New Life

The past few days have been a bit of a haze for me.  How is it that LIFE can be so beautiful, yet so unbelievably cruel?

After contracting a deadly work-related illness, my father was told he'd never live to see his grandchildren, yet his beautiful grandson and namesake was born just 40 days before his passing--God worked a grandchild into my dad's short, yet fulfilling life.  That was 18 years ago.  

Less than 48 hours ago, that grandson (my 18 year old nephew) lost his own father in a tragic work-related accident.  At one time in his very short lifespan, I'm sure he thought he'd never live to see his son graduate from high school.  He passed just 84 days after watching his beautiful son receive his diploma.  

My nephew has had a rough life.  His mother (my sister) was only 15 when she became pregnant.  His father was 22.  A hoodlum for lack of a better word.  My dad was a firefighter dying from an illness he had no control over.  When authorities found out that my underaged sister was pregnant, "Frank" was arrested.  And when the time came to press charges, my dad refused.  He wanted nothing more than for the "creep" to rot in jail for getting his baby girl pregnant, but he had the foresight to realize that his relationship with his teenage daughter and grandbaby was much more valuable and precious than sweet revenge.  

When he became involved with my sister, "Frank" was into drugs, alcohol, dealing and other offenses.  He was a high school drop out.  A menace to society who had been in and out of the system.  His older brother was already serving time and his younger brother would soon be put away for life after murdering an innocent man.  He was a broken, sorry excuse for a man.

But something stirred in him.  He took to heart my dad's compassion on him and the fact that he had a child on the way made him look back on the road he had thus far traveled.  He saw what had become of his brother and friends who were well on their way to a lifetime of regrets.  He struggled for years with the demons living within him.  Alcoholism, mental illness, etc. And once his son was born, he made a conscious effort to begin his life anew.

He saw how close our family was.  He envied our spiritual strength and belief in education and moral justice.  He became accepting of our willingness to 'teach' him compassion and take him under our wings.  We encouraged him to go back to school to get his GED and when he passed, we encouraged him to walk the arches to receive his diploma--after all, he'd earned the right to cross that stage.  Our entire family attended his 'graduation', but his family was not present.  He moved in with us and became part of our lives.  We enriched his life by taking him places he'd never seen before (the Eastern Sierras, Tahoe, Las Vegas, Yosemite, etc.)  and by exposing him to culture he'd never been privy to before.  Musicals, fancy restaurants, 5 star hotels, bought him his first fishing pole, took him to Disneyland, etc.

But something beyond our ability gradually took him over.   His brother and friends began to belittle him by making him believe that we were trying to 'change' him to fit our 'coconut' lives (brown on the outside, but white on the inside).  He struggled between both worlds until his old ways won.  Not even for his son would he betray his family and friends.  He eventually made the decision to go back to his old, damned ways.  He shunned my sister's ultimatum to shape up and she was forced to boot him out of our home.  Over the next several years he was in and out of prison.  In and out of his son's life.  On and off drugs.  He had even been shot (with the bullet still lodged in his thigh).  He was eventually denied rights to be a part of his son's life.

Fast forward to just a few years ago.  "Frank" has met another woman who has changed his life in the way my sister and our family once had, only this time, he is ready to accept this life change.  Coincidently his new woman has the same name as my sister.  She is educated--with a job in education and she has encouraged him to mend his ties with his son.  She became pregnant and "Frank" did the honest thing and married her.  They had a son and before he turned 1, she found out that she was pregnant with another.  "Frank's" life was beginning to make sense to him.  he was now living for his family--a beautiful, accepting, loving wife; 2 amazing sons and another on the way; an honest job as a truck driver.  Roses--everything was beginning to come up roses for him.  He began spending time with my nephew; put his 1 year old son to bed himself every night and talked to his unborn son, via his wife's belly, often.

2 days ago, on his way out the door, he asked his wife to call my nephew to invite him on a weekend camping trip in his new trailer.  He kissed his one year old and wife and headed on his final run.  He was just a few days shy of his 41st birthday.  A friend of his, also a truck driver, and a witness to his accident, said that his front tire flew off.  And once that happens on a big rig at those Interstate speeds, there is no way to control the rig.  "Frank's" last decision was to veer away from the traffic around him and into the center divider where he was ejected and his truck overturned.  He died on impact.  A small consolation for his grieving family and especially his 18 year old son who's last conversation with his father, was an argument.

As his Godmother, I have always been there for my nephew.  Thankfully, he has allowed me to console him.  I was able to give him the details of his father's death and hold him as he asked "Why?" over and over.  "But I didn't get to say 'Goodbye'!"... I will never forget the hurt in his voice as he sobbed those words.  It pains me so much to not be able to take that hurt away from him.  My only words that I could offer him were that I knew that nothing I could say would take away the enormous hole in his heart.  But I knew how much his father loved him and how proud he was of him.  And that he would want him to be an influence in his baby brothers' lives.

Lord, PLEASE help me to continue to be there for my Godson and give me the wisdom to know and say what he needs to hear at this most difficult time in his life...

'Stranger' Perspective

Had a blast tonight with my BFF and other assorted fun-loving peeps at a local hotel bar.  Sat next to a Canadian man: married, stay-at-home dad.  During the conversation, (before he bought me a tequila shot), he asked why a beautiful, nobel, kind-hearted kindergarten teacher like myself was still single.  I proceeded to tell him about my recent 'guy friend' that I was still in love with; and how he dumped me for a woman 20 years my senior and then moved in with her after telling me in no uncertain terms that he didn't want to be committed to one person.
He made me laugh just with his jaw drop alone.  Then he apologized to me on the behalf of men, and told me that 'He' (my ex-whatever-he-was), was a fool.  To which I replied, "yeah, well, to each his own, I guess."  To which he made me laugh again, by stating, "sure, but he still has to sleep with her!  I mean even if she was decent looking, her 'box' must be so dusty and leathery."
This man gave me new hope and faith that there still is someone out there that will love me for just being myself.  One that will lift my spirit with his humor and genuine personality.  He's one of the 'good guys' for sure!  Had he not been married, I might have been inclined to pursue him for myself.

Where's the Beefcake?

I must admit that this groove that I claim to have recently found is seriously underrated, malnourished and extremely elusive!  Soy Latina!  I am theoretically a 'latin lover', no?  Spanish is a romantic language... so why don't I have a papi up in this cama of mine?  Or at the very least, un Sancho?

I'll admit I was out of the 'amor' scene for quite some time.  But the lack of sexo never really bothered me until now.  I mean, I have found my mojo.  I have my own place--complete with a cama worthy of some hard-core action, yet I cannot even get mi casita 'blessed'.  In fact, I seriously could have sex thrice a day, every day and not get tired...  What gives?

Perhaps I am too picky...  I prefer a lover to be darker than me in complexion--not difficult, as I am a rather light-skinned latina.  I prefer that I know him well enough to know his character--wouldn't want some loco to stalk me once he's been to my casita.  I prefer that he be fun and inventive in the boudoir--who doesn't like a prop every now & then?  I prefer a man that is free (not attached by strings, rings or other such things)--a gal's gotta draw the line somewhere.

The Summer of ME has turned into a Bummer for ME!  How am I supposed to make good mimis cada noche if I ain't gettin' any azucar?  Que lastima!

Anybody Home?

The following posts are based on actual events, however, some names and places have been changed to protect the innocent--and in some cases the guilty!

The following 4 entries were originally written over 2 years ago in the form of emails to an ex-boyfriend.  It was, in a way, the catalyst for my creating this blog.  The fact that I sent it to an ex that I hadn't seen in years, speaks volumes as to how far removed I was before my recent life 'transformation'...

Hola!

I just wanted to  check the address out.  Hope all is well on the football front.  May your season be long and rewarding.  I meant to ask you about your mom and her health.  I hope she is doing well with her treatment. 

I hope you don't mind, but I intend to keep in touch with an email or 2 per week.  If I begin to annoy you, just tell me to f*** off--I can handle it, I've watched every episode of "Hell's Kitchen".  I've entitled my first chapter, "Anybody Home?".  It speaks to my need for social interactions with people my own age--just hang tough and humor me by listening to my mindless rants--you know, like as if we were married.

I'm desperate for peer interactions!!!!   I love my mother to death, but I can't talk to her as a girlfriend (she's too naive);  My BFF is extremely busy saving the working class;  My cousin is busy with her mentee (she's mentoring a H.S. 'otherwise' delinquent girl); my sisters are not close enough in age to appreciate my wisdom... (nor my sarcasm...) and my brother is busy with his shop.  My sister in law is just plain old GOP--nuff said there;  2 of my co-kinder teachers have changed grade-levels, so they are busy with 2nd & 3rd grade things; My co-Grade Level Chair is busy with her kids and Joe (the other remaining Kinder team member) lives out of town and has a wife who is in and out of the hospital.  Of the 2 new kinder team members, 1 drives me absolutely batty because she has a twin who looks, dresses, talks, etc. like her and they're both nosey chatterboxes!  And the other new K teacher is newly divorced and looking for a place that she and I can rent as a bachelorette and party pad for the "fun" teachers at our site.  I'm so alone and isolated in my Kinder classroom!  The only sane person in my life right now is the custodian, and he leaves at 3pm!  Damn, I miss writing, (I feel better already).

Anyway, I guess thems the breaks...  talk to you soon : ) 

~K

Reality Check

That's my Boo--a man of few (choice) words Lol.  I'm glad your moms is doing fine.  Hope you are taking care of yourself as well... 

Chapter two of my e-memoirs is entitled:  Reality Check. 

This summer has been CRAZY busy with not just Dads and Grads, but Weddings and funerals as well.  So, as I told you about earlier, my cousin's youngest son just graduated from the Air Force Academy in May.  You know that in order to be accepted as a recruit, you must first be in the top 10% of all applicants nationwide and you must be nominated by a state congressman or assemblyman (some office like that) for consideration.  As if that isn't prestigious enough, He was also one of only 30 squadron leaders--meaning he was in charge of 125 cadets. 

(Incidentally, Joe Biden stood on stage for almost 3 hours and saluted, shook hands and posed for pictures with each and every one of over 1100 graduates in the blazing sun).  He will be getting married in Dec.

In June, my cousin's middle son, graduated from Cal Poly San Luis Obisbo as not only the top Mechanical Engineer, but as the top Engineer PERIOD!  In 5 years at Cal Poly, he only received 2 A- 's!!!

Today was my cousin's last day of work, he is now a Retired Port Hueneme Civilian Engineer.  We TPed his house a few hours ago in a show of celebration for his accomplishments.  His Oldest son is getting married at the end of the month (he owns his own engineering company). 

Last night we went to another cousin's graduation from the Orange County Fire Academy.  (you met him that day at my mom's).  My dad was his dad's mentor, he became a fireman after my dad exposed him to the Forest Service Hot Shot Crew.  His son that just graduated is also my parents' Godchild.  Anyway, out of 3000 applicants, only the top 10% are admitted to the academy--my cousin was one of the lucky ones.  He got in without his Dad's influences.  In fact, he specifically went through the OC academy, so that he wouldn't be associated with his dad in Ventura Co.  He would not allow his dad to dress in his dress blues at any of the Academy events, because he didn't want anyone to think he got in based on his family ties.  You too, can have an opportunity to see that graduation ceremony because he and his entire academy of 24 cadets were a part of a reality show that will air beginning on Oct. 24th.  (just 3 days after what will be the 20 year anniversary of our first meeting).  It was a trip, cause we had to sign release papers to enter the venue and there were cameras, lights, and mics everywhere.  I can see where the guys got used to the film crew, cause by the end of the night, I even forgot they were there... 

Josh (My bro's youngest) is a baseball prodigy--he wants to play for the Dodgers and he isn't even 3 yet.  Luke (his oldest) is a golf prodigy--he's only 6, but he is in the Jr. Golf Academy at Olivas Adobe in Ventura (you generally have to be at least 12 to join).  Jake (My younger bro's son is just 27 mos. and he knows his letters, sounds, colors, shapes, animals, & lots more!)  Must be the Asian in him.  And finally, J.J. passed his High School exit exam on the first round--most kids take 3 to 4 attempts and the kicker...  He has a 1.3 GPA!!!!!!!!! What a let-down!  Hope your daughter is faring well at least...

If we would have had a kid, he could be playing pro ball by now... 

Have a great weekend : )  Stay Real and Check yourself often...

~K

Age Ain't Nothin' But a Number

Hello out there,

So, my sister-in-law, just joined the 40's crowd yesterday.  She dyed her sandy blonde hair a deep mohogany and has scheduled a tandum sky dive for this Saturday.  (I'd like to jump out of a plane too, but I think I'll wait til I'm 50). 

This past weekend, we made the long treck up north to Topaz, NV.  (where my grandma used to live and I almost killed you on the black ice...Lol...)  Anywho, we went to surprise my grandma's little brother for his 80th birthday.  All the Ortegas were invited and there were at least 75 to 100 of us there.  We arrived Fri., gradually filling up the Lodge (where we spent the night), hoping against the odds that my uncle would not run into any of us so as not to spoil the surprise before our Sat. party.  Alas, there were a couple of near misses, but with the help of the entire staff at the lodge, we were able to keep our presence quiet.  Incidentally, my uncle Hank is a local celebrity there and as a result, we got the VIP treatment the entire time we were there.  My mom won over $1500 at the casino--all was great!

Knowing that we would be heading up there, we booked 3 rooms for our family.  At the very last minute, my sis & I decided to rent an RV, so that my 89 year-old grandma & 95 year-old grandpa would be nice and comfy for the trip.  We also knew that this would probably be their last trip to the part of the country they love most (the Eastern Sierras).  So I grew a set of cajones and drove a 31' Coachmen Chalet Motor Home the entire way up and all the way back.  Are you proud of me?  By the way, I didn't wreck, dent or even so much as put a pit or scratch anywhere the entire time it was under my comand!  Not a single near miss and no one even honked their horn at me!  At 41, I learned how to drive a 31' vessel... 

My grandma was great all the way up--happy, witty, drinking every mile along the way.  But by the time we got there, she began to regress to a defiant teenager state.  She refused to drink water (it was 115 degrees easily); she refused to wear her depends or take her cane; she wouldn't rest or shower.  My grandpa wasn't enjoying himself cause he would only leave her alone with my aunt and she didn't check in until the next morning.  She got so bad, that on the day we left, my aunt took her home in their car, so that my grandpa could go fishing with us in peace on the way home.

We wanted to take my grandpa alone, cause we knew that at 95, this would most likely be his last fishing trip.  Are we glad we did...  that man opened up and talked the entire way home!  He told my sis and her boyfriend where all the secret roads were along the way--best places to fish (and the worst); best places for deer hunting; where the best hot springs were located; old fishing & camping stories.  Most of them were stories that we had never heard.  Did you know that when he was 7, he lived on a hill in San Pedro and fell as he ran down to watch the French Army arrive at the port during WWI?  He showed the scar from where he landed on a rock.  They had nightly black outs due to the potential air strikes against LA--the French were our allied support while the US faught overseas.  Do you know that when his family moved from LA to Piru, that it took 2 days by horse and buggy?  Today it takes 2 hrs. tops depending on traffic.  He taught my sis' boyfriend how to properly add a bobber and tie a trebel hook.  (We exposed him to fishing a couple of years ago and now he is HOOKED--a fein).  We dropped my grandfather off at 1:30am on Monday morning and he had the most happy, appreciative look that we have seen on his face since before my dad got sick. 

After a lot of reflecting on this past weekend, I'd like to suggest that you do the same with your family--don't rent an RV and travel to the Sierras (unless you really want to~I highly suggest it).  Just spend time with them.  Listen to their childhood stories.  We get so caught up in our own personal gratifications and daily routines, that we forget that there were generations of our peeps before us.  They had their own trials and good times and they seem to come to life when someone shows an interest in it.  It saddens me that I won't ever get to share these stories with my own grandchildren, but hopefully I can inspire others to do so... 

God Bless you & yours,

Perspective

So I recieved a healthy dose of middle-aged perspective today (yesterday).  The venue?  My great-aunt's funeral.  As I listened to Fr. Barney give the blessings, recited the 23rd Psalm in a daze as second and third cousins I barely know released white balloons into the gorgeous saphire blue skies of SoCal, I watched a tear well up in my grandfather's eye for the last sister left in his 11-sibling family.  Only Johnny and Tommy remain.  It occurred to me that aside from being a family of hard working hunters & fishermen, I really know very little about my Rangel gente...  How sad.  How sad for my grandfather to outlive both of his sons, all of his sisters and several brothers.  How sad that that branch of my family tree is so divided and split-up that my great uncle Johnny--one of the only three surviving Rangel men didn't even make the effort (nor did any of his family) to come to his baby sister's funeral.

Then I praised God for my Ortega gente.  And my Alcocer-Martinez gente for being so close.  It will be they who attend my Grandfater's funeral when the time comes.  I'm certain Johnny won't be there for his brother.  I know that Tommy will, but I seriously think my grandfather will outlive both of them.  The notion that his life story will not be heard scares me.  His life needs to be validated for future generations.  I don't see my Uncle Ed's girls telling his story, and Aunt Yaya has no grandkids, and it looks like she never may.  I know my brother will not validate it for his boys--he's the JohnnyBoy of our family.  I'm sure Jay will, but I think Jake's Japonese roots will prove thicker than his Rangel roots.  J.J. is our only hope.  Maria could be a possibility, and Amy and Javi could step up and produce another great-grandbaby to tell the story.  Better yet, I could! 

It occurred to me that while I do need a man to father a child, I don't need one to raise a child.  I plan to look into my possibilities. At the risk of becoming an octomom, artificial insemination is possibly within my means--(not as fun), but it is within my means. 

I could take some friends' up on their offer to make a "donation" for the cause, but somehow I don't think they meant insemination via a plastic cup with a magazine in a drafty dr.'s office...Lol.  Adoption is out there as well, but that could take a really long time.  I could take my grandmothers advise when she jokingly told my cousin, "why not have 2 men?  As long as they can handle me."  At this age, that sounds like the most fun and probably the most productive, yet just a bit too sluttish... (is that a word?)  Maybe I'll just declare myself a cougar and hit the dating scene.  Ewwwwww!!!!!!

To think that Tia Jennie's funeral could have such a life-altering affect on me is pretty awesome.  Although I don't really think it was her funeral persay that gave me this epiphany moment.  I think its the fear of not having my own story told... 

Blessings...

~K

PS  Did I tell you that I saw Montel Jordon, BBD & Keith Sweat at State Line last weekend?!  It was HOT and steamy up in there!  I also saw El Chicano, Tierra, and WAR the night before!  They were way better...  What you know about them?  Check em out...

Wisdom

The following 6 posts were first shared with the most recent man in my life.  He was someone I dated years ago and whom I became re-acquainted with within the last 8 mos.  Although we are not involved anymore, I am privileged to call him my friend, as he is the one to help me "get my groove back".

Lucky you.  Because you have somehow inspired me, you get to be on the receiving end of my next series of memoirs.  Since the first several fell on deaf ears and blind sight, I expect sooo much more from you.  No need to critique or spell check--these won't be going public anytime soon.  Just listen.  If you are so inspired, respond with a word or two; write a song or poem; say a prayer for or curse the day you met me.  Haha...

I am alive.  I feel it now...  (mostly in my abs & thighs!)  

For so many years, I put myself last.  Maybe its the "oldest child syndrome" or guilt for any number of morality infarctions over the past couple of decades (which I may or may not disclose)--plain & simple Karma.  For whatever reason, I deemed myself unworthy of living in the spiritual sense.  ~Funny because I perceive myself to be a very spiritual person.

I have been on auto mode for years now.  Wake up.  Work.  Work some more.  Take care of Mom & J.J.  Work a little more.  Sleep.  Repeat...  

Only recently, have I begun to gain my much-anticipated, 40-something wisdom.  I know that I have made some mistakes in my life (who doesn't make mistakes?)  But I am worthy.  Worthy of loving someone and being loved in return.  Worthy of having my own family.  Worthy of LIVING.  And if I never marry, wisdom will be my mate.  If I never bare, adopt, or foster a child, I'll know that I have done more parenting in my 14 years of teaching, than many who call themselves parents.  

I have to thank "Sweet Baby Jesus" (haha)  for bringing you back into my life at this moment in time when I am just stocked full of wisdom :-)  If I'd only knew then, what I know now, I would have begged you to take me to Japan with you...  You are a good man, a wonderful father, an inspiring coach, and gosh darn it, "I like you!"  (ok, I had to get my "SNL... Deep Thoughts with Jack Handy" props in)  :-)   Seriously, Babe, I truly love you.  And You Are Worthy. 

~K

Why I Teach ("Charlie")

In the beginning of my teaching career, my mission was to teach the young, impressionable children and inspire them through education.  (Plus, I really needed benefits!)  Now I teach the young, impressionable children and inspire them through life.  

Someone once said, "Children learn what they live."  I couldn't agree more with this statement.  My decision 5 years ago to move to my current school put me on course to not only teach, but to save lives in the process.  Did you know that the calculations used by the state and federal governments for the number of beds needed when building prisons is actually a very simple one?  As simple as looking at 3rd grade reading scores.  How tragic is that?  Our kids are already being "set up" for a life of failure based on their ability to read.  You'd better believe that that makes my job one of the most important in the country.  

Each year at my new site, I have had the 'privilege' of interceding in the life of a student that might not otherwise learn to read by 3rd grade.  My first year there was the toughest by far, for it brought me "Charlie".  I had seen children broken by poverty, abuse (physical, sexual, emotional), drugs, loss of parents, etc. But "Charlie"...  "Charlie had been broken by all of the above--and then some.  He came to me a shell.  Having just lost his mom to suicide and being in state custody with a restraining order against his "step-father".  His uncle (a friend of my brother's) came to me with his story, asking me if I would take him on.  After shedding a few tears, I agreed, knowing that this would be my toughest year ever.  Boy was it ever a challenge.  Every time I wanted to give up, and send him to the office, or another class for a break, I remembered where he came from--what he's seen.  The office was just another retreat deeper inside himself, so I held him.  He didn't feel worthy of hugs or praise, so he always resisted, but I had his uncle's permission to do what I felt necessary to keep him under control.  I told him that I cared about him and I was going to hold him anyway.  The rest of the class got used to him, and in fact, they became involved in fostering his healing.  One day, after one of "Charlie's" first rages, I sent him to another class on a "time out".  This was more for me, than for him.  I used the time to brief the rest of my class.  

"Ok boys & girls, I want to hear what you all think about "Charlie" and his behavior."  Boy, the little hands started shooting up.  Most thought he was naughty and should go to the principal, some thought he should not get recess, and surprisingly, a few felt sorry for him.  I told them what I expected of them and that just because "Charlie" wasn't going to the principal, didn't mean that they wouldn't if they attempted what he had.  One student said, "but that's not fair".  I responded with my, now 'standard', "what is fair and not fair" lecture.  "Life just is not fair.  If it were, we would all live in houses big enough for our families, all our parents would have cars, we would all have new school clothes, both our parents would live with us, we would all be able to eat 3 meals a day...",  yadda, yadda, yadda.  They all sensed "Charlie" was different, so I didn't need to give further details, just that he is a member of our class and therefore, our school family.  We would teach "Charlie" how he should behave by modeling and showing compassion.  

At the end of the year, I meticulously hand-picked his 1st grade teacher.  I wrote nothing in his records to prejudice other teachers' opinions of him.  I spoke face to face with that teacher, to the point of tears, and gently handed his little life over to her.  She kept me informed of his trials and tribulations and together we chose his second grade teacher.  Our school Art teacher came to me in tears one day (she is also my neighbor) when she found out who "Charlie's" 3rd grade teacher was.  She asked if there was anything I could do to remove him from her class--she used to teach band and had a reputation for being harsh on children.  I proceeded to tell the (art teacher) that I thought "Charlie" would be fine with her, but to get her to stop crying, I promised to speak to her.  I was glad I did, cause his 2nd grade teacher failed to inform her of his background.  Well, that 3rd grade teacher was glad I told her about "Charlie" (her own grand-daughter was the victim of sexual abuse and she knew a lot of psychology to bring to the table).  We agreed that while he needed 'special' attention, he also needed firmness, because he was going to middle school in a couple of years and would need a lot of discipline.  "Charlie" discovered music that year :)

Today, "Charlie" is a 5th grader.  He still comes over to say "Hi", borrow a football, share a story, and even gives me a little hug now and then.  I love my job...

Why I Chose You...

This is actually a love letter I wrote to Derrick (my first love) when he was overseas in Kuwait.  I never sent it to him.  I would have sent it as part of my memoirs to my ex, but I knew he would just become enraged with jealousy, so I have held onto it in it's original paper version, of course.  I have never shared the info. in this letter with another soul--not even my BFF, not even Derrick.  My ex knows the background, but not the details.  My BFF and Derrick are still in the dark.  Babe, I have NEVER known another soul like yours.  I am honored that it is you to help me "get my groove back" (haha)  This may explain some of my past insecurities with the men in my life... why I chose men that were either physically or emotionally unavailable for me.  Perhaps why I didn't feel worthy of happiness with you or anyone for so long.  Now that I am older and wiser, I get it.  And like I said before, if I would have known then, what I know now, we would have been together this entire time.  But as we both know, life is one journey after another.  This is one of the darker ones.  Now that another soul knows these details, I can burn this 'hard copy' version--what a burden has been lifted...


Dear Derrick,

It was nice to hear from you...  not a day goes by that I don't think of you and all the troops.  I sent the care package you asked for.  By the way, I draw the line at sending LEGAL drugs!  So if the package passes inspection, you'll find a bottle of vodka stashed in that Easter basket amid the plastic grass & chocolate kisses.  You'll have to wait for the Cali green until you get home.  I don't want the government snoopin' around me now!  If they actually read this, then they're about to get an earful... and they should let you get your drink on, cause you are gonna need it!

On a serious note, my love, I feel its time to tell you why I chose you to be my first, and more importantly why I didn't tell you that I was a virgin.  I appreciate that you said you would have "taken better care" of me if you'd known it was my first time, but at the time...  I just couldn't tell you...  And even though we started off with some freaky, crazy lovin', we also had so many tender, special moments where I knew I was loved.

Statistics say that 1 in 3 women are the victims of rape.  If that statistic is true, then I am happy that I have taken some of the probability out of the equation for my sisters.  Yes.  You read that last sentence right.  About 9 mos. before we met, I was at a house party with my girls in S.P.  We were drinkin' like nobody's business.  Deg, you know how I speak spanish when I'm drunk?  Well I was so drunk that I was going off at these 'Sanchos' that were gawking at me & my girls.  And I did so in the mother tongue.  Even my girls were impressed by my spanish skills.  So now you know just how drunk I was (which is one reason I never told a soul-- 'til now, of course).  A 'friend' from VC saw me @ the party, and before I knew what was going on, he was taking me to his 'friend's' house to get a jacket for me...  I tried fighting him off, but he's an athlete and I was so fucking drunk, I also suspect he may have added something to my drink, cause my fight or flight is pretty impressive, as you know.

Baby, I was--still am so ashamed, guilty, embarrassed, hurt, you name it!  But when I met you, I saw how sweet and honest you were.  I imagined myself with someone like you.  What it would be like to be loved by you.  I was not disappointed!  You made me feel sexy and special which was something I had never felt before.  So although a technicality stood between you being labeled as my "first", In my mind, I blocked my actual first encounter, and made you my reality.  Mostly because you were real and my feelings for you were and still are very real.  Boy that Psych. 101 with Smith was no joke!  Did you ever have him?  PTS is what they call it--(Post Traumatic Stress), when you experience something so terrible, that your mind finds a happier place to make you forget the reality.  I imagine that you may also experience PTS in the situation you are in now.  I pray that you don't, but I watch the news every night and it just seems so intense.  In any case, You were my first because I chose You. That's my reality and I'm sticking to it.

I had to drop Smith's class after only 3 weeks, cause I'm helping to care for my grandmother 2 days out of the week. I miss the class, but I wouldn't miss this time with her for anything.  I know there is nothing you wouldn't do for your grandmother too.  I can't wait to meet her.  Well, my love, please promise me you will stay safe and when you're lonely, remember how much you are loved and missed.  Just Get Here!

Love,

~K

Absolution...

It's about time for another memoir entry.  Time to release another of my deep, dark secrets that has haunted me for so long.  During my "epiphany" about a year & a half ago, I came to terms with it and I am good now.  But the journey to absolution was rough on my mind, body & soul...

Back in 1990, after having dated my ex for 3 mos., I became pregnant.  Although my ex and I both wanted children and marriage down the line, neither of us was financially ready for a child.  I was a 21 year-old nanny & part-time student, helping to care for my ailing grandmother.  He was the star running back for the local JC with hopes of playing college ball and very little support from home.  I loved him and didn't want to let him down.  I didn't want to be the one to squash his dreams.  The truth is, I really wanted that child.  Having grown up in a loving family with aunts, uncles and cousins galore, I knew that money wasn't an issue.  My grandparents raised 8 children during times of extreme poverty, Mexican families pride themselves on their large, loving families.  In fact, I always wanted at least 4 kids of my own one day.  But my ex was very convincing in making me see that we should wait for a time when we could both enjoy our family; after we were married and financially secure.  And so that is how I made the decision that ultimately cost me my soul (or so I believed for so many years...).

A couple of years after terminating that pregnancy, I learned something that devastated me even further.  I should have left him then, and I actually did for a couple of weeks, but he knew how much I loved him and he used that knowledge to lure me back.  What exactly did 'he' do?  He "staged" a cowardly trap for me to fall into, that would "out" his 'skeleton', while I was left to deal with the dilemma:  face his skeleton at the expense of my own moral dignity OR ignore the obvious in front of me and let him slide by unscathed.  I chose to leave my dignity at the door and grip that skeleton by the horns.

So this man that supposedly loved me, apparently had a girlfriend back home in Ohio.  The way I found out?  One unsuspecting day, I noticed a couple of framed pictures on his dresser that were never there before.  One was of a girl (about our age--pretty).  And the other was of a toddler (spitting image of him).  So naturally, I inquired about them.  His response, "That's my sister and my niece".  I would have accepted that answer, had "his sister" not been wearing a sexy skirt and a pose to match.  Plus, she surely didn't look anything like him, yet her daughter did.  I began to probe and he got angry and defensive and said, "I told you who that is and that's all I'm going to say about it any more."  So while he was in the shower, I carefully took the pics out of the frames, starting with his "sis"...  --only a heart on the back with the initials T.C.-- I knew that his sis' initials were VDM; my instincts were spot on.  Didn't need to look at the other pic, and probably should have spared my already shattered heart, but I had to... the back read, "Daddy, Mommy and I miss you very much!... KaNisha"...  

What was I going to do?  How would I approach this situation?  I had an exam that day and didn't need an emotional break down, so I decided not to say anything about it until I had a chance to think about my plan of action.  I played it cool.  We drove to school in silence.  When we got there, he said he forgot his playbook and would I mind going back to get it since my exam wasn't for another hour.  As he was handing me his keys, it hit me that it was his plan all along!  The coward was setting me up to commit the immoral act of snooping, by handing me his keys and telling me his playbook was in his closet (how appropriate).  He wanted me to know the truth, cause he was so much more involved than he ever thought he would be, and me finding out this way would lessen the fact that he is a Class A ass hole!  I wish I'd had the courage to destroy his playbook, but that kind of hatred was never a part of me, so instead, when I pulled up to meet him, I threw it out the window at him and took off.  

When my heart stopped pounding and I had a minute to compose myself, a flood of visions and thoughts poured through my psyche:  While I was committing the most unspeakable crime of aborting our child, he had a newborn at home; My grandmother, whom I was extremely close with had just passed and would never know my child, her great-grandchild!  Yet again, I was the victim.  Alone with my torturous memories of the past several years.  After walking around in a daze for two weeks, with 'him' following me like a puppy...  he professing his love, saying that he was gonna tell me; and that he didn't know his ex was pregnant when he left to come out here; she still loved him, but he didn't love her; blah, blah, blah... I surrendered.  I wasn't worthy of true happiness.  I was a bad, bad person.  No one will ever want me.  So, I gave in, because this boy wanted me at the time.  

Over the years, I began to believe that my punishment for my dirty little secrets was a lifetime of penance.  My penance for allowing someone to take my virginity would be a lifetime of loneliness.  Derrick left.  Will left.  My dad left.  You left.  So when my ex came back with his long distance pitch, I bought into it--we can see each other twice a year, three times if we're financially able to.  I had some hope that he'd marry me and move out here, but I also knew that I was being punished in this lifetime for my past sins, and he very well could be leading me further into the abyss.  It didn't matter, he was willing to love me from afar.  My penance for sacrificing my child would be a life without children of my own.  Loving him from afar would guarantee me a life void of children.  So I filled my life with the one thing I wanted most and became a teacher.  I took on the  dutiful godmother role with my nephew J.J., and kept on trudging through my lonely life...

Every now and then the fates would pour salt on my wounds...  One night (the first weekend that I moved into the home of the family I nannied for) Charles handed me the keys to his '86 candy blue, t-topped corvette.  My BFF and I went out to a club in T.O., I was the happiest I'd been in a long time.  We are dancing, enjoying ourselves and on a side trip to the restroom, this guy blocks my path, pulls me close to him and half whispers, half slurs into my ear, "hey, remember when I raped you?"  I was so shook up.  I faked illness just to get out of there.  Years later, while visiting my little sis in Vegas, her fiance got us tix to see the local semi pro baseball team.  We were enjoying the warm evening and at the exact same time I see his picture in the program, the announcer announces the starting line-up... "catching.... number... Brent..."  It's that bastard again!  The worst part was that I had no choice but to sit through that damn game.   

I got another dose of salt when  I learned that my dad was gravely ill.  He asked his doctor to give it to him straight and please not sugar coat his prognosis.  The doctor told him, "Jim, at this rate, you won't live to see your grandkids."   I was emotionally torn apart again, knowing that I deprived my dad of knowing his grandchild!  Then there was the time that I was with some friends and we were discussing sex ed in schools.  One friend who is the parent of 2 boys said she and two other parents made the decision to ban sex ed since they were the only ones at that meeting.  I interjected and said, "wow.  Do you think that was a good idea?  I know we were grateful that J.J. got it in school."  She responded with, "but K, you're not a parent.  Its different when its your own kid."  Ouch!  fortunately, my cousin and my BFF chimed in and reminded her that I was like a mom to J.J., but it didn't take the pain away.  

I went to a psychic once.  I knew she was the real deal when she read my cards and expressed her sympathy at the loss of my father.  Then she added, "it was a boy."  I was thinking about the baby and how if she knew about my dad, she should know what I would have had.  It surprised me when she just blurted that out and I answered, "excuse me?"  she said, "the child was a boy.  he's fine."  I must have started crying, cause she handed me a tissue.  That 1/2 hour session revealed the following predictions...  I would find happiness with a man that was tall and of dark complexion;  I would live by or near water;  and she saw 4 boys surrounding me.  I have the cassette taped recording of the session somewhere as proof of her accuracy.  Every now and then I would think of the psychic predictions... Will is tall, dark and he lives near water.  But I will not move out of Cali!  I have 4 nephews, could they be the 4 boys in my life?...

Fast forward to about a year and a half ago:  I hit a point where I felt out of control.  I was in a state of depression.  I hated my life.  Then I had my "epiphany".  It was my great aunt's funeral.  Seeing my grandfather's stoic composure, knowing the hardships he's faced in his 90 plus years.  I'm only 41, not even half his age!,  I remember thinking.  I have no business feeling sorry for myself or tossing in the towel on my life--my destiny!!  All of a sudden, I felt this warmth and sense of self!  I looked around me and saw the faces of my family members, many that I knew and some that I didn't.  I wanted to know more about them!  I spied a blue jay sitting on the barbed wire fence, watching the solemn memorial taking place and immediately knew my dad was there.  (the blue jay pops up a lot when I think of my dad, or ask for a sign that he is around). Everything I wanted was within me.  If I wanted a child, I could have a child!  And more importantly, if I didn't or couldn't have a child, I would be OK!  I have family that loves me!  I have a job that is rewarding in so many ways!  I have been fortunate to be able to travel, I could continue to travel!  Its not too late for me to fall in love and get married--my godmother found the love of her life when she was 40 and got married when she was my age!  

Ever since that day, I have had a lighter heart.  I realize that all of the skeletons in my past have been weighing me down.  I need to forgive myself and move on.  I told my ex that I loved him, but I love myself just a little bit more, so I was officially calling it off between the two of us.  We can be the friends we are, but as soon as another man's face began to replace his in my thoughts and dreams, I would be moving on.  I began looking into artificial insemination and even dropped my HMO and picked up a PPO, so that I could have more options medically available.  I stopped taking any and all medications and since my main one was thyroid replacement, I knew I'd have to begin exercising and watching what I ate even more so.  I figured I would begin to lose more hair, so I started letting it grow out.  I was so stressed at school, so I decided to drop my after school tutoring job after 11 years, even though it meant $300-$500 less a month.  The results of this most recent journey?  At 43, I am the happiest I have been since H.S.!  This past Thanksgiving, I felt this sense of peace that I haven't felt in some time.  I knew that great things were just around the corner.  That was Nov. 25th.  Since then, I have reconnected with my first love, professed my love to a man that is worthy of my love and who's love I feel worthy of, discovered that my true cosmic mission is that of a healer, and I put myself above all else by proclaiming this the "Year of Me"!  

Cultura (The Latin Effect)

You grew up in a musical family and lost your way, but are now blazing a path back to your musical heritage.  Well that is kind of the way I feel about my life's journey... only Mother Nature has done everything to break me down, and she's an unforgiving Biotch!  Must keep writing...  how else will anyone know I was here?

Each culture has its own identity.  Mine is rooted in my Mexican-American heritage:  second generation Chicana on my mom's side; third generation Chicana on my dad's side.  Within the culture are a set of values which is the corazon (heart) and a code of honor which is the alma (soul) of our very proud culture.  Familia is at the center of it all.

My family comes from a very poor country.  That third world background followed my grandparents (on my mom's side) to California, but as poor as they (we) were financially, we always felt blessed.  We carried the wealth of la familia for all to see.  You see wealth in Mexico isn't measured by pesos or dollars, but rather by a very large family.  Families with several children were considered rich.  

A large family is the heart of our (my) identity.  So after growing up with my grandmother who had 8 children, with the only man she ever loved; and another grandmother who was the oldest of 13 children, married to my grandfather--the only man she's ever loved (also the oldest of 13) going on 70 years; and growing up the oldest of 5 in a family where my dad was the only one my mom ever loved (even after his death), is it any wonder that I'm so heartbroken that I will never reach my true wealth?  

In retrospect, I think the loyalty and devotion to their men that the women in my life modeled for me, has actually skewed my view of relationships.  In my world, a woman's role is to love and honor one man, dote on him and raise his children with that same love and devotion.  Its what I have etched in my memory and what was likely etched into the female ancestors that preceded my grandmothers.  One big happy, loving, family. Coming to the realization that most of American society views this as backward-thinking is a tough pill to swallow.

How at this stage in my Chicanisma life do I learn to love more than one man; how to go through my life alone--without children and grandchildren to share my family values with?

Grandparents are the soul of the Mexican family.  It is an honor to have them in our lives.  Nursing homes are NEVER thought of and placing our parents or grandparents in such a home would bring shame upon our family.  Our elders are our whole reason for existence and our pay in return is to care for them in their old age as they cared for us in our youth.  It is a privilege to care for them.  It completes the Circle of Life...

To know that I won't have children or grandchildren to care for me or even visit me is yet another tough pill to swallow.  Of course plenty of people give their 2 cents on how I should feel lucky that I can travel and enjoy my later years and not worry about the added stress or cost of a child.  But honestly, those people just don't know.  They--every last one of them, have children.  Children that will care for them and visit them and love them forever.  

How at this stage in my Chicanisma life do I learn to accept a future of loneliness in a home where no one will likely care, let alone visit? 

More Salt Please!

I'm sooooo ready to spice up my vida... 

It has been almost 3 mos. since my last reflection and so many life changes have presented themselves...  more salt has penetrated the wounds that had begun to heal.  It began in mid March when the scab covering a deep infliction of male abandonment was ripped so suddenly from my flesh, that I barely had time to react.  Open wound--insert salt.  Then in the midst of saving my money to purchase a home, I discover that I have an unsettled medical bill from over a year ago when I broke my wrist.  And not 2 weeks later, I receive a bill for the medical tests I had last year when I decided to get the LapBand surgery.  Now that I am taking care of my body and training, I understand what needs to be done to lose weight, but that doesn't matter when dollar signs are added to the equation.  Now, I HAVE to have the surgery and pay only $2500 under my insurance, OR I can pay for the tests I've already had $16000 with NO help from my insurance...  Open wound--insert more salt.  Finally, in the last week, I discovered that my ex (the one I had an abortion for) actually has 2 daughters!  They're the same age.  Open wound--insert even more salt.

But I am an evolved woman!  I am finally in love with myself!  This is my year!  And I choose to view the 'salt' in the biblical sense.  It is the spice of my life!  It will heal my wounds and purify them!  For the first time in my 43 year existence, I am enjoying men. (plural)  I have my own space and a greater sense of freedom to go with it.  So I'll have the surgery that I don't need--my insurance will cover cosmetic surgery that I will undoubtedly need.  The salt is a blessing!!!  For with it, I can have sex solely for pleasure!  With it, I can get that tummy tuck and boob lift for practically free!  With this salt, I can continue to nourish MY passions:  travel, home improvement, writing and education while giving birth to new passions:  learning guitar, cooking, and fitness.  I am BLESSED!!!  Bring it!!!