75 Years Ago.

 It was 75 years ago yesterday that I first saw the light of this world. Not truly remembering the whereabouts of my previous experiences as a living entity, I guess it was decided to do my best to enjoy the habitat into which I had just been delivered. 

I suppose there was a degree of celebration, for I was the first child born to my mother (others would follow) and the first grandson born to my maternal grandparents (and yes, several other grandchildren would follow suit). Yes, I am being somewhat specific, for I never actually had the chance to play on (hang from?)  the other branch of my family tree. But that is another story… or, perhaps a little later in this one. 

There really isn’t much I can pass on to you about my first few years. There seems to be the usual, well-documented early life void in my memory banks when it comes to this lovely, carefree period of one’s life. Yet, a brief moment of some 15 minutes during the early part of my second year became embedded into my mind and memory, to the chagrin of my elders who for a long time insisted I could not remember such a thing, not at that tender age. 

That was the afternoon when, right after lunch, my father came to my crib and said his goodbyes, mentioning at some point he was “going out of town” and that we would see each other again on Saturday. I remember that image and those sounds to this day. What he may have failed to mention, or perhaps mumbled over, was that it would be some 17 years before that Saturday reunion would come around.

Oh well… all in all, that should not be the defining (and only) memory of my early childhood.  Do I smell a budding trauma somewhere in there? 

The interesting thing about this journey called life is that it tends to follow its own path while allowing us to believe we are breaking new ground. We really don’t know the tumbles and falls we will suffer and the direction changes (usually quick and not very gentle) we will have to somehow maneuver around and do our best to survive. And then, let’s not talk about the outright head-on crashes we do live through on this bloody road. 

My mother and grandfather (as a surrogate father, none could have been better) did their best to create a handsome, uplifting, well-mannered, well-studied, and smooth-talking young man. But they got me instead. They tried their best and, if I were to be honest (Ok, I am being honest… what do you want from me? This is not easy… I always thought I was as close to perfection as possible) that project was far from finished when the political tides of life changed the course (one of many changes to come) of our existence. That person (me) was still a few years away from the ready stage. 

So now… 75 years later, a few million miles of travel time, 51 countries under my belt, and far too many falls taken and mistakes made, I have learned that the only reality at any given point in life is that there is much more to learn. Always much more. Perhaps one lifetime is not enough. 

But I do thank those people who were a part of my early steps; those who somehow gave me a base platform where I could plant my two feet as firmly as possible, grab some impulse and continue on this journey. They loved me and did their very best; I loved (love) them back and -somehow and surprisingly- managed to learn a good number of “how-to’s” from them. This helped along the way; especially during times all I had to go on, were those memories they instilled in me. 

Happy Birthday Me!! 

Be well, Be Back!!

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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!!   

·        Any comments please send to rjalcazar@gmail.com

CUANDO UN AMIGO SE VA… WHEN A FRIEND IS GONE…

Some 22-23 years ago, I met this guy in the midst of a business transaction. One of the many guys met and one of many transactions that I would try to complete in the course of time.  Also, one of the same many that would fail to produce results.

That first meeting was uneventful. Almost irrelevant you might say. It happened in Zurich, Switzerland, and we were both there trying to pursue a possibility; a dream which, as dreams are wont to do, can disappear in a wisp, a word, a thought. Leaving no trace behind. 

We had little chance to speak since we represented different interests at the time. But the stage was set. It seemed we were of a mind, of a different set and more dedicated to truly resolving the puzzle, than most of those with whom we had to deal. The average guy’s interest was geared only to cashing in whenever possible and at whatever cost... to someone else, preferably.

It was a year later we met again. This time in Paris and working the same interests. We stayed at a small, neighborhood hotel, and had a chance to get to know each other. He, speaking Portuguese and some French, I Spanish, English and less French. All in all, we communicated very well. There were times (often, it seemed) during this stretch of some 5 months in France when we pooled our resources and were able to go to the corner coffee shop (Parisian style) and have pizza and wine. These were opportunities to share stories and histories… and an excellent environment in which to grow a lasting friendship.

Early one evening I went to his room to pick him up to go to a meeting and saw several medicine bottles on his nightstand. When I asked him about this collection, he shrugged and said… “It was the years of diving in the polluted waters of Sao Paulo’s Bay (Brasil) to clean up”. He owned a company charged with cleaning up the mess on the bottom of the bay, next to the spill outlets. “We had to use strong chemicals and, despite our using special suits, these eventually got into our systems”. As a result, he was dealing with several issues not usually seen until much later in life. He was 38 at the time. Previews of problems to come.

Over the next couple of years, while still dealing with the same issues and walking the same corridors of life, we would meet every so often and were able to nurture and maintain a good, interest-free friendship. 

Then, as often happens in life, our ways parted. He remained in Europe, dabbling still in these off-center businesses and transactions, I came back home to The US due to the constant failure and accompanying frustration of not accomplishing my goal, as well as the number of shady characters and practices I had come across in trying to do so. A couple of years later, I was diagnosed with cancer and also had to undergo a couple of major surgeries to replace painfully malfunctioning hips.

After the surgeries and in the process of convalescing from my last hip replacement, a friend suggested that I start a blog as a way of using my inability to roam around freely, for a while, anyway. So, this magnificent piece of literary… don’t even say it… something was born. Along with it, I began to dabble more frequently on FB, creating my page and reaching out to friends. 

Low and behold! One day, while reviewing some comments, there was a note from my long-lost friend, after several years of not having any communication. We retook our friendship as if no time had gone by. He had remained in Spain, had developed a secondhand clothing business, and then had sold it (badly, it turned out) to retake the “old business”.  A business I had literally left behind due to my health issues. At this time, I was already managing several classes of English as a Second Language and had little time for other things. Especially those which had been a frustrating, damaging, and debilitating waste of time, money, and health. Of course, he asked me to help him, for he was dealing with this alone. 

I did end up helping him with documents and conversations, especially those which needed to be done in English, but was very clear I did this to help him as a friend, not because I believed in what was being done. So, for the last five years or so, we have been in constant communication, more so after his health began failing and his outlook became grim. During these years and thanks to Skype, WhatsApp, Google, and others, we had many, many face-to-face conversations. Not always about business. Over time we became virtual brothers. Literally.

During the last couple of years, he was in and out of the hospital, his health growing worse and his body weaker. Luckily, his older daughter was able to come to him from Brasil and become his mainstay and companion. Over this period, I felt that we were approaching the end of this relationship, at least on this physical plane. 

Last Saturday morning I received an early morning WhatsApp call. His daughter had called me to put him on the phone. One last time. He was in the hospital and the Doctors had said there was not much else to do but wait. He was in bed, covered up to his neck but, having known him all these years I quickly realized he had little left. 

- “Raf… I wanted to say goodbye”. “My heart is just giving up. I am tired” “Thank you for your friendship, know I love you as a brother. Until next time”. 

There wasn’t much I could say except… - “Go in peace brother; I love you”. 

His life ended on Sunday morning my time. Peacefully. 

Rest In Peace my dear friend Ronaldo. May you be free of suffering and pain now. 

September 9, 2021

REMEMBER to like and follow the blog… share it with your friends.

 Be Well … Be Back!!!

Final Notes:

·        Pray for those who are fighting an illness that may take them away from their loved ones… Every request is heard, and counts!!   

·        Any comments, please send to rjalcazar@gmail.com