’t think of anyone more deserving, my love.
Don’t worry, I am not angry, I am relieved. There is nothing worst than feeling something and hearing someone deny what you are feeling. The confusion it creates is enough to drive anyone crazy, and well I don’t need much help.
But you shouldn’t worry, I know nothing about the details of your friendship, nor do I want to know. Whether you continue them or not, whether it is more or not, it concerns you two, not me.
Tell her that I am relieved that on those days when I wasn’t available to you, at least she was able to be there for you and talk to you. Tell her that I am glad that as you cruised in your truck many, many miles away from here that at least someone else was wondering about you and who knows, perhaps loving you too.
Tell her that in the dark nights when I wonder what you are doing, at least I am grateful to know that it is she that keeps you company and that never do I have to worry about whether or not I do enough or love you enough, there is someone else that can take care of you as well.
Tell her that even though I love you I understand the need for someone else there. Tell her that I knew that she existed long before any suspicions aroused and that perhaps I always knew of the possibility of someone like her in your life.
Tell her that I understand if she says that the relationship is nothing more than a friendship and that all you guys do is talk shop, tell her it is ok, I no longer require any explanations.
Furthermore, I understand why she would have such an important role in your life, someone who understands the trials of always being on the road and always having to be away from home, really, who better than someone who has already been there.
Tell her that I am impressed. There are very few people who command your attention such as she has and that knowing how much she is keeping you interested makes me feel better, because then I realize that it is nothing fleeting and that she will be around for a while. Tell her not to be modest, I know how much you guys are in touch and I think its great that you have so much to share with each other.
Tell her that what remains between us is no more than a partnership based on concern for the well being of our common children and friendship. Tell her that I no longer wish to participate in a physical relationship with you and that I bequeath that role to her. I am a little less than generous in that and if there is the slightest doubt that we would share then I would rather she took on that entire role. I can’t.
Tell her that I love you dearly and unconditionally and that will never change. That long ago your actions stopped dictating my love for you and that I know you far better than you give me credit for and that despite your ways, I still choose to love you.
Tell her that I begrudge her nothing and that I wish for her to be happy and to make you as happy as you deserve to be made.
Tell her that it is pointless now for her to hide her existence, tell her that I know about her and that she no longer has to go through all of those extra steps to block herself from me. Tell her that I know and that it doesn’t matter. I love you because loving you makes me feel good not because I need you to love me. Tell her that if you love each other that I am glad and that I give it my blessing and the children and I will always wish for your happiness, I couldn’t think of anyone more deserving, my love.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Letter to myself
Dear Chinita:
I know you are afraid. Hold my hand, I can’t make it better for you but maybe together we can get through it. Don’t worry, I won’t leave you.
Things may seem confusing to you. Words don’t make sense and people don’t make sense, the only constant it seems, is the fear. Their shouting and screaming has nothing to do with you, their angry words are not about you. You didn’t do anything to make him drink and make him angry. You can’t stop it or make it change and it’s not anything you did.
Its ok, it’s ok to be afraid. You don’t have to be brave for them, let it be. They are adults and they know what they are doing. Stay here with me, warm and cozy in bed, don’t go out there, there is nothing for you to see!!!
Come back here with me. I know you had to go out there and try to help, I know why you got involved, but I also knew that it wouldn’t stop them, that’s why I tried to keep you from it. Did he hurt you? I am glad he didn’t, I thought definitely when he pushed you against the wall you had been hurt, but maybe he just wanted to get you out of the way.
I don’t know why he gets like this baby. Alcoholism is an illness and daddy is definitely sick. You know he is different when he isn’t drinking and he talks to you and plays with you and he is good. But sometimes older people are hurting inside and instead of trying to make it better they drink to make it go away, but we know that doesn’t work, does it?
Oh honey, he is not doing this to hurt you. This has nothing to do with you. Even if daddy were to make the worst mistake ever, it would have nothing to do with you. It would be better for you if you were not here, I know, but until mom decides to leave, there isn’t much we can do. Just stay here with me next time they fight, I am just so afraid that you are going to get hurt.
Hey, but at least that police officer was nice. He took you to the station and he was kind and gave you toys and at least took you out of the room when they started fighting again. You know, you would think they would be more careful than to argue in front of the sergeant, but I guess there is no helping it. We could have been out of the station way before dawn, like every other time, instead we missed school and now we are stuck at home waiting for him to be released and come back.
No, neither one of them is a bad person. They are both sick.
Yes, mom too. If she wasn’t sick, she wouldn’t stay with him and go back so many times even though he always ends up doing the same thing.
Of course not, it has nothing to do with you asking her to let him back to the house. She is an adult and she knows what she can and cannot do; besides, in the middle of the anger and the violence, she can’t protect you. How many times has she found bruises on you where she thought there would be none, it would be so easy to see what is happening. I know you are just trying to get him to stop hitting her, but how can you do that when you are only a little girl??? This isn’t your fault, you didn’t make this happen.
I am sorry, I didn’t mean to raise my voice, I know it scares you. I am sorry, don’t cry. Nothing you ever did or didn’t do made this happen. Yes, it would be easier if Yaly was home but then again, maybe not, we will just never know.
Remember tomorrow is Sunday and we go to Tere’s house. You can play and maybe Mary will take you to the next block and you can watch Gringo and Papi play soccer. If you and Jessica behave, she will take you and then you don’t have to be in the house when mom has to explain to Tere why they were fighting again. Your padrino will be there and maybe with your allowance you can buy some candy and chancay, you can save it again and we can have it here under the desk when they start fighting again, you know it will make you feel better. I know, I wish Tere would let us live in her house, and I think Tere would, but mom won’t let us. I know it’s not fair, I know you don’t like to be here because they will fight but I don’t think we can do anything about that.
Don’t go back out there. He already broke the phone; you can’t call anyone for help. No, the neighbors won’t help and even if they did help, remember what happened with Papi and Celso, they came to get you guys out of the house and daddy said something to them with that scary look in his eyes and they left, and left us here with him.
Stop listening, here, let’s look at this book. Yes, he is breaking the furniture, but what can you do??? You can’t make a grown man stop, get the maid to come down to your room and stay here with us. Don’t go out there, you always get in between him and her and he ends up hitting you and I can’t take that, it scares me. That’s a mirror breaking, you can’t go out there in all of that glass, don’t cry, I know you are afraid but there is nothing you can do.
It’s over now, the police took them. Yea, it’s a good thing they left us here, now will you please stay in bed while the maid cleans up the mess over there? I know it was a lot of blood, but noses are funny that way, they bleed like that. She is not very badly hurt and besides she said she would come for you before she went to the hospital for the x-rays, so you will be with her soon. She is ok, don’t cry, you couldn’t have protected her, she is ok.
Will you try and sleep now? They are both gone. It’s finally peaceful. Close your eyes, that’s a good girl. Close your eyes and yes, mom loves you, yes, yes, daddy loves you too. Of course they do, this has nothing to do with them loving you, don’t be silly. This has nothing to do with you. I promise, you will be ok. You are loved.
I know you are afraid. Hold my hand, I can’t make it better for you but maybe together we can get through it. Don’t worry, I won’t leave you.
Things may seem confusing to you. Words don’t make sense and people don’t make sense, the only constant it seems, is the fear. Their shouting and screaming has nothing to do with you, their angry words are not about you. You didn’t do anything to make him drink and make him angry. You can’t stop it or make it change and it’s not anything you did.
Its ok, it’s ok to be afraid. You don’t have to be brave for them, let it be. They are adults and they know what they are doing. Stay here with me, warm and cozy in bed, don’t go out there, there is nothing for you to see!!!
Come back here with me. I know you had to go out there and try to help, I know why you got involved, but I also knew that it wouldn’t stop them, that’s why I tried to keep you from it. Did he hurt you? I am glad he didn’t, I thought definitely when he pushed you against the wall you had been hurt, but maybe he just wanted to get you out of the way.
I don’t know why he gets like this baby. Alcoholism is an illness and daddy is definitely sick. You know he is different when he isn’t drinking and he talks to you and plays with you and he is good. But sometimes older people are hurting inside and instead of trying to make it better they drink to make it go away, but we know that doesn’t work, does it?
Oh honey, he is not doing this to hurt you. This has nothing to do with you. Even if daddy were to make the worst mistake ever, it would have nothing to do with you. It would be better for you if you were not here, I know, but until mom decides to leave, there isn’t much we can do. Just stay here with me next time they fight, I am just so afraid that you are going to get hurt.
Hey, but at least that police officer was nice. He took you to the station and he was kind and gave you toys and at least took you out of the room when they started fighting again. You know, you would think they would be more careful than to argue in front of the sergeant, but I guess there is no helping it. We could have been out of the station way before dawn, like every other time, instead we missed school and now we are stuck at home waiting for him to be released and come back.
No, neither one of them is a bad person. They are both sick.
Yes, mom too. If she wasn’t sick, she wouldn’t stay with him and go back so many times even though he always ends up doing the same thing.
Of course not, it has nothing to do with you asking her to let him back to the house. She is an adult and she knows what she can and cannot do; besides, in the middle of the anger and the violence, she can’t protect you. How many times has she found bruises on you where she thought there would be none, it would be so easy to see what is happening. I know you are just trying to get him to stop hitting her, but how can you do that when you are only a little girl??? This isn’t your fault, you didn’t make this happen.
I am sorry, I didn’t mean to raise my voice, I know it scares you. I am sorry, don’t cry. Nothing you ever did or didn’t do made this happen. Yes, it would be easier if Yaly was home but then again, maybe not, we will just never know.
Remember tomorrow is Sunday and we go to Tere’s house. You can play and maybe Mary will take you to the next block and you can watch Gringo and Papi play soccer. If you and Jessica behave, she will take you and then you don’t have to be in the house when mom has to explain to Tere why they were fighting again. Your padrino will be there and maybe with your allowance you can buy some candy and chancay, you can save it again and we can have it here under the desk when they start fighting again, you know it will make you feel better. I know, I wish Tere would let us live in her house, and I think Tere would, but mom won’t let us. I know it’s not fair, I know you don’t like to be here because they will fight but I don’t think we can do anything about that.
Don’t go back out there. He already broke the phone; you can’t call anyone for help. No, the neighbors won’t help and even if they did help, remember what happened with Papi and Celso, they came to get you guys out of the house and daddy said something to them with that scary look in his eyes and they left, and left us here with him.
Stop listening, here, let’s look at this book. Yes, he is breaking the furniture, but what can you do??? You can’t make a grown man stop, get the maid to come down to your room and stay here with us. Don’t go out there, you always get in between him and her and he ends up hitting you and I can’t take that, it scares me. That’s a mirror breaking, you can’t go out there in all of that glass, don’t cry, I know you are afraid but there is nothing you can do.
It’s over now, the police took them. Yea, it’s a good thing they left us here, now will you please stay in bed while the maid cleans up the mess over there? I know it was a lot of blood, but noses are funny that way, they bleed like that. She is not very badly hurt and besides she said she would come for you before she went to the hospital for the x-rays, so you will be with her soon. She is ok, don’t cry, you couldn’t have protected her, she is ok.
Will you try and sleep now? They are both gone. It’s finally peaceful. Close your eyes, that’s a good girl. Close your eyes and yes, mom loves you, yes, yes, daddy loves you too. Of course they do, this has nothing to do with them loving you, don’t be silly. This has nothing to do with you. I promise, you will be ok. You are loved.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Death changes how you live life.
Death changes how you live life. No two people touched by the same loss will come away from it with the same lesson or message. As our beloved move on from our physical existence, our s+ense of self changes and we redefine ourselves based on this change.
Depending on your age when you are first confronted with death, its occurrence in your life will mark a changing point in your philosophy.
My first personal experience with death was very close and personal. I was young, I was a child and yet the enormity of the loss overwhelmed my senses and my inner compass spun around aimlessly. Teco was more than just an aunt, she was my friend. I hadn't known her long, I was only a girl, but in her I found a kindred spirit and a loving heart. There are very few people who as adults really know how to listen to a child, instinctively she did and she let me pour my heart out to her and gave me an anchor in this new world. I do not dare compare my loss and its impact with what others, who knew her and loved her felt, I just know that at that moment, everything changed.
Death wouldn't show up in my life again until many years later. Despite the fact that in a family as large as mine it is inevitable that there should be as many exits as entrances, none of the deaths touched me personally. Until my sister died.
It had been an uneventful morning, I was on the internet looking for a birthday present for my mom, her birthday had been the day before and I hadn't forgotten, I just hadn't found anything that I wanted to gift her. Then the phone rang and my life was never the same again.
I remember everything, the screams, the confusion, the impotence, yet I remember nothing. Instantaneously my emotions shut down. I made the phone calls I needed to make, I packed my suitcases and packed up my car and headed south, I headed home. I drove from Cincinnati to Fort Lauderdale non-stop. I remember absolutely nothing of the trip, I came back to myself when I saw the Cypress Creek Road sign and I made my exit off of 95.
I got home and I took my mother in my arms. She was a frail thing that aged a lifetime in one day and whose world had been shaken upside down. I walked into my house and felt the despair hit me like a wall, she wasn't coming down the stairs to greet me, we wouldn't share one more cigarette at the door, my sister was gone.
People kept coming to me telling me my mom wasn't ok, wondering if I was ok, saying words of comfort, I am sure; I heard nothing, I felt nothing. I walked around the house looking for a sign of what had happened and why, yet those walls held no answers for me, she had left and taken all the answers with her.
Arrangements were made and plans for her funeral readied and the moment came to say my last goodbye. I followed her wishes as she explained them to me many months before her actual death. She wanted to be cremated, no viewing and no typical funeral get-togethers. I walked into the funeral home with a handful of my relatives and fell apart. This was the same funeral home where I had come to say my last goodbyes to my aunt, all of the overwhelming feelings that had been kept at bay flooded my heart again as I walked into that viewing room to say goodbye to my sister.
I know that there were people with my mom, I don't know who and I haven't thanked them yet, but at that moment I truly understood that she was really gone.
She laid there in the favorite blouse that I had picked out and delivered to the funeral home. She lay with her hands crossed at her navel and seemingly asleep, except I knew she wasn't asleep. I walked close to her and reached out for her hand, her pretty delicate hands, and I tried to take them into mine but I couldn't move them, she was already in death's arms and she could not hold my hand through this. I looked at her and wanted to pull her back to me, to bring her back into our world and into our complicities, into our heated conversations about everything and anything and into the songs that we had sang at the top of our lungs. I begged her at that moment not to leave me, I confessed that I didn't think that I could do this, that I was not strong enough to get myself and mom through this and that she had to come back, please, one more talk, one more hug, one more I love you, not this goodbye.
But it couldn't be. I can never know what her last thoughts had been, if she'd remember our good moments, our laughs. I will never know if she knew how much I love her, how much she means to me and how empty my life is without her. I will never be able to tell her how much I looked up to her and that more than a sister, I lost my best friend. I walked away that day a different woman.
The life that I had built before losing her was no longer enough, suddenly the frailty of life had been demonstrated and I could no longer go back to my old life so I moved on. Much has happened in my life since and not a day goes by that I don't wonder what it would be like if you were still here. I can almost see you in your comfy chair reading to your nieces and nephew. I can see you taking pride in your nephew's drawings, gratified that at least one of them is artistic like you. I can see you spoiling the girls rotten and calling and talking to Victoria about her plans and chatting to Gabriela about her day at school. You and I would be tearing up this election and making plans for thanksgiving and Christmas and you would ask me if I was happy, like you always did, and I would tell you Yes and I would steal a hug and a kiss and we would giggle and laugh like if we were girls.
I have had other losses. My aunts, friends and even my father passed away, yet nothing had the effect on me that losing my sister did. She was supposed to have been there when mom was not, she was supposed to have been there and not have left me, again, now I don't know what will be. I do know Yalita that death cannot take away the memories and the happiness we once shared. It cannot block the love we felt and the fact that despite the illness and distance and age differences, love knows no boundaries, no loss.
So with you in my heart and hope in my eyes, I take one more step towards life and hope that you are watching from wherever you are.
This is for all of you that know only too well what it is to have lost someone you love.
All of my Love,
Claudia
Depending on your age when you are first confronted with death, its occurrence in your life will mark a changing point in your philosophy.
My first personal experience with death was very close and personal. I was young, I was a child and yet the enormity of the loss overwhelmed my senses and my inner compass spun around aimlessly. Teco was more than just an aunt, she was my friend. I hadn't known her long, I was only a girl, but in her I found a kindred spirit and a loving heart. There are very few people who as adults really know how to listen to a child, instinctively she did and she let me pour my heart out to her and gave me an anchor in this new world. I do not dare compare my loss and its impact with what others, who knew her and loved her felt, I just know that at that moment, everything changed.
Death wouldn't show up in my life again until many years later. Despite the fact that in a family as large as mine it is inevitable that there should be as many exits as entrances, none of the deaths touched me personally. Until my sister died.
It had been an uneventful morning, I was on the internet looking for a birthday present for my mom, her birthday had been the day before and I hadn't forgotten, I just hadn't found anything that I wanted to gift her. Then the phone rang and my life was never the same again.
I remember everything, the screams, the confusion, the impotence, yet I remember nothing. Instantaneously my emotions shut down. I made the phone calls I needed to make, I packed my suitcases and packed up my car and headed south, I headed home. I drove from Cincinnati to Fort Lauderdale non-stop. I remember absolutely nothing of the trip, I came back to myself when I saw the Cypress Creek Road sign and I made my exit off of 95.
I got home and I took my mother in my arms. She was a frail thing that aged a lifetime in one day and whose world had been shaken upside down. I walked into my house and felt the despair hit me like a wall, she wasn't coming down the stairs to greet me, we wouldn't share one more cigarette at the door, my sister was gone.
People kept coming to me telling me my mom wasn't ok, wondering if I was ok, saying words of comfort, I am sure; I heard nothing, I felt nothing. I walked around the house looking for a sign of what had happened and why, yet those walls held no answers for me, she had left and taken all the answers with her.
Arrangements were made and plans for her funeral readied and the moment came to say my last goodbye. I followed her wishes as she explained them to me many months before her actual death. She wanted to be cremated, no viewing and no typical funeral get-togethers. I walked into the funeral home with a handful of my relatives and fell apart. This was the same funeral home where I had come to say my last goodbyes to my aunt, all of the overwhelming feelings that had been kept at bay flooded my heart again as I walked into that viewing room to say goodbye to my sister.
I know that there were people with my mom, I don't know who and I haven't thanked them yet, but at that moment I truly understood that she was really gone.
She laid there in the favorite blouse that I had picked out and delivered to the funeral home. She lay with her hands crossed at her navel and seemingly asleep, except I knew she wasn't asleep. I walked close to her and reached out for her hand, her pretty delicate hands, and I tried to take them into mine but I couldn't move them, she was already in death's arms and she could not hold my hand through this. I looked at her and wanted to pull her back to me, to bring her back into our world and into our complicities, into our heated conversations about everything and anything and into the songs that we had sang at the top of our lungs. I begged her at that moment not to leave me, I confessed that I didn't think that I could do this, that I was not strong enough to get myself and mom through this and that she had to come back, please, one more talk, one more hug, one more I love you, not this goodbye.
But it couldn't be. I can never know what her last thoughts had been, if she'd remember our good moments, our laughs. I will never know if she knew how much I love her, how much she means to me and how empty my life is without her. I will never be able to tell her how much I looked up to her and that more than a sister, I lost my best friend. I walked away that day a different woman.
The life that I had built before losing her was no longer enough, suddenly the frailty of life had been demonstrated and I could no longer go back to my old life so I moved on. Much has happened in my life since and not a day goes by that I don't wonder what it would be like if you were still here. I can almost see you in your comfy chair reading to your nieces and nephew. I can see you taking pride in your nephew's drawings, gratified that at least one of them is artistic like you. I can see you spoiling the girls rotten and calling and talking to Victoria about her plans and chatting to Gabriela about her day at school. You and I would be tearing up this election and making plans for thanksgiving and Christmas and you would ask me if I was happy, like you always did, and I would tell you Yes and I would steal a hug and a kiss and we would giggle and laugh like if we were girls.
I have had other losses. My aunts, friends and even my father passed away, yet nothing had the effect on me that losing my sister did. She was supposed to have been there when mom was not, she was supposed to have been there and not have left me, again, now I don't know what will be. I do know Yalita that death cannot take away the memories and the happiness we once shared. It cannot block the love we felt and the fact that despite the illness and distance and age differences, love knows no boundaries, no loss.
So with you in my heart and hope in my eyes, I take one more step towards life and hope that you are watching from wherever you are.
This is for all of you that know only too well what it is to have lost someone you love.
All of my Love,
Claudia
Sweetest Day
I have a confession to make. It's not right, I know. But there was no helping it, it could not be changed, it happened and I really don't even know how, but I know that this is the way it has to be.
There are two men in my life.
They both know about each other and they both know it can't be helped. They have accepted that I love them both and I can't give them up. They are my beloved. I love them both, I cannot live without them and I won't.
One of them is handsome and strong, powerful and creative, unique and larger than life. He is his own person; he knew the secret way before it was main stream. He is a compassionate soul that will not let you get away with giving less than your absolute best but will stand by you when the strongest winds knock you down. He is fearless in the face of change and is divinely aware of his imperfections. We can stay up until all hours of the night talking about life and love, Tangamandapio and fashion, all in the same conversation. We know when something is wrong with the other one without making a call. We recognize the heavy load of life in each other's voice and with arms of love reach across the miles to heal the emptiness we sometimes run into. We can right each other's wrongs and see with eyes of wisdom into the stories we tell the others. We have been there through all of our phases and know that we will be there until the end. Love between us flows unconditionally and ever lasting for our bond reaches through the ages and times. His shoulder has been my comfort and his light my guide. Whenever I didn't have the courage to stand up for myself, he stood for me. He held my hand until I found my path again; and in the darkness of my most scary times, he never wavered, he never doubted. He believed in me when no one else did. He saw me for whom I was and accepted me even when I couldn't accept myself. He is part of my homestead, my family, my soul. The one who can put me back together when I fall apart, he is a part of me, my brother, my soul mate.
The other one is handsome and strong (yes I am surrounded by handsome men), independent and courageous, loving, loyal and daring. He has the heart of a lion, always standing up to each challenge and facing every obstacle head on. You can knock him down; he will get up, no matter what. He is strong in his convictions and his beliefs. He has faith that moves mountains and is committed to his own sense of right. He is a loving and attentive father, reaching across the miles so that his children know that even though he may be far away, his love is always with them, always protecting them, always guiding them. He willingly goes out to that truck and puts it in gear to drive away from home, knowing that he is doing what he needs to do to take care of his family. He is funny and affectionate, caring and tender and true to himself and to those he loves. He is comfortable in his own skin and accepts me exactly as I am. Perhaps you don't know this side of him, then again, not many do. His love is my shelter, my stronghold. No matter where we go, in his embrace, I am home. His words may not always say what I want to hear but the melody of his voice sings the song of my heart. I cannot claim that I posses him, only that I am blessed with his love in return. His love is my lifesaver, my rock. There is no one else I would do this with. He is my best friend, my partner, my lover and my love, and the most fascinating man I have ever known.
Their love supports me, lifts me and carries me through dark times. Their love is unshakable and unconditional. My soul is enriched because of their presence in my life.
Many women have not found Mr. Right. I have been blessed to have found two men that have changed my life and that have, with their love, taught me to love and be myself. Today I celebrate their presence in my life and share with you a new way to recognize the many faces of love. May your path be filled with loving people throughout your way. Happy Sweetest Day!!
Happy Sweetest Day Luis, Brother-of-my-soul!
Happy Sweetest Day Tony, Love-of-my-life!!
There are two men in my life.
They both know about each other and they both know it can't be helped. They have accepted that I love them both and I can't give them up. They are my beloved. I love them both, I cannot live without them and I won't.
One of them is handsome and strong, powerful and creative, unique and larger than life. He is his own person; he knew the secret way before it was main stream. He is a compassionate soul that will not let you get away with giving less than your absolute best but will stand by you when the strongest winds knock you down. He is fearless in the face of change and is divinely aware of his imperfections. We can stay up until all hours of the night talking about life and love, Tangamandapio and fashion, all in the same conversation. We know when something is wrong with the other one without making a call. We recognize the heavy load of life in each other's voice and with arms of love reach across the miles to heal the emptiness we sometimes run into. We can right each other's wrongs and see with eyes of wisdom into the stories we tell the others. We have been there through all of our phases and know that we will be there until the end. Love between us flows unconditionally and ever lasting for our bond reaches through the ages and times. His shoulder has been my comfort and his light my guide. Whenever I didn't have the courage to stand up for myself, he stood for me. He held my hand until I found my path again; and in the darkness of my most scary times, he never wavered, he never doubted. He believed in me when no one else did. He saw me for whom I was and accepted me even when I couldn't accept myself. He is part of my homestead, my family, my soul. The one who can put me back together when I fall apart, he is a part of me, my brother, my soul mate.
The other one is handsome and strong (yes I am surrounded by handsome men), independent and courageous, loving, loyal and daring. He has the heart of a lion, always standing up to each challenge and facing every obstacle head on. You can knock him down; he will get up, no matter what. He is strong in his convictions and his beliefs. He has faith that moves mountains and is committed to his own sense of right. He is a loving and attentive father, reaching across the miles so that his children know that even though he may be far away, his love is always with them, always protecting them, always guiding them. He willingly goes out to that truck and puts it in gear to drive away from home, knowing that he is doing what he needs to do to take care of his family. He is funny and affectionate, caring and tender and true to himself and to those he loves. He is comfortable in his own skin and accepts me exactly as I am. Perhaps you don't know this side of him, then again, not many do. His love is my shelter, my stronghold. No matter where we go, in his embrace, I am home. His words may not always say what I want to hear but the melody of his voice sings the song of my heart. I cannot claim that I posses him, only that I am blessed with his love in return. His love is my lifesaver, my rock. There is no one else I would do this with. He is my best friend, my partner, my lover and my love, and the most fascinating man I have ever known.
Their love supports me, lifts me and carries me through dark times. Their love is unshakable and unconditional. My soul is enriched because of their presence in my life.
Many women have not found Mr. Right. I have been blessed to have found two men that have changed my life and that have, with their love, taught me to love and be myself. Today I celebrate their presence in my life and share with you a new way to recognize the many faces of love. May your path be filled with loving people throughout your way. Happy Sweetest Day!!
Happy Sweetest Day Luis, Brother-of-my-soul!
Happy Sweetest Day Tony, Love-of-my-life!!
Monday, September 29, 2008
Grandparent's Day
Did you know that September 7th was grandparent’s day??
I missed it. We were in the middle of a furious battle with the roto virus and between 24 hour laundry rounds and yet another coating of antibacterial spray, the happy holiday went by unnoticed in our home.
Back when I was little there was no grandparent’s day, or perhaps there was but it was nothing we celebrated. I didn’t grow up very close to my grandparents but I have stories that I have inherited from my cousins and flashes of moments when I was very, very little. If I would have known how much I would need my grandparents and how much difference a grandparent can make in someone’s life, I would have treasured those memories more, I would have never allowed them to fade.
My grandma Maria died before I was born and my mom and my aunts never talk much about her. The very little that I know about her is that she was enterprising and hard working. They say that she was submissive and used to yield to her husband more often than not. Whether she was this subdued woman or not, she raised strong and independent women, hardworking and adventurous, she couldn’t have been too different herself.
My Papa Viejito or Papa Morante, what you called him depends on when you were born, was still alive when I came around and the memories I have of him are sweet and tender and full of patience and a certain air of defeat. See, I was one of the last ones that would be born before he died. Papa Viejito had many grandchildren and he was a father figure to them, he disciplined and he was to be obeyed. But as his life came to a close and he moved to Lima to get better treatment, illness made him weaker and he wasn’t quite so formidable and scary. That’s when the old man and I got to know each other, as I jumped all over him and my grandfather, overpowered by illness and age, let me romp freely.
I remember his wrinkled face, the creases of his skin and his funny smell. He smelled of that salve that they used to rub on us when we had a cold, a little menthol and a little Yuk. These memories of my Papa Viejito are mine; no one told me about them, something in me instinctively recalls them when I think of him. They tell me that I used to comb his hair and that I would get it tangled and I would lie next to him and play with him and he would ruffle my hair and call me his little sheep’s head. I think I remember that, but I am not certain, it could be that I’ve heard them so many times they have become part of my history.
Despite the fact that I did not share much with my grandparents I see some of what they were in their daughters. My aunts and my mother are incredible, they are all very different from each other yet they are all remarkable in their own particular way. Not perfect, bur remarkable and admirable nevertheless.
Today, some of us are grandparents too and we understand the quiet wisdom that age and time grants us and we realize that we can touch the life of our children and their children simply by sharing ourselves, and passing on the stories of our life and the ones before us.
We no longer have the same struggles that past generations faced, times have changed. Ours is a new challenge. It is our job to tell our children about Pacanga and Peru, to take them there and have them collect their cultural inheritance. They should know that we stand on the accomplishments of our parents and grandparents. It is our job to make sure that our children learn about the Christmas get-togethers we used to have when one house wasn’t enough for all of us, it is important for them to know that once upon a time we clung to each other because we were all we had in this new home. Nowadays it is different, we are dispersed throughout the world and sometimes we forget the places we come from and the places we have been, the people who used to be a part of our life’s and the memories of family and love that make up who we are.
On a day like grandparent’s day though we are all united by one common denominator, we all come from the same place, from the same family, from the same love.
Happy grandparent’s day to all the grandparents in your life!
All of my love,
China
Ustedes sabian que el 7 de Septiembre es el dia de los abuelos??
Yo me lo perdi. Estabamos en la mitad de la batalla con el virus roto y entre tandas de ropa sucia todo el dia y el desinfectar de la casa cada cinco minutos, se me paso el dia de celebracion.
Cuando yo era chiquita no habia dia de los abuelos o talvez no lo celebraban.Yo no creci cerca de mis abuelos pero tengo las historias que he heredado de mis primos y primas. Si yo hubiera sabido lo mucho que me harian falta mis abuelos y cuanto ellos pueden significar en tu vida, hubiera cuidado mas esos pocos recuerdos, no hubiese permitido que se borren de mi memoria.
Mi abuela Maria murio antes que yo naciera y mi mama y mis tias nunca hablaron mucho de ella. Lo poquito que se de ella es de que era trabajadora y emprendedora. Ellas dicen de que ella era sumisa y dejaba que mi abuelo fuera el fuerte de la casa. Si es que en verdad ella era sumisa o no, ella crio hijas fuertes, independientes y trabajadoras … ella no puede haber sido muy diferente.
Mi Papa Viejito o Papa Morante, el nombre varia dependiendo de el tiempo en que nacieron, todavia estaba vivo cuando yo naci y los poquitos recuerdos que tengo de el son dulces y tiernos,llenos de paciencia y resignacion. Yo fui una de las mas chiquitas cuando mi Papa Viejito se mudo a Lima para poder recibir tratamiento. Mi abuelo habia sido fuerte y estricto con sus otros nietos, pero ya cuando yo llegue, el ya estaba cansado y vencido, por la edad y la enfermedad.
Yo me acuerdo de su carita arrugada, su piel color caramelo que escondia sus ojitos y ese olor peculiar de el. Era el olor de esa medicina que nos ponian en el pecho, que tenia mentol y quien sabe que otra cosa. Esos son mis recuerdos de mi abuelo, nadie me ha contado de ellos, son algo instintivo que llevo en el alma y que salen cuando pienso en el. Si me contaron de que yo lo peinaba y le enredaba el pelo y me echaba con el y le hablaba y jugaba con el. El se entretenia con mi pelo y me decia cabeza de borreguito. Creo que me acuerdo de estas cosas, pero no estoy segura, es probable de que me lo han contado tantas veces que ya se volvieron parte de mi historia.
A pesar de que no comparti mucho con mis abuelos, algo de ellos paso a sus hijas. Mis tias y mi mama son mujeres increibles, cada una de ellas es diferente pero todas son notables. No perfectas, pero notables y admirables.
Algunos de nosotros ya somos abuelos, ya entendemos la sabiduria que nos da el tiempo y la edad y nos damos cuenta de que podemos influenciar la vida de nuestros hijos y nuestros nietos simplemente compartiendo un poquito de nosotros y contandoles las historias de nuestra vida y la vida de los que vinieron antes que nosotros.
Ya los tiempos han cambiado y nuestra lucha no es como la lucha de la generacion pasada. Nosotros tenemos otra mision. Nuestra mision es contarles de Pacanga y de Peru, llevarlos a que recogan su herencia cultural. Asegurarnos de que ellos sepan que estamos donde estamos por los sacrificios que nuestros padres y abuelos hicieron por darnos una mejor vida. Nos toca a nosotros contarles de las navidades donde nos reuniamos todos en una sola casa y casi no cabiamos. Que sepan que en algun momento nos buscabamos y nos aferrabamos los unos a otros porque eramos lo unico que teniamos en este pais. Ahora es diferente, estamos dispersados por todos lados y en el trajin diario nos olvidamos de donde venimos, de donde somos y de las personas que han sido parte de nuestras vidas, los recuerdos de familia y cariño que nos hace quienes somos.
En un dia como el dia de los abuelos todos estamos unidos por un mismo denominador. Todos venimos de el mismo lugar, de la misma familia, de el mismo amor.
Feliz dia de los abuelos a todos los abuelos en tu vida! ( mas vale tarde que nunca)
Nunca te olvides de donde vienes porque entonces dejarias de ser quien eres.
Telmo Morante Morante
I missed it. We were in the middle of a furious battle with the roto virus and between 24 hour laundry rounds and yet another coating of antibacterial spray, the happy holiday went by unnoticed in our home.
Back when I was little there was no grandparent’s day, or perhaps there was but it was nothing we celebrated. I didn’t grow up very close to my grandparents but I have stories that I have inherited from my cousins and flashes of moments when I was very, very little. If I would have known how much I would need my grandparents and how much difference a grandparent can make in someone’s life, I would have treasured those memories more, I would have never allowed them to fade.
My grandma Maria died before I was born and my mom and my aunts never talk much about her. The very little that I know about her is that she was enterprising and hard working. They say that she was submissive and used to yield to her husband more often than not. Whether she was this subdued woman or not, she raised strong and independent women, hardworking and adventurous, she couldn’t have been too different herself.
My Papa Viejito or Papa Morante, what you called him depends on when you were born, was still alive when I came around and the memories I have of him are sweet and tender and full of patience and a certain air of defeat. See, I was one of the last ones that would be born before he died. Papa Viejito had many grandchildren and he was a father figure to them, he disciplined and he was to be obeyed. But as his life came to a close and he moved to Lima to get better treatment, illness made him weaker and he wasn’t quite so formidable and scary. That’s when the old man and I got to know each other, as I jumped all over him and my grandfather, overpowered by illness and age, let me romp freely.
I remember his wrinkled face, the creases of his skin and his funny smell. He smelled of that salve that they used to rub on us when we had a cold, a little menthol and a little Yuk. These memories of my Papa Viejito are mine; no one told me about them, something in me instinctively recalls them when I think of him. They tell me that I used to comb his hair and that I would get it tangled and I would lie next to him and play with him and he would ruffle my hair and call me his little sheep’s head. I think I remember that, but I am not certain, it could be that I’ve heard them so many times they have become part of my history.
Despite the fact that I did not share much with my grandparents I see some of what they were in their daughters. My aunts and my mother are incredible, they are all very different from each other yet they are all remarkable in their own particular way. Not perfect, bur remarkable and admirable nevertheless.
Today, some of us are grandparents too and we understand the quiet wisdom that age and time grants us and we realize that we can touch the life of our children and their children simply by sharing ourselves, and passing on the stories of our life and the ones before us.
We no longer have the same struggles that past generations faced, times have changed. Ours is a new challenge. It is our job to tell our children about Pacanga and Peru, to take them there and have them collect their cultural inheritance. They should know that we stand on the accomplishments of our parents and grandparents. It is our job to make sure that our children learn about the Christmas get-togethers we used to have when one house wasn’t enough for all of us, it is important for them to know that once upon a time we clung to each other because we were all we had in this new home. Nowadays it is different, we are dispersed throughout the world and sometimes we forget the places we come from and the places we have been, the people who used to be a part of our life’s and the memories of family and love that make up who we are.
On a day like grandparent’s day though we are all united by one common denominator, we all come from the same place, from the same family, from the same love.
Happy grandparent’s day to all the grandparents in your life!
All of my love,
China
Ustedes sabian que el 7 de Septiembre es el dia de los abuelos??
Yo me lo perdi. Estabamos en la mitad de la batalla con el virus roto y entre tandas de ropa sucia todo el dia y el desinfectar de la casa cada cinco minutos, se me paso el dia de celebracion.
Cuando yo era chiquita no habia dia de los abuelos o talvez no lo celebraban.Yo no creci cerca de mis abuelos pero tengo las historias que he heredado de mis primos y primas. Si yo hubiera sabido lo mucho que me harian falta mis abuelos y cuanto ellos pueden significar en tu vida, hubiera cuidado mas esos pocos recuerdos, no hubiese permitido que se borren de mi memoria.
Mi abuela Maria murio antes que yo naciera y mi mama y mis tias nunca hablaron mucho de ella. Lo poquito que se de ella es de que era trabajadora y emprendedora. Ellas dicen de que ella era sumisa y dejaba que mi abuelo fuera el fuerte de la casa. Si es que en verdad ella era sumisa o no, ella crio hijas fuertes, independientes y trabajadoras … ella no puede haber sido muy diferente.
Mi Papa Viejito o Papa Morante, el nombre varia dependiendo de el tiempo en que nacieron, todavia estaba vivo cuando yo naci y los poquitos recuerdos que tengo de el son dulces y tiernos,llenos de paciencia y resignacion. Yo fui una de las mas chiquitas cuando mi Papa Viejito se mudo a Lima para poder recibir tratamiento. Mi abuelo habia sido fuerte y estricto con sus otros nietos, pero ya cuando yo llegue, el ya estaba cansado y vencido, por la edad y la enfermedad.
Yo me acuerdo de su carita arrugada, su piel color caramelo que escondia sus ojitos y ese olor peculiar de el. Era el olor de esa medicina que nos ponian en el pecho, que tenia mentol y quien sabe que otra cosa. Esos son mis recuerdos de mi abuelo, nadie me ha contado de ellos, son algo instintivo que llevo en el alma y que salen cuando pienso en el. Si me contaron de que yo lo peinaba y le enredaba el pelo y me echaba con el y le hablaba y jugaba con el. El se entretenia con mi pelo y me decia cabeza de borreguito. Creo que me acuerdo de estas cosas, pero no estoy segura, es probable de que me lo han contado tantas veces que ya se volvieron parte de mi historia.
A pesar de que no comparti mucho con mis abuelos, algo de ellos paso a sus hijas. Mis tias y mi mama son mujeres increibles, cada una de ellas es diferente pero todas son notables. No perfectas, pero notables y admirables.
Algunos de nosotros ya somos abuelos, ya entendemos la sabiduria que nos da el tiempo y la edad y nos damos cuenta de que podemos influenciar la vida de nuestros hijos y nuestros nietos simplemente compartiendo un poquito de nosotros y contandoles las historias de nuestra vida y la vida de los que vinieron antes que nosotros.
Ya los tiempos han cambiado y nuestra lucha no es como la lucha de la generacion pasada. Nosotros tenemos otra mision. Nuestra mision es contarles de Pacanga y de Peru, llevarlos a que recogan su herencia cultural. Asegurarnos de que ellos sepan que estamos donde estamos por los sacrificios que nuestros padres y abuelos hicieron por darnos una mejor vida. Nos toca a nosotros contarles de las navidades donde nos reuniamos todos en una sola casa y casi no cabiamos. Que sepan que en algun momento nos buscabamos y nos aferrabamos los unos a otros porque eramos lo unico que teniamos en este pais. Ahora es diferente, estamos dispersados por todos lados y en el trajin diario nos olvidamos de donde venimos, de donde somos y de las personas que han sido parte de nuestras vidas, los recuerdos de familia y cariño que nos hace quienes somos.
En un dia como el dia de los abuelos todos estamos unidos por un mismo denominador. Todos venimos de el mismo lugar, de la misma familia, de el mismo amor.
Feliz dia de los abuelos a todos los abuelos en tu vida! ( mas vale tarde que nunca)
Nunca te olvides de donde vienes porque entonces dejarias de ser quien eres.
Telmo Morante Morante
Hurricane Ike
Its three o’clock in the morning and an unusual constriction in my chest wakes me up and out of bed and in search for relief. Odd, the windows are closed and my allergies could not be causing an asthma attack, but nevertheless, my body impels me to seek release and I hit the medicine cabinet.
Medicine found, given in proper dosage, now it is time to wait for the effects. I wonder what is going on with Ike and how Texas is faring. I don’t have any personal acquaintances in Texas but my son was born in Katy and I feel a slight connection to the place.
So I turn the computer on and hear the gears bringing up the system as the computer wakes itself up. I make myself toast and tea, I might want to go back to bed and coffee would prevent that. I bring up the weather channel and decide to weed through its panic filled reports and try to ascertain what is really going on.
If you have ever lived in an area prone to hurricanes you understand the terms wind gust and the effects of the barometric pressure in a system, you know that sometimes the weather people can make you panic for no reason and their predictions of wind and rain will have you running to the store for your supplies and after you have fought five people for the last bag of charcoal at your local Publix, nothing happens. At times, it is all just instinct and you prepare, you reinforce and then you sit and wait for Mother Nature to do its thing.
To me hurricanes are the worst. Nothing like knowing that devastating wind and rain are heading your way in advance, and they might or might not destroy your home. The anticipation kills me. Knowing what kind of devastation is coming your way and that it might or might not hit you, that it might or might not affect you and that you won’t know for certain until the last minute. That is too much for me to handle. After Wilma and 17 days without power, I made my bags and left South Florida and the uncertainty of its weather.
That is not to say that Ohio’s weather is any better. Last year’s blizzard had me in awe of the power of winter storms but nevertheless, it was nothing like a hurricane.
So as I look at the storm, I say a silent prayer hoping that those people in Texas can get through this quickly and painlessly, but the angry red of the radar shows much precipitation and winds and with the size of this storm, many people are being affected. The storm even reaches into Louisiana and Arkansas.
Oh no, not Arkansas.
Why not Arkansas? No, none of my children were born there. I don’t have any friends or family there. You see, in a little truck stop, just a few miles of Little Rock in a cab of a semi truck, sleeps my beloved in his 80,000 pound rolling home. My husband is a truck driver. He just left TX and I was relieved to know that he got away from Ike in time, I didn’t look at Ike’s path inland, and I didn’t realize Ike would be following his route into the northeast.
As a truck driver’s wife, I have learned, out of necessity, to read maps, to read weather reports and to track weather systems to help my husband make his way through it all. I have on my computer the weather channel, traffic report and MapQuest in my favorites ready to give directions and to try to outmaneuver traffic, construction and even the weather. As I watch the path of Ike, I realize in horror that in next few hours this system filled with rain and winds will be turning and heading for Arkansas and creating havoc in his path. I call him and try to warn him so he can get out. No answer. Does that mean that there is no signal? Is the storm already hitting? The radar and the map say no but I cannot help myself, I panic. I start pulling up reports, local weather news and even newspapers so I can see if he is stuck in the storm or if he will be able to get out… after 53 seconds of anxiety, the phone rings. He had been woken up by the activity of the other trucks rolling out; he was prepping his truck and getting ready to leave. We tracked the path inland and saw that he may still make Maryland ahead of the system, I can breathe again.
I have learned that regardless of where I live, because of my husband’s occupation, I am affected by what happens somewhere else. As the mother in Texas prays that her home isn’t too battered by the storm, I join her prayer in hoping that my husband can outrun this storm and make it safely to his next delivery. Hurricane, snow, rain, tornadoes and all kinds of disasters affect “people” out there, every day. It wasn’t until Tony started driving that I realized that it has nothing to do with people out there, things like that affects us all.
You are nowhere near TX? Its ok, the increase in gas prices will affect you regardless of where you are. The early ice storm in Colorado has nothing to do with you? Unlikely, unless you are a vegetarian and you don’t consume meat or drink milk, in that case their loss in cattle would mean nothing to you, then again, it will affect someone you know. As different areas of the world are affected by nature, slowly we begin to realize that those things affect us all. We might not be as personally affected as someone who has lost their home, but in some way you will be affected.
It can affect what you consume because it is produced in that area or the consequences and losses will affect the nation’s budget, therefore your pocket. We are in a time where we can see how we are all interconnected, one way or another, and so you cannot turn your face and ignore their plight. As a society, we are as strong as our weakest member. You cannot look away and say it doesn’t affect me, their problem, I don’t care. Some way, some how, at one point or another we are all affected by one another.
So as you wake up this morning, offer a thought, a moment of reflection, prayer, meditation, monetary donation or your time or whatever you are inspired to do for those who are braving this storm, pray that after Ike has his way, that we are not too devastated by the losses. Pray that together we can all repair, rebuild, restore if not the material losses, at least the hope and faith that United we stand.
The opposite of love is not hate but indifference. -Elie Wiesel
Son las 3 de la mañana y una extraña presion en el pecho me saco de la cama y en busca de alivio. Que raro, las ventanas estan cerradas y mis alergias, que usualmente me causan ataques de asma, no me pueden estar afectando, pero aun asi, mi cuerpo me pide que busque alivio. Encuentro la medicina, tomo la dosis apropiada y ahora me toca esperar a que la medicina haga efecto. Mientras espero, me pregunto que estara pasando con Ike y como la estara pasando la gente de Texas. Yo no conozco a nadie en Texas, pero mi hijo nacio ahi, asi que siento una leve conneccion con la ciudad.
Prendo la computadora y me pierdo en su despertar Ruidoso, en lo que me preparo mi te y tostada, si tomo café ahorita no puedo regresar a la cama y todavia tengo tiempo antes de que los chicos se despierten. Busco en la internet el web site de el clima y trato de descifrar lo que esta pasando, interpretando reportes que inducen al panico.
Si alguna vez has vivido en una area propensa a huracanes, entonces ya estas familiarizado con los terminos rafaga de viento y presion barometrica y sabes tambien de que los noticieros tienden a predecir el fin del mundo y al fin y al cabo, ni llueve. Despues de que corristes al Mercado a comprar velas, latas y agua, despues que te peleastes con cinco personas por la ultima bolsa de carbon, no pasa nada. Bueno mas vale prevenir, que lamentar.
Para mi los huracanes son los peores, tienes como una semana para verlo creciendo en el caribe y escuchando reportes que dicen que es possible, pero no seguro, de que talvez, quizas, pueda destrozar tu casa y tu vida, pero no te podemos decir a ciencia cierta hasta unas cuantas horas antes. Que va,mis nervios no pueden con eso. Despues de Vilma y 17 dias sin luz, hice mis maletas y le dije adios al sur de la Florida y a su ruleta rusa con el clima.
Eso no quiere decir de que el clima en Ohio sea mejor. El año pasado, la tormenta de nieve y hielo, me dejaron en duda de que talvez me fui de Guatemala a Guatepeor, pero bueno, al hecho, pecho.
Al mirar los reportes de Ike, le pido a Dios de que la gente en Texas no la pase muy feo, que pase ya el huracan, rapidito y sin mayor perdida, pero los rojos de el radar muestran que este sistema viene con mucha lluvia y viento, y que es tan grande de que llega hasta Luisiana y Arkansas.
No, no Arkansas.
Porque no Arkansas? No, ninguno de mis hijos nacieron ahi, no tengo amigos, ni conocidos en ese estado. Pero en una parada de camiones a unas cuantas millas al Sur de Little Rock, duerme mi esposo en su dormitorio de 80,000 libras y 18 llantas. Mi esposo es camionero. Anoche cuando hablamos por telefono, el habia salido de Texas a la carrera, tratando de escaparse de los vientos de Ike. No me fije cual era el camino de Ike despues de haber tocado tierra, no me di cuenta de que Ike sigue en la misma direccion de su ruta.
Ser la esposa de un camionero me ha enseñado, por necesidad, a leer mapas, reportes de el clima y hasta seguir tormentas en su senda para ver como afectan la ruta de mi esposo. Programados en mis favoritos en la computadora estan los reportes de trafico, clima y MapQuest para poder dirigir y maniobrar cualquier percance que surja en su camino. En lo que sigo el camino predicho para Ike, me doy cuenta que Ike esta persiguiendolo y que la lluvia y vientos van siguiendo su ruta.
Lo llamo para despertarlo y decirle que tiene que irse de Arkansas, ya! Nadie contesta. Que quiere decir eso?? Ya empezo la tormenta, ha afectado las torres, no hay señal? El radar y el mapa dicen que no, pero el panico me cierra el pecho de nuevo y me duele hasta respirar. Empiezo a buscar reportes locales, los noticieros de Arkansas y hasta los periodicos para ver que esta pasando y si el esta estancado en la mitad de este huracan. Mover el camion durante vientos fuertes podria llevar a que el camion se volque, es peligroso. Despues de 53 segundos de panico y ansiedad, el telefono suena. El ya estaba despierto, la parada esta vacia ya todos los camioneros saben de que viene el viento y la lluvia y todos estan evacuando. Ahora conciente de Ike, seguimos la trayectoria dentro de el pais y vimos de que es possible de que llegue a Maryland, antes de la lluvia. Me volvio el alma al cuerpo, ya puedo respirar.
He aprendido de que no importa donde yo viva, las cosas que pasan en todo el pais de alguna forma me afectan por el trabajo de mi esposo. Asi como la madre en Texas que reza por que su casa no se la lleve el viento, yo me uno a su plegaria y le pido a Dios y a todos mis antepasados que cuiden a Tony y que pueda llegar sano y salvo a su proxima entrega. Huracanes, lluvia, nieve, hielo, todo tipo de desastres afectan a millones de personas en todos lados.No fue hasta que Tony empezo a manejar comercialmenteque me di cuenta que lo que le afecta a esos millones, tambien me afecta a mi, a ti, a todos.
No estas cerca a Texas? No importa, la subida de precio de la gasolina te afecta donde estes. Las consecuencias y perdidas tambien afectan el presupuesto nacional, por lo tanto, tu bolsillo. La tormenta de hielo en Colorado no te afecta? Las perdidas de ganado puede que no te afecten si eres vegetariano y no comas carne y no tomes leche, pero te apuesto que si le afectan directamente a alguien que tu conoces. Estamos en una epoca donde es facil ver como estamos todos interconectados, de alguna forma u otra, ya no podemos voltear la cara e ignorar la necesidad de otros. Como sociedad, somos tan Fuertes como nuestro miembro mas debil. No puedes hacerte de la vista gorda e ignorar lo que les pasa, no puedes decir no me afecta, no es mi problema o que me importa. De alguna forma, todos estamos afectados.
En lo que comienza tu dia, ofrece un pensamiento, una plegaria, una meditacion una donacion, tu tiempo, o lo que te nazca a todos los que se han tenido que enfrentar directamente a este huracan o otro desastre natural. Pide de que despues de que pase el huracan, las perdidas no sean demasiadas.Pide de que juntos, podamos reparar, reconstruir y reponer . Sino las cosas materiales al menos, restauremos la fe y esperanza de que Unidos, perseveramemos.
Lo opuesto al amor no es el odio, es la indiferencia . -Elie Wiesel
Medicine found, given in proper dosage, now it is time to wait for the effects. I wonder what is going on with Ike and how Texas is faring. I don’t have any personal acquaintances in Texas but my son was born in Katy and I feel a slight connection to the place.
So I turn the computer on and hear the gears bringing up the system as the computer wakes itself up. I make myself toast and tea, I might want to go back to bed and coffee would prevent that. I bring up the weather channel and decide to weed through its panic filled reports and try to ascertain what is really going on.
If you have ever lived in an area prone to hurricanes you understand the terms wind gust and the effects of the barometric pressure in a system, you know that sometimes the weather people can make you panic for no reason and their predictions of wind and rain will have you running to the store for your supplies and after you have fought five people for the last bag of charcoal at your local Publix, nothing happens. At times, it is all just instinct and you prepare, you reinforce and then you sit and wait for Mother Nature to do its thing.
To me hurricanes are the worst. Nothing like knowing that devastating wind and rain are heading your way in advance, and they might or might not destroy your home. The anticipation kills me. Knowing what kind of devastation is coming your way and that it might or might not hit you, that it might or might not affect you and that you won’t know for certain until the last minute. That is too much for me to handle. After Wilma and 17 days without power, I made my bags and left South Florida and the uncertainty of its weather.
That is not to say that Ohio’s weather is any better. Last year’s blizzard had me in awe of the power of winter storms but nevertheless, it was nothing like a hurricane.
So as I look at the storm, I say a silent prayer hoping that those people in Texas can get through this quickly and painlessly, but the angry red of the radar shows much precipitation and winds and with the size of this storm, many people are being affected. The storm even reaches into Louisiana and Arkansas.
Oh no, not Arkansas.
Why not Arkansas? No, none of my children were born there. I don’t have any friends or family there. You see, in a little truck stop, just a few miles of Little Rock in a cab of a semi truck, sleeps my beloved in his 80,000 pound rolling home. My husband is a truck driver. He just left TX and I was relieved to know that he got away from Ike in time, I didn’t look at Ike’s path inland, and I didn’t realize Ike would be following his route into the northeast.
As a truck driver’s wife, I have learned, out of necessity, to read maps, to read weather reports and to track weather systems to help my husband make his way through it all. I have on my computer the weather channel, traffic report and MapQuest in my favorites ready to give directions and to try to outmaneuver traffic, construction and even the weather. As I watch the path of Ike, I realize in horror that in next few hours this system filled with rain and winds will be turning and heading for Arkansas and creating havoc in his path. I call him and try to warn him so he can get out. No answer. Does that mean that there is no signal? Is the storm already hitting? The radar and the map say no but I cannot help myself, I panic. I start pulling up reports, local weather news and even newspapers so I can see if he is stuck in the storm or if he will be able to get out… after 53 seconds of anxiety, the phone rings. He had been woken up by the activity of the other trucks rolling out; he was prepping his truck and getting ready to leave. We tracked the path inland and saw that he may still make Maryland ahead of the system, I can breathe again.
I have learned that regardless of where I live, because of my husband’s occupation, I am affected by what happens somewhere else. As the mother in Texas prays that her home isn’t too battered by the storm, I join her prayer in hoping that my husband can outrun this storm and make it safely to his next delivery. Hurricane, snow, rain, tornadoes and all kinds of disasters affect “people” out there, every day. It wasn’t until Tony started driving that I realized that it has nothing to do with people out there, things like that affects us all.
You are nowhere near TX? Its ok, the increase in gas prices will affect you regardless of where you are. The early ice storm in Colorado has nothing to do with you? Unlikely, unless you are a vegetarian and you don’t consume meat or drink milk, in that case their loss in cattle would mean nothing to you, then again, it will affect someone you know. As different areas of the world are affected by nature, slowly we begin to realize that those things affect us all. We might not be as personally affected as someone who has lost their home, but in some way you will be affected.
It can affect what you consume because it is produced in that area or the consequences and losses will affect the nation’s budget, therefore your pocket. We are in a time where we can see how we are all interconnected, one way or another, and so you cannot turn your face and ignore their plight. As a society, we are as strong as our weakest member. You cannot look away and say it doesn’t affect me, their problem, I don’t care. Some way, some how, at one point or another we are all affected by one another.
So as you wake up this morning, offer a thought, a moment of reflection, prayer, meditation, monetary donation or your time or whatever you are inspired to do for those who are braving this storm, pray that after Ike has his way, that we are not too devastated by the losses. Pray that together we can all repair, rebuild, restore if not the material losses, at least the hope and faith that United we stand.
The opposite of love is not hate but indifference. -Elie Wiesel
Son las 3 de la mañana y una extraña presion en el pecho me saco de la cama y en busca de alivio. Que raro, las ventanas estan cerradas y mis alergias, que usualmente me causan ataques de asma, no me pueden estar afectando, pero aun asi, mi cuerpo me pide que busque alivio. Encuentro la medicina, tomo la dosis apropiada y ahora me toca esperar a que la medicina haga efecto. Mientras espero, me pregunto que estara pasando con Ike y como la estara pasando la gente de Texas. Yo no conozco a nadie en Texas, pero mi hijo nacio ahi, asi que siento una leve conneccion con la ciudad.
Prendo la computadora y me pierdo en su despertar Ruidoso, en lo que me preparo mi te y tostada, si tomo café ahorita no puedo regresar a la cama y todavia tengo tiempo antes de que los chicos se despierten. Busco en la internet el web site de el clima y trato de descifrar lo que esta pasando, interpretando reportes que inducen al panico.
Si alguna vez has vivido en una area propensa a huracanes, entonces ya estas familiarizado con los terminos rafaga de viento y presion barometrica y sabes tambien de que los noticieros tienden a predecir el fin del mundo y al fin y al cabo, ni llueve. Despues de que corristes al Mercado a comprar velas, latas y agua, despues que te peleastes con cinco personas por la ultima bolsa de carbon, no pasa nada. Bueno mas vale prevenir, que lamentar.
Para mi los huracanes son los peores, tienes como una semana para verlo creciendo en el caribe y escuchando reportes que dicen que es possible, pero no seguro, de que talvez, quizas, pueda destrozar tu casa y tu vida, pero no te podemos decir a ciencia cierta hasta unas cuantas horas antes. Que va,mis nervios no pueden con eso. Despues de Vilma y 17 dias sin luz, hice mis maletas y le dije adios al sur de la Florida y a su ruleta rusa con el clima.
Eso no quiere decir de que el clima en Ohio sea mejor. El año pasado, la tormenta de nieve y hielo, me dejaron en duda de que talvez me fui de Guatemala a Guatepeor, pero bueno, al hecho, pecho.
Al mirar los reportes de Ike, le pido a Dios de que la gente en Texas no la pase muy feo, que pase ya el huracan, rapidito y sin mayor perdida, pero los rojos de el radar muestran que este sistema viene con mucha lluvia y viento, y que es tan grande de que llega hasta Luisiana y Arkansas.
No, no Arkansas.
Porque no Arkansas? No, ninguno de mis hijos nacieron ahi, no tengo amigos, ni conocidos en ese estado. Pero en una parada de camiones a unas cuantas millas al Sur de Little Rock, duerme mi esposo en su dormitorio de 80,000 libras y 18 llantas. Mi esposo es camionero. Anoche cuando hablamos por telefono, el habia salido de Texas a la carrera, tratando de escaparse de los vientos de Ike. No me fije cual era el camino de Ike despues de haber tocado tierra, no me di cuenta de que Ike sigue en la misma direccion de su ruta.
Ser la esposa de un camionero me ha enseñado, por necesidad, a leer mapas, reportes de el clima y hasta seguir tormentas en su senda para ver como afectan la ruta de mi esposo. Programados en mis favoritos en la computadora estan los reportes de trafico, clima y MapQuest para poder dirigir y maniobrar cualquier percance que surja en su camino. En lo que sigo el camino predicho para Ike, me doy cuenta que Ike esta persiguiendolo y que la lluvia y vientos van siguiendo su ruta.
Lo llamo para despertarlo y decirle que tiene que irse de Arkansas, ya! Nadie contesta. Que quiere decir eso?? Ya empezo la tormenta, ha afectado las torres, no hay señal? El radar y el mapa dicen que no, pero el panico me cierra el pecho de nuevo y me duele hasta respirar. Empiezo a buscar reportes locales, los noticieros de Arkansas y hasta los periodicos para ver que esta pasando y si el esta estancado en la mitad de este huracan. Mover el camion durante vientos fuertes podria llevar a que el camion se volque, es peligroso. Despues de 53 segundos de panico y ansiedad, el telefono suena. El ya estaba despierto, la parada esta vacia ya todos los camioneros saben de que viene el viento y la lluvia y todos estan evacuando. Ahora conciente de Ike, seguimos la trayectoria dentro de el pais y vimos de que es possible de que llegue a Maryland, antes de la lluvia. Me volvio el alma al cuerpo, ya puedo respirar.
He aprendido de que no importa donde yo viva, las cosas que pasan en todo el pais de alguna forma me afectan por el trabajo de mi esposo. Asi como la madre en Texas que reza por que su casa no se la lleve el viento, yo me uno a su plegaria y le pido a Dios y a todos mis antepasados que cuiden a Tony y que pueda llegar sano y salvo a su proxima entrega. Huracanes, lluvia, nieve, hielo, todo tipo de desastres afectan a millones de personas en todos lados.No fue hasta que Tony empezo a manejar comercialmenteque me di cuenta que lo que le afecta a esos millones, tambien me afecta a mi, a ti, a todos.
No estas cerca a Texas? No importa, la subida de precio de la gasolina te afecta donde estes. Las consecuencias y perdidas tambien afectan el presupuesto nacional, por lo tanto, tu bolsillo. La tormenta de hielo en Colorado no te afecta? Las perdidas de ganado puede que no te afecten si eres vegetariano y no comas carne y no tomes leche, pero te apuesto que si le afectan directamente a alguien que tu conoces. Estamos en una epoca donde es facil ver como estamos todos interconectados, de alguna forma u otra, ya no podemos voltear la cara e ignorar la necesidad de otros. Como sociedad, somos tan Fuertes como nuestro miembro mas debil. No puedes hacerte de la vista gorda e ignorar lo que les pasa, no puedes decir no me afecta, no es mi problema o que me importa. De alguna forma, todos estamos afectados.
En lo que comienza tu dia, ofrece un pensamiento, una plegaria, una meditacion una donacion, tu tiempo, o lo que te nazca a todos los que se han tenido que enfrentar directamente a este huracan o otro desastre natural. Pide de que despues de que pase el huracan, las perdidas no sean demasiadas.Pide de que juntos, podamos reparar, reconstruir y reponer . Sino las cosas materiales al menos, restauremos la fe y esperanza de que Unidos, perseveramemos.
Lo opuesto al amor no es el odio, es la indiferencia . -Elie Wiesel
Brand new baby
There is something magical about holding a brand new baby. The perfection of their dimensions, their chubby little legs and arms, that angelic semblance that you can stare at for hours as if it held the answer to life’s ultimate questions. Today I had the pleasure of holding a baby for an hour. It is the baby of a friend and while this friend and I are not extremely close, this child inspired in me a surge of protectiveness and I instinctively knew that I loved this child with all of my heart.
Don’t misunderstand, I have had three babies of my own and I know what it is like to have a child and NO, I don’t want anymore of my own, but there is still something about babies that touches me deep.
And then I thought back of all the babies that I have held. I remember holding Karina with her big alert eyes, looking at everything and never missing a thing. I remember holding my Chinito and I remember being proud of him, like a father is proud of a son. I remember the bond I felt with him. I remember Jaakko and how he would steal everyone’s heart, and I remember Tatita, those big brown eyes that spoke directly to your heart.
Then there was Felicia, pretty snow white baby and Shawn, strong and big, like his grandma called him “Chon”. More babies came and went and I wasn’t around but I remember when Chelsea was born, and Lauren and Victoria and the three stooges spent their days together at Apira’s house. Our family grows exponentially, the last time we all got together, for not so happy events, I found babies that were completely new to me. Christion’s son came into my arms, hugs and kisses given to Kalisha’s baby and Jay’s kids, something in me tingled and realized that yes, they are my own. Jeffrey, K’Andre, Damian, Mikey and the rest of the children ran around the house oblivious to the sad fact that death loomed near, simply rejoicing in the fact that we had come together.
Some of these kids were big, really big!!!! But regardless, there was something in their embrace, something in their approach, perhaps something in their blood that made me recognize them and love them at that moment, totally, unconditionally. It was like that joke everyone makes about family reunions, where you are introduced to your uncle Mike, uncle Mike traps you into a bear hug and you nod and say, “Oh yeah, Uncle Mike” as if you’ve known him all of our life. And sure, you have, you just didn’t know it yet.
So to all the new babies that I have not held, I look forward to the first embrace, to that moment of recognition where we may come together and come to know each other. To everyone else, perhaps those of you that grew up with me, or even those of you that held me when I was a baby, these children grow up without the benefit of knowing their extended family. Stories that have surrounded our family for years have broken down and become lost to the next generation. There is so much to share, so much to give.
We have wasted so much time.
Reach out, call that cousin you haven’t spoken to in years. They might be alone and hurting. Your sister that you are angry with, forget about your differences, they are not real. To that nephew that you think might be in trouble, hold his hand, this life is scary, perhaps he doesn’t know the way. Put aside your pride, your judgments, critical comments and egotistical notions, drop them all and embrace who you are, who you truly are. Our grandfather had 10 kids and their kids had a whole lot of kids and then they had kids. We may have all gone our own way, but when it comes down to it, we all came from the same place.
Don’t misunderstand, I have had three babies of my own and I know what it is like to have a child and NO, I don’t want anymore of my own, but there is still something about babies that touches me deep.
And then I thought back of all the babies that I have held. I remember holding Karina with her big alert eyes, looking at everything and never missing a thing. I remember holding my Chinito and I remember being proud of him, like a father is proud of a son. I remember the bond I felt with him. I remember Jaakko and how he would steal everyone’s heart, and I remember Tatita, those big brown eyes that spoke directly to your heart.
Then there was Felicia, pretty snow white baby and Shawn, strong and big, like his grandma called him “Chon”. More babies came and went and I wasn’t around but I remember when Chelsea was born, and Lauren and Victoria and the three stooges spent their days together at Apira’s house. Our family grows exponentially, the last time we all got together, for not so happy events, I found babies that were completely new to me. Christion’s son came into my arms, hugs and kisses given to Kalisha’s baby and Jay’s kids, something in me tingled and realized that yes, they are my own. Jeffrey, K’Andre, Damian, Mikey and the rest of the children ran around the house oblivious to the sad fact that death loomed near, simply rejoicing in the fact that we had come together.
Some of these kids were big, really big!!!! But regardless, there was something in their embrace, something in their approach, perhaps something in their blood that made me recognize them and love them at that moment, totally, unconditionally. It was like that joke everyone makes about family reunions, where you are introduced to your uncle Mike, uncle Mike traps you into a bear hug and you nod and say, “Oh yeah, Uncle Mike” as if you’ve known him all of our life. And sure, you have, you just didn’t know it yet.
So to all the new babies that I have not held, I look forward to the first embrace, to that moment of recognition where we may come together and come to know each other. To everyone else, perhaps those of you that grew up with me, or even those of you that held me when I was a baby, these children grow up without the benefit of knowing their extended family. Stories that have surrounded our family for years have broken down and become lost to the next generation. There is so much to share, so much to give.
We have wasted so much time.
Reach out, call that cousin you haven’t spoken to in years. They might be alone and hurting. Your sister that you are angry with, forget about your differences, they are not real. To that nephew that you think might be in trouble, hold his hand, this life is scary, perhaps he doesn’t know the way. Put aside your pride, your judgments, critical comments and egotistical notions, drop them all and embrace who you are, who you truly are. Our grandfather had 10 kids and their kids had a whole lot of kids and then they had kids. We may have all gone our own way, but when it comes down to it, we all came from the same place.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Communicate.... (5/21/2008)
I am going to share a story with you, a story that was shared with me and that should definitely be shared with others.
Once upon a time there was a man who lived in an impoverished village. This man left his troubled home, headed out to find his luck in the world and worked hard to make something of himself. Such were his struggles that he vowed that he would teach his children early on to work hard, make them strong, independent and self-sufficient.
His daughters learned these lessons and went out onto the world, applied their knowledge and became prosperous and abundant. They raised their children with that knowledge hoping that they will also make something better of themselves.
So here we are, we are the next generation and what will be our legacy? What will we leave the next generation? We no longer have to worry about shelter and nourishment. We are in a place that allows us opportunities to work hard and grow and improve our situation, if we so desire.
Those things have been provided to us through the sacrifice of those that came before us…
However, previous generations did not understand and value the power of communication. Previous generations found shame and judgment in sharing their life and their situation with others. Previous generations dealt with problems stoically and did not reach out for the much needed help.
I know what you are going to say, I am so busy, I have so much going on, it’s not my problem; that is not how I was raised. Those excuses are no longer valid.
We live in the age of technology, where distance from our home and families is not significant any more. There are phones, computers, cell phones, postal service and even skype. We have been given awesome tools to accomplish the next step, yet we all live in our own little corners of the world blind and deaf to what goes on around us.
Despite what we have told ourselves, family is a bond that you cannot shake. If your brother or sister is in pain, you are going to be in pain. Whether the pain is self inflicted or not. Whether the pain is redundant and voluntary, physical or emotional. You will feel it. You may decide to turn your eyes away, but your heart will still be invested. And it doesn’t have to be your brother and sister, your aunt, your uncle, your second cousin, twice removed, a friend, even someone you went to school with. If you have ever known the person and shared with the person, you will feel their pain.
And so we discover that we are interconnected, that the love we feel creates webs in our hearts and those webs reach out through distance and time. You, me, my children, your children… we are all connected.
I am not suggesting that you put tights on and a cape and rescue people randomly. I only suggest that you let them know, through whichever communication method you prefer, that you are there. Just let them know that they matter. Let them know that you care. Put away your pride, your judgments, your criticism and your advice, your sense of right and wrong and your misguided intentions. . And be present with them, be in the moment that they are in and tell them how you feel about them.
So let me be the first one to say it now. I love you. You are important to me. If you are in pain, if you feel lonely, if life has you down and you don’t know what to do, I am here for you. I love you unconditionally. There is nothing you could have done, said or been that will make me love you any less. NOTHING. Perhaps I haven’t talked to you in a long time; perhaps we just got off the phone. Regardless, if you are receiving this, you are loved. We will go through your difficult times together and we will also celebrate together.
This is our gift to the next generation. COMMUNICATION.
Now, make the decision to break the chains of what they taught us or what they didn’t teach us and turn around and reach out to someone….
You are loved
Voy a compartir una historia con ustedes. Una historia que compartieron conmigo, que deberia ser compartida con otros,.
Habia una vez en un pueblo pobre un hombre que tuvo que trabajar bastante yy sacrificar mucho para poder vivir. Este hombre la paso tan dificil que le enseño a sus hijos a trabajar, tal como el lo habia hecho. El queria que fueran Fuertes, independientes, auto-suficientes.
Sus hijos asimilaron esta leccion y salieron al mundo, aplicaron las lecciones de su padre y crearon una vida prospera y abundante. A su vez ellos pasaron esta leccion a sus hijos con la esperanza de que ellos superaran lo que ellos habian logrado.
Y ahora nos toca a nosotros. Nosotros somos la proxima generacion. Cual es nuestro herencia a la proxima generacion? Ya no tenemos que preocuparnos por tener que comer y tener donde vivir. Estamos en una situacion que nos permite, si eso deseamos, salir adelante y mejorarnos dia a dia. Eso fue lo que nos dejo la generacion anterior como leccion.
Sin embargo, generaciones anteriores no supieron el beneficio de la comunicacion, tal como la entendemos ahora. Generaciones anteriores no pudieron expresarse libremente por el que diran y por verguenza de que los vayan a juzgar. Generaciones anteriores aprendieron a vivir con el sube-y-baja de la vida solos, sin decirle nada a nadie por perjuicios que alguien mas les impuso.
Ya se lo que van a decir. No tengo tiempo, no es mi problema, a mi no me criaron asi. Esas excusas ya no son validas.
Vivimos en un tiempo donde la tecnologia nos permite comunicarnos a nivel global. Estar lejos de nuestos seres queridos por que vivimos en diferentes lugares ya no es excusa. Existen telefonos, computadoras, celulares, correo, skype. El mundo nos ha dado herramientas increibles para crecer y aprender y compartir, pero muchas veces permanecemos en nuestras esquinitas de el mundo, ciegos y sordos a lo que pasa a nuestro alrededor.
A pesar de que nos hemos tratado de convencer de que no, la familia es un lazo permanente. Si tu hermano y tu hermana sufre, tu sufres con ellos. Asi el dolor sea a consecuencia de sus acciones, asi sea voluntario y repetitivo. Asi el dolor sea fisico o emocional. Tu lo sientes. Puedes voltear tus ojos y tratar de pretender que no sufren, pero tu corazon lo sabe y tu lo sientes. Y no tiene que ser tu hermano o tu hermana. Tu tia, tu tio, tu primo lejano, tu amigo y hasta un compañero de trabajo. Si en algun momento has compartido con la persona, de alguna forma estas afectado.
Y es asi como descubrimos de que estamos conectados. Que el cariño que algun dia sentimos no dejo de existir sino que dejo huellas en nuestro corazon que siguen a pesar de el tiempo, a pesar de la distancia, a pesar de la vida. Tu, yo, mis hijos, tus hijos, todos estamos conectados.
Entonces dejale saber a esa persona de que los quieres, no te gusta hablar, esta bien, escribeles una carta, mandale un email, solamente dejales saber que ellos son importantes para ti. Deja el orgullo, los perjuicios, la critica y el consejo de lado. Solamente comparte un momento con alguien a quien tu quieres y aprovecha la oportunidad para decirles lo que ellos significan para ti.
Dejame tomar el primer paso. Te quiero. Eres tan importante para mi. Si estas sufriendo, si te sientes solo, y no sabes que hacer. No te preocupes, no estas solo. Apoyate en mi, que juntos podemos. Te quiero incondicionalmente. No importa lo que hayas dicho o hecho. No importa la persona que seas. Te quiero. No hay nada que puedas hacer o decir o ser que vaya a cambiar lo que siento por ti. Talvez no hablemos en muchos años, talvez hablamos esta mañana. Si estas recibiendo este mensaje es porque eres importante para mi y te quiero.
Esta es la leccion que tenemos que dejarle a las proximas generaciones. COMUNICACION. No dejes de decirle a esa persona lo mucho que significa para ti. Enseñale a tus hijos, a tus nietos que una persona no es un mundo, que somos partes de algo mas grande, que somos parte de una comunidad, de una familia que crece con el tiempo.
Communicate….
Te quiero…
Once upon a time there was a man who lived in an impoverished village. This man left his troubled home, headed out to find his luck in the world and worked hard to make something of himself. Such were his struggles that he vowed that he would teach his children early on to work hard, make them strong, independent and self-sufficient.
His daughters learned these lessons and went out onto the world, applied their knowledge and became prosperous and abundant. They raised their children with that knowledge hoping that they will also make something better of themselves.
So here we are, we are the next generation and what will be our legacy? What will we leave the next generation? We no longer have to worry about shelter and nourishment. We are in a place that allows us opportunities to work hard and grow and improve our situation, if we so desire.
Those things have been provided to us through the sacrifice of those that came before us…
However, previous generations did not understand and value the power of communication. Previous generations found shame and judgment in sharing their life and their situation with others. Previous generations dealt with problems stoically and did not reach out for the much needed help.
I know what you are going to say, I am so busy, I have so much going on, it’s not my problem; that is not how I was raised. Those excuses are no longer valid.
We live in the age of technology, where distance from our home and families is not significant any more. There are phones, computers, cell phones, postal service and even skype. We have been given awesome tools to accomplish the next step, yet we all live in our own little corners of the world blind and deaf to what goes on around us.
Despite what we have told ourselves, family is a bond that you cannot shake. If your brother or sister is in pain, you are going to be in pain. Whether the pain is self inflicted or not. Whether the pain is redundant and voluntary, physical or emotional. You will feel it. You may decide to turn your eyes away, but your heart will still be invested. And it doesn’t have to be your brother and sister, your aunt, your uncle, your second cousin, twice removed, a friend, even someone you went to school with. If you have ever known the person and shared with the person, you will feel their pain.
And so we discover that we are interconnected, that the love we feel creates webs in our hearts and those webs reach out through distance and time. You, me, my children, your children… we are all connected.
I am not suggesting that you put tights on and a cape and rescue people randomly. I only suggest that you let them know, through whichever communication method you prefer, that you are there. Just let them know that they matter. Let them know that you care. Put away your pride, your judgments, your criticism and your advice, your sense of right and wrong and your misguided intentions. . And be present with them, be in the moment that they are in and tell them how you feel about them.
So let me be the first one to say it now. I love you. You are important to me. If you are in pain, if you feel lonely, if life has you down and you don’t know what to do, I am here for you. I love you unconditionally. There is nothing you could have done, said or been that will make me love you any less. NOTHING. Perhaps I haven’t talked to you in a long time; perhaps we just got off the phone. Regardless, if you are receiving this, you are loved. We will go through your difficult times together and we will also celebrate together.
This is our gift to the next generation. COMMUNICATION.
Now, make the decision to break the chains of what they taught us or what they didn’t teach us and turn around and reach out to someone….
You are loved
Voy a compartir una historia con ustedes. Una historia que compartieron conmigo, que deberia ser compartida con otros,.
Habia una vez en un pueblo pobre un hombre que tuvo que trabajar bastante yy sacrificar mucho para poder vivir. Este hombre la paso tan dificil que le enseño a sus hijos a trabajar, tal como el lo habia hecho. El queria que fueran Fuertes, independientes, auto-suficientes.
Sus hijos asimilaron esta leccion y salieron al mundo, aplicaron las lecciones de su padre y crearon una vida prospera y abundante. A su vez ellos pasaron esta leccion a sus hijos con la esperanza de que ellos superaran lo que ellos habian logrado.
Y ahora nos toca a nosotros. Nosotros somos la proxima generacion. Cual es nuestro herencia a la proxima generacion? Ya no tenemos que preocuparnos por tener que comer y tener donde vivir. Estamos en una situacion que nos permite, si eso deseamos, salir adelante y mejorarnos dia a dia. Eso fue lo que nos dejo la generacion anterior como leccion.
Sin embargo, generaciones anteriores no supieron el beneficio de la comunicacion, tal como la entendemos ahora. Generaciones anteriores no pudieron expresarse libremente por el que diran y por verguenza de que los vayan a juzgar. Generaciones anteriores aprendieron a vivir con el sube-y-baja de la vida solos, sin decirle nada a nadie por perjuicios que alguien mas les impuso.
Ya se lo que van a decir. No tengo tiempo, no es mi problema, a mi no me criaron asi. Esas excusas ya no son validas.
Vivimos en un tiempo donde la tecnologia nos permite comunicarnos a nivel global. Estar lejos de nuestos seres queridos por que vivimos en diferentes lugares ya no es excusa. Existen telefonos, computadoras, celulares, correo, skype. El mundo nos ha dado herramientas increibles para crecer y aprender y compartir, pero muchas veces permanecemos en nuestras esquinitas de el mundo, ciegos y sordos a lo que pasa a nuestro alrededor.
A pesar de que nos hemos tratado de convencer de que no, la familia es un lazo permanente. Si tu hermano y tu hermana sufre, tu sufres con ellos. Asi el dolor sea a consecuencia de sus acciones, asi sea voluntario y repetitivo. Asi el dolor sea fisico o emocional. Tu lo sientes. Puedes voltear tus ojos y tratar de pretender que no sufren, pero tu corazon lo sabe y tu lo sientes. Y no tiene que ser tu hermano o tu hermana. Tu tia, tu tio, tu primo lejano, tu amigo y hasta un compañero de trabajo. Si en algun momento has compartido con la persona, de alguna forma estas afectado.
Y es asi como descubrimos de que estamos conectados. Que el cariño que algun dia sentimos no dejo de existir sino que dejo huellas en nuestro corazon que siguen a pesar de el tiempo, a pesar de la distancia, a pesar de la vida. Tu, yo, mis hijos, tus hijos, todos estamos conectados.
Entonces dejale saber a esa persona de que los quieres, no te gusta hablar, esta bien, escribeles una carta, mandale un email, solamente dejales saber que ellos son importantes para ti. Deja el orgullo, los perjuicios, la critica y el consejo de lado. Solamente comparte un momento con alguien a quien tu quieres y aprovecha la oportunidad para decirles lo que ellos significan para ti.
Dejame tomar el primer paso. Te quiero. Eres tan importante para mi. Si estas sufriendo, si te sientes solo, y no sabes que hacer. No te preocupes, no estas solo. Apoyate en mi, que juntos podemos. Te quiero incondicionalmente. No importa lo que hayas dicho o hecho. No importa la persona que seas. Te quiero. No hay nada que puedas hacer o decir o ser que vaya a cambiar lo que siento por ti. Talvez no hablemos en muchos años, talvez hablamos esta mañana. Si estas recibiendo este mensaje es porque eres importante para mi y te quiero.
Esta es la leccion que tenemos que dejarle a las proximas generaciones. COMUNICACION. No dejes de decirle a esa persona lo mucho que significa para ti. Enseñale a tus hijos, a tus nietos que una persona no es un mundo, que somos partes de algo mas grande, que somos parte de una comunidad, de una familia que crece con el tiempo.
Communicate….
Te quiero…
A little light for us all, 12/16/2007
The hardest lesson for me to learn throughout this experience is to deal with the loneliness. I come from a huge family, my grandparents did not believe in television. We are about 150 here in the states only; we are dispersed throughout the country. Truthfully, we have spread out. We have created many separate little families throughout and although we strive to remain close, sometimes it doesn’t just work out.
In my immediate family, there’s only my mother, my children and I left. I have lost a sister and just this last year my father. All of my extended family and my friends are everywhere else. So I called everyone and told them all we were starting a new tradition. I urged them all to get a candle, any candle and I proposed that on nochebuena we all light this candle, I proposed that in making this little light we all connect with the ones that we wish were there to share this night with us. I propose we light this candle in honor of all of those who have in one way or another left a mark in our lives and whose little bit of essence we carry around in our hearts forever.
So I offer you this little light. I offer you this little light to honor those that are not with you on this night. Whether they are far away or have passed on, whether you still know them or not. This little light can burn for all of those who have shared of themselves with you throughout your life.
On nochebuena with my little family I will light this candle for Yalile, my beloved sister and for Rodolfo, my father. I will recall the wonderful times we share and pass them on to my children so that they live on forever. I will light the candle for my aunts and uncles and cousins galore, for my nieces and nephews and for my great nieces and great nephews. For all the friends that throughout the years have become family and for the wonderful people that have somehow touched my life. And I will light this candle for each and all of you, because I am grateful for your presence in my life and because being here with you everyday and sharing the tidbits of life we share, makes me appreciate all the wonderful things in all of you and helps me feel a little less lonely. I invite you to honor those who have come into your life and to put our differences aside and celebrate this season of love.
In my immediate family, there’s only my mother, my children and I left. I have lost a sister and just this last year my father. All of my extended family and my friends are everywhere else. So I called everyone and told them all we were starting a new tradition. I urged them all to get a candle, any candle and I proposed that on nochebuena we all light this candle, I proposed that in making this little light we all connect with the ones that we wish were there to share this night with us. I propose we light this candle in honor of all of those who have in one way or another left a mark in our lives and whose little bit of essence we carry around in our hearts forever.
So I offer you this little light. I offer you this little light to honor those that are not with you on this night. Whether they are far away or have passed on, whether you still know them or not. This little light can burn for all of those who have shared of themselves with you throughout your life.
On nochebuena with my little family I will light this candle for Yalile, my beloved sister and for Rodolfo, my father. I will recall the wonderful times we share and pass them on to my children so that they live on forever. I will light the candle for my aunts and uncles and cousins galore, for my nieces and nephews and for my great nieces and great nephews. For all the friends that throughout the years have become family and for the wonderful people that have somehow touched my life. And I will light this candle for each and all of you, because I am grateful for your presence in my life and because being here with you everyday and sharing the tidbits of life we share, makes me appreciate all the wonderful things in all of you and helps me feel a little less lonely. I invite you to honor those who have come into your life and to put our differences aside and celebrate this season of love.
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