Whose your daddy?

Once when he couldn't find "his" hairbrush for the 100Th time, left the house and came back completely bald, exclaiming "enjoy my brush, I don't need it". We never used his hairbrush again.
In a restaurant, started a food fight with his salad. Laughed hysterically when other patrons joined in. When the manager came over to the table, blamed it on his kids. We were asked to leave and never return.

He cried as he told us that when he first got married he told his wife he didn't want children. Not because he didn't yearn to have them but because he feared he would not be a good father and provide for them adequately.

He once worked 2 full time jobs (in separate factories) for 13 months (80-90 hours a week) to provide a better living environment for us and not once, not ever, did we hear him complain or say he was tired.

He joined the U.S. Army and served in the Korean War. While enlisted learned to speak English, became a master Sargent, and taught weapons classes.

He got his High School equivalency diploma when he was 29 years old.

Always told his children how much they were loved, how special they were, and how much he believed in them.

He once stood under a rain spout in full view of the whole neighborhood and pretended to shower during a torrential rain storm just to make us laugh.

Despite negative comments from his male friends (mostly macho Puerto Ricans), treated his wife as an equal partner, even did house work. A very big deal in our culture.

He Started an exercise/boxing gym in the basement of our tenement building because he feared for the kids in the neighborhood. He wanted them to have a safe place to spend their free time. He demanded respect, encouraged laughter and pushed education.

Was "father of the bride" for several cousins and friends. Every one's favorite uncle.

The only man I ever sang to, and whose knee I drew a happy face on and when it started to fade, he asked me to re-draw it.

I would need many blog entries to list all his fabulous traits and all his random acts of kindness. He is the standard by which I judge all men in my life. He taught me to always be true to myself, the importance of honesty, compassion, hard work, devotion to family, love of music and nature. He taught me to honor friendship and life. That respect was earned and given to all beings. That charity is a noble act. That no matter how hard and harsh life gets, laughter heals. That to love and be loved is one of life greatest gift, so love unconditionally and without fear.



















The dictionary defines "worship" as reverent honor and homaged paid to a God or sacred personage, an adoring regard. I worship my dad. I am a product of incredible parents. Parents who with much love and sacrifice, offered me the world and encouraged my exploration of it. Parents who were never afraid to dream, grab and hold on to all of life's possibilities. I can't imagine my father fearing he wouldn't be a good parent. In my eyes, Papi, there couldn't have been a more perfect daddy.

Happy 75Th Birthday.

Brother follow up

After many request this is my handsome brother, Albert. Thanks to comments from Fringes, he agreed to let me post a few pictures, being a typical male, he was motivated by women wanting to look at him.

He Loves/plays baseball and basketball, is 5ft10 (and a half), favorite color is blue. I will forward all email/comments to him after much scrutiny from Moi, of course.

My Little Brother

Happy 15Th Birthday Little brother

I can remember picking you up at that dingy office and knowing life had changed. I was nervous, I never had a little brother and I had no experience with a 2 year old. But I knew the minute I saw your beautiful brown eyes, that I was in love. It didn't matter that you didn't walk, or talk and were so afraid. It didn't matter that the first 2 years of your life were dominated by a mother who preferred drugs more than her son, it didn't matter that you were so sickly and that your hair was the biggest ugliest Afro I had ever seen in my life. What mattered was that I had a little brother, and you now had a big sister. Through out the last 13 years, you have made up for lost time and become a wonderful young man. In keeping with our birthday tradition here is the list of all the things I still find amazing about you.

• You are so funny. (You have a dry wit that I hope I had something to do with.)
• You are compassionate and smart. I love discussing the woes of the world with you.
  
• You are so damn good looking and you know it, which may not be a good thing but for now am letting it slide.
• You seem to have already made peace with your scary start in life. That is so big, adults sometimes live their whole lives and never make peace with their past.
• You openly share your emotions and thoughts with me. Am proud you feel that close to me to never hold back.
  
• You are smart enough to know that skin color has never meant anything between us. Remember when some kids said I couldn't be your sister because you were black and I wasn't and you said our hearts were the same color and walked away. Amazing insight for a 6 year old.
• You can be a pain in the ass, which I hear is typical of a teenager, so most times I let that slide too.
• You are now way too tall and mature for a 15 year old. And although most people think you are 20, you are just 15. Enjoy it, you'll be 20 soon enough.
  

That's it, am not listing anything else because you already have a big enough ego. Right before my very eyes, you are becoming an amazing man. I am so proud of you. I absolutely love you.

(By the way, NO, I am not siding with you about getting an earring, and NO, I am not siding with you on getting a tattoo but YES, I'll do what I can to convince the folks about letting you get your hair braided)

It's All Relative

I was talking to my cousin Daisy. As always it was a quick catching up session, in between her getting to work and me waiting at the doctors office. While waiting for other things to happen, is when we have time to chat. It was a multi-tasking moment. Later in the day, I got to thinking about the gazillion cousins I have. No, seriously, it's a gazillion. (if you do the math). My dad was one of 16 siblings, my mom one of 8. Some of their siblings had vast amounts of children. By vast, I mean one aunt had 22 kids, another had 24 and yet another had 18. You get the picture ... a gazillion cousins. Most of these aunts and uncles were born in the 1920's/1930's. No one had televisions or radio. (not that they needed T.V., given the number of children they had, we all know how they spent their time) Indoor plumbing and electricity were luxuries few of them knew until much later in life, if at all. Most were illiterate, there wasn't time for school, when the priority was trying to eat and have a roof over your head. There were many multiple births, Lot's of twins, many triplets and one set of quadruplets. You know that "six degrees of separation" Kevin Beacon thing, well here, it is six degrees of me. I have yet to go anywhere on this island where I didn't run into a relative or someone who knows a relative of mine or dated a relative of mine or knows someone who knows someone who is a relative of mine. I can't begin to list all my cousins by name because that would take until the end of time and I have other things to do, like floss, shower, and feed the cat. So in the interest of saving time, I have taken the liberty of putting them into categories.

• The Aberrant: I place the transvestites (sadly good fashion sense isn't genetic), the addicted and the con's into this category. Alcoholism and drug abuse run rampant. Jail time has been served for all sorts of illegal activity, racketeering, jay walking, murder, etc. Also in this group are the cousins that would make Jerry Springer proud.
  
• The Whacked: when Cary Grant said "insanity doesn't run in my family, it gallops" he was talking about my family. We can recite every mental illness and it's symptoms by the age of 5. By age 6 we know where all the closest mental hospitals are located and who has been there as well as how many times. By age 10, we start taking side bets on whose "mind" will go next.
  
• The Talented: There are absolutely incredibly gifted musicians and artists among the cousins. There are a plethora of instruments and voices. Sadly some of these cousins fall into the first 2 categories and never did much with their talent. Others perform where/when they can and make family parties pretty groovy.
  
• The Givers: this is perhaps the largest group. Loyal to family and whatever God they believe in. Unconditionally sacrificing everything for those they love. One particular cousin, is the queen of this group (I mean that figuratively not due to sexual orientation) She is close to 70 and takes care of a very ill husband and mother while making enough time for all her kids/grand kids/great grand kids and every single other living person to cross her path. She brightens my day and always makes me smile.
  
• The Useless: also known as the stupid, these are the cousins that feel the world owes them something. (just because they are stupid, I suppose) They do nothing, go no where, They just take up space, sort of like a chia pet only not as fun. These cousins may swing back and forth between this and the first category.
  
• The Recovering: these cousins are always recovering from something, drugs, alcohol, illness, the plague, life, in grown toenails ... anything and everything, perhaps I should call them the whiners, or maybe I should just meld this group with the useless bunch.
  
• The Exceptions: by far the smallest group, (mostly all females, with a male cousin thrown in for good measure). They have worked hard, are educated, have careers, families ( 3 children or less, they did birth control research). They have retirement funds, own homes, cars and big screen T.V.'s. They are passionate about life. They are the elite group, who have managed to avoid all the other groupings, despite the odds against them.

I think I have everyone covered. If any of my cousins are reading this and think I left you out ... I didn't, trust me, you are in one of those groups. If any of my cousins are offended by my "sorting", HELLO, look around you. Like my dad use to say "I mean no offense, I am just being honest". Belonging to a family this large doesn't come without plenty of baggage but they are my family, the good, the bad, and the ugly (start humming that theme song here). And you know what they say "Families are like fudge ... mostly sweet with a few nuts." Our fudge is just a little more chewy ... it's all relative.

Sorrow

I read many blogs every day. I have some favorites, and then there are others I read just because. I enjoy seeing the creativity of some blogs, the emotion, the sharing of other peoples lives. Some blogs I connect with on some level, others I just visit for the garanteed good laugh. Until recently I was unaware of how some blogs have touched me, unaware of how connected I felt to some of the writers, how I can name their family members and recall so many personal facts about their lives. My blogger friends, who don't know me but whose blog I lurk around and peek at almost daily have an impact on my day. Two of my most favorite blogs are Darlene's and her sister Denise. They have beautiful blogs, filled with poetry, wondrous stories and fabulous pictures. They are currently dealing with a family crisis. Both have posted about this tragic event. I have read the updates and felt their sorrow. The magic of the Internet, complete strangers emotionally connected. The sadness they share has reminded me of my own moments filled with melancholy. I remember Christopher, my nephew, his illness, his death, his short life here on earth. He was joyous, always smiling, playful, bright, compassionate. I remember spending time alone with him in the hospital, looking at the tubes and machines, trying to be happy and brave for his sake. I think he secretly was doing the same for me. I was in Arizona, hiking when I got the call that he had died, it was unexpected and devastating. I cried the whole flight home, a small part of me expected to see him when I arrived, to hear him guessing at my secret screen name ( it was a joke between us, a game, he would guess, I would laugh, he made up the worse names for me but eventually I told him my secret name, a secret shared only with him, he sent me email to that name, I have kept that email to this day.) My pain revisited because of Denise's son Mark's accident. The candid words describing her angst, pain, fear, the power of her words rallying other blog friends and lurkers to circle, unite, pray ... the power of technology, the power of the human spirit to love those who hurt albeit complete strangers. The power of words sent through cyber space finding a place in the hearts of people all over the world. Despite so much proof to the contrary we are a loving, compassionate, powerful race. To whatever gods abide, to whatever miracles the heavens hold, may Mark heal and his family find strength. To Christopher my beloved nephew, you are still sorely missed and thought of often. If angels do exist, may you be playing golf among them, still laughing your hearty laugh at the sheer craziness of my secret screen name.