Each day spent with her is one less day of you getting to know ME...
Each night spent in her arms is one less night holding ME...
Each morning you awake with her is one less that you spend with ME...
Each kiss you give to her is one less stolen from ME...
Each glance into her eyes is one less gaze at ME...
Each stroll in the garden with her is one less walk on the beach with ME...
Each thought of her is one less memory of ME...
Each fleeting second, minute, hour, day, week, month, year spent with her is one less moment in time with me...
Monday, July 25, 2011
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Cajones or Cagada?: Herman Cain's proposal to fight illegal immigration with... - Topix
What if, Mr. Cain, we just send EVERYONE back where they came from? I, as well as my people, (MexiCANs) would still be here occupying America. And do you know why? Because WE were here way before Europeans invaded our space!! As a man of color, you should be especially sensitive to the plight of "illegal" immigrants. Perhaps you should manifest your own destiny and find another day job... just sayin'!
Monday, July 18, 2011
Chocolate and Toast
I have been fortunate enough in this lifetime to have been raised by not only my parents, but also by both sets of my grandparents and numerous extended family. This is just one story about my mother's parents.
The town I hail from is so small, that as children, we could walk a half mile to the store and pick up groceries (beer and cigarettes included) for our grandparents with only a handwritten note. I remember peeking over the counter and handing the clerk my grandmother's list which always included an ice cream for me and my brother. We never had to pay. It was magically collected for us and put on their "tab".
Even though as young children we felt pretty special going into that tiny market and always leaving with an ice cream, we were completely in the dark on how poverty stricken the family was. In fact, not until I was much older, did I understand the depth.
Most, if not all, family gatherings center around food. It is like this in so many cultures, but I think even more so in the Mexican culture. So naturally, being poor was never in our parameter of thought, given the healthy abundance of food that was readily available to us. And boy did we have thee best, most flavorful foods. Or so we believed as kids... but even now as I reminisce, what I wouldn't give for some of that flavor!
The most memorable breakfasts that my grandmother made us in that time of poverty were avena (oatmeal) or cream of wheat with toast, and once in a while we'd get chorizo con huevos (eggs with chorizo sausage) and tortillas. Once when we were very young, we saw a cereal commercial and begged our grandmother for some. "Why do you want that?" she'd ask in Spanish (She didn't have a command of the English language and felt most comfortable with her native language. In fact, Spanish was the first language that my brother and I learned, as my grandparents cared for us before we started school, while our parents worked.) "The cereal I make for you is much better. It's warm." We were raised to ALWAYS respect our elders, so we never questioned or pressed the issue. But, we always got excited to watch those cereal commercials and darned if we didn't know all the jingles!
Other "creative" poor foods that originated in Mexico that we relished, included: beans, rice, and nopales (cactus). My Grandfather was well known for his garden--a natural green thumb and genius grafter. And anyone who visited ALWAYS got a complementary tour of it (whether or not they wanted it). He had rows of corn, several varieties of tomatoes, squash and melons. And the trees! It was a garden of eden with trees of olives, guava, cumquat, pomegranate, pear, lime, orange, tangerine, grapefruit, lemon and avocado. And his entire garden was edged with nopales with the coveted tunas (prickly pears). No lies, my grandfather even grafted a tree that produced 7 citrus fruits! Grapefruit, pink grapefruit, oranges, blood oranges, lemons, limes, and tangerines. It still stands today. He even made his own compost, cured his own olives and irrigated with a system he created that used stored up rainwater. My grandmother made some of the tastiest aquas frescas with these ingredients! Aguas frescas are water sweetened with sugar, fruits and vegetables. (My favorite included cucumber, orange and lettuce.)
What kid in their right mind would think they were poor with this abundance in front of them? So when my grandmother introduced chocolate and toast one morning, at first glance, it was breakfast without the avena or cream of wheat. But Grandma showed us how we could 'dip' our toast into our cup to soak up the chocolate! It seemed exotic--something different; new. We (my brother and I), fell for it instantly. It was served so often that even when times took a turn for the better and we were given a choice of eggs or avena, we still craved chocolate and toast. It became a childhood favorite.
Once we 'grew up', we stopped requesting it and just as suddenly as it appeared, it became obsolete. Years passed before it made a reappearance... I was taking care of my nephews one day a few summers ago. They really wanted avena and toast, but we were all out of the oats. In fact, the pantry and fridge were bare, except for about a 1/2 gallon of milk and a loaf of bread in the freezer. I had almost resigned to the fact I'd have to get them dressed and take them to IHOP or McDonalds for something, when it hit me... "chocolate & toast!" "Huh?" said the older of my two nephews. "How about some chocolate and toast?!" "But what are we gonna have with our toast?" he asked. I said, "No. You dip the toast in your hot chocolate. It's yummy!" "Sounds gross..." and "Ewww..." were their responses. "Well, there's nothing else to eat as you can see, so that's what I'm gonna have. You guys can wait till I go to the store, or you can eat with me." Still reluctant, they watched me warm the milk for my chocolate and toast the bread. Then, I dipped my toast. The memories flooded back, as I took that much anticipated bite, and the huge smile on my face was enough to warrant curiosity from both boys. They asked, almost in unison if they could try. "Sure!" I said. And once again, just like that, Chocolate & Toast became a childhood 'favorite' for a new generation.
The town I hail from is so small, that as children, we could walk a half mile to the store and pick up groceries (beer and cigarettes included) for our grandparents with only a handwritten note. I remember peeking over the counter and handing the clerk my grandmother's list which always included an ice cream for me and my brother. We never had to pay. It was magically collected for us and put on their "tab".
Even though as young children we felt pretty special going into that tiny market and always leaving with an ice cream, we were completely in the dark on how poverty stricken the family was. In fact, not until I was much older, did I understand the depth.
Most, if not all, family gatherings center around food. It is like this in so many cultures, but I think even more so in the Mexican culture. So naturally, being poor was never in our parameter of thought, given the healthy abundance of food that was readily available to us. And boy did we have thee best, most flavorful foods. Or so we believed as kids... but even now as I reminisce, what I wouldn't give for some of that flavor!
The most memorable breakfasts that my grandmother made us in that time of poverty were avena (oatmeal) or cream of wheat with toast, and once in a while we'd get chorizo con huevos (eggs with chorizo sausage) and tortillas. Once when we were very young, we saw a cereal commercial and begged our grandmother for some. "Why do you want that?" she'd ask in Spanish (She didn't have a command of the English language and felt most comfortable with her native language. In fact, Spanish was the first language that my brother and I learned, as my grandparents cared for us before we started school, while our parents worked.) "The cereal I make for you is much better. It's warm." We were raised to ALWAYS respect our elders, so we never questioned or pressed the issue. But, we always got excited to watch those cereal commercials and darned if we didn't know all the jingles!
Other "creative" poor foods that originated in Mexico that we relished, included: beans, rice, and nopales (cactus). My Grandfather was well known for his garden--a natural green thumb and genius grafter. And anyone who visited ALWAYS got a complementary tour of it (whether or not they wanted it). He had rows of corn, several varieties of tomatoes, squash and melons. And the trees! It was a garden of eden with trees of olives, guava, cumquat, pomegranate, pear, lime, orange, tangerine, grapefruit, lemon and avocado. And his entire garden was edged with nopales with the coveted tunas (prickly pears). No lies, my grandfather even grafted a tree that produced 7 citrus fruits! Grapefruit, pink grapefruit, oranges, blood oranges, lemons, limes, and tangerines. It still stands today. He even made his own compost, cured his own olives and irrigated with a system he created that used stored up rainwater. My grandmother made some of the tastiest aquas frescas with these ingredients! Aguas frescas are water sweetened with sugar, fruits and vegetables. (My favorite included cucumber, orange and lettuce.)
What kid in their right mind would think they were poor with this abundance in front of them? So when my grandmother introduced chocolate and toast one morning, at first glance, it was breakfast without the avena or cream of wheat. But Grandma showed us how we could 'dip' our toast into our cup to soak up the chocolate! It seemed exotic--something different; new. We (my brother and I), fell for it instantly. It was served so often that even when times took a turn for the better and we were given a choice of eggs or avena, we still craved chocolate and toast. It became a childhood favorite.
Once we 'grew up', we stopped requesting it and just as suddenly as it appeared, it became obsolete. Years passed before it made a reappearance... I was taking care of my nephews one day a few summers ago. They really wanted avena and toast, but we were all out of the oats. In fact, the pantry and fridge were bare, except for about a 1/2 gallon of milk and a loaf of bread in the freezer. I had almost resigned to the fact I'd have to get them dressed and take them to IHOP or McDonalds for something, when it hit me... "chocolate & toast!" "Huh?" said the older of my two nephews. "How about some chocolate and toast?!" "But what are we gonna have with our toast?" he asked. I said, "No. You dip the toast in your hot chocolate. It's yummy!" "Sounds gross..." and "Ewww..." were their responses. "Well, there's nothing else to eat as you can see, so that's what I'm gonna have. You guys can wait till I go to the store, or you can eat with me." Still reluctant, they watched me warm the milk for my chocolate and toast the bread. Then, I dipped my toast. The memories flooded back, as I took that much anticipated bite, and the huge smile on my face was enough to warrant curiosity from both boys. They asked, almost in unison if they could try. "Sure!" I said. And once again, just like that, Chocolate & Toast became a childhood 'favorite' for a new generation.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Philosophy of Life (A Posthumous Reflection)
I believe deeply in fate. For this reason, I am posting a paper written by my father over 50 years ago. I don't think it was accidental that I happened upon this particular paper when I did. Here is why... today I had a conversation with a friend about my musings & meanings. He complemented me on my knack for insightful writing. I proceeded to tell him that my H.S. teachers must have liked my writing too, as they never returned my graded work, yet I always got A's.
So later in the evening, when I pulled an envelope out of a box of papers (I have been rummaging through box after box for the past several weeks while moving into my new home), that contained 5 faded pages of handwritten blue ink with the title "Philosophy of Life" and my dad's name in the upper right hand corner, I literally began to sob. You see, my father died 18 years ago. Since his death, not a day goes by that I don't think of him and how he has inspired me to be the person I am today, and to not accept less than I deserve in a man. I can only be thankful that one of his H.S. teachers actually returned his paper (with comments included), so that I might happen upon it at the exact time that I needed his words of wisdom.
Once I was all cried out, I scraped myself off my bedroom floor. Then I prepared a bath so I could regain myself enough to post this blog. But it seems my dad wasn't done letting me know that he is always with me... for as I sank into my warm bubbly bath, the music (I always listen to music while I bathe) changed. "For Baby" by John Denver (one of my dad's favorite artists) began to play. Of almost 2,000 songs on my iPod, that song popped up... again the tears streamed. And finally, after a few more hours of reflection, my dad's words, his actual thoughts as a young man with a full life ahead of him:
So later in the evening, when I pulled an envelope out of a box of papers (I have been rummaging through box after box for the past several weeks while moving into my new home), that contained 5 faded pages of handwritten blue ink with the title "Philosophy of Life" and my dad's name in the upper right hand corner, I literally began to sob. You see, my father died 18 years ago. Since his death, not a day goes by that I don't think of him and how he has inspired me to be the person I am today, and to not accept less than I deserve in a man. I can only be thankful that one of his H.S. teachers actually returned his paper (with comments included), so that I might happen upon it at the exact time that I needed his words of wisdom.
Once I was all cried out, I scraped myself off my bedroom floor. Then I prepared a bath so I could regain myself enough to post this blog. But it seems my dad wasn't done letting me know that he is always with me... for as I sank into my warm bubbly bath, the music (I always listen to music while I bathe) changed. "For Baby" by John Denver (one of my dad's favorite artists) began to play. Of almost 2,000 songs on my iPod, that song popped up... again the tears streamed. And finally, after a few more hours of reflection, my dad's words, his actual thoughts as a young man with a full life ahead of him:
Philosophy of Life
I believe that the purpose of life is to live and survive. All forms of life go through life cycles. The basic plan is: birth, maturing, mating, and reproducing, and death. The purpose for human life is for each individual to fulfill his life cycle. This involves proper maturing to the fully developed adult. Your life is like a pine tree. The tree will grow straight, unless something harmful causes it to warp. So does the human being. You must have the ability to enjoy responsibility. If the world were made up of mostly mature persons--loving, responsible, productive towards family, friends and the world--most of our human problems would be solved. Most people have had something warp their development in their childhood. So as adults, they do not know their place in life. They feel inferior, frustrated, insecure, and anxious. And they react to these inner feelings just as any animal reacts to any hurt or threat: by being ready to fight or flee. Flight takes them into alcoholism and other mental disorders. Fight causes them to go into crime, cruelty, and war. This is the basic problem of human life--for in the form of war, it now threatens to extinguish us.
When I catch myself starting a thought that will produce a stressing emotion like worry, anxiety, fear, apprehension, discouragement, or the like, I will try to stop it, and substitute thinking that brings a healthy emotion, like equanimity, resignation, courage, determination, and cheerfulness. I will try to carry this idea every minute of every day. I am going keep my attitude and thinking calm, and cheerful. I will try to handle my life this way: When the going is good, I will tell myself life is good, and allow myself the delightful feeling of being happy. When the going is rough, I will stay outwardly as cheerful and as pleasant as I possibly can. Lighten and awkward situation with a lift of humor, with kindness, or a bit of a smile. I will avoid running any misfortunes through my mind like a repeating phonograph record. Above all, I will not let myself get irritated, upset, hysterical, or self-pitying. I will try to turn defeat into a moral victory. This is the way I would define the words I used before: Equanimity ("Let's stay calm"); Courage ("I can take all this and more"); Determination ("I will turn this defeat into victory"); Cheerfulness ("See, I'm coming up."); Pleasantness ("I still have good will toward man")
I think that these are important areas in living to watch: Keep life simple; avoid watching for a knock in my motor; like work; have a good hobby; learn to be satisfied; like people; say the cheerful, pleasant thing; turn defeat into victory; meet my problems with decision; concentrate on making the present moment an emotional success; always be planning something; say "nuts" to irritations.
I will try to put these things into the family: Simplicity in living and enjoyment; the idea of the family enterprise; the idea that the family is part of the human enterprise; the attitude of turning defeat into victory; an atmosphere of affection; mutual respect and regard; a general tone of kindly cheerfulness; reasonable, firm, yet pleasant discipline; a feeling of mutual confidence and security; and an atmosphere of enjoyment. While I am unmarried, I will submit my energies into interesting, absorbing, and vigorous activities, and develop my general maturity. When I get married, every relation between my wife and I need to be mature, that is to say sympathetic, understanding, unselfish, cooperative, and affectionate. In any case, I must be content to keep sexuality within the acceptable bounds. It is easier to stay out of trouble than get out once you get into it.
This is how I will try to fill my own basic needs: If I lack love and affection from others--I will give more than my share of love and affection to other people; If I lack security--There is no use adding worry to a bad situation; If I lack creative expression--Go to it, nothing is holding me; If I lack recognition--give recognition to other people instead, some of it will come back; If I need new experiences--Go out and get them, be planning something all the time; When I have lost my self-esteem--I will remember this: I am as good as you are; you and I are as good as they are, God bless them.
I believe that by following this blueprint, I will develop maturity and emotional stasis. This is what maturity means to me: Responsibility and independence instead of dependence. A giving rather than receiving attitude. Cooperativeness and a feeling for the human enterprise, instead of egotism and competitiveness; Gentleness, kindness, and good-will, instead of hostile aggressiveness, anger, hate, cruelty and belligerence. The ability to distinguish between fact and fantasy. This is my philosophy of life.
* "Jim, you are a young man who has real ability, as this paper shows. You have good ideals of conduct and excellent ability. I wish you well."
(*signed by his instructor)
Thank you daddy for your affirming words and wisdom. You remained true to your philosophy in your daily life with my mother, your children and extended family. Children learn what they live and you showed us all how its done.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Dream Weaver
Having recently fallen in love (with myself), I find that I am just as giddy as I was when I had my first crush. Seems silly, I know... I am 43 (and a half) and what kinda way is this to act? But, I find myself fantasizing and in this case, quite literally, dreaming of the days, months, even years ahead--time spent with myself. John Denver had it right when he penned the lyrics, "...it turns me on to think of growing old..."
So in the dream that I just arose from, I was surrounded in "old" stuff. Fascinating "old" stuff! Some things I recognized, like my great-grandmother's banquette table and silverware, my grandmother's wooden doll, a colorized family photo of my father at the age of one with his parents set in a vintage octagonal frame with the original concave glass, etc. But some things I did not yet know or recognize as my own. For instance, the setting for this dream was an old and unfamiliar beach cottage. Aside from the antiques I recognized, were others that I must have gathered from my future travels... a Murano glass lamp, a Moroccan rug, Russian stacking dolls, etc.
Now the realist in me would have me believe that the beach cottage image was obviously there because I just spent the day at the beach, and I am in the process of giving my own home a "costal cottage" makeover; the Murano lamp probably originated in my mind after receiving a hand-me-down lamp from a friend; the Moroccan rug was residual envy of my mother's Moroccan rug; and the Russian stacking dolls can be possibly linked to the last House Hunters International that I watched. But I'd like to BELIEVE that my dream was foreshadowing a future of travels. I envision acquiring that lamp while window shopping in Rome--after all, I did toss a coin in the Trevi Fountain on my first trip! I envision purchasing the Moroccan rug while on a cruise with a special beau. And the Russian Stacking dolls are a gift from that beau!
So much living to do in such a short amount of time... time borrowed and so much appreciated. Perhaps one day I will be fortunate enough to share this pent up LOVE with a soul as passionate and appreciative as my own. Now THAT would be icing on the cake. But until then, I will continue to live, love, and dream.
So in the dream that I just arose from, I was surrounded in "old" stuff. Fascinating "old" stuff! Some things I recognized, like my great-grandmother's banquette table and silverware, my grandmother's wooden doll, a colorized family photo of my father at the age of one with his parents set in a vintage octagonal frame with the original concave glass, etc. But some things I did not yet know or recognize as my own. For instance, the setting for this dream was an old and unfamiliar beach cottage. Aside from the antiques I recognized, were others that I must have gathered from my future travels... a Murano glass lamp, a Moroccan rug, Russian stacking dolls, etc.
Now the realist in me would have me believe that the beach cottage image was obviously there because I just spent the day at the beach, and I am in the process of giving my own home a "costal cottage" makeover; the Murano lamp probably originated in my mind after receiving a hand-me-down lamp from a friend; the Moroccan rug was residual envy of my mother's Moroccan rug; and the Russian stacking dolls can be possibly linked to the last House Hunters International that I watched. But I'd like to BELIEVE that my dream was foreshadowing a future of travels. I envision acquiring that lamp while window shopping in Rome--after all, I did toss a coin in the Trevi Fountain on my first trip! I envision purchasing the Moroccan rug while on a cruise with a special beau. And the Russian Stacking dolls are a gift from that beau!
So much living to do in such a short amount of time... time borrowed and so much appreciated. Perhaps one day I will be fortunate enough to share this pent up LOVE with a soul as passionate and appreciative as my own. Now THAT would be icing on the cake. But until then, I will continue to live, love, and dream.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Life, Liberty & the Pursuit of Boys
M&M Without nuts: The past few days have been filled with insight, silliness, deep thoughts and a smidgen of wine. Yep, my BFF is in town. Oh, to be a fly on the wall... in just a few days, we have learned of similar shared experiences, we went window shopping for hours, we pondered the plight of future generations on a global level, and enjoyed unwinding with a glass of wine at the end of each day together. Why can't relationships be this simple and rewarding all at once?
Not that I want to marry my BFF, but why do we even complicate our relationships with men by tricking them into thinking they can't live without us? The truth is, they can. And my recent metamorphosis has ensured me that I too can live without "A" man.
M&M With nuts: Now, just cause I said I can live without "A" man DOES NOT mean that I can live without Men--let's not get crazy now! In fact, these past few days with my BFF have been filled with thoughts on Men. And men, you do provide a whole slew of material to discuss!
For instance, why is it that men always assume that a threesome consists of himself and 2 women who are there solely to please him? Why can't 2 men please just me? Also, why do men say things they don't mean or don't intend to follow through with? At the end of the day (as we sip our wine), we indubitably and genuinely LOVE Men--immature quirks and all...
Not that I want to marry my BFF, but why do we even complicate our relationships with men by tricking them into thinking they can't live without us? The truth is, they can. And my recent metamorphosis has ensured me that I too can live without "A" man.
M&M With nuts: Now, just cause I said I can live without "A" man DOES NOT mean that I can live without Men--let's not get crazy now! In fact, these past few days with my BFF have been filled with thoughts on Men. And men, you do provide a whole slew of material to discuss!
For instance, why is it that men always assume that a threesome consists of himself and 2 women who are there solely to please him? Why can't 2 men please just me? Also, why do men say things they don't mean or don't intend to follow through with? At the end of the day (as we sip our wine), we indubitably and genuinely LOVE Men--immature quirks and all...
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