Writing, like all else in life, is an exercise in continuity. When I let pass a few days and do not write, then it is difficult to start the motor running at a later time. Like exercising the body: it hurts when we stop for a few days and then try to start at the same level of speed or strength at which we left off. I guess this rambling is just a way of buying time while my mind gets into gear and the gut decision is made as to how much into my personal issues do I really want to get. I have talked about this very thing with people who actually do write for a living; I’m just an amateur who enjoys doing it, but without being really that great (in other words: I can't stop working at my regular job!!). It is their consensus that writing is like a catharsis; it cleanses the spirit and somehow puts on paper many thoughts and issues which, at some point in life, have been important... including those that were (are) mistakes. So, in their collective estimation, it is important to come clean, if one is to get into a topic at all. But that is their opinion and I guess I am not sure I am a true writer at heart yet. I write a couple of sentences and then get up and get some coffee, water and then come back and put down a few words and get up to prepare lunch. I am also waiting for some documents that should have been here already, but there is no trace of them and I have no way to communicate with the responsible culprits. This unexplained delay (one of several) is not doing much to help my feeling anxious.
After the year end holidays, the rest of the senior year went by as a blur. There was, of course, St. Valentine’s day, when T. and I went out and exchanged presents; the afternoon shakes or sodas after school, the week end get-togethers and dates...it was a continuation of our relationship, which lasted from the end of my first summer in Richland, to the day I left, one year later. One other occasion stands out. Coming close to the senior dance, there was then the tradition of choosing a King and Queen for the dance; I presume that this may still stand today. Sometime about 3-4 weeks before the actual crowning of the Royal Couple, I was given a bit of news that really caught me by total surprise: -“Hey Rafael, you are one of the people chosen as a candidate for King”. Now, that was a shocker. It was even more of a shocker to learn, two weeks later, that in the general voting I was one of the finalists.
Everyone I knew kept telling me that it was a great honor to be chosen as such but, to be one of the finalists… well, that went beyond any conceivable expectations. Three weeks before, I wasn’t sure I knew what “King Tolo” (I think this was the name…) was. Now, I could actually be chosen as such, in a school prep session, in front of everyone.
The big day arrived and it was a full house at the gym. The whole senior class was present. There were, I believe, 4 finalists and the committee’s “messengers” were roaming around the gym, each coming closer to his/her assigned candidate. In the end, a well deserving (much more than I…) Ray Stein was chosen as king, to the standing ovation of the whole class which included my heartfelt congratulations… and relief. I did not really think I had a real possibility; Ray was a local guy and he winningly led more than one of the sports teams, as well as being a student leader and a very well liked and respected individual. Great choice!
But I was equally grateful and touched by having come that far in a contest that a month before I was not even aware of; little ol’ me, who had come out of a nowhere small island a year and a half before to join this wonderful group of students. Besides, for the first 3 months of that time, I could not even communicate very well… so, in reality, those months didn’t even count! I love this country!!
Remember “Sukiyaki”? That was the Japanese song that a DJ by the name of Larry Wyneya out of KORD in Pasco brought into the US market sometime that year. I remember it took to the airwaves like wildfire. I know this is a non-sequitur but the melody just came into my mind when I was thinking about the different happenings of the year.
In the meantime, my correspondence with my father increased, taking on a more familiar and friendly tone as the letters came and went. He was very anxious to have us come to P.R. and live with him, his wife and then 4-5 year old son. In the beginning, very honestly, I did not see this happening. In Spanish we have a saying (somewhere in Eng. There is a similar one) which says: “El hombre propone y Dios dispone” (Man makes plans and God defines the one to happen) and this came to be very true in this issue. Towards the end of the school year, I received a letter from my sister and this letter would change any plans I might have had at the time. It seemed that my uncle (who worked for Grace Chemical) was being transferred to South America as comptroller. First to Peru and then to Colombia, where he would stay for the duration. This was a promotion for him, a reward to his hard work and talent. The problem? My sister had no papers yet (it was a very different setup back then, than it is now) and if she left with them, she could not come back into the US.
In her letter, she told me that she had also been invited to go to Puerto Rico, but if I did not go, she would not either. She would not go alone. Sooo… guess what? After discussing this with my foster parents I had to make a decision. The fact that I was then informed that Mr. C. had wrangled a work-study scholarship out of Portland University for me, did not make it any easier to arrive at a decision.
In the end, I could not even contemplate leaving my sister on her own at the tender age of 17 and I made the decision to go to Puerto Rico. Of course, everyone was happy. Mr. and Mrs. C. because I would be reunited with my father; my father because I would be reunited with my father; my step mother to be because I would be reunited with my father and my sister because in reuniting with our father, we would also be together. I was the only one with a question mark. Again, decisions made for one without one’s opinion being really taken into consideration during the process.
There was more life to be lived yet in Richland; the summer months (I would not finally leave until the first week of September due to bureaucratic delays) which were interesting and full of farewell get-togethers… In fact, sometimes I would run into someone who had been at one of these and he/she would look at me with an expression which read something like “Are you still here?” “Yes, I am still here, and there is another good bye party next Saturday"… "You are invited!"
Well, enough for now. You are invited to tomorrow’s (having access to internet) entry…
Bye.
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