IS “HATRED” VALID?

According to the Oxford Dictionary, hate (verb) / hatred (noun) mean:

1.      To feel (to hate) intense or passionate dislike (hatred) for something or someone. 

- “I HATE … (PUT YOUR FAVORITE HATE SUBJECT HERE) !!!”

How often do we hear someone who, at the peak of frustration, utters that famed and abused expression? The direct object of their feelings could be a pet that just did the unthinkable on their living room floor, a phone that fails to communicate immediately, or another person who wronged them beyond expectation or reason. And, of course, for no reason. 

What does the feeling of hate do to a person? Let’s be honest. 60-70% of the time we hear that expression (and if truth be told, most of us let it escape sometimes), is the result of a momentary frustration and it rarely goes beyond that moment. Yet, I have met people who physically and emotionally change at the mention of someone or something they profess to hate, and actually do. Their expression clouds, their blood pressure rises, their eyes narrow and their behavior may change dramatically. 

What do all these changes do to the person who chooses to hate? Well, “hate” is like a canker that slowly destroys the “hater”, while the “hated” is usually not even aware of this feeling and goes merrily about his or her life. It then becomes a self-inflicted immediate Karma. As some professionals will tell you, hate is the result of our own impotence and self-dislike for having done -or not- that which created or failed to stop the issue causing the problem. It is the ultimate frustration, and we discharge it upon ourselves.

Even when the issue is created by an outside force well beyond our control, hatred only serves to completely undermine the basic internal balance we need to function well as the wonderful and complex entity each one of us is. I am often asked about my own story and my feelings about having been forced to leave my country (Cuba) and family at an early age (15) because of political changes. 

I can’t deny that for a time I did feel a deep disgust and dislike (yes, hatred) of all that had to do with that government, and what it had done to my family as well as thousands upon thousands of other families. And to my country. I was young, inexperienced, confused, and full of clashing feelings. As I grew older and “up” (these two don’t necessarily go hand in hand) little by little I began to accept that hating someone or something, was not going to change the circumstances that surround the issue. It just consumed my energy and changed me, and not in a good way. And, yes, I met a lot of good people along the way, who helped me understand this concept.

If I were to be asked the same question today, my reaction would be one of sorrow and pity. Sorrow for a life -with the family I knew- that might have been and wasn’t. And sorrow and pity for a country and those who still proudly call it home. A country that, while imperfect, had been a good place for most of its people. Perhaps somewhere, in a parallel universe, that country may be a reality. And, no, I do not regret the life that has been lived instead. It simply opened -for me- a universe that was not there before. And I am grateful for this.

With the help of others, of my own living and growing experiences and, most of all, with the help of that general, slow-working balm which is called “Time”, I was able to let go of those negative feelings and begin concentrating on being “me”.  Perhaps it took a good number of years to get to this state, but the results have been positive. For me, and for those around me.

You can do it. Late hatred go. Send it on its (un)merry way as far from you as you can manage it and give yourself over to acceptance, patience, and understanding. It will be a great change, and you will profit from it.

STORIES OF MY CHILDHOOD… EL BARQUILLERO

On a balmy summer Caribbean afternoon, one of those sunny afternoons that begged for nothing to do… after all,  school was out until “next” year, the morning obligations … like going to the swimming pool to practice our competition strokes, or biking on an ice cream hunting “adventure” with our friends were over and done with, and lunch out of the way… 

It’s early in the afternoon and after downing a midday meal which -by today’s standards- would have been considered “somewhat” unhealthy, there I was sitting lazily on the cool living room floor, by the front window with a book in hand, waiting for an expected visitor to pass by. After all, what else is there to do for an eight-year-old in a non-electronic era?

- “BARQUILLAS... BARQUILLEROOO!! …” A shout that was followed by a sharp whistle, coming from someone we all loved to see, and who came by during the summertime when he knew we were all out of school, and lying in wait for his anticipated, delightful offerings. 

What is a “barquilla”, you ask? Well, a barquilla was, simply put, an old-fashioned homemade very thin waffle cone, without the ice cream. And to this day (and there have been many, many days and barquillas since then) those were the “bestest”, thinnest, crunchiest, most delightful “melt-in-your-mouth” barquillas to be had. 

But it wasn’t just the barquillas… these were well worth the wait and anticipation… But they came along with a “show” for all of us kids to enjoy. The man was -I remember- of European cut. Probably from northern Spain or perhaps somewhere else in northern Europe; fifty-some, blondish hair, tall for the times (or perhaps from a child’s perspective) and always dressed in a jean shirt and pants, topping his head with a light-colored hat. I remember his smile, which lit up anytime the kids would gather around him and clamor for his barquillas.

On his back, like a backpack, he carried a round, blue-colored metal cylinder, with a removable top. Inside the tank were the wonderful barquillas, but it was this top that held our attention and the possibilities…

On it, there was a painted-in roulette full of numbers going from 1 to 10 and perched on a thin metal rod, right at the center of these numbers, there was a spinner in the form of an arrow.

For 2 cents you would get one spin, for 5 cents there were three possibilities. We would all gather around and, one at a time, challenge the spinner and lady luck. If you paid for one spin, and the number of cones your spin came to rest on was one, he would look at the totally disappointed face of the child and, breaking into a hearty laugh, he would, in his somewhat accented Spanish, tell that child to do a second spin for free… At the end of each turn, he would fish into that tank and come up with the number of cones indicated by the spin. Always with an extra one for “good luck”. 

After we had all our turns and were loaded with our barquillas bonanza, he would hoist that tank back up, tip his hat, blow his whistle one more time, and with a great big grin would tell us… “nos vemos la próxima vez” – “We will see each other next time”. He knew we would be waiting for him, no matter when that time was. We would then, after he turned the corner with a last farewell wave and was lost to our eyes, sit on the sidewalk curb or by someone’s front door, and enjoy the fruits of our hard labor.

Did he make money? I don’t think so. I believe he did his rounds to bring joy to all of the kids in the neighborhoods he visited. And that he did; and that same joy could be seen on his face, in his sparkling eyes and in his laugh, as we loaded ourselves with his barquillas, looking forward to slowly eating them. So much so that, some 65 years later, I can still see that smile as he watched each of us spin the arrow, waiting in excitement, anticipating its stop to reveal how many cones we would get.

Loving memories of childhood… 

Be Well … Be Back!!!

Final Notes:

·        Pray for those who are fighting an illness which may take them away from their loved ones… Every request is heard, and counts!!   

·        Any comments please send to rjalcazar@gmail.com

A QUOTE FROM FROST

 

Robert L. Frost was an American poet born in San Francisco in 1874. He died in Boston, in 1963. During the celebration of his 80th birthday, Frost was asked by journalist Ray Joseph: “What is the most important thing you have learned about life?” And, with the acumen of those 80 years and without a pause, Robert Frost answered:

                                                “IT GOES ON”

MY TAKE:

I have known about this quote for a while and thought it would be relatively simple to sit and weave some thoughts regarding its meaning. After all, it is short and sweet, right? Well, as it turns out, it has been one of the more difficult quotes to unravel and then put back unto the paper.

Think of it. That life goes on is an accepted truth; we know this is the way it is. That is the way our universe works and will -hopefully- continue to. Yet, if we accept it at its most basic meaning, we must also accept that we as individuals are, after all, not much more than a very small footnote in this process. Our pride, and everything we hold dear and about which we have a degree of self-satisfaction, will be rendered into a minuscule scale.

We must step outside ourselves for a moment and look at this from a different perspective. If we work from a strictly self-serving purpose in life, we will indeed be not much more than a footnote once we're no longer present. Our created memories will disappear along with their creator.

On the other hand, what we do in life, what we accomplish, the sacrifices we make, and the work we do to bring benefit not only to ourselves but to others as well, will live on once we're gone. Within our families and our friends and in our community; our legacy becomes our signature and this lives on well beyond our journey on this world. 

As we grow, we continuously learn. As we learn, we become more accomplished in what we do. As we become more accomplished, we get better results and begin to reach our goals. As we reach our goals and become successful, we must then assume different responsibilities. At this point, we should understand that the blessings we have are to be shared with those who may have less. This is only a way to express our thankfulness for that which we do have. 

The selfless work we carry on, on behalf of ourselves and others, becomes our legacy. It will be our continuing presence beyond our actual presence, as it were. Work, play, grow, learn, accomplish, and then remember to share a “slice” of what we have with those who are less fortunate than us.

I believe this is our real purpose in life: to learn we are part of a whole and not a whole unto ourselves. We share whatever we have; be it money, thoughts, knowledge, advice, or, simply, love.

Try it. The level of true accomplishment we can come to feel goes well beyond that which is generated from purely making money or having “more things”. We have truly grown when we come to understand that we can indeed leave a lasting mark, along with a legacy of goodwill and a memory of a well-spent life.

So yes, life does indeed go on. And … isn’t it beautiful that it does? It is even more so when we can say that for those around us, it will go on to a better level because of what each of us, as individuals, accomplished and willingly shared with them. 

Well, forgive this ramble. I have been thinking about this for a while and it was time to sit and get it done. I hope it means as much to you as it does to me.

Be well and, please, come back and visit once in a while...

TODAY’S QUOTE

Note:

As part of a page I publish on behalf of my English as Second Language tutoring services, I incorporate a weekly quote and then give my own impression of what this quote means. Today's quote seems to be important enough and one which -even though generated some two centuries ago- is very present.

Comes from Henry David Thoreau.   He was an American naturalist, essayist, poet, and philosopher. His best-known work is “Walden”, and his essay “Civil Disobedience” is an argument for disobedience to an unjust state.

“THINK FOR YOURSELF,

OR OTHERS WILL THINK FOR YOU

WITHOUT THINKING OF YOU.”

MY TAKE:

We have all become involved in the massive social networking movement. As a result, many people are -at most times of the day- embedded into their telephones, ignoring all other activities. All the latest trends imposed by their favorite person(s) and all the latest thinking presented by the same group. The most important issue is to be perceived as “the same”, not as someone who “does not fit in”. Think alike, look alike, speak alike, dress alike. The phone, tablet, and computer are fast trading their position from that of being useful tools to that of becoming the masters of the younger generations. And some who are not so young.

For far too many, these instruments have become their “thinking partner”. But in accepting the opinions of others as their own, instead of that of a “collaborating” partner or just another opinion, they are taking someone else’s thought process and allowing it to become their own, implicitly. Without questioning, or even contemplating the possibility of it being based on a false premise, or on a premise with which the receiver might not even agree if understood.

Today’s quote comes from a person who lived about two centuries ago. No phones or tablets or computers then. Yet, the message is even more important in today’s environment. It just tells us that we, as people, must remain on guard and must protect that which is our most innate asset: our mind and its thinking process.

Does it mean that we cannot accept or listen to someone else’s opinion? Not at all. A consensus (meeting of the minds) is an important tool to use when it is called for. But the issue at hand is that each one of us must think through each situation and come to our own conclusion, not just blindly accept someone else’s.

Even if that person is an “influencer” from social media. He or she is getting paid to make you think like they do, and follow the trends that will make money for, or bring power to, their sponsors. Don’t forget that.

Think of what you are told, think about the problems at hand, think about what you want to accomplish, and how you can get there. Map your own road, don’t let others map it for you. Those who you allow to think for you, will determine what is favorable for them and not necessarily for you.

Yes, be a modern rebel. Think. Think through issues. And make your own decisions. You may take someone else’s ideas into consideration and if these coincide with your own and your goals, then incorporate them into your life. But do not do so without truly understanding their origin, their intent, and how they will impact you and your life.

Successes and failures will be a part of your life and of all our lives. But when these are our own successes and failures, they will become an intrinsic part of who we are and the core of our maturing and growing.

THINK!!!

Fading Memories -2

 CHAPTER II – A JOURNEY STARTS.

Usually, at the start of any trip, there is a degree of preparation involving its scope, destination, means of travel, time involved, anticipated end results, and cost. Especially that potentially ever-expanding detail: cost. For this particular trip, most of these preparations were foolishly glossed over by the anticipated end results factor. 

After a couple of phone calls to specific “international business” contacts (Question: what would we do without these dearly beloved “contacts”? … Answer: probably lead a normal life) it turns out that, given an existing set of parameters, there was -at the time- a market for this currency where good money could be made.  

When I asked for a “general indication” of what “good money” meant, I was told that based on the amount, availability of the goods and/or buyers, cost of transport, and contract details, the general commission would be 2% of the total face amount value of the transaction. This would be equally divided between two parts: those representing the seller and those representing the buyer. Then, each half would be further subdivided according to internal agreements.

After a quick calculation, the total commission would be more than whatever amounts of money we had seen together before. There would be many pitfalls along the way, before getting to that coveted prize. Some we could foresee, most hit us head-on as we, literally, explored these byways.

As said somewhere above... Anticipated results overshadowed all other considerations. 

To proceed with this project, we had to go to South America and meet with the person who had access to the offered product. We set up a meeting, flew down, and met with John (none of the names other than our own are real. In order to protect the guilty).

John was an unemployed office worker in his early 50’s and, as it turned out (in this instance and many others along the road) he was just somebody being used by whoever actually knew the person who owned the “buried”(literally) treasure. This last person did not wish to be known; he probably knew this was a (very) long shot deal at best and did not wish to be exposed or known as a part of this endeavor. 

He probably wasn’t bothering with too many legalities either. 

To be continued ... I think...

Fading Memories

 

There are moments in life when decisions are made;  sometimes these are not well thought out and the resulting ripples become an undertow, then a veritable tsunami of issues and life-changing consequences. I am not sure I will ever finish these memories, but ...

CHAPTER I – THE BEGINNING.

The year was 1997 and the month, I believe was November. Something that would impact the decision to come had happened some 2 months before. Almost like the stage being set by that great force in the infinite, for what was to be the future direction of our lives. My employer and I had parted ways. The whys and wherefores of this are not relevant to this tale. What is, is the fact that I was (un)gainfully unemployed when the aforementioned conversation took place. Even though my severance packet (didn’t quite make it to “package”) had been generous (no doubt due to some degree of guilt on the part of my employer), the cost of living and daily expenses index sent us a strong signal these funds would not last forever.

Just about that time, my wife received a call from a friend and old insurance colleague who was visiting Miami, where we then lived. After the initial pleasantries, long time no see you and “how are uses” were duly completed, he asked us to meet him since he had something that only “we (meaning my wife, and I by extension) could do”. 

We met at a Howard Johnson on US1 in Miami (well, it was really in Coral Gables…) and the usual “what have you been doing since we last saw you” exchanges were not interesting enough to be repeated here. So, I won’t. Then we got to the core of the pitch. 

- “I have access to a cache of currency which needs to be sold” He said.

- “What currency are we talking about and where is it?” I replied. 

By this time, I had already been doing some (very) minor work in the “international trading world”, getting my feet “wet”, so his answer did not initially raise eyebrows. After all, this was nothing but an exploratory conversation, right?

- “It’s a load of Iraqi Dinars and it is in a buried container in South America” then he continued -“We know there are buyers in Europe who are willing to buy them at “official” exchange rates.” 

This is where you, the reader, come in and with a totally incredulous look on your face, say… HUH??... YOU HAVE WHAT??... WHERE??

In truth, that should have been my response as well. It wasn’t. A combination of a nascent knowledge about this business, with the “I don’t really want to sound dumb” syndrome (long since overcome... fully) held my reaction to my innards and stopped me from asking this last set of questions. Chalk one more instant to the “I’d like to have another shot at that moment, but I know I can’t” syndrome (we are full of these syndrome things this morning…) more easily recognized as “regret”.

 We agreed to go along with the proposal.

And that moment, our future became redrawn in the cosmic sense. And in the real world too.

to be continued... maybe...

75 Years Ago.

 It was 75 years ago yesterday that I first saw the light of this world. Not truly remembering the whereabouts of my previous experiences as a living entity, I guess it was decided to do my best to enjoy the habitat into which I had just been delivered. 

I suppose there was a degree of celebration, for I was the first child born to my mother (others would follow) and the first grandson born to my maternal grandparents (and yes, several other grandchildren would follow suit). Yes, I am being somewhat specific, for I never actually had the chance to play on (hang from?)  the other branch of my family tree. But that is another story… or, perhaps a little later in this one. 

There really isn’t much I can pass on to you about my first few years. There seems to be the usual, well-documented early life void in my memory banks when it comes to this lovely, carefree period of one’s life. Yet, a brief moment of some 15 minutes during the early part of my second year became embedded into my mind and memory, to the chagrin of my elders who for a long time insisted I could not remember such a thing, not at that tender age. 

That was the afternoon when, right after lunch, my father came to my crib and said his goodbyes, mentioning at some point he was “going out of town” and that we would see each other again on Saturday. I remember that image and those sounds to this day. What he may have failed to mention, or perhaps mumbled over, was that it would be some 17 years before that Saturday reunion would come around.

Oh well… all in all, that should not be the defining (and only) memory of my early childhood.  Do I smell a budding trauma somewhere in there? 

The interesting thing about this journey called life is that it tends to follow its own path while allowing us to believe we are breaking new ground. We really don’t know the tumbles and falls we will suffer and the direction changes (usually quick and not very gentle) we will have to somehow maneuver around and do our best to survive. And then, let’s not talk about the outright head-on crashes we do live through on this bloody road. 

My mother and grandfather (as a surrogate father, none could have been better) did their best to create a handsome, uplifting, well-mannered, well-studied, and smooth-talking young man. But they got me instead. They tried their best and, if I were to be honest (Ok, I am being honest… what do you want from me? This is not easy… I always thought I was as close to perfection as possible) that project was far from finished when the political tides of life changed the course (one of many changes to come) of our existence. That person (me) was still a few years away from the ready stage. 

So now… 75 years later, a few million miles of travel time, 51 countries under my belt, and far too many falls taken and mistakes made, I have learned that the only reality at any given point in life is that there is much more to learn. Always much more. Perhaps one lifetime is not enough. 

But I do thank those people who were a part of my early steps; those who somehow gave me a base platform where I could plant my two feet as firmly as possible, grab some impulse and continue on this journey. They loved me and did their very best; I loved (love) them back and -somehow and surprisingly- managed to learn a good number of “how-to’s” from them. This helped along the way; especially during times all I had to go on, were those memories they instilled in me. 

Happy Birthday Me!! 

Be well, Be Back!!

REMEMBER to like and follow the page… share it with your friends.

Be Well … Be Back!!! 

Final Notes:

·        Pray for those who are fighting an illness which may take them away from their loved ones… Every request is heard, and counts!!   

·        Any comments please send to rjalcazar@gmail.com