I’m Back…

After struggling with courses to complete my certification as a teacher, I submitted my last task last Friday and now humbly waiting for the feedback.

It has been a rollercoaster ride that includes, the end of the world, class changes, administration changes, and life.

It seems like more time than it actually took to complete (if this last task is good), and I feel drained from it.

However, the good news is that now I will have the time to contribute to this project regularly, or more often.

Thanks to all of you for having patience and your support.

A Humble Return from Far Away

It has been a long time since my last post, and a lot has happened since.

Life does not stop because we are busy.

In May, an accomplishment for the little one, for he completed his elementary school journey. He did very good, got a break, and now a new journey began, for middle school is his next destination.

Sad news in the family, as the last renaissance man passed away. It was bitter and troubling to see a man of his intellect and such a view succumbing to Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s diseases. In the end, he went peacefully on his terms, and surrounded by family and friends.

He will always be missed.

The new school year began with a new regime (oops…administration) at the school. New beginnings bring changes, different views, and everything else in between. So far, the reviews are mixed, and people still don’t understand yet what the plan is, but I doubt is going to be published or available anywhere. The school already lost a veteran teacher, and the thought is that other ones are polishing their resumes and looking for the exits. That may be the actual plan, transforming the school into a new thing, even if it is still operating in buildings that are more than 50 years old (one side of the school).

The next event is a quinceañera celebration for my niece. Seems like yesterday, she was a baby that my mother watched at times. She has grown up, for life does not stop, I guess, even if we are busy with other trivial things or maybe important things.

In our faster than fast world where we are led by the nose by all the media and the convenience of mediated devices, it is essential to take a minute and just look and enjoy the marvels our world offers us humans every single day. Good and bad are all the same, for life does not stop and spending all of our time in front of a screen purposely created to keep us occupied and docile.

Well, enough ranting, and thanks for all the likes and your patience over the years with my long sabbaticals.

Later

Next: Where are all the Real Liberals?

A Sad Story from The Lone Star Estate

Over the years (feels like centuries sometimes), I have been working on a series of stories about my homeland. The Lone Star Estate, Puerto Rico (Spanish marketing), San Juan Bautista (as Columbus named it after he claimed the Island for Spain), and Boriken (the name given by the previous tenants).

It has been hard work, splitting time with life musings that tend to get on the way of the most mundane and pleasurable endeavors.

The phone rang Tuesday night (a week ago). I was half-awake and after a minute the voicemail alert blipped as the usual annoyance of modern life. The caller left a message and after debating if I should check the message, I clicked on the message and began listening to it. The message was from an unlikely caller that I have not spoken with for probably 12 years or more. The message was inquiring if the phone number he had dialed still belonged to me. I was surprised (more like WTF happened, since over the years he had been the bearer of that sort of news), and decided to call him back. The ring at the other side rang several times, and then a voice answered. I said his name and he said mine as we then exchanged salutations and pleasantries. He is and always has been a great friend and has always managed to find me despite my nomadic personality. I guess this is why he gets the assignment from the other people in my long ago time ago, in a galaxy far, far away high school class. Probably the only one who cares about finding some of us lost souls, for he has always been involved in our class reunions and kept in touch after all the years.

Old San Juan

Once again, he and the others are organizing the 40th anniversary (I think, not sure, memory fades) class reunion, and since the last one (I think 10 years ago), a lot of things have changed. We talked about people, politics, the weather, and lost classmates. And then he told me that my best friend from school and from my neighborhood had died. It was a surprise since over the past weekend, in a passing conversation with my brother, we mentioned him and wondered how he was doing. He was one of my few friends, and even as time passed, we could meet at any moment, and it would have been like we had never been apart or spoke in years.
I told my friend on the phone (another friend), that around the last time we talked, I decided to sever all my connections with the world. I explained to him that it was a transition moment, yet another crossroad in life, and it required to cut off everything and as the years passed one get used to the silence or becomes comfortable or content and do not miss these connections. Many of the Boricuas (estate born folk) keep contact with the Island, some visit the estate regularly to maintain their ties and their identity. My calling friend also has kept contact with the Island and still visits it.

As we talked more and more about the past, the present, and the future, I felt like the words forming ideas in the conversation felt like a message from a parallel universe, or from a life, I barely remember. I never returned to the Island, but not for the reasons most people may quickly think (not concerned). I left because it was necessary for me to change my life, for I was in a flux that was not working, and probably I would have ended as a nameless statistic. The other reason is simply that my memories (good and bad) are bound to my last perceptions of the Island. Visiting the Island now would simply destroy those perceptions. I know, it may be selfish or hard to understand, but after reading some of the classics of the Island and getting old, one like to remember things like they were. The Island has changed over time, as it should, but I do not want to return because the present reality will change my perceived memories. I now understand the poets and storytellers that left the Island, and later returned, only to find that the essence of what they left is gone. Luis Llorens Torres’ “El Valle de Collores” describes his dissolution as he returns home only to find that everything that he left is gone.

I do not know, but as an old cranky man I think it is an indulgence I am allowed to have. However, it was good to hear from him and hopefully will lead to other conversations in the future. He once said that he kept a full page for my address changes, and my career moves back to the dark ages when phone books were a part of life along with the rotary phone.

Rest in peace my brother, and thanks for the help that I would never be able to repay, and maybe we shall see each other one day in the place where there are no shadows.

Next: More Blurbs or Musings

Here comes Again…

Here Comes Autism Awareness Month

This post is from last year, and it still has some importance today. I am not the usual uplifting petty positive person (if you have not read my bio…do that now, please) that overhype everything about autism.

In our life, autism is real, but it is part of daily life and every single day is full a what I call “beautiful small moments” that may just go by if we live in the nanosecond mode.

A few days ago, my Buddy was having an issue with one of his socks. “Mommy, there is something bothering with my sock”. Mommy was busy as all mornings go getting everybody ready, and sent him to me to help him. I took the sock off and put it back, but no luck. Then, I decided to flip the sock inside out and put it on. Marveling at my ingenuity (or so I thought), he looked at me and blinked twice. I asked him, “does it bother you anymore?” He blinked again and said in his usual nonchalant tone, “kind of”. I looked at him and asked, “but does it bother you?” He then said, “kind of” and pointed at the letters of the sock that were backwards. At that point, I went to his dresser and got another pair of socks, and those were perfect. These are the moments that make the day worth living. This is the beautiful world of autism.

Oops, With My Mother’s Indulgence…

When I saw this cartoon, it reminded me of a story about my mother. For those who do not know, I am not allowed to tell stories about family (is one of the rules), but I am about to get in trouble for breaking one of the commandments. She was telling me about her ordeal at therapy that ended with a massage. The therapist was telling her to relax because she was too tense. Her anxiety was about her worries that if she relaxed as the therapist wanted, her insides would take over. It was one of those moments in your adult life when your parents share some of these anecdotes, and you have to listen to them, no matter the length, the details, and the rambling or ranting. She went on with her story for several more minutes, describing the excruciating pain of gas rumbling in her insides wanting to get out. However, her resolve triumphed as she held on her butt cheeks shut like a hockey goaltender after completing a shutout.

Next: Repost of Robocop (2014)

Vegetarian hypocrites

This is a story from the National Day of Gluttony, and it happened a few years ago, and it goes like this:

Have you ever been invited to eat during Thanksgiving at a vegetarian house?

Or maybe, you have heard the tale at work or any other place about the tofu turkey?

I was invited to this home for lunch, and to great ovation and pomp, all family members were exited to sit around the table to “celebrate” the “Day of Thanks” since the family did not celebrate Thanksgiving because of all the evils the white man did to the Native American people.

At that point, the lady of the house called upon all the people at the table to marvel at the turkey made entirely of tofu.

My inner child was overstimulated at this notion because it is silly, not to mention hypocritical.

The idea of a tofu turkey defeats the whole vegetarian concept of not eating meat for health reasons, or for the most used reason by these folks, which is that animals are somewhat sacred.

These are the people who say that animals need human rights, or one of my favorite, wondering about how the animal, in this case a turkey, can be killed humanly.

First, there should be rights (the word human is not necessary), and I agree that cruelty, mistreatment, and not being able to responsibly care for them should be important.

However, there is no humane way to kill anything because the end result is the same.

Now, finding a way to kill the animal without suffering should be a law.

I am sure we can find a way to make it happen.

Going back to the “Day of Thanks”, if the purpose of the tofu shaped as a turkey was intended as a lesson for the little ones that animals are alive and should not be eaten, then for the love of bob (these folks were not into religion), shape the tofu like anything else and that way the lesson has true meaning and importance (see an example bellow).

However, most of these people do this as a way to feel superior or evolved. They just want to rub in that they are better than you by making this production to show you their “elevated” ways.

They do not care about animals, just like they do not care about another of their motifs: the environment.

These will be the ones driving around an electric car simply because “it’s the thing”.

Regardless that “I don’t have to go to the evil gas station”, but plugging the car all night uses electricity that is produced by burning something.

I was never invited back to another “day of thanks”, and to be honest, I never missed it, and in time my trips were to carnivore-friendly places who celebrated Thanksgiving.

Next: Oops, With My Mother’s Indulgence…

Why I do not go to Bars, or Coffee Shops Anymore

After many years sober, I concluded that bars are not a good place for me anymore. No, it is not because I may slip and go back to my drinking days, but because I cannot understand what the people in the bar are saying. When you are sober, your speech runs at a different speed than when you are drunk, and when somebody who had a few talks to you sounds like an old vinyl when you play it at a slower speed. That is one reason for drinking, for it is a contest to match the speed of the other people’s speech in the hopes of finding understanding and enlightenment (lost and forgotten in time).

Another other reason and maybe the most popular is to try to relieve or at least forget temporarily the anxiety and stress of everyday life for working people. No, I am not immune to everyday life stress and anxiety, far from it. However, I think during my drinking days, I drank a couple of lifetimes and the moment when your life flashes in front of your eyes, and you are too intoxicated to do something and the Universe gives you a pass, it is time to reconsider other options.

Another reason for not going to bars anymore is that some people when they drink delude themselves into thinking they are Superman, or Bruce Lee, or had watched Roadhouse too many times and think they can beat anybody. The truth is that no matter if you are a black belt, Navy SEAL, second coming of Rambo, if you are drunk and try to pick up a fight with somebody who is not drunk the chances of beating the sober guy are against you. The reason that it does not happen often is that 99% of the time the sober guy will just walk away from the fight. There are important reasons for bar fights (part of lost lore), and there are certain rules. One of them is the assumption that everybody is drunk hence leveling the playing field, and the most amusing, funny, and incredible fights used to happen in the sanctity of drinking establishments. Besides the obvious fact is that it is a bar, so if you are not drinking, what are you doing there in the first place, hence why I do not go to bars anymore.

So, what to do next for a “new” man for the millennium, as my uncle said a long time ago. Pardon, dear reader, but this search for truth and enlightenment was about 15 years ago and times were different. I started to go to coffee shops in search of the enlightenment I used to seek in bars. The coffee shop scene quickly became dull and unappealing. Too many people pretending and being totally not genuine. It only took a few times for me to confirm that humans are the most insecure and unnatural creatures in this planet. The sad part is that there is no enlightenment and definitely no temporary break on everyday life like a bar would provide.

Meeting with someone at a bar was better because if she dumps you, it is less painful since the spirits you have consumed already numbed your senses. At a coffee shop, your senses are in overdrive and rejection feels like a big slap on the face, enhanced by the properties of caffeine. After a few slaps and a couple of “no show…no call”, it became clear that I was done with these places, and hence why I do not go to coffee shops anymore.

In the post “man of the millennium” times of today, I stay out of these places. Coffee houses had become drive-through factories for caffeine fiends who are too busy in their mobile devices to even make eye contact. Bars had now become “drinking establishments ” with all sorts of activities and motifs to amuse the same crowd of people who would not make eye contact.

I am bias towards bars because the role models of my days were bar-folk, and as I grew up I followed in their foot steps and became a bar patron. However, I moved a lot and having a regular bar was not realistic, but bars follow a set of universal dogmas (not rules) and a local bar is usually the same no matter what part of the universe you are located. What I do miss from bars is the strange smells (not so strange really), specially as you get close to the bathroom area, or as the time to close nears, the spilling of proteins and other digestive fluids all over the parking area, and the most amusing the scenes of rational people behaving irrationally. I miss the characters that became regulars, and the usual drunk who was thrown out of the bar by the fierce bouncer.

Next: Vegetarian Hypocrites

Sean Connery’s Dad (007)

As we get old, our minds wander through all the information our brains have collected over the years. Occasionally, the recollection of these memories can be jumbled or distorted. Most of the recollection of events is based on the person’s perception and are not always accurate or factual as we may think.

My grandfather’s last years were a collection of memories that were ordered and curated from his perspective. Most of his memories were funny from our generational perspective, and they ranged from just funny to downright hysterical. Of course, there were a few sad memories that he would share in melancholy and remembrance of times of his youth when the world was better (that perspective thing again).

During the Oscars of 2006, a life achievement was awarded to Sean Connery for his long and continuous work over seven decades (he started acting at 7). When the announcement was made, Mr. Connery got up to a standing ovation from his peers in the theater, walked to the stage, said a few words of thanks, and walked off the stage.

The next morning at breakfast, my grandfather was baffled because how in the world the people of the academy have conferred such an honor to Sean Connery, and he did not show up and instead sent his dad to pick up the award. Around the table there was an even more dumbfounded confused faces as we all thought “WHAT?“.

It took what seems to be hours, but only a couple of minutes went by when my aunt responded “papi (as he was referred out of respect), that was him”

More confused and now disturbed, my grandfather responded, “no, ese no puede ser el. Yo vi una película con el antes de ese show y ese hombre es joven y es muy elegante y opota(…that could not be him because I just watched him in a movie (on the Spike network’s James Bond Marathon) before the Oscars, and he is a young good-looking elegant man”, he concluded.

We all looked at each other and let it go, since there was no way to convince him, as he continued to chastise 007 and his dad for disrespecting the people of the academy.

Over the years and after his death, it became a funny family moment that became part of his story and even today it still is a source of laughter and remembrance.

For our family, it is important that our last days are filled with small moments like that one.

Monchito, as he was called, died in Gainesville, Florida around 2008 (my life was a blur during those years), and was cremated and reunited with his Carmen back on the Island (The Lone Star Estate).

Sometimes in our so called complicated or busy day that is nothing but a mirage we create to avoid and to cherish these simple moments of beauty that encompass life, and during Monchito’s time he provided with a plethora of moments of beauty.

Next: A Couple of Things of my Chest.

New Year’s “Blues”

The first month of 2023 is gone, many people that I know will saying “wow this year is already flying, soon it will be Christmas again”. Obviously, is a matter of perception and a case of old habits die hard.

I have been trying to write regularly, but ever since the world ended (or isn’t…can’t tell as it feels like a blur), the common responsibilities take me away from moments like this (as I take the time to write this in a revered place in my house). I think that as a compromise (that position considered a weakness), I will continue to write about movies, TV shows and my experiences, but I will add small blurbs in between. These blurbs are small happenstances that are a short read that may or may not make all the sense in the world to some, but they are small fragments of life that happen all the time. Along with some of the blurbs, there will more media that may be part of the story, or the picture will be its own blurb.

I hope you enjoy them…

jrlopz

Gainesville, Fla. 2023

Next: Sean Connery’s Dad