Pandora's Other Box

I did play the lazy one over the holidays, and today I found out there is an internet issue with my computer connection. So, over the next couple of days, I will get in as I can. I am not sure where these writings are going, but I know there are several issues during my senior year on which I will touch, but don't know how deeply... Anyway, life goes on... When September 1963 rolled around, we were ready to start our last year in High School. Most of us in our group did not really know what would be there at the end of the school year but, that was many months away. Now, it was the beginning of a senior year excursion; a time to enjoy our school, our friends, and all that would be going on during that year; the very things that the year before we had not really have the ability to enjoy. During the summer, our group had been getting together on a regular basis, but now that the school year had started, we were including more of our American friends in these parties. These partie...

We should, at least once a week, sit down with paper and pen and put down those things for which we are grateful. Often, we are besieged with all the negatives, and forget the many positives we do have in our lives. Turn this around and look at the pluses; you will come to realize these outweigh the negatives. Somewhere else in these rambling notes it has been mentioned that I teach ESL, on a part time basis, to a small group of Spanish speaking immigrants who are trying their best to make some headway in today’s environment. Yesterday, in class, we spoke about the Thanksgiving holiday, its history and what it means. Then, I gave them a special homework: Identify five things for which you are truly thankful, and tell us why. Last night, I started thinking about this homework I had given out and decided that it should be required life writing; that everyone should take a piece of paper and a pen, and start writing those things for which each one is truly thankful and, I thought, I...

Senior year was the most important year in the life of a HS student. It was the end of an era and the beginning of a new life. For some, it might be college; for others (back then especially) the armed forces in what was the beginning of the Viet Nam "Conflict"; for others, work in a family business, gas station, shop, you name it, the choices were many; perhaps more than what may be available today. This was the beginning of that senior year for most in our group; for us. That group would be dismembered at the end of that senior year and it is only now, after many years and generations collectively produced, that some of us have come together again, at least virtually... We hope to make this a true reunion soon. We found Senior year in the US to be a year of frenzied activity for the student as well as the immediate parent(s), usually the mother. It still is, except the frenzied activity now starts early in junior year, if you hope to snag a meaningful scholarship in a meani...

Still a bit rusty, but back to the computer. There are so many things to write about... sometimes is overwhelming so you must forgive me for exercising somewhat of a censor's role. It truly is impossible to cover it all; but there are memories which jump up when I sit here and those are the ones that win out in the end. In the process of choosing what to write regarding that first summer in Richland, there is a blur of activity that goes through my mind. Heat comes to mind; as well as the big pool at the park, where I would eventually join the swimming team; also, getting up at 4am in order to go pick cherries with my foster brothers Mike and Pete. This last was another minor culture clash issue. Not because of the concept of work; The Good Lord knows we have all worked our tails off over the years, in many different capacities. Then, we had just come from an overprotective culture, where the “children” of the house did not work until he/she graduated from University, nor was the c...

As I sit in front of the computer, there are many thoughts that come to and through my mind. What to include? What to gloss over? What to leave out? How accurate are these memories? After all, it has been 47 years since we first arrived there and the memory train may have been derailed or detoured along the way. The Lord knows there have been many roads taken and, not always, it has necessarily been the high road the chosen one. Through the graces of Facebook, Twitter, and other of these social networking services (not to forget the old tried and true phone book), I am now in communication with some of the people who were part of this group and we all hope that, as time goes on and the word spreads, we will be able to find many others and re-establish the bond we once had. Perhaps some are gone from this world; I know I thought for a long time that my brother Hector had died in V’Nam, where he went as a Marine. Yet, there he is in Miami, “vivito y coleando” (this means “alive and ...

Today there is no blog entry. I had to spend most of the day taking care of a skin lesion on the crown of my head. Truly beginning to look like a crown, because every time I look, there is less hair... Anyway, apparently the little piece taken was almost an inch long by half inch wide and the MD closed it with very tight suturing, so as not to have to take a graft from behind my ear. So, in essence, I had a rear face lift and it does feel tight. Now I understand why, after the second face lift, it is very difficult to smile... ;-) Anyway, shall retake the guiding principle tomorrow... Write! Write!! Write!!!... Right on!! Had a chance to talk with Hector in Miami a while ago and we were reminiscing about the days "of old" . Many memories to be shared with those who made them so. Thanks for all your comments; they are my biggest incentive to come back every day. Right now, I am on my way to an analgesic and to bed; my head is letting me know in no uncertain terms that someo...

Some Random Thoughts About Christmas Past One of the things quickly learned in this wonderful market oriented society of ours is that, once Thanksgiving Turkeys are finally digested (including leftovers, etc.) then it is just a short head slide into Christmas. Suddenly, it really hit each of us that this was to be the first Christmas spent irrevocably away from home. Actually, is like a bug that begins to gnaw at your insides, but you don’t really know what it is that is bothering you. There were then so many things going on at once, that the focus was on the many issues and not the upcoming holiday. It wasn't until caroling set in (back then, there was an identifiable division of time between holidays) and your classmates and friends started talking about gift exchanges and party invitations that one began to identify that little bug chewing at your insides. If I am to be honest in what I am writing, it has to be said here that Christmas has never been the same for me since I left...

What happens when different worlds collide... There is an old saying which wisely states that visitors and fish, after three days start to “smell”; time to move on. Don’t get me wrong; by no means do I wish to imply that after three days my welcome wore out. Not at all! However, the daily routine had to be reinstated in the household(s), especially in a household that due to the (now increased) numbers, depended on this routine to function properly. In our house, both parents worked, Mr. C., as many did in Richland in those days, worked at Hanford Works. Mrs. C. God Bless her, worked her tail off at home, keeping everyone in line and also did some work as a part time nurse at Kadek Hospital, the local hospital. She did mostly special care. On Monday, I was introduced to Columbia High School, the proud home of the Bombers! Somewhere along the way, due to political correctness and/or local changes, the school has been rechristened Richland High School and I believe that the logo and/or n...

There are defining moments in life when, despite all that may be happening, a little bit of sunshine breaks through to let you know you are not alone, and that all will be OK; not free and easy, but doable. My first meeting with my foster family and my first morning at their home was just one of these moments in my life. There are people with whom, when one meets them, the bond is immediate. That night, in that small side room somewhere in Yakima, Washington, at the moment we both laughed at her remark, that bond was formed. I cannot say honestly that it was a perfect bond since there was much to learn about and to adjust to, but there was an immediate element of trust and considering the circumstances of our meeting, this would be plenty as a start point. We finally boarded the “little bus” (dearly noted, a 1962 orange and white/cream VW bus) which would take us in a ride of two and a half hours from Yakima to Richland. It was now about 12:15 in the morning and we were all tired bu...

There are moments when nothing comes to mind; and then there are moments when the flow of ideas and emotions is difficult to stop. In fact, the thoughts then outpace the fingers in such a fashion that, at the end of writing whatever is coming out, a rewrite is usually in order… too many “ missteaks ”. Not that there aren’t enough ideas in the back of the mind; the problem is to bring these to the fore and put them into words in a coherent fashion. When the trickle slows down to a stop, then what to do? I like to start a mental word association game and usually it gets the flow going. See? I have said nothing but have already put together two paragraphs… It's a way to get the juices flowing. Eventually it brings me back to the subject at hand and then it begins. The Title above? Many years ago, for those of you who remember black and white TV, there was “The Palladin”. A gunslinger (good guy, of course!) who had a business card which read: “Have Guns, Will Travel”. This was an all...

GOOD BYE MATECUMBE. -“ Y ou are going to Richland, in Washington State”, said the camp director to me. -“¿Como se come eso?” Literally: “How do you eat that?”. A slang question which meant one was confused and did not know absolutely anything about the matter at hand. -”Well… that means you are going as far away as you can go in this country, without going into Alaska” -“Am I going alone?”. The fear of, once again, breaking whatever minor roots we had been able to develop became suddenly very real and overpowering. -“No. there will be 3 of you going from here, and 6 or 7 from other camps”. “I think you will like the family at whose home you will be staying”. -“When are we leaving?”. “We need to get ready and I need to say my goodbyes” -“Well, we would like to see you go no later than the second week of October, since the school year is already starting, and none of you can really afford to loose too much time”. With this dialogue, my second major move in less than a yea...

MEMORIES OF SUMMER CAMP T he summer of 1962 was a time that brought total change to my life, as well as to the lives of all who were at the camp, when we were forced to grow from being teenagers to being a semi-adult in his (her) teens. Gone were family and lifelong friends, as well as any kind of familiar surroundings. I could no longer go find my Saturday and Sunday gang to enjoy the park or the movies. I have to quickly add that those who were in charge of this growing monster called Camp Matecumbe, went well beyond any reasonable expectations in the care and nurture of us. They really did the impossible and, with a somewhat limited budget, they made us feel welcome and at home. We were given clothes in which to hang around the camp, teachers so that our schooling would not fall too far behind, natural classroom settings under the trees and weekly trips to downtown Miami and to Crandon Park and the beach. I remember Richard’s Basement, a store where with the few ...