From Wally’s Pond… with Cheíto…

It had been a while since my friend Cheito called me…

-“Oye chico…” …”Juat’s dis Gually Pond ju talk about?”

-“Hi Cheito…”  “Had not heard from you in a long time…” “What’s going on?”

Cheito, for those of you who may not know, is a dear, dear friend –more like family- who lives in Hialeah with his wife, his princesa and his mother in law. He came from Cuba some years ago and has tried very hard to get into the mainstream of the American life, albeit within the confines of his Spanish milieu. It is almost a different world over there; a mosaic of people from several Latin American countries, predominantly Cuban, who have created their own Latin-USA lifestyle. For those of us who have lived in the US for some time and who are, I guess, more from here than from there, it is like stepping into a time and space capsule every time we visit this little piece of country.

And this is where Cheito and his family have chosen to live. For the older members of the family, it is an easier entry process into a very different life and culture. Their changeover is cushioned by being able to continue to live within a very similar cultural ambiance to the one from which they came; for the children, it is an easier stepping stone into the new world. If we look closely, we will find evidence of this in many cities… the “Little Italies”… the Chinatowns, Germantowns, the Irish neighborhoods, the Indian Neighborhoods… and so on. Each migrant society tries desperately to hang on to their historical and cultural values while adapting to the new ones. And from these small neighborhoods have come great minds who have truly added to our society’s values and growth.

So, when Cheito came to these shores, it was almost natural that he would end up in Hialeah, the heart-city of the working class Cuban community and close to Miami, where the rest of the “with it” Latin migration has come to roost.  

-“Yea man”…  “ so juat is Gually Pond?... “I din’t knoe ju had a contri  jaus”

-“Well, Cheito… Wally’s Pond is not a real place… It’s a mind place where I can go and think”

-“Juat ju mean?” … “We caint com and visit?” … “Ju holdin’ out?”

I knew it wouldn’t be easy to explain to Cheito…

-“Well, actually… It’s not a real place Cheito…”… -“you know that wherever I am you and Cachita and princesa are more than welcome!!”

This mollified him somewhat, and I proceeded to try and explain how sometimes the stress of everyday life became heavy and how I had come up with this virtual place to go to and relax, to think and to dream… Told him just what an important personal place it had become…

-“Lemme see if I unn’erstan” he said… 

after a few seconds of reflection, he came back to me and said:

-“ Ju get tierd and wanna get away… sooo, you mentally giv’ up reelity an’ jus’ go crazy man… jus give up your min’ and go to this plays that not a plays reely and make up a worl’ that not a worl’ reely?”

What could I say to that simple logic?

–“You got it Cheito…”…  “That’s about it”

-“WOW!!!... Thas a trip man!!” “An’ ju can make it up anytaim?”

-“Yes, I can”

He was silent for a while, like trying to encompass this thought of going “out of my mind” in order to be able to sustain its functionality.

-“Ju knoe… mebbe ju ken tiich me sometime hao to do dis my fren’… I dunno… la calle está dura por acá (literally: The streets are harsh over here) an’ I’n goin’ crazy with Felicita an’ Cachita and my suegra… sumtimes I’n no sure I can pay all the bills, ju knoe… an I dunno what to do” … “mebbe I hav a plays to me only… but I hav to call it the orillas of Canal Hialeah (The Shores of Hialeah Canal) cuz thas all I knoe over heer... and if I sit to close mebbe the gators will get to me…”

As Cheito was mumbling on about having his own place to get away, I wondered just how he would manage to do this, in the middle of a world that was so basically different than mine; a world that perhaps would not allow for something like this to be done.  I felt bad for him; he works hard at any possibility of making some money to feed his family… He needs some relief and I don’t know how to help him get it.

Sometimes I don’t really know how to give it to myself… even at Wally’s Pond…

Be Well … Be Back!!!

Final Notes:

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