The Making of Cheíto.

There are times, usually after a posting featuring my friend from Hialeah, when I get emails and I am asked point blank … “Where did you meet Cheíto?” … “Why do you make fun of his accent?” … “He seems such a nice guy.” So, I thought it was time to present my friend Cheíto to you. (By the way, Cheo is a nickname which goes with the proper name “José” (Joseph) a fairly common name in Latin America and Cheíto is an affectionate diminutive)

The first of those questions is one I have asked myself many a time, and the one I will try to answer somewhere in this posting. As for his accent? Well, that is the way Cheíto speaks. Anything else would simply not be him. It’s not making fun; it’s his reality. I also have a deep respect for Cheíto and many others like him (and her, for he is both), who always manage to fight adversity while being a good provider and family man.  And, yes … he is a very nice guy indeed.

So, when did I meet Cheíto? I would have to go back some 12 years, when I went to stay with my brother for a while at the condo he then rented in Hialeah. Up to that point, this city had simply been a map reference, and the source of many empty South Beach jokes. I went by it on the Palmetto but almost never into it. If Miami traffic was crazy, Hialeah’s went beyond description. Sometimes a quick two block entry to get gas, since it was cheaper than most anywhere else in Miami. This was then, I don’t know now.

Going to stay at my brother’s was a temporary refuge; a get-away-from-other-issues-and-think time. And I have to say that it was also a little bit like going to a foreign country. I was thrown back in time, space and place. It was like jumping headfirst into every popular Caribbean neighborhood I had ever known. Including my own childhood neighborhood. No matter the island or country in question.

The noise, constant and full surround. Tropical music playing for all to hear (no, it’s not enough to hear it within your home, it has to be enjoyed without as well!), people speaking loudly to be heard above the din, hands flying and gesticulating (yes, we do speak with our hands in full motion), the cooking smells of my childhood coming in from all directions, the colors -on and off the people- and, perhaps the most forgotten calling card… the laughter which comes from people who are managing to be happy even though they may not have all the goodies some others think of as basic “needs”.  What others may see as chaos, to us is simply … us.

Yes, I travelled to every country in Latin America (and several outside) from 1980 to the end of the 90’s, and even lived in two of them. But this was as an adult and most of my time was taken by business issues and requirements. So, I can’t say I was totally devoid of “Latinity” (is that a word? …if not, it is now!) during my US life. However, coming into Hialeah and at a time of personal turmoil, made me more susceptible to what was a total throwback to another time when, as a child, I simply enjoyed what was then a normal environment but which, after many years of US culture immersion, found somewhat confusing. Even unnerving. For a short while.

So, who is Cheíto? I met him in Hialeah. He was my brother’s neighbor, the guy or woman at the grocery store, at the gas station, any one of many friends who I met and who welcomed me like a long-lost prodigal child. The guy walking down the street, the mechanic or the plumber… He or she came from the Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, Cuba, Panamá, Nicaragua and from most any country that touched, or was surrounded by, the Caribbean Sea.

All of us bound by that magical musical sound the water makes when it breaks on the rocks just before washing on the shore, the warm breeze it brings with it and the salt that permeates the air; by the carnival parades, the music, the food, the simple and pure enjoyment of life. The basic gratitude that comes from being alive, from being able to work and to enjoy your family and friends. And the simple and very straightforward street sense (not nonsense) that comes from all the above.

Cheíto is a compendium. He represents all of these good people who came here to work and find what their own country could not -or would not- offer, who try hard to adapt to this culture, who can’t (or don’t want to) fully get rid of the accent and lifestyle that gives them identity. He is every one of those who have managed to build what was a dormant country town “north of Miami” and the butt of many jokes, into the 4^th largest city in Florida, and have done this while maintaining that presence which makes all of them who they are. And which gives them comfort and support. The same offered comfort and support that was there for me when life brought me into their midst.

So, now you know who Cheíto is; where he hails from. He (or she) is my friend and wants to be yours too. A simple, basic and solid person who takes the hits life sometimes hands out, but who refuses to fold or give in. He (and she) goes on. And he is not such a bad example to follow.

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

Are your Rights my Wrongs

It has been a long while since my friend Cheito showed his smiling face. I have to say he was missed but, with all that has been going on, the call to him (knowing this call would be a long one…) kept being put away to later…

I guess he guessed this much, for the first thing he said when I picked up the phone (yes, I saw the ID, but couldn’t bring myself to ignore him) was:

-“Yo man, juat’s goin’on?”… “Yu don’t like me no more, or juat?”

If you don’t know Cheíto, he’s a simple, solid guy. Raised in the streets of Cuba and then in their counterparts of Hialeah, where he, Cachita (his wife) and Felicita (his now 17 year old princess) live. When they first came to the US via a small boat, they managed to get into an “effishens” (efficiency apartment) built into the garage of a relative’s house. These “apartments” are usually built without the blessing of the city’s building authority or its codes, and outside the vigilance of any of its inspectors. Their quality wavers… from so-so to outright bad. But they offer a relatively cheap shelter in time of need. Eventually, they “made it” as a working family and bought a small condo apt, overlooking the Hialeah Canal … For the time, place and circumstances, not bad.

I knew he was not happy -and very probably mad- about the long-time silence so, right away I played dirty on him and hit him where it counts…

- “Hey Cheíto… how’s our beautiful princess?” … “How’s she doing in school?”

I could hear the change in his mood and the smile come to his face. He took a little while to come back and he sounded a little worried when he spoke.

- “Man, I’n worried Rafa” “Yu knoe mi Princesa is in hi-school, an’ reddy to go to College in 2 yiars”

- “I think that’s great!!” – “What’s your worry?”, I asked.

- “Well… I’n not shur what they are tiichin’ them.”  -“Yu knoe how we talk when we are eatin’” …  “it’s our time together.”  He said.

Trying to make him feel better, I said to him – “Well, it’s good you take the time to talk as a family”.

Then he said -“Rafa, yu knoe I’n just a working guy and not a school man” … -“Sum o’da thins she says I don’t knoe nuthin’ about” … Before I had a chance to ask, he continued… -“yesterday, she ask me if I knoe why she has to conpete in runnin’ against boys at her school”. He continued… -“When I din’t annser, she tol’ me this is sonbody who was a boy an’ now says she’sa girl…” – “I’n confused Rafa.” –“Back hom’ a boy’s a boy an’ a girl is a girl, like my little princess”… - “not the saim here?”

I didn’t say anything to Cheíto, trying to rake my brains to come up with something that might sound somewhat logical…  It is very difficult to explain this whole shift in mores and culture (I will not say for better or worse…) to someone who still truly believes that out-of-wedlock children will be marked by society and that girls should get to their wedding night as virgins.

- “Well, my friend,” I said, trying to offer a degree of solace, “for most people in our country boys are still boys and girls are still girls”. “But” I continued, “there are groups who say that it is the right of everyone, including minors, to choose if they want to be considered a man or a woman, and that others have to accept their decision”.

- “Juat you mean?” –“Yu mean if a boy now sais  he a she, dat’s OK?” –“An’ if now-she guants to compete agains’ my princesa, dat’s OK too?” – “Dat no fair man … she still got a he-body and will win every taim.”  … - “Juats the use my girl  practicin’ an’ practicin’?” … - “He-she always be stronger’n faster.”

-“Well”, I said, -“they have their rights and we have to respect those rights, according to our constitution”  and to those who use it as a reference whenever it is convenient and who would like to dismantle it whenever it’s not convenient to their wants, I thought to myself.

-“Yu knoe … “ he said after a little while … -“I guess it OK about rights an’all dat.” But, he continued, - “what’bout the rights of my princesa?” “To a fair competition?” … “To her own rights doin’ what she work so hard to do again’ other girls who work so hard too?” … - “She ha’ no rights?”  …  “Where do the other people rights stop an’ my princesa’s rights start?”

I could add nothing, so I just said – “I agree with you 100% my friend.”

Once again, Cheíto’s simple, but far from shallow, street philosophy makes total sense and I really have nothing to say to him or to his cry for help in understanding. What can I say? Perhaps all these folks who spout, yell and scream about “their” rights, should take into consideration the rights of others, who don’t agree with them. Just because there is disagreement doesn’t mean they lose their rights.  

And I fully agree with my friend Cheíto. Your (or anyone’s) rights end where mine begin.

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

The Simplicity of Being Human.

This title is a little pretentious and so is my thinking that somehow, something may be conjured up that fits the stated concept. And I’ll say it before you think it… true to form, I shall plod ahead and do myself proud in proving me a fool.

It has ben said once and again, and then again… that there are some core elements or topics which will bring out the beast within. This general reaction can’t be controlled either by education or by societal standards, nor by established etiquette.

Politics and Religion. Racial issues and Sports.

When any of these elements is brought into play during a discussion, there’s almost a guarantee there’ll be some fireworks going off. And when two or more of these elements are mixed into a discussion where opposing views are the main catalyst, fireworks easily become an oral and even, a physical altercation.

Now we come to where my concerns rest. This particular election cycle in the US has become, for reasons which are far too extensive to go into here, a major hotbed of name calling, hate, flight of fancy accusations, violence and threats. And this is just the beginning and even though there are culprits on all sides, seems to come mainly from one side of the ideological division line. We can expect the heat to be raised much higher, for we are almost 2 years away from the actual election.

So, in the mix, we already have the political division. Into this, a major dose of religious powder has been added. This is, again, coming mainly from one side (the same one). A religion which is more than simply a religion; it is a socio-economic-political-legal-religion complex which is totally alien to the way of life in our country and society; yet, the more acerbic proponents already here (including two representatives elected in an area where they have become a majority) are telling the rest of us that, in fact, we will have to either become a part of this religion, or else. We can easily and readily see what their idea of “or else” is in those countries where this religion is a majority. And it is not pretty.

Now we come to the race card. Heretofore, this was reserved for the African-Americans to use at their discretion. But apparently it has been so over-used that most (with a few exceptions, all in the same alluded to party) have stopped using it. So, in order to revive its usefulness, it is now being tied to the illegal immigrants this same party wants to force on this country in order to harvest their (illegal) votes. So now, if anyone wants to secure the borders and/or require positive ID to vote, that person is automatically a “racist”. The fact that wanting to have a secure country and fair and transparent elections will work on behalf of citizens of all races and has nothing to do with “racism”, eludes these people. Or maybe not, and it is a studied use of terminology and labels. In any event, the concept of “racism” has been lost to the priority concept of “political expediency”.

So, we come to sports. This should be an easy walk, right? Guess again. Without going into the kneeling, not kneeling issues (I personally kneel for God and stand for the flag… but you knew that) we are now at the doorstep of the Superbowl. Seems that one of the QBs (Tom Brady of the Pats) was or is a friend of the President. That little bit of news has a whole faction in hysterics demanding his removal from the game or calling for him to be brutally maimed by the opposing team. Like in many other aspects, those who yell and scream do so at the urging of a few puppeteers; they just follow suit.

I guess that leaves me no option but to add one more element to this volatile mix we now live in: Blind Stupidity.

Which brings me back to the beginning. The complexity of the human being; the simplicity of the human being. How easily manipulated has the unprepared human mind become.

Just one last rejoinder: don’t take anything at face value. Ask, then ask again.

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!!

·       Visit www.englishnow.info

·       www.facebook.com/englishnowclasses   

·       Any comments please send to rjalcazar@gmail.com

IMMIGRATION THEN; IMMIGRATION NOW.

It has been my privilege to be a citizen of this country since 1968, when my army duty was completed. Prior to that I had two years as an immigrant under asylum and four years as a resident.

In all this time I have voted in every election and done so proudly and gratefully; this is a right earned, not given. As it is in every other country where free elections are held it is the right and, in several cases, the legal duty of every citizen to exercise this voting privilege. And also, in every one of these countries, in order to vote you must show an identification which proves you indeed have the right to do so.

Why did I come or was sent as a youngster to the US? My country of birth saw the coming of a government which promised the Heavenly Gates and delivered all of us straight to the doors of Hell. This happened mid-20^th century but was the beginning of the so-called “Socialism of the 21^st. Century”; a trend, directly fed and promoted by that first government, that has turned several Latin American countries and economies to rubble and dust, causing much pain, suffering and death to their citizens along the way.

As you might guess by the above, although registered as an independent, I will usually vote for the more conservative offering. Not of extreme right, mind you, but definitively right of center. I do this by choice based on painful life experience. Not only in my own country but also in several countries where I have had the privilege of living and working as an ex-pat. Those governments which tend to want to force the thinking of their citizens, or to limit their capacity to earn, or to keep and enjoy the fruit of their work, are usually governments which are not of and for the people. But for themselves. And these, as a norm, tend to be left wing socialist governments in developing countries. Extreme right governments tend to follow the same line, for reasons they present as different. But they are the same in the end. Personal power and enrichment. And the inability, or unwillingness, to accept anyone who thinks differently.

Why am I coming around to write about this? We live in an imperfectly perfect country. A country which has had open doors for many years and has welcome those who needed refuge. Over generations, most have come here using the established process in any one of its several variants. Yet, the last 10-15 years has seen a definitive shift in this pattern.  

Under the guise of open-door policies, we now see organized, large groups of people who come carrying signs that speak out against the very system they are supposedly hoping will get them out of their living misery. They are not using any established process; it’s been likened to having some strangers break into a home in the middle of the night and then force the rightful homeowner to clothe, shelter, feed and take care of them. I can’t, in any way, agree to this as being “acceptable”.

This is not easy to say because I say it as an immigrant. This country of ours is a constitutional country, based on laws and processes. Because of this, we have grown. It is not a perfect system; there is no such thing where human shortcomings are involved. But as systems go, and after having tried first hand several different ones, I know it works well; better than any other I have experienced. Especially for the individual citizen.

This is precisely what keeps attracting people from all over the world to come here. But a process must be followed; the concept of “open borders” has brought catastrophic results to several countries in Europe. Some are at the point of internal collapse; others have reversed their policies in order to survive. The cost of a major, unchecked influx of people who are unable or not willing to to adapt to the existing structure, can only be borne by increased internal spending and this can only be achieved by increasing taxes on those who produce an income. This segment of the population can only bear so much before exploding, or imploding. And with this, so goes the structure of the system, the core of the country and its society as we know it.

Do we have a system and a country worth fighting for? I am convinced we do. Does the system need some fixing? Yes, it does but this doesn’t mean destroying it. It means working within it to make it better and, at the same time, preserving it to bring the same benefits it has brought us, to our future generations.

The choice is up to every one of us. And in this analysis, ignoring the real issues should not be considered an acceptable alternative.

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!!

·       Visit www.englishnow.info

·       www.facebook.com/englishnowclasses   

·       Any comments please send to rjalcazar@gmail.com

FROM WALLY’S POND. YET AGAIN.

“For me, a very definite change of attitude is that I have come to understand that it is my duty to take care of my own needs before taking care of the needs of others, including those who may depend on me. This is a simple statement; but its profound meaning and ramifications have taken me a lifetime to grasp and accept.”

The above is an excerpt of a blog entry written some 8 years ago, while undergoing the healing process from my bout with cancer as well as from the first of two hip replacement surgeries. Why look at it again now? Two reasons: first, I am in the middle of a general review, trying to choose entries to include in a “compendium” which may (or not??) come out in printed form and, second, this entry was recently used as a reading exercise in one of my English classes. So, it was fresh in my mind.

The over-all consensus on reading and discussing the content was that yes, a person in order to give must have something to, well, give. Cannot offer much -positively, that is- when there is nothing but emptiness, frustration or anger inside.

My thoughts those years ago were most likely influenced by then recent events to include illness and personal issues which, at the time were unsolved and weighing heavily on my day to day life. Having said the preceding, I’ll add that there has been sometime spent during the last few days reliving those feelings as they were then, vs. what their evolved version may be today. Being now eight years later and hence, eight years older.

From a vantage point of those added years and with a much cooler and more stable viewpoint (I hope!!) as well as being (thankfully!!) in different health and financial circumstances today, I will still hold fast to those thoughts as expressed then.

I have met many whose primary and sometimes only goal in life, is to make money in order to have “things” with labels on them. To this group, approval from others is important. I have noticed that most of these folks (please understand, it is not my intent to place a tag of “good or bad” people) can only share money or “things”. And when money and/or material possessions are not present there is a tendency to feel out of place; of not being worthy.

I have also met many others who have much less money and, hence, much less in the way of “things”. Families who make enough to keep a roof over their heads and put food on the table. Yet, have joy and love to share amongst themselves and with those around them. Their values are based not on the material things, but on an outlook which will help them go through the day and enjoy what they do have rather than suffer angst over what others may consider as a lack.

Is either path the better one? I really still do not have an answer which may be considered definitive. I don’t really believe anyone has that answer. We can only give what we have and think along the lines we have each learned to follow. There is a line from a song which in Spanish is called “El Pequeño Burgués”, and the line goes something like this:

“If your values are spiritual, you may get to reach The Almighty; If your values are centered around money, you may go as far as the nearest bank”.

In my own case, over the course of a lifetime there were moments I have had, and moments when I have lacked. I have also found that the values and strengths which helped me get through some of the most difficult moments of my life (to this point…) had nothing to do with money. And much to do with experience, faith, commitment and an unending desire to not give up. To get over whatever it was and to move forward. And with the people who meant much to me and who cared about me.

I can only speak for myself. How about you?

Be Well … Be Back!!!

Ponderin’ The New Year. Again

Every 1^st  week of January becomes a time to once again check those issues and items which have gone undone during the past year. Or the ones which were done when they actually shouldn’t have been done. And all those changes we sworn to undergo in order to be “more acceptable”.

The reality is that I, like many others, like to think that with the coming of the new year comes a time to usher in new thoughts, possibilities, directions and, in general, a new lifestyle. One perhaps more in keeping with those general guidelines acceptable to the world at large. Or, at least, to that world within which I strive to write my own life’s story. My own little world-at-large.

Then come the following days (after the first of the year, that is) and some of those oh-so-determined resolutions begin to weigh in with their respective demands of time, effort and even funds and I begin to see them for what they really are. An exercise at trying to alleviate an already overburdened conscience into believing that, this year, it really will happen. This is the year.

Yet, as time continues to march on, these determined resolutions become a little less defined and a little less insistent until, in the end… well, you know how this old story finishes.

What is real? As years pass, we become molded to a defined style and presence. That inner material, which once was somewhat more malleable, has hardened with the constant heat and turns of day-to-day living. Not unlike a clay oven, life ministrations shape us, hardening our exterior shell and inner core, giving us a glaze which we come to accept and wear with a certain pride. It’s our badge; we have earned this glaze and it is us. We don’t really want to change it.

For some, this is akin to falling into “conformity”. To look at oneself and to say: “I’m OK with what I see, with who or what I am”. Mind you, this doesn’t exclude striving to improve or attempting to change some things which, in changing, might improve the overall “product”. But never at the risk of becoming someone else, someone who is no longer the person I was before.

At that point my reaction is more like… “well, if you don’t really like what you see… Why do you insist and continue to look at it?”

I know… not very “PC” but then… neither am I.

Selfish? Not really. At this stage of the game (or at any stage in life) it is my belief that real selfishness is to want someone else to change his/her being in order to reflect that which I would prefer. To have this person lose who he/she is in order to become an extension of myself. So I can then be happy. The irony, when this is applied to couples is that by insisting on this change, the one party who wants the other to “evolve” so, may well be obliterating those very qualities which were attractive in that other person in the first place.

So, when all is said and done, I believe I’ll keep my own self the way it is. It’s taken many years to get it to this incredibly well finished stage… well, ok, acceptable stage. But it’s who I am as you are who you are. And we are both OK. 

Come to think of it, more than OK…

Cheers to that!!

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!!

·       Visit www.englishnow.info

·       www.facebook.com/englishnowclasses   

·       Any comments please send to rjalcazar@gmail.com

Alcapurrias y Maví

If you come from Puerto Rico or have lived in Puerto Rico for any time at all, you’ll recognize those words. If you don’t, read on…

It was early summer in 1965 and my coming to Puerto Rico had taken place some few months before. The summer recess was starting, and I needed to make some income. There weren’t too many places eager to hire an aspiring 19-year-old as a CEO-in-training so, the next best thing was to hire out as a door-to-door salesman.

My first gig was selling magazines. Yeah, I know… but, hey… in a worst-case scenario I could always read my wares and be entertained. And… yes, there were frustrating times when I felt very defeated and did do this.

Money was not flowing at the time; at least not into my pockets, and every lunch time became a search for the least expensive fare I could find. Along the side streets, away from the main avenues, there were many small businesses which were managed from the front door of someone’s house. Usually, these dealt with some sort of homemade food items.

Meet Don Pedro. He was in his mid 60’s and, apparently, enjoying a semi-retirement of sorts. Every day I would walk by him, sitting on his “taburete” (locally made chair of wood and cowhide), dressed in a short sleeves “Guayabera”, leaning against the outside wall of his house cum establishment. White hat on and seemingly semi sleep behind his horn-rimmed glasses.

- “Buenas tardes, Don Pedro… ¿Cómo le va? … 

-“Good afternoon Don Pedro… How are you doin’?”

- “Aquí dándole nene”. “¿Cómo van las ventas?”…

-“Hangin’ in there, my boy”… “How are those sales goin’?”

-“Usted sabe Don Pedro… la calle está dura.” …

-“You know Don Pedro, times are tough”.

-“Dímelo a mí nene…”  

-“Tell me something I don’t know my boy”

-“Bueno, que pase un buen día”

- “Well, have a good day”

- “Bueno muchacho… que Dios te bendiga”

-“OK my boy, God Bless”.

This exchange went on almost daily. Rare was the noontime when I went by and he was not sitting on his leaning chair, gently watching the world go by, ready with a needed smile…

One day I noticed that just inside his front door was a small counter, with some glass windows. Apparently, he sold something out of his home; funny, I had not noticed before. The front room was in shadows and this counter was almost like an afterthought; a place to rest your elbows, an excuse to justify your sitting and waiting for someone to come by. And not really being worried about whether this someone showed up or not.

- “Don Pedro… no me había dado cuenta”… “qué vende acá?”

- “Don Pedro… I hadn’t noticed… what do you sell here?”

He looked at me and smiled…

- “Vendo el alma de mi Puerto Rico nene” … –“Alcapurrias y Maví”.

- “I sell the soul of my Puerto Rico my boy” … “Alcapurrias and Maví”.

Every country has a special dish and Puerto Rico is no different. There are several offerings which could be called traditional PR cuisine. Yet, for me and many others then (and I hope still), alcapurrias and maví represented the soul of this Caribbean island. The former is based on cassava dough, with a meat filling and fried as a “croquette”. A little greasy but incredibly delicious and filling… The latter is a fermented root beverage, served cold. Incredibly refreshing. And with a very defined flavor.

I bought some from him and both were so good (and cheap) that these became my almost daily lunch. Along with a heavy dose of conversation and shared philosophy, which could only be learned from years of dealing with life's surprises.

One day I came by and didn’t buy my usual fare.

-“¿Qué pasa nene? … - “No hay hambre?”

- “What’s up my boy” … “Not hungry today?”

After thinking about it a little, I just told him the truth…

- “Hoy no puedo pagar Don Pedro, las ventas no han caminado”.

- “Today I can’t pay Don Pedro… sales have not moved”.

He looked at me, with a twinkle in his eyes, and said:

- “Ven p’acá muchacho… hay cosas peores en la vida”.

- “Com’ere my boy… there are worse things in life”.

With that he proceeded to serve me -flourish and all- a plate of alcapurrias and a glass of Maví. He said:

- “No te preocupes nene… aquí hay de esto mientras te haga falta”.

- “Don’t worry my boy… there is enough of this here as long as you need it”.

For a week, Don Pedro fed me. Never said a word about payment, never said a word which would have made me feel bad about my mooching off him and his good will. Always kept the banter up while I ate and always in the same easy going, twinkle in his eyes tone. At the end of that week some money came in and he was paid. What was owed. 

His kindness…? That could never be repaid with money.

I was away for a week and came back to my rounds, looking for Don Pedro on a Monday afternoon. He was not at his usual post and the door, normally open behind his leaning chair, was closed. I knocked on the door and a younger version of Don Pedro opened.

- “Hola, ¿está Don Pedro?”

- “Hi, is Don Pedro in?”

He looked at me and just said…

- “Lo siento… mi papá murió súbitamente este fin de semana”

- “I’m sorry; my dad died suddenly this weekend”.

With an empty feeling I walked away slowly not fully accepting that this man, who had become a guiding light of sorts, would no longer be there with his smile and his friendly banter. My daily sales route, under the bright sun of the Caribbean, had suddenly become unwelcoming and a bit darker.

Don Pedro, alcapurrias and Maví. Indeed, the soul of that beautiful small Caribbean island we call Puerto Rico.

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!!

·       Visit www.englishnow.info

·       www.facebook.com/englishnowclasses   

·       Any comments please send to rjalcazar@gmail.com