Thursday, August 23, 2018

My Friend Chuck


There are people and then there are people one meets along the way. Not all are good, not all are bad. Most are in between. Then there are those who come forward at a time of need.

I have not written lately as much as I would like nor, perhaps, as little as you might want me to. Truth be told, work has kept me away from doing one of those activities which call to me and to which a good deal of my time could easily be devoted.

In my last entry, I briefly mentioned my starting something akin to a “memory book” about those years of my (our) life spent in the pursuit of the modern Golden Fleece, in the form of a financial transaction. A question often asked is “Does it really exist?” The answer is “yes” but it proves to be as difficult to grasp as the original one. I still question if a completed account of this craziness will ever see the light of day.

- Why? You ask… I guess you have the right to… There is the issue of privacy. Mine, my wife’s and that of some of the people who were involved along the way. Then, there are moments which when, and if, remembered, would come back to life again with full, destructive force. There are also other issues which, in a gesture of pure survival, were relegated to that big delete bin in the memory banks. But, as with the computer, the delete button is only a palliative. These memories never really do go away completely.

Several of those memories (in fact, most) involve people. There are some I would devote a full page to in an attempt to try and explain their reason for being allowed to exist. And probably fail to do so. There are some others with whom I gratefully shared some of this long and often very hard journey. Some are gone, some are still here. These good ones I would be afraid to lose, as footnotes, within the telling of this full undertaking. This would not be fair.

There are several who come to mind. Then there was Chuck. Just that. Chuck. Yes, there is a last name, but I’ll keep that under my hat, or shirt, or in my pocket. I met him after we (us, as in my wife and I) had lost everything we had and before I had my CA diagnosed (how are those for time-life guideposts?) so it was around 2003. He was a professional and, like many before (and since), had pretty much bet all he had to pursue that Golden Fleece. He did not win that bet. But didn’t give up.

He was a short man, a combination of Italian and Irish (so he said) and he became our “Italian leprechaun”. Always smiling and with a positive word while living a life most would not find much positive to talk about. Didn’t have much, but what he had, he shared with a person in need. In those moments we found ourselves in some hotel or place while in the pursuit of a common goal, we talked about many issues including our families; those who still walked with us and those who became a casualty along the way. We became friends. In this business, no one who’s never tried to become truly involved can really understand what a ruthless environment it is and what incredibly high personal cost is paid.

In moments of need he would bring whatever he had and share it. I remember one time he said to me over the phone: I know you have to feed a family and I am alone (not by his choice). I sent you this morning a credit card you can use. The card did come, the funds available were not much, but he had given us all he had to give. Priceless. Unpayable.

Not much after that episode, a common friend (another one I was -and still am- happy to call a friend) called me to let me know that Chuck had been found dead in the motel where he was living a very lonely life. A life-long diabetic, he simply did not have the means to buy anything but two hot-dogs per day and had told no one about this. His body did not take it anymore; it gave up. A diabetic coma took him. But his memory lingers on, as one of those companions who made a hard road a little easier to travel while we shared it. For that time together, I am grateful.

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!!
·       Follow us on Twitter … @RJAsPandora
·       Visit www.englishnow.info
·       Any comments please send to rjalcazar@gmail.com

Sunday, August 19, 2018

From Wally's Pond, late in the day


Why is it so difficult sometimes to just sit and begin to clatter away at the computer keys?

The stories at the beginning of this blog centered around the time and circumstances leading up to my departure from Cuba, at age 15. These were followed by short recounts of my life as it developed during the first few years in my new country and these, in turn, with memories of people, places and moments that have been a part of my life before, and since my coming to the US.

The time around the trip to come to the US is worthy of a book in of itself and, in fact, 2 or 3 books have been published by “Pedro Pan” children. To me, writing about it was a way to pass the convalescing time after my cancer treatments and hip surgery, and also -perhaps the bigger reason- to leave something my children might someday read. Not necessarily because of its literary value, mind you… but because it was the story of someone who should have been a larger part of their adult lives but who, for reasons real and/or enhanced, has not been.

My son Eric, before he died, did read a good number of the entries. He was an avid reader, he was totally curious, and he told me he had enjoyed the read very much. I am still flattered by his assessment, since he was a critical person of what he didn’t like and would have told me (yes, he definitely would have) had this been the case.

I have come to my virtual pond of relaxing… Wally’s Pond. I need its help in thinking through my next direction in writing. You see, over the 400 or so entries in the blog, there have been intimations at times about what happened during my attempts to pursue the international investment business; the hopes, disappointments, financial losses and time gone. Especially this last. In the end, even if there were to be results, that time lost and the personal losses that have resulted from it, are irrecuperable.

About two to three weeks ago, I began to gather my memory trigger notes and to put them on some paper. Then, after much thinking, the story began to slowly unfold. It hasn’t gone very far yet, mind you, and it’s proving to be difficult to develop. There is much sadness, pain, and memories which -if given the option- I would rather leave in a dusty bin somewhere. But then, it would not be an honest recount.

Also, I am not very good at writing “long”. I envy those who can author a book; beginning at the start of the story, going through the middle and somehow, finding their way to an end. I know my thing is the very “short version” of a story. One, two or three pages … but there is a lot to write about on this matter. After thinking, a possible answer came to me: write short chapters; sort of an ongoing blog, with all entries interrelated and in the right order. I tried this, and it seems to make it a bit easier.

The next and more difficult question is: Am I ready to put this out there for all to see? The honest answer… “I don’t know”. Even after all this time (20 years from that first meeting when and where it all began), there are still unfinished business and issues to be resolved. I will continue to write it and, if my heart doesn’t totally shrink, you may start to see a chapter from time to time appear on this blog.

We’ll see how it goes… I think I’ll put my shoes back on and head home… it’s getting late in  the day…

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!!
·       Follow us on Twitter … @RJAsPandora
·       Visit www.englishnow.info

IS “HATRED” VALID?

According to the Oxford Dictionary, hate (verb) / hatred (noun) mean: 1.       To feel ( to hate ) intense or passionate dislike ( hatred ...