Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Puerto Rico, Here I Come!


This entry was actually started yesterday. As I sat and wrote, the slow realization that this blog is becoming a "bio" of sorts, comes into mind. That being said, it makes it more difficult to choose what to include and what not. I will continue on; let's see where this will take us all.

EH GADS!!! “How hot is it here? I asked my father while we hugged, by way of a greeting. I had recognized him from some photos I had received some time ago. He just smiled and said –“well, these are the tropics, you know… and the cooler season is still a couple of months away”. Incredible how in two short years, the body changed and adapted to a totally different climate environment. After all, just two years before I had come from a similar Caribbean island.

When the plane’s passenger door had been opened (still had to go down the steps on to the tarmac before going into the terminal then) and I put my head out into the morning sun, it felt like someone had thrown a very hot, very wet towel on my face. By the time I went into the somewhat cooler terminal building and started looking for my father, I was already drenched in sweat. And this came on the heels of a very long and tiring trip. Yet, the excitement and anticipation of meeting my father actually kept me on an adrenaline high and I made it through until we made it to the house, later on.

Back at the beginning of the summer when the decision to go to PR was finally made, our correspondence and phone calls increased dramatically. There was now a need to get to know each other at least to some degree, since this would make the encounter less awkward. And this was something we both wanted. It would be difficult enough in the beginning; anything we could do to make it easier, was welcome. There were many things to discuss and very little time in which to do it. Besides, I had all my going away farewell parties to attend…

There was the issue of coordinating my sister’s arrival and her school, since she had one more year of high school to go. Also, there was my university enrollment. This was a more difficult situation to solve, since by this time (July) all major universities were already closed to new enrollments. There was, however, a new university in town; a branch of an established university from an inland town (even though PR is only about 48 miles wide by 110 miles long, inland could be a long haul due to the mountain roads which dominated the island then) and they were willing to receive any qualified candidate. That is, qualified and paying.

Thus, it was decided that I would enroll at Inter American University, Hato Rey Campus. And so I was informed. In those days Google, Wikipedia, home PCs (or computers, for that matter) and the internet were the stuff of science fiction, so there were not too many places where I could look up this bastion of knowledge and… whatever. Perhaps this was for the best. So, it was set. I would leave as soon as possible (read: as soon as the bureaucrats moved the paperwork forward) and my father would, in the meantime, get one of the rooms ready for me. We would come into a house where there were 4 inhabitants already: my father, my step-mother Laura; my half brother Fernando (then about 6 years old; today a successful media executive in PR) and my step sister Laurita. This last was the daughter of Laura, from her first marriage. Their home was a typical middle-income house in PR. A nice development (neighborhood), with individual homes, situated about 20 minutes from Hato Rey. Most of the homes were built out of concrete and with an open layout, to take maximum advantage of the breeze. This house had 4 bedrooms and two baths. My father and Laura would occupy the master, my now 2 sisters would be in the other larger room, then Fernando and I would each have one of the smaller bedrooms. Of course, this was all decided while I was still in Richland, and it turned out fine.

Eventually, all good byes in Richland were said, especially to the Crowley family. Actually, my farewell to them had taken place before, since they had left for the beach two weeks before and I was with Mr. C., who had stayed behind to keep me company. I was taken to Yakima, to initiate the long trip; first back to Miami, and then a Pan Am flight to San Juan. If I remember correctly, I left sometime during a morning and would arrive in San Juan late the following morning, some 25 hours later. I had a lot to think about during this trip. Once again, the specter of the unknown was just around the corner and I was barreling into it without too much preparation. It became a little scary that it did not faze me anymore to do this.

At age 18, no less, I was becoming a “master” of the unexpected and a person willing to leave one world behind and venture into another. Before you may think -“Hey, that’s great” I will tell you that no, is isn’t. When at such an early age you accept and adopt the concept of “easy” change and of pulling up and going at a moment’s notice, it becomes very difficult to lay down roots later on in life, when it would be very enjoyable to do so; especially for the rest of your family. I have actually lost track of how many times I have moved in my life; of how many dwellings, places and countries I have come to think of as home. Several were to be temporary and even though this was known going in, I came to think of these places as “home” just the same. And just as easily my bags were "picked up" and carried away when the time came to do so; more than once, this time was not necessarily chosen by me. I am not sure this has been a positive character development.

I was finally on my way to this new phase in my life; going to meet the other side of my family (as an aside: just today an e-mail came in from a cousin on my father’s side I had not heard from since before leaving Cuba, where she is now a veterinary research doctor… she saw my picture in internet - ???), my father and most importantly, going to be reunited with my sister. Still, I would have a lot of flight time to think about my life, as it was then known. What did I think were truly my choices? What was I going to study? What kind of school would this university be?

By the time the plane arrived in San Juan’s Isla Verde airport, my head was on more or less straight. The changes had been accepted, along with the new family and the fact that I had to contribute to building up of a father/son relationship (in the long run, it turned out more of an older brother/friend relationship, which worked out fine) and not just take advantage of the guilt feelings I knew my father must have been having. Oh yes, there was a little bit of this also but then, who won't get a little extra whenever the circumstances allow it?

On the way home, we talked about everything but our feelings or fears. This would have to wait for a more appropriate time, perhaps a couple of years down the road… For the moment, we were content to talk about the trip, the island, the university (more on that later…), my sister being comfortable at the house and other not terribly life shaping topics.

About 40 minutes and what seemed to be as many turns later, we turned into the driveway of the house where I would now live.

“Welcome Home!” my father said; “I know we will be OK, and that you will enjoy your life here”.

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