This entry may be a little “off the wall” but, in reality, it is just an expression of thoughts and back trails. We are who we are today as a result of all that has happened in our lives but, at the core, we are what we were made into by early childhood life. True, this is nothing new, it is just my personal take and a very simplified one at that.
Much has been written on these posts regarding places and moments in (my)life. Most of these writings, other than those that are reminiscing of childhood years, deal with travel done on behalf of my employer during the 80’s and early 90’s and then, chasing an elusive golden horn, well into the early 2000’s. Yet, there is one place which will be carried within me until the moment I die, and that is my hometown of Cienfuegos , Cuba
This town was the frame for my growing up years; its culture, traditions and lifestyle provided a construct base for whatever character I may have at present and also that elusive concept of “hometowniness” (Sic…?) whatever this may be; it is really an intangible which, at any given point allows one to sit back and with a degree of pride and/or wistfulness say –“that’s where I come from; that is where I grew up”. Sometimes it is a picture, other times it is a specific detail that brings it back to our present.
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| The Church Where I was Baptized |
The Good Lord knows I have tumbled around this grand world; sometimes on purpose, sometimes because of need and sometimes on very foolish whims. These travels have created an incredible amount of intermediate memories in my life; memories which allow me to converse intelligently (I think… although not too sure at times), to recall things that happened in some out of the way place and not to sound much too ignorant when someone mentions Patagonia or “The Left Bank” in Paris…
Yet, for all the travel and all the discoveries along the way, one carries inside that which made him/her at the beginning: friends, places, schools, neighbors and all the accompanying emotional goodies. It may have been a sought after “date” (often in “hiding” as these were back then and in Cuba) as a young teen, maybe it was a winning campaign on the swimming team. Perhaps a stolen kiss from a special girlfriend or a medal won in class for good performance. It doesn’t make any difference; they are “mind/emotion moments” which remain unchanged throughout the years, ages and changes of life. They create a place, inside you, where you feel safe, in your own comfort zone, and where no one else can come unless by invitation. Think about it. How many of us, especially as we get older, don’t mentally go back to times when responsibilities and pressures were not to be noticed; times when a major issue was whether we made or failed a school test. Not that these issues were not important, but they were temporary problems when they turned out wrong. Most every adult has these memories on a lesser or grander level.
I have a “virtual” (Both, in the computer and in my mind) folder of pictures and images of different places in my hometown. These are all places which meant and will continue to mean something to me and they are at the gist of the physical memories. This I say, because there are, I believe, two sets of memories, often overlapping: those places where we grew up (house, clubs, schools, churches, etc) and then there are the people and circumstances which made those places special. These are different types of memories; they tug at the heart and mind in a different way. It is easy for me to sit here and pluck away at the keys, talking about my early school. Yet, what I remember perhaps, are the schoolmates and the pranks we played on each other; the week long competition to see who would be first in class, the parties we would go to at different homes. They are also memories of teachers who were committed to help us grow and who would, themselves, sacrifice much to pursue this objective.
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| Palacio Del Valle; an early childhood playground. No, not my house... |
Same for my house. Yes, of course I remember every room, every crack in the walls, every tile, the spots where –in a downpour- the roof would leak a little but… what the memory of the house brings to mind are my grandparents (it was their home, where I grew up), their love and constant care. My cousins, who would come every summer and Christmas to vacation… all the stuff we did, all the games and chases and, especially, how we would tax my grandmother’s patience which, in the end, always won out. The family farm where some of my summertime would be spent, getting up at 4am to milk cows (yeah… you had no idea how versatile I was, Huh?) and then riding my horse around the place, down to the coast; the club where we went every day during the rest of the summer, the swimming lessons as a small child and then the swim meets as I grew a bit older.
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| Where I swam and spend much summertime |
Does all this mean the present time is not to be appreciated? Of course not!! Today is actually a passing moment in life which represents the eventual compendium of these older (or younger?) memories and of all the lived moments since then and the memories they have created. Whatever I am attempting to write at this moment, will be but a memory a few hours from now. For those who muddle through this writing and read this entry it will also become, with a little luck, an interesting memory or an aside to be remembered.
Savor every minute. Each one will become a part of your self, your inner person; the inner core which will help you get through difficult moments and which will allow a true enjoyment of life. It is every step of the road that is important, not just the eventual goal(s); every one should be thought of as a possible last step and, please, this is NOT morbidity; on the contrary, this appreciation will make every moment lived, no matter how trivial it may seem at the moment, important enough to be treasured.
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| A sad remnant of a once proud factory |
Be Well… Be Back!!
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