Mice Patrol

Most insects give me goose bumps!  I've always detested roaches, more since my dear sibling came out with the atrocious idea of spraying me with roach perfume.  He would bottle up some roaches, add some water and Wa La!

Le  Cafards Parfum was born! He could have patented it for every mean little brother that ever lived on this planet.  Probably he would be filthy rich and the Army would have missed on the outstanding soldier he has been for the past twenty-five years.

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I still wonder why on Earth do cartoons and children programs depict these tiny and not so tiny creatures as friendly and with cute little things around them.  For instance, let's look at mice.   I often see a program called Squeak, for Pete's sake.  There three mice that dance, color, play with one another and live in a tick-tock house.

But, it doesn't' stop there.  Let's not forget about Jerry, isn't he cute and clever.

What about are tiny Pixar's  chef, Ratatouille?

However, mice are not the least cute, or clever, or cooks for crying out loud!  They are disgusting little creatures that invade our homes in the middle of the night chewing their way in.   Or at least, that's what happened to me.  This mouse or better said "rat" made a hole in my kitchen window screen and just hopped in and landed on my pristine stove top leaving mayhem behind.   

Is that outrageous or what?

Here I was eight o clock in the morning getting ready to go to church and dealing with all this crap. Immediately I went in combat mode and began searching all over checking where the hell the atrocious creature had left a track of bacteria and so many other diseases.

After I began getting everyone who lives with me up!  No one and I mean no one is going to be sleeping while I was on mouse patrol.

My kids weren't happy, I can tell you that!

"Gee, mom get yourself a cat of something!!!!"

"A cat!"  I squeaked (yeah, isn't it an irony), "Never again, been there, done that."

Let me put you up to date here, I actually got once a cat (Miss Meaow) who only ate Wiskas and never ever caught a God damn mouse in eleven years!

via morgue file If someone finds me a cat like this one, I may consider adopting!

After an extensive investigation, I decided to go and buy eight mouse traps.  Placed them all in strategic places with some delicious cheese on top.  Guess what???

Not even one caught my home intruder!

I was up all night up to five in the morning, saw a couple of Hallmark countdown to Christmas movies (which were quite good) armed with my flash light in case I heard the devious fellow and NOTHING.
My husband slept all night without being bothered or bothering me for all it was worth (he's not into mice patrol) and calmly informed me in the morning.

"Amores, he or she probably was looking for a dry place to crash and came in and out through the same hole.  Relax. "  

Easy for him to say, but tonight will be night number two on my patrol, if my home invader doesn't come around I will file another cold case and get moving on my Christmas cleaning pronto!
So you see, doesn't matter how tidy or sloppy you are  in fact,  any given time you may have a home invader just around the corner.

YIKES!

A Promise Made Is A Promise Kept

The year 1931.

My grandparents married during that year.  I'm a historian at heart (I majored in History for a while, until I realized that 36 credits in History weren't going to put food on my table), so as much as  I loved studying Russia's history through the eyes of the great Tolstoy, I simply turned my back on my first love.   Knowing my background, you can probably guess why a year isn't just a year for me, it's much more.
What was happening the year my grandparents decided to tie their lives forever?  What social-economical problems did they face?  Who was the governor?  Where did they live?  Who were they?

Governor of Puerto Rico 1931

A man named Rexford Guy Tugwell  became the last American appointed governor for our Island after the North American Occupation in 1898.  This man was a visionary, a futurist, someone people didn't like to much because he also was a bit of an extremist, that's why he probably got the name Red The Rex. It was the 30's the worst thing to be said about you, which would also get you into plenty of trouble was linking your name with the communists.  It's like being called a terrorist today.

Governments affect people's daily lives, no questions in this bracket.

They probably didn't get to live a nice place when they married, you should get a look of the little huts people lived in during those time here on the Island.

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They could have gone to live maybe in a house like this one. Which is a typical rural house of the 1930's.

Seven years into their marriage, World War II began and I don't know why, but Papito (as we called him) didn't serve in the Army.    Times were tough, but they kept moving forward.  Divorce, separation or any other thing wasn't an option for them. They had promised to be together till death pull them apart, and that's how exactly it would be.

News didn't travel with the speed of light, or better said of fiber optics.  People who lived in the mountains or countryside didn't know exactly what was happening in their world.  So, probably they weren't aware that the Island had been the blank of the first war's attack on U.S. soil in the Atlantic on March 3, of the same year they married.  As the newspaper "The Palm Beach Post" informed.  Nevertheless the submarine attack was harmless, leaving shelling on the cliffs of Mona Island about 5o miles Southwest of Puerto Rico.

5oth Wedding Anniversary. My grandparents are standing behind the table to the right side.

They remained married until June 30th, 1988.  The day my grandfather passed away.  During that year they would have celebrated their 57th wedding anniversary.  They remained married for almost six decades, raising a huge family and teaching us valuable lessons along the way.

They made each other promises and they kept them, without taking into account the difficulties of just being able to survive such harsh and unforgiving historical times.  Their children never went to bed on an empty stomach and they worked to put food on the table.  My grandfather always took  pride  in not taking anything from the government, he would support and feed his children with the sweat of his forehead.

What has happened with the promises we make today?  What are they worth?

Remedies For Crazy

 Once in a while you just want to go crazy.... that's when you just can't help yourself to some good old fashioned comfort food.  Come and check out (by clicking on the link below) who said that pizza and soda weren't so great for you!


Who Said Pizza & Soda Weren't Good For Your Heart?

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Feminism: Is It Just a Label?

My great-grandmother died at the age of 114, or so they say.  Her birth certificate wasn't a reliable source to find out her age because children were inscribed on the Island's registries in the later years of their childhood (8 or 9), her name was Maria Simplicia, we all learned to call her Mama Querida or beloved mother.  She didn't read or write and lived most of her life in poverty, she lived through the 1914 earthquake and several strong hurricanes that hit our Island at the beginning of the 1900's.

What was her life like?

I  know bits and pieces of it, but I do know one thing she was a survivor.  She was a quiet and very reserved lady, when she'd walk she would place her right hand at the back of her hip and her dress would go up a bit.  She never wore pants in her life (she missed on that one).  Mama Querida could be described with one word "stoic".  Probably that's who women in my family take after (we have quite a few repressed and stoic ladies around here).

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I first saw that gesture in my grandmother, she would press her lips and move her mouth toward the right side and simply say nothing, but if you saw the line of her lips you knew something was wrong.  The only thing that brought her joy were her flowers, she would get up in the morning and still wearing her pajamas on, I would see her outside checking on her flowers.  I never really understood that, why in the world doesn't she get changed before going outside?  Well as a very grown woman in my late 40's I do the same.  I caught myself sometime ago, roaming my back yard garden in PJ's, I wanted a quick check on my lilies so I stepped outside.  Probably that's why she did it too!  Getting dressed wasn't  a priority, going outside was, before the day began with its hectic display of the craziness of a full house.
My grandmother never used pants either.

Back in their day pants were only used by men.  Decent ladies didn't wear them and if they had to, let's say because they were working in the coffee plantation picking coffee beans, and their pants would be worn under their skirts.  That sure seems comfy!  Pants were the symbol of who was in charge, you know THEM, but were they really in charge?

These two amazing women should have worn pants, if they wanted to.  They were strong and most of all their will made it possible for them to raise large families (more than ten children each).  They went into labor many times by themselves, until the midwife could come.  My grandmother even had twins without proper medical care.  She sewed, embroidered and worked the land to guarantee that my mom and her brothers and sisters had enough to eat.  She complimented my grandfather, they were a team.  Where did she learn to become such a strong lady?  Well,  obviously  from her mom.

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They stood strong knowing nothing about feminism.  Those labels weren't around back then.
What are labels good for anyway?  I personally hate labeling things or people.  Why do we have to give everything a name?

Were they feminists?  A loud and strong YES would be the answer.

They didn't participate in rallies, or marched down a city avenue, or burned their undergarments, or do anything outrageous.  They simply lived their lives being strong independent women (even if they were married),  in a world where men dictated the what's, when's, and who's.  They kept their families moving forward, never stopping until they relied on others to care for them at the end of their own lives.
We live in a world where women wear pants all the time, yet we still have women around that let men abuse and use them like toys or a useless object.  Why?  I don't know and probably none of us will ever.
We can only look back in time and search our family tree to learn through the lessons are elders taught us along the way.  My own personal one would be : you don't have to wear pants to be strong and rise tall above your personal circumstances.  We all have the capacity of change and that's what keeps our world turning every day.

It's more about doing and less about talking.

Following The Rules

Through out my life in some occasions I haven't followed the rules.  Obviously everybody knows what happens when you don't follow the rules.  CONSEQUENCES!  Nevertheless, you don't care enough or you don't think it over to be able to stop yourself.

Where is this leading us to?

Lately I've not followed the rules of people who are labeled with a chronic illness.  You know the ones that tell you what and how to live your life.  Or the one that tells you to always take you meds, because if not something WILL happen.  It's hard having to take medications every six hours to be able to live a quasi normal life.

Normal would be just living like almost everyone that do whatever they need to do and that's it.  Not having to hear don't overdo it, be careful, don't do this or you can't do that.  When you turn forty and all of a sudden you lose the liberty of being you, it's not easy.  I've struggled with Myasthenia Gravis for the past seven years and it's felt like a lifetime.  The hardest blow of them all was when my neurologist told me that I needed to begin considering Social Security Disability Benefits.  I gave up one of the things I love the most, teaching.

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Well you want to know what I did?   I stopped taking my meds.  I began slowly just taking them three times a day, than twice a day, than once a day, and finally I would take them every other day.  I was feeling so great, that it seemed I no longer had Myasthenia.  I was in remission (or that's what I wanted to believe)!  At the beginning everything seemed fine, so YEAH I am in remission.  I began to make plans to go back to school to finish my masters, and then maybe if I was lucky could go a little further to getting my Ph. D in Literature.  Than I would go back to work, all of a sudden in my mind (at least) I was back in school.  Until three days ago, I began feeling (the familiar) strange.

My swallowing began getting worse, and I felt my chest was about to burst.  I knew to well what would be next, the hateful debilitating of my arms and legs.  It would be a matter of days before my symptoms would exacerbate. So, today I called my neurologist because I was in a pretty bad shape.  Making it short, I'm on my meds AGAIN, and to make things a little worse (CONSEQUENCES) I'm back at adrenocortical steroids.  Which make me gain weight and have a handful of consequences.

Tomorrow I have to get on a no salt and low-calorie diet to be able to stay in shape while the storm passes and I can get rid of the steroids once again.  Ahead of me are a couple of super difficult days, but what can I say?  These are the things that happen when we are stubborn enough not to follow the rules and try to believe in fairy tales.

The Masquerades Of Our LIves

I'm telling you if you think when you turn forty is bad, just wait until those fifties come around the corner.  The first subject in order is "How do I look for fifty?".  What a question is that?  Yet, that's the one you always get, people (including myself) want to know how others see us when we're fifty.  What everyone wants to listen to is "You look great.", but be careful because a wrong answer would be, "You look great for fifty.".  That last answer can be tricky because it's acknowledging that you look like you're fifty, but you look fine despite the fact that  you are fifty.  Getting the picture here?  These are murky waters to travel through, so beware of how you answer.

Your forties, fifties, sixties, seventies...... are just points in our lives.  We don't have to go through the trouble of having to masquerade our birthdays with disguises and semi or formal gowns or tuxedos to rise to the occasion.  On the web we can find thousands of articles about self-improvement and how to's, but it's not about trying to follow everything we read (if we try we'll go bananas).

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Be genuine.

Be yourself.

Be giving.

Be truthful.

Be this.

Be that.

To which my answer is don't be anything, except  who you want to be.  Change is hard, and it becomes even harder if you have set for yourself these silly expectations.  Why do we have expectations anyhow?  I always dread when my mother in law or my mom gives me a surprise visit (you know the ones they just pop up at your house), it's always a done deal that "that specific day" my house will be a mess!

photo credit: http://bleacherreport.com/articles/787208-pro-wrestling-3-reasons-why-my-mom-hates-wrestling

I always think "Gee, why didn't they come yesterday or the day before or tomorrow, when all my s^%$t is put together?"  They will look casually around (it's not that their doing it on purpose you know), and if you're following their eyes you'll see unfolded laundry in a basket, a couple of dishes in the sink, a little this over there, a little that a bit farther, a made, but wrinkled bed (like the one you've been lying down on, when you're not suppose to, etc. etc.).  This is kind of a cultural thing, we are taught that are houses need to be tidy and our chores need to be done early in the morning because the afternoons are for resting and doing other things.  Mom thinks that should be set in stone!

What's the point here?

We can't always make everyone happy, no matter how hard we try.  We can't pretend to have everything in check even if we want to. We can't follow the examples or the teachings of our own parents throughout our lives in a hundred percent, imagine trying to do it with other people.
 
Self-improvement is a trend these days, and everyone wants a piece of the cake.  But the truth is that it's been around for a while now.  What do you think that Ben Franklin did at the end of each day was?  If he would have lived during our times probably he would be an Amway guru.   You know the guys who talk to you about how you can do anything you want because you have the power.  But what you really don't know is that the people who are paying him or her are the ones getting all those points with your purchases a/k/a your dreams.

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Bottom line, our life can't be a masquerade where we set our mask over our realities.  I usually read (not all of them, because this blogger posts like every ten seconds something new) called Harsh Realities, some are true others I'm not so sure.  Nevertheless, facing what our lives are or have become is better than trying to disguise it in something it's not.

It's not about following, it's about getting your act together and finding out what works for you (and me obviously).  It's not how I look, it's about what I need to do to look great not at the outside (though it doesn't hurt to look good), but in the inside.  Let's hide our masks and embrace whatever we our and decline the invitation for attending the next masquerade, casual gatherings are so much better!  Ta Ta!

 

Living the Simple Life

Have you ever asked yourself, "Why do I complicate myself?".   Every once in a while (for some it's a bit more than once in a while) life gets complicated and then here we go and make it even more complicated.  How do we make it a bit more?  Easy we simply loose our temper over whatever, whenever or whoever!

It's so much easier just to get darn mad at people, at life, at God, or at anything!!!!!!

Because people do get mad even with their chosen deities, you know because not everyone is a Christian.  By the way to tell you the truth we're like dinosaurs in route towards extinction.

Things are going to happen to us if we want it or not.  That's life, some will say we have a story already written, others will say we have a say in our story, and probably some with say something else.  Nevertheless, the unavoidable will happen, something called life.  How many people do you know who have lived perfect lives?  Well, I haven't met one yet!  (Sorry for using so many exclamation marks it's that I  do them !!).

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My grandfather lead a simple life, he worked (actually to be able to put food on his table) literally speaking because he was raising a family of (12 children) there were no food stamps or welfare, so basically if you didn't work,  you didn't eat.  He walked by foot to work in a construction site that the Army was building in Ramey Base in a town called Aguadilla.  He lived in a little piece of land of about three and a half acres where he would raise chickens (organic by the way), a few cows, and coffee trees.  My grandmother sewed and embroidered beautiful gloves she never got to wear and basically they were happy, or if they weren't they seemed content.  My grandparents were actually no- nonsense people who accepted, worked and moved on no matter what was happening around them.      

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Now a days with the globalization and all that and the expectations we have it's harder to keep it simple.  We tend to overspend and sometimes we want things we can't even afford and we buy them anyway.  We are the children of gratification, the now is what's important, not the when.  The bad news is the when comes pretty fast and the now.

Wouldn't it be easier just to go back to a simple life?  Wouldn't it be nice just to work, eat a great meal and rest, and throw in a little fun from time to time?  Wouldn't we lead stress free lives?

Probably the first thing we need to do is accept our circumstances and then move on to making life simpler. More than anything come to terms with the fact that we are not eternal and that sooner or later time will come when our story comes to "The End". 

photo credit: http://feelgoodeating.com/2013/05/thank-you-the-end.html

I don't know how many of you like to see the all the names of the people who participated in the making of a movie and all the remarks of appreciation,, and all that?  I do!  I like to read all the names of the producers, of the assistants, staff, stunt men, landmarks, etc, etc, etc.  I've always imagined when my life does comes to an end, that my post "The End" film footage be full of the names of the people I've loved, helped, and lived with along the way.  I wouldn't forget to include the names of the people that I've hurt along the way to state that it wasn't on intended, and of my life landmarks.  But above all, what I've like the most is just keeping it simple, enjoying my life, working to be able to put food on my table, and enjoying any moment I  can get a hold of because if you think about it, "Where does the rat race take us anyway?". 

The Media & Organ Donation: Not a Great Combination!

We've been hearing in the news Sara's story and to the least it's heartbreaking.  I understand her parents for exposing their child to the media if that's what it's going to take to get what she needs. I myself wrote her name quickly as I heard it and pinned it on the refrigerator,  so I could include her name in my prayer group, and I'm more than sure others did to.

Having to wait for a transplant isn't easy, now you'll probably think, easier said than done!  But I do have some experience in that matter (we waited for two and a half years for a liver).

That sounded wrong, because it's like you're waiting for someone to basically die and you can get the goodies!  Well that's not the case, actually we waited and waited and waited some more (than his number came up, it's kind of like the lottery), until one family (God bless their generosity) gave up their son's liver after he died in an accident and my husband was blessed enough to receive it, and the best part was that he didn't die waiting.  Now that's not what always happens, if it hasn't changed about eighteen people die each day waiting for a transplant.

Now coming back to Sara, it's outrageous that this child doesn't even get an opportunity of competing for an organ.  You heard right, she's competing, there are many more out there waiting for a couple of lungs too.  Hitting that number one, you're next in line mark is very difficult, and she will not get that chance unless something changes soon.

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All of this is difficult and I more than anyone want her to be able to lead a full and active life,  but the laws that regulate organ donation are tough cookies to crumble.  They are set in stone and sometimes years have to pass (and many lives have to be lost) before changes come across the board.

Everyone (meaning politicians) are just using this as an opportunity to get under the spotlight.

Sara deserves to live, and so do many other patients that also have Cystic Fibrosis.  If you want to hear and be part of a great community of people who eat, live and breathe organ donation and transplantation feel free to visit   this great community and read some amazing stories.

via morgueFile

I just don't want this to become the story of the moment and then when and if Sara does get the lungs she so desperately needs, everyone will just simply forget.  I don't want to be harsh, but for the news it's all about ratings!    For me that's unbearable because there are so many more just waiting like sitting ducks on a hunter's day out having only to show for themselves a number.

The Dynamic Trio

Something that concerns me lately is who is going to take care of my elderly aunts.  They are fraternal twins, one has a couple of great kids, the only problem with them is that they live in the States (one in New Jersey the other in New York) and she doesn't want to move in with neither of them.  The other one also has a couple of kids who are pretty lousy people.  But, the question is still in my head, who will take care of them both?

via morgueFile

I usually drive them around when I have the time.  If I can't  my mom will drive them a little bit more than around.  She's the only out of the three of them that has a driver's license.  Sometimes I joke with them about not to speed because if they crash between all three of them you can add  two hundred and ten years of history.  She usually get's a little annoyed with me because she thinks she's a teenager.

Once after they had shopped for groceries at a local supermarket they hit the supermarket's fence and simply left (nobody had ever explained to my mom what a hit and run was).  As the story goes on, I was at my mom's in the afternoon as I usually am and we were working on a project together, when the phone rings.  I answered it and to my surprise my aunt says, "Don't say anything to "Comay Lucy" (that's Spanish for co-mother, she's also my godmother), but there are some police officers here that need to speak to us! I'm never shopping there again."  Please, someone explain to me what does the later have to do with what's going on!  To top it all  the POLICE was looking for my mom.

She asked me who was at the phone, to which I answered.

"What happened today in Pepino (the small town where the supermarket is located)?

To which she replied with another question, Who told you?

To which I replied, "No one told me a word, but something seems to have happened because the police is looking for you, so you better get your ID and driver's license and hop over to Madrina's house."

Well fast forwarding this little story, the police officer kindly suggested them to drive carefully in the future, and that they would need to address the situation of the broken fence as soon as possible, like right now.  So, I had to call the store manager, tell him that they intended to call in the morning (Did they? We will never know.), and $700.00 later they were out of the problem.

They are a funny trio, but they are getting older by the minute.  All of them have their little this and that, my mom has huge amounts of this and that, but she doesn't worry me because she can always count on me.

People leave, they relocate, they move and that's fine. But, what happens with their parents when they no longer can care for themselves?  Who will tend, talk, or share a cup of coffee or tea with them?

Lately I often tell my godmother, she's going to have to consider moving in with her daughter.  Noooooo!  I don't like it there, it's cold,  and I'm alone (my cousin needs to work) so she can't afford staying home with her mom.  Nevertheless, when that day finally arrives I'll miss her dearly.  On the other hand, my other aunt probably will end up in a nursing home near my own home.  I'm sure I'll visit her frequently, but still as I watch the dynamic trio (my aunts and Mom) my heart is full of worries because I really don't know what will be the end of their own stories. 

Words Will Never Be Enough

Francisco Javier (my 20-year-old son) gave me this as a gift last year before I went through a scheduled surgery. It was a reminder of our unity as a family. This message basically is our family motto, it has carried us through our lives and will continue with them as they form their own families. It is our legacy to them.

Even though they were very young when their dad went through his liver transplant they are very aware and grateful of the anonymous family that gave their dad a second chance.
Tomorrow as his 18th liver transplant anniversary comes around all we can say is thank you and God bless all donors. Those who today can donate and continue to live full and healthy lives and the families of those who no longer are with us.

Words will never be enough to express our gratitude and probably will never have, yet our hearts burst with joy because of all the years we have been able to be happy together.

We have overcome all differences, struggles and remained one. Carlos, myself and our three +1!

Remember

Tonight I shared some time with my in-laws alone, my husband wasn't with me because he caught a bug.  Some people "don't like" their in-laws, but I love mine.  It's not a fake kind of love, but a true and genuine one.  This can sound weird, but their my cousins from my mom's side.  Their not related with each other, but both are related with me through my mom.  My mother in law is my mom's first cousin through my grandmother's side and my father in law is my mom's first cousin through my grandfather's side.  They've always been part of my life from my very beginning.

So you can get the picture here, I married my third cousin (I'm not sure this category really exists)!

My mom and my mother in law were both pregnant at the same time  (my mom with me and my mother in law with my husband obviously).  Probably they would talk every time they met about how their pregnancies were going, I was a second child so my mom was more experienced than she was.  I can hear my mom talking about her pregnancy and what things were best for pregnant women, she's very opinionated!  I can also imagine my mother in law in her quiet demeanor, just listening, not voicing her opinion or thoughts and ultimately doing whatever she thought was best.  My mom always wants to boss her around a bit!

Fast forward, when they finally had their babies (my husband and myself) both paid each other visits to see the babies and welcome them into our family.  Wow!  If they only knew we would end up getting married.  That sure would have scared the crap out of them!

my mom, me and my mother in law- Christmas 2012

 
Even though I love this story, my post isn't about my mom, my mother in law and me. It's only the background of the story I want to share with you.  Basically it's about how love, faith and believing and how they can pull us through almost anything.

My in laws held us strong while we crossed the turbulent waters of illness.  Their love became the bridge that helped us get to the other side together.  They were able to guide us strongly and firmly to where we needed to go.  They financially and emotionally supported us while the storm was hitting us strong.   But beyond anything else, now it's our turn to hold them through out the storm that's hitting them with the forces of Super Storm Sandy. 

Their hurricane force winds are called cancer!

During my visit tonight we remembered.  What did we remember? Things that happened to us while we were waiting for my husband's transplant.  I heard my mother in law tell me about the time when she came over to my house after I called her to pick up some clothes for me after I had been in the hospital with Carlos for a few days.  How she was so upset that she picked a fight with God because she was sick and tired of having to take clean clothes to me in the hospital. Not because she didn't want to help me but because she felt a staggering pain because I had to live through the sorrow of having a very sick husband.  How she fell to her knees and implored God to pass her this suffering.  She asked Him to heal his son and spare her daughter in law of the pain.

We cried as we remembered the anguish of not knowing what was going to happen and then finally we rejoiced as we remembered how God had carried us through out the whole ordeal.

That's when I told my  father in law, "He did it once and He'll do it again, I know you will be fine and our faith will carry us once more through out this. ".

As we talked, cried, hugged and kissed each other we found comfort and solace.  I know something for sure we will be fine and our faith will pull us through once more.  If we feel doubtful (very understandable) the only thing we need to do is remember.

Teachers of Tango

Corcovada, Anasco, PR

No matter what my or your circumstances are when the day unravels, nighttime is sure to come around!

If God forbid we haven't finished what we set our minds on doing during a specific time frame we dread the moment when we welcome the night.  Nevertheless, the day will come to an end and that's when this fantastic dance takes place.  Day and night meet at dawn mingling with each other, dancing a tango, embracing and separating, hugging and distancing themselves until they part and meet once more at sunrise.  Where once again they engage in this marvelous ritual.


Rejoice and learn from nature.  Once in a while it feels great just to be alive!

Arizona's Borders: The New Heartbreak Island

"The country does not realize the menace of immigration."

Sen.  Albert Johnson (1924)

About a week in a half ago I read a blog post written by Jeb Bush  where he talks about the reasons we need comprehensive immigration reform.  I'm not really going into the perks of his post because if you want to read it, feel free just to click on him name and it will take you directly to The Huffington Post where you can have that pleasure.  My point here isn't Jeb Bush or any other politic that wants to come into the picture to discuss immigration just it puts them under the spotlight (free publicity), but about what people think about the reform through their comments.

It amazes me how people can be so obtuse when they talk about immigration.


I obviously wanted to voice my opinion as well as two hundred and eighty seven other  people.  Yet, some of the them were just darn mean, no empathy, no compassion whatsoever.  All of them had one thing in common, hatred.  Many would openly say they were immigrants from other parts of the World, but they had entered the United States legally.  How can a person that is coming from Easter Europe compare himself with an immigrant coming from Mexico?  Well if he had lived in the 1920's certainly he would have had it rough, not so in 2000's.  The Gang of Eight would have been reduced to the Gang of Three (Henry Cabot Lodge, Albert Johnson and David Reed).  Who were all basically racists and  authors of  the Immigration Act of 1924. (If you think what's happening now is bad go back in time and you'll witness how horrible Ellis Island became.)

All this situation is bad enough, but what makes it even worse is some of the people who are part responsible for coming up with this reform.  I'm talking specifically of Marco Rubio.

How can this man son of two Cuban immigrants (Cuba is a different story to tell anyhow, thank you Fidel),  grandson of an illegal alien (Rubio grandfather was undocumented from 1959 - 1966), can possible join forces with Lindsey Graham (his pal from the Grand Old Party) and agree with his point of "they can't stay until they learn our language" kind of bull.

Why can't we not only have one, or two or even three languages, in which we're proficient?

You think Rubio's parents (a carpenter and a seamstress) knew the ropes of our language back then?

Have you ever seen the movie Ever After ?  If you have you'll remember the scene of the ball, where Cinderella is discovered pretending something she is not.  As I thought about Rubio an his proposed immigration reform I pictured him in my mind as the Senate's Cinderella!  Who's going to uncover him?  Probably nobody because all the information I've shared with you is absolutely public.  Nevertheless, doesn't it make you think? 

Well, I'll tell you what I think the talk about immigration reform is just about dirty old politics.  Nobody is really going to do anything about it and probably just like back then in the 1920's both parties will gang up together and approve anything they decide is in the best interest of and for "the people".

Back then Ellis Island became known as the Island of Tears or Heartbreak Island, today it's the same situation, but this time around its Arizona's borders.

What do you think America The Great?   


 





 

Have A Great Day Dad!

One of my earliest memories during my childhood was probably during kinder.  It's not about the teacher (which was a great teacher by the way) or about the little red wagon that would be taken by a student or two to the lunchroom to pick up our milk and cookies, or about the new friends I had made, or about anything more or less normal, but about my dad's absence.  I remember clearly the day he moved out as it was yesterday. It was so bad, he took some money my mom had on top of our refrigerator that was for milk. That's the sort of dad I had. 

That was the starting point of a series of episodes where my dad would be in and out of our lives.  His absence would be sometimes for shorter periods and other times for longer ones.  During my early years my dad was a figure that wasn't always around and when he was it wasn't a good thing.

That made Father's Day even more difficult to bear with.  I remember watching all those glossy commercials on television, where always a beautiful little girl handed her dad a great present (obviously bought by the mommy that adored the daddy) and he would swing her around.  Both dressed perfectly!  My dad wasn't always around, I wasn't the typical beauty and my mommy surely wasn't going to buy A THING for my dad, and  I wouldn't be swung around with my dress mingling with the wind.

Basically because my dad struggled with alcoholism.

Probably right this second you're thinking, "Well that ought of explain what a crappy father you had!"

Nevertheless, I actually never saw him like that.  I didn't understand him that's for sure (neither did my brother), but I knew he loved us.  What was crystal clear was that he didn't know how to manage or express his love, but we knew it was there.  Probably because he always would be coming back, even if Mom would shout on the top of her lungs, that he wasn't welcome.

They never divorced if you're asking yourself what happened to their marriage along the way.  Up to today,  they are still married (God knows why.).  My brother and me glued their fate, and I'm not even sure if this is good or bad.   Yet, as they approach their mid seventies I'm happy they make each other company, they are more civilized these days (but that's another story to tell).

Coming back to me and my dad, I had an issue with giving him a father's day card.  I could never find the right card for him as I grew up and up to the day I still can't.  What card can you give a father that never gave his own child a birthday card (at least not until I became a grown woman), or her first bike, or waited for her after school to buy ice cream, or given her some sort of advice on dating or marriage (except a lousy example), or drove her to the movies or where ever it was she was going, and I could probably go on for a while more,   but I have to stop at some point. 

That's when I came up with the brilliant idea of making him his card.  I would always write the same thing, that I loved him and would  wish him a great day. Today I don't bother, I just hug, kiss, and give him a nice present (which he is always expecting with great joy). 

Our relationship has evolved, no longer does he battle against alcoholism, and he still has a hard time expressing his feelings, but one thing still remains,  the love we share. I gave him an opportunity and let him be an active part of my children's lives. He has been a better grandfather than a father, and that's okay with me because I've always loved him and I can only feel blessed he's gotten to experience how it feels to be a father, even if  it has been a little late in life. 

Father's Day 2012 (He's modeling the clothes I bought for him.)

I look back at my own childhood and sometimes feel a stab of pain, but then I look at him (now 72) and only feel grateful we've made it up to here and as the autumn of his life comes around we still share our constant denominator, love.

Life isn't perfect and some of us simply aren't going to get a picture perfect family, but that doesn't mean we can't find our own common denominator.  We've come a long way and today as I see the love he has learned to express to his grandchildren,  I can only feel peace with myself, my mom and with him. 

I love you Dad, have a great day!

"Siempre llueve sobre lo mojado"

Sometimes my husband likes to say,  “siempre llueve sobre lo mojado.”  Which literally means it always rains over what is  already wet.  This is a way of saying that whatever is bad per se is always bound to turn worse.

When whatever is bad turns to awful, it's more than sure it will get on your nerves like it does on mine!

via morgueFile

We’ve lived through a couple of rain storms and have survived, but sometimes like my husband says you kind of get tired of always running into more trouble.  

One of the storms I just mentioned occurred shortly after coming back from New York (a couple of weeks after moving back into our home) the measles came to give us a visit.  My daughter was in Kinder and my two boys, who were than preschoolers, were at home with me. 

One day she came home from school with a single dot on her forehead, my mom assured me that she thought that Stephy had measles.  You know I had to rely on her expertise because I really didn’t know much about measles (until that moment, I would become an expert fairly soon).

To move fast forward quickly, all my three children got the measles.  One just a couple around their little bodies and others all over the place (Caladryl became a household name in my home!). Nevertheless, it really didn’t worry me because all of us get measles during our childhoods and it was a milestone my own children had to go through.  To my surprise, my mother in law commented "lightly" that my husband had never had measles.   Yikes!  This is when it began raining over the already wet ground.

I wasn't surprised at all when my husband got the measles as well. 

Here we had to deal with a completely different situation. I phoned his doctor right away and he briefed me on the things I needed to be aware of (which I barely remember), and what to do if they happened.  The worst cases scenario was that we would need to request some special medication from The Red Cross (which I’m not sure if it was a medication or some plasma).  Blame my long-term memory loss to menopause!  Don't ask me for details because I'm afraid I can’t give them to you. The thing is that we were in a bad situation that was heading to get much worse in a couple of days. 

So, what did happen after all? 

Well, to our surprise (since all of you know our great record on scoring bad things) nothing happened.  Measles came and went and he survived them.  Our dear Lord decided to stop the rain and sent us instead a beautiful rainbow.  

via morgueFile

I opened my front door, waved the measles goodbye and told them to take the rain with them, and welcomed in a nice bright rainbow and pretty much enjoyed the break life gave us even if was only for a brief moment. 

Lo que sera, sera (What Will Be, Will Be)

My first visit to this tropical island  in the Caribbean Sea was around 1975.  I always remember the drive from the San Juan airport because of the distance we covered.   It took him about four hours to get us to where he lived.  It seemed we were never going to get to my grandfather's house, we could have been asking over and over, "Are we there yet?", but we didn't because that would have been seen as disrespectful. I've always thought that the moment I set eyes on these amazing mountains I fell spell bound in love for the rest of my life. I knew I would never leave if it would have been up to me.  The narrow and steep roads it took to get here were more than worth it! 

my mountain

Sometimes life becomes a little like this.  The road gets rough, but when you finally arrive where you want to be it's worthwhile.   The challenge of dealing with the  pot holes, narrow and steep roads you've  endured become milestones in your journey fulfilling your purpose in life.

It's very easy to stop and make a u-turn and simply give up!  No matter what you want, this premise will remain the same along the way.  You will endure less pain, but also less satisfaction if you stop trying.  It can be that you need to get a medical treatment  or any other thing, that seem will never happen, so instead of pushing harder you simply say, -"Okay, this is it, or as we like to say "lo que sera, sera.",.   Which means,  what will be, will be.  I am a strong believer that accepting fate is being a coward! I know from experience that life can and always will be able to overwhelm you,  and some days we are going to get up in the morning only to be punched in the face (from debt collectors to just bad news), but that doesn't mean we can give up.  We just need to push forward harder, and if we can't do it on our own, than we need to get help. There's nothing much more to it.

a view from my backyard...

 
 How many times in life do we confront situations like this!

Taking the rough road has its price because everything in life comes with one, but I've always thought that sometimes you just need to risk it.  Stay strong while the going gets tough!  It's not going to be easy, and that's when you need friends, family, and anybody who can contribute with a positive thought or a good wish.

These people will become your collaborators, they will fuel up your motor, and pave your road making the ride much smoother.  These are the people who will hold you while the winds are blowing hard and strong.  They will lift your shoulders and push you forward, so when you finally get there (where ever it may be) you can raise your arm and touch the sky and feel that you've arrived to your destination (like I did)!  What about you, where's your destination? 



  

When Hates Pull Us Under

Yesterday,  as I was enjoying some pics that  +Nicholas Lawrence so kindly shared with me and many others, I stumbled across a quote from Martin Luther King, Jr. where he says that "Let no man pull you low enough  to hate him.".  Even though I reflected upon the quote, I really couldn't nail it to anything particular until this morning.

+Mark Koenig wrote yesterday in his blog Along the Graybeard Trail about a crime that was committed twenty-three years ago, not any crime but one against a ten year old girl, Christine McGowen.  Twenty-three years ago, my own daughter +Stephanie Quintana was only just one year old, I usually avoid reading or listening to news related to assaults, rapes and murder of children because my heart bleeds.  I think of my own children and for one second I feel the world is a horrible place to live in.

My faith hits the ground and  it comes to the point where I challenge my belief  in a God that is omnipresent,  and  nevertheless stands by as a guilty witness to the horrors done to one of his own children. Yet eventually, time that heals mostly everything, is the one that brings acceptance (even if it leaves my soul dented and grief stricken), and for some strange reason restores my  faith along the way.   

via morgueFile

What Mark asks us to do here is up to the readers to decide.  This isn't something that you can decide in a beat, but that needs to be addressed by each person individually.  Nevertheless, Dr. King's quote fits like a glove in this particular case.  What the murderer of this precious little girl did, certainly is something that will pull us low enough to fill our hearts with hate.

Probably that's why the death penalty was approved in many states.  Our hearts full of hatred become the motor we need to get it done with.  We just want to get rid of people that are capable of such evil.  But, aren't we giving them the easy way out?  Isn't is much better to have them incarcerated for as long as they live.  Put away in a place where all they can listen to are the sounds of their own thoughts. Which will probably haunt them until the day they die.  Don't you think that this punishment is way harder?   When each one of these horrible human beings is executed, their done with, no longer do we have them around.  In a sense their execution isn't a punishment for their actions, but something that gratifies us instead,  because we feel good knowing they can harm no one again.  I'm not going to go into the fact that this particular man already had prior convictions for assaulting other children.  That would be another story to tell, how our justice system fails once and all over again and again.

via morgueFile

 My heart goes out to the family of this innocent child, and I know if it would have been my little girl, probably my heart would be beyond repair. 


Our world has never been an easy place to live in, and probably it will never be.  It has survived despite the evil, many men and women have brought upon it for centuries, and through out it's historical periods.   In other words, we have survived!

Great good, but also great evil  have and  are capable of cohabiting together on this planet through the lives of the people who live here.  For as long as time,  executions have been around and even for some of us in ways that today may be seen as barbaric.  Yet, bottom line, what we do and think about it is up to us, but nevertheless we should never let hate become the motor of our actions or thoughts, because if we do, we have lost the battle against evil that is and always will be lurking just a few steps away from not only our own, but the  homes of other as well.    

     

How I Became A Gluten-Free Mom

 This post is dedicated to all those moms who have

children with any kind of special needs.

 
My sons were diagnosed with Celiac disease when they were only seven and eight. After that everything changed for our family. First, my youngest boy was diagnosed and then our gastroenterologist told us that all of our children would have to be tested. Soon, my other son joined him in this new venture our family faced.   Both were admitted to the hospital to get a biopsy of their small intestines to confirm their diagnosis. Out of the three, only two were celiac patients (thank God for that, it could have been three out of three). He went on to explain how what they had was different from an allergy and how it would affect their lives from now on.

No more sandwiches for you, mister!

 With their diagnosis many new things came along as well. We needed to be aware about “gluten”!! To tell you the truth, before that we had never even heard about gluten. Didn’t know what it was or what it did to your body. Now all of a sudden, we needed to avoid not only gluten, but wheat, oat, barley, etc. The first thing we did was schedule a visit with a pediatric nutritionist to make sure the boys were eating right and in the correct amounts.  Foods became a source of anxiety not only for the boys, but for all of us. My daughter was asked to quit foods that had gluten, until we all settled into the boys’s diets. I remembered asking her to stop eating cheese turnovers because these were one of  the boys’ favorite foods and if they saw her eating them, they would get upset.  After a while, when she could finally have them, they were difficult to enjoy,  because eating them became a source of guilt for her, as well as for me for making them.  

via morgueFile

Not only our meals became like walking the plank on a pirate ship, but going to the grocery store also became a reason for stress. If God forbid I left home the list of what we needed to avoid, shopping would become a nightmare. What list? The one that told me what my boys could NOT eat or drink. At the beginning, we often forgot taking the darn list,  so when we would get home from the grocery store many of the items we had purchased couldn’t be eaten by them. Another thing that couldn't be overlooked was the fine print in food labels; all those "nasty"  ingredients food companies put in their processed and non-processed foods that are written in very small words and that had all of a sudden become lethal for our boys. Those years were difficult, but we were able to overcome them as we gained confidence, researching beforehand the products we usually bought and those we would like to buy as well.

 Now parties were another story! Having them go through the excruciating process of saying “No, thank you” was awful. During parties, while party trays full of delicious appetizers were hassled around. My boys would put “a poker face” (which is a face that holds no expression) and repeat "No, thank you" over and over again. They would tell me not to tell anyone that it was that they couldn’t eat them. They felt better, if they only would say what I called the three words of pride, “No, thank you.” It was like they had a choice when saying no.Things got so bad at the beginning that my oldest son once told me that he no longer wanted us to celebrate his birthday because without a cake it wasn’t a real birthday. That’s hard for any parent to hear. Probably you’ll ask me, “Why in the world didn’t you bake him a gluten-free cake? Easy, because I stink at baking gluten-free. I’ve tried, but always end up with an awful tasting cake. Over the years they gave up on my baking skills and would tell me not to even try. Even though they always tell me that I make great pancakes.  

As their childhood left and their teenagers year came along we built the foundation for a gluten-free lifestyle. They haven't always been truthful to it and have paid the consequences because I can no longer watch them like a hawk.  Nevertheless, I like to think that I gave them the tools, so they can take care of themselves and most importantly I survived being a gluten-free mom.

The Goodbye Party

Anyone who knows me on a personal level, knows I hate funerals and weddings, but today I'm concentrating on funerals.  Why? Probably because I think both should be private and intimate moments in life,  where only those who are part of it should be present at all.  That's why it's no surprise to anybody in my extended family when they don't see me around if someone from our community dies.  My mom is always scolding me because she fears no one will attend my funeral.  She always says, "The day you die nobody is going to go to your funeral.!" To which I always respond with a shrug (It's not like that I'm going to be there to see it.   Ha!).  I wouldn't disrespect her by saying it out loud, but the answer always pops up involuntarily in my head.

Wait a second!  Did I tell you that in Puerto Rican communities when someone dies everyone that knew the family is expected to attend?  YES!  That's how it is, which means that you're going to be attending a funeral home that's packed with people, everyone talking at the same time, and some are even going to be coming in and out of the designated area for coffee and snacks (now a days they even serve food). Bottom line, it's basically a goodbye party!

photo via morgueFile

Although it used to be worse back in the day.  When my own grandfather passed away (who was like a father to me), the arrangements for his viewing were held in his own home.  My God, talk about something wrong and I will always have this one on the top of my list.  His viewing lasted three days, can you believe it?  When the day finally arrived where he would be laid to rest I was exhausted, my eyes had dried out, and all I wanted was to get over it, as soon as possible.

I watched in horror as every night people came from God knows where to attend his viewing,  and after paying the widow (my grandmother) their due respects,  than would step out to the "batey" to talk with folks they haven't seen in years.  Sometimes people would get loud, making jokes and drinking coffee till the wee hours of dawn.  Did I also forget to mention that you weren't suppose to sleep during the viewing.  This is when probably my hatred for funerals was born.

Some time ago I read a great blog from Ann Jacobous featured in Friends For The Ride, where she points out that "the moment a loved one leaves this world is a sacred moment..".  This is how its supposed to be!  I really don't know how I'm going to feel when my own parents pass away, but for sure I want privacy and serenity to be able to face the moment when it eventually comes around.

Facing the eve of life of anyone who's important in your life is hard enough, let's not make it more difficult by adding the grievance of having to put up with the endless line of friends, friends of friends, family,  and family of family (if you're Puerto Rican you know what I'm talking about) as they all want to share a piece of you.

Life goes on as it usually does, and after the funeral is when our friends and family need us around to help them cope with their loss.  Let's give them the necessary space to deal with the moment they need to say goodbye and make it through that very sacred moment in their lives when their parents pass away, but without forgetting about them afterwards.

I always tell my one and only brother that if I pass away first, if he doesn't get here fast (24 hours), he is going to miss my funeral.  Yet it's not that important because who he really has to be concerned about is my husband and my children.  Their the ones that really need him, so he knows he's coming anyway maybe not for our traditional goodbye party,  but to share his own pain with the three pieces of myself that I'm leaving behind in a quiet tea party that will be held only by invitation.

The Blessing of Unhappiness

I feel sorry for the people who aren't beautiful, or skinny, or hydrated, or into exercises, or into health food, or with their hair done, wearing designer cloths or  don't  have their kids  in private schools, or  have great houses, or have  new cars, or have great jobs, etc. etc. etc.  I can probably go on forever because the list seems to be endless.  Those of us who have a couple of these things, but don't have them all strive in getting the ones we're missing because unless you have a check mark in all of them you are a complete loser.

photo via morgueFile

Now, some of you who read my blogs are going to think what happened with the lady that crusades for those who are hungry, for immigrants, for social justice and above all for change?   Did she see one of those  aliens she talks about sometimes and some secret government officials (like those we saw in Men in Black) erase her memory?

Let me soothe your troubled minds, it's still me!  Now comes the interesting twist.....it amazes me how obsessed we are with so many things! Do we need to be or have all of these things to be happy?  If so, what do you think  happiness is all about?

Some of us aren't as lucky to be able to acquire all of these fancy things, so maybe we are unhappy.  So unhappy that we can appreciate the beauty of each sunrise and reflect on the wonder of sunset, so unhappy we can rejoice in the company of our children (even if we can't afford to send them to a prep school and have to take the trouble of homeschooling them), so unhappy that we need to cook our own meals and share them together,  instead of eating out all the time, so unhappy we can't wear the colors designer clothes are launching for the season, because we or our husbands don't have high paying jobs (which usually come with demanding schedules and stress lead lives), so unhappy we can only afford having our same furniture that hold precious memories from our children's first years than changing it every other year,  so unhappy we can have long conversations with our now grown up kids about life, love and the choices they make and not about what nail color is best to wear or diet to follow or any other silly (to not say stupid) thing that can cross our minds.  When you think about it,  than unhappiness is a blessing.

Sunset by Melissa Reyes Segarra

In life everything is about balance!  We can't always being pursuing perfection in how we look, as neither we can always be pounding our heads against the wall because sometimes life just sucks.  It's about being happy with ourselves.  Happiness and peace aren't things we can have because someone gives it to us, theses are things we need to look for within our own souls.  It isn't easy to nestle them inside you and it can take some time as we seek them.  For some it will be spirituality, faith, their nirvana, or whatever you may call it. Nevertheless, the important thing is that we're working at it.    

I stumbled upon all the requirements of happiness in a gathering I hosted  on Mother's Day weekend.  I was blasted away with the majority of the conversations that we're going around.  Everyone there seemed to be only worried about how they and people they know looked!

The climax of the afternoon was when someone told one of my cousins who was visiting from New Jersey as she walked in was, "You're a little fatter than the last time you were around." Wow!  I think she looks amazing, she's not the bare bones type, but nevertheless she's a beauty. That's only her outer beauty, because her inner beauty is even more breathtaking.   What an upsetting thing to point out to a person you haven't seen for a while, and the worst part is that  people who say  these types of things get away with it.  

"...find your own recipe for happiness and live up to it!"

Don't think for a minute I'm the hero here because I'm not.  Some time ago, I would've been doing and talking about the same things they were.  I was as obsessed as they are about being skinny, clothes, nail polish, etc. etc.  What changed me?  I would probably say that I took a hard look at myself this past Christmas and came to the conclusion that I needed to change a couple of things, but overall my life was great.  All I needed to do was appreciate what I had!

Thank God life is dynamic, we are always changing and for those who don't have the capacity of change is for who I really feel sorry for.  Remember we are and always will be a work in progress.  Life is more than what we have or look like, it's all about being able to wake up in the morning and discovering what the day has to offer you through its ups and downs.  Don't let others dictate how you're suppose to live, that's your job.  Last, but not least find your own recipe for happiness and live up to it because if you don't know yourself, who does?