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