Not Your Usual Kind of Christmas

My mother is a strong, focused lady and nothing will stop her in reaching her goals. In her younger days she worked her fingers-to-the-bone to be successful. She got her degree and even had her own business. She was so focused and so motivated.

She had this dream to get the whole family to the United States and people in her town did not understand why she wanted to leave. They would make fun of her and even call her names.

When we got here, she remained focused. Still worked her fingers-to-the-bone so time to make friends was not a top priority. Looking back, I can see that her tough character & her focus were a way to protect herself from people's opinions.

But now that we are settling into our new house, it looks like she is ready to try again. She has made friends with a few ladies at church. But again, her tough coat has been misunderstood and there are a few ladies who do not get her level of focus or her motivation.

Yesterday she had an argument with the wife of a deacon. Mom had been asking around if any of the ladies needed a seamstress to make dresses for Christmas. My mother explained that she was starting a new business and the deacon's wife interrupted her. "Why do you consider yourself to be better then the rest of us?" She complained to my mother. "Isn't a job at a factory good enough for you?"

But I know a 'job' is not enough for my mother. Needless to say mom butt heads with this lady and several other ladies from the church group. But mom just lets this go.

A few weeks back, this lady was doing a collection of unwanted clothes for the poor & needy. My father committed himself to donate clothes. Over the weeks leading up to Christmas, we had donated several bags of clothes, that we did not use anymore.

At the Wednesday service before Christmas, the ladies' church group made one last request for more unwanted clothes. "There is a desperate need for these items..." was the last plea. Nobody raised their hands, and at the last minute my father raised his. He committed the family one more time.

Now for Saturday service, we dragged a big bag of clothes with us on the train. We carried it for the 1hr commute to church. There my father handed the bag over to this lady. Danny gave up a parka. It's only problem was that it was old & had holes in the pockets. I gave up a nice blue jacket with a small tear in the elbow and mom gave up a nice brown coat with a fur collar. Even though the fur was a little torn, she liked that coat, and grudgingly gave it up.

All because my dad said "the poor do not have clothes to keep them warm this winter and you have several..."

Saturday service was beautiful and the Christmas theme left us feeling that giving up our items for the benefit of others was a good idea. It is what a "good Christian" should do - right?

But now walking out of Saturday service, we see a difference in the floor mats the church is using. Stretched out on the floor were my mom's fur-collar coat; my blue jacket & Danny's parka there on the floor for people to wipe their feet.

This cut deep, like a knife, straight thru my mother's heart. She had allowed herself to be vulnerable and allow people in. But now this lady had taken a direct hit at mom. I don't know why, envy, anger, jealousy...

But again my mother lets this go and just moves on - like always. This time the pain was a little deeper.

A neighbor saw us walking & offered us a ride home. Mom was quiet all the way home and nobody else dare break the silence. All we could do was listen to Delta Dawn playing on the radio. I guess mom being vunerable is now like a faded rose from days gone by...

When we got home, mom went straight up to her room. I hope we can find a way to cheer her up before Christmas.

Catholic Girls Start Much Too Late

When I got home from school I went straight to mom's factory. Mom is preparing an order that needs to be delivered today. Marga was feeling sick, so I had to sit at the blindstitch machine and finish off some hems.

As soon as I finish off these hems, the dresses go to Nancy. She trims off the excess threads that may be hanging and cleans the garment. From there Nancy will pass them off to dad for a steam ironing. Then Daniel will place them of a hanger & bag them.

We need to finish the last fifteen dresses and the order will be ready to go. The order is finalized by around 3:30 and Daniel needs to drive into the city - into Chinatown to deliver the order.

I lied to my mom. Telling her that I did not have homework to do so that she can let me go with Daniel. We loaded up the bug and off we go. The car is so overloaded with garments that my seat on the passenger side is pushed so close to the front that my knees are hitting the dashboard.

We drive north on the New Jersey Turnpike. Get off on the Holland Tunnel and cross into the City right before 5:45pm - right before they closed the receiving dock. This order was a test of 50 garments to see if mom would get the full order of 1000 garments. If we were to miss the deadline, she would not have gotten a chance at it, so luckily we made it in time. He goes upstairs to make the delivery, while I sit in the car keeping an eye on it.

Now we can drive back into New Jersey without a worry. Getting back in the car, we drive off for the Lincoln Tunnel. "We have one more stop before we can go home." Daniel tells me. "We need to drop off a sewing order to Sra. Garcia in West New York."

I lay back - now that I have some leg room - and take a nap. When I wake up, I hear Daniel playing some brand new songs from Billy Joel's latest album, The Stranger. Sitting in traffic, we are enjoying " Movin' Out (Anthony's Song)"

We pull up to Sra. Garcia's house & I just realized why we drove north for an extra 1/2hr. This is where Maria lives. There she is walking home in her Catholic School uniform. Daniel is so excited. "Pass me that bundle from the back seat!" Daniel asks me.

He puts the bundle on his lap and brushes his hair. I reach for the door handle & he stops me. "No, I need you to wait here & keep an eye on the car." OK I guess I can use this time to actually get my homework done.

As Daniel goes into the house, I turn on the overhead light & the radio.

Listening to Billy Joel sing... "Come out Virginia, don't let me wait. You Catholic girls start much too late..."

I completed my homework & am still waiting. I've listened to the whole tape and its now repeating again. Ice is forming on the windows, from the cold outside, and Daniel is still not back.

"What is taking so long. It's freezing in here!" I think to myself. I cover myself with some of the fabric and doze off for a bit. Then I am awaken by Daniel banging on the glass. I freak out not realizing it's him banging. He walks in with a smile on his face. It looks like he might have gotten a kiss from Maria - but he's not talking.

"She's a nice girl!" I can't kiss & tell." He replies as he pulls out into the street. Its now 9pm and away we go! We are heading home having accomplished more then we had originally planned.

Sweat You Ass Off, Mi'jo

Joe came over today. He has a really bad cold - coughing like crazy - and his voice hoarse and scratchy. I think it's at the verge of being a pneumonia, but he disagrees.

After being in the house for only 5 minutes, mom yells at Joe. "What are you doing out in the cold with that pneumonia? Oh my God! your voice is ready to go!!"

"It's not a pneumonia! It's only a cold. Don't worry" Joe replies. But he does not know my mom. She left the room and we went back to hanging out. We're watching TV and just talking but we are having a good time hanging out with Joe.

I don't know why all the neighbors don't like Joe. He is a good guy with a bad reputation - no matter that it's unearned. My dad does not like him, but my mom does. She says that she sees the kindness in his heart.

"Knock, Knock" my mother says as she opens the door of my room. "Take your shirt off!" She demands of Joe, in her broken English. "What?" Joe replies with a puzzled look.

"Don't even try to stop her Joe. When she has her mind set, nothing will stop her." Danny tells Joe. "Just surrender, It'll be easier!"

MY mom showed up with a container of 'Mentol Chino' & a stack of newspapers. She rubs the mentol chino on his chest and on his back. She lays it on thick so that the newspaper will be able to stick to it.

The room has a strong Menthol smell and Joe is complaining of the smell and that the fumes are stinging his eyes.

"Dile que no joda!" My mom yells out. "What did she say?" Joe asks. "Stop complaining and let her continue..." Danny replies, leaving out the curse word.

Now my mother grabs the newspaper. She plasters it on his chest like if she was hanging wallpaper. She rubs it in - almost as if she was trying to rub the newsprint off onto his chest.

She continues with more of the same on his back. "Now put your shit back on!" She instructs Joe. Sure enough, Joe is now doing whatever my mother instructs.

She now leaves the room & Joe is just standing there like an overstuffed scarecrow. He has newspaper spilling out the neck & arms of the T-shirt.

My mother walks back in, this time with a thick wool blanket that we brought over from Ecuador. This blanket is made of Llama wool and is made by the local Indians. I have many memories of how it kept me warm during those cold winter nights in the Bronx. We used to have nights when the heat would not work & this blanket was the only thing that kept us from freezing our ass of. The whole family would sit under this blanket to stay warm & watch TV.

My mother wraps the blanket tightly around Joe. The only thing hanging out the side is his hands and off the top is his head. Joe is now stiff as a scarecrow.

"Now leave!" My mother instructs Joe! "Mi'jo, Go home & sleep wrapped in the blanket. Don't take the blanket off no matter how hot you get."

My mother treated Joe just like she would her sons. She was truly concerned for him. Joe does not question nor says anything but gives Danny a look, as if to ask "What should I do now!?"

My Brother replies "GO & sweat your ass off!

The next morning Joe returns the wool blanket & thanks my mother for taking care of him. He does not have a mother & she has made him feel as if she was his mother.

"Thank you" is all he says - his voice no longer hoarse or broken. "I feel much better."

Guilty By Association

Daniel and I are working on his VW Super Beetle. This car is Souped up and really fast looking.

The rear wheels are wide 60's racing slicks covered with fender flares that makes the back of the car look super cool! The car has a drastic lean towards the front because of the size of the rear wheels.

Definitely not your usual '72 Super Beetle. The front wheels are low profile 70's and they also stand out beyond the edge of the fenders.

Today we are replacing his stereo. It isn't working well and we are going to replace it with a more powerful system. We take apart the housing to get to the radio. It snaps out but the radio is secured with Flathead screws and we don't have a screwdriver for it.

The only tools we have are the few that Tio Amable has given Daniel over the years and a few that he has gotten on his own. He is proud of his toolbox, so much so that he won't let me go near them.

But today is different. "Pass me the screwdriver!" he asks. "there isn't one in here." I reply. "Well go inside and get a butter knife we can use that as a Flathead screwdriver." Sure enough this works! we replace the stereo and put in some nice speakers on the doors.

He was so proud of his Super Beetle and how great the stereo sounded.

So of course we had to show it off! We immediately cleaned up, put the tools away and threw out the trash. I was so excited to go for my first ride in his Bug that I did not want to miss not even a second of it. I tossed the knife on to the rear floorboard put the floor mats back in place and away we went.

Not even 10 minutes into our ride do we attract attention. But not the kind we wanted. This one is the local cop that has always had something against us. The red lights from his cruiser's strobe spins around. This one is not like a beacon in the middle of the darkness here to protect us, but as a disruptive flash breaking up the beauty of the sun setting.

"Driver's License and registration please." The office asked. My brother complies without saying a word. "Where is your friend tonite?" the officer questions.

"Who are you referring to officer?"

"You know who! That troublemaker you hang out with." Now the questioning turns into an interrogation. "What kind of trouble are you hoodlums up to tonite?"

"Nothing officer, just cruising around."

"Don't give me that shit! You're sure you were not involved in something?" His tone getting really nasty and stern now. "Step out of the car - now!" He yells!

"What's going on officer?" My brother asks. "What are you guys doing with a knife in the car?"

"We don't have a knife!" My brother replies, not knowing that I had tossed it back into the car behind his seat.

"Then what is that weapon doing there on the floor?" The officer insisted. My brother turns around and looks. "Oh! we were striping wires to redo the speakers, officer. That's only a butter knife! It can't hurt anyone - not even slice a tomato!" He replied nervously.

"Don't get nasty with me!" The officer yelled as he grabbed my brother. He spun him around and yelled "Spread 'em on the car!" Holy shit this is getting way too crazy. We have not done anything wrong. Since he associates us with Joe, then we are also suspects in his eyes.

"Officer! What are you doing..." I yelled. "Shut up kid! Keep your butt on that seat! I don't want to see you move one inch!" And with that the officer slammed the driver's side door shut!

I can hear the officer yelling and the walki-talki squealing! "Dispatch, dispatch! Have there been any robberies tonite?" They go back and forth with code-this and code-that. Frustrated the officer calls out "Anything involving a knife?" "Negative!" replies the dispatcher on the walki-talki.

"You are lucky punk! You get off free tonite. Don't let me catch you with that punk, Joe!"

Boy! That really scared the shit out of me. He was looking for any reason to drag us to jail. I've never been that close to being arrested.

As we drove off, Daniel watch every step he made. He drove under the speed limit, used his turn signal at every turn. Just from an association to a neighbor, we are now considered, and looked at, as hoodlums.

From that point forward, I looked over my shoulder - not even the cops are our friends.

Have You Never Been Happy Just To Hear Your Song...

Tonight is the final dance of the summer. All summer long I've wanted to dance with Joan.

There is something about her eyes that makes my heart beat twice as fast. Just the idea of holding her soft hand makes my knees buckle.

And being able to stand next to her and smell the sweetness of her skin just warms my soul.

All year long I've wanted to say hi to her, but I've been too shy and could not even bring myself to walk up to her. Now summer camp is almost over and I still have not gotten the nerve to talk to her.

So imagine! Actually getting to dance with her tonight surely seems unlikely.

Eddie, my best friend, laughs at me. He says all I have to do is ask. "The worst that could happen is that she says no..." But this is what scares me! "What if she does say no?"

"Forget that man! The dance is about to start and we need to check out the hot girls."

Eddie, a couple of friends & I are are hanging out in front of the dance hall. Checking out every girl that walks by. I do not notice any of them. The only girl I'm looking for is Joan. Sadly, she is nowhere to be found.

"Lets go in. The dance is starting!" Eddie yells out. I hang back to see if maybe Joan is coming around the corner of the building. But no luck.

Half hour into the dance, Eddie comes running up to me. "Joan is here! Are you going to get your nerve up and ask her to dance?" he asks.

"I don't know if I can do it!" I reply. But deep down inside what I was really thinking is more like "I don't know if I can - handle the rejection." I can't take that chance.

"You know what your problem is? You need to man up!" When he said this, I knew he was right. I've never been comfortable in my own skin.

"Go for it!" He eggs me on "She's standing right over there by the punch bowl. You'll never know until you try."

TODAY that has to end! Summer is almost over & I've had my head up in the clouds. I may never get another chance.

Eddies strength & courage has given me a surge of courage.

"Eddie, I'm gonna do it! I'll ask her to dance!"

I walk right over to her - before my injection of courage runs out. As soon as I approach her the dance song ends. I freak out & freeze for a second. But I ask anyway! "Do you want to dance?" and to my surprise she replies

"YES!"

I grab her hand and we walk out towards the dance floor. I'm expecting another fast dance song, but I can't believe it - they start playing a slow romantic song.

I pause and look her in the eyes, as if asking "still wanted to dance?" - and she tugs my hand towards the dance floor. Waiting for Olivia Newton John to sing the first words, Joan whispers "Why haven't you asked me before?"

As I'm searching for an answer, Olivia Newton John starts with... "There was a time when I was..." Joan steps closer to me. Suddenly the song fades to the background and all I can hear is the beating of my heart. As she tilts her head and leans in towards my shoulder, I feel my heart pounding like a drum. The beating rhythm creates a sense of peace & stillness. I allow myself to be in the moment & enjoy Joan in my arms.

Wow!! This is the greatest moment ever! We danced close together for what felt like a sweet eternity. Dancing cheek to cheek, I keep my eyes closed and savor the moment. Her hair and skin are sweet smelling - almost like roses. Her hands are soft and warm. Her fingertips firmly squeezing my hand.

This moment lasted but the 3 1/2 minutes of the song, but I wanted it to last for ever. That is until the song finishes with "Have you never been happy, just to hear your song..."

Yes, I am happy and a song of fulfillment is now playing in my heart.

Joan's friends came up to her and swept her away. She turns and as she is pulled away, she looks over her shoulder and smiles at me. Her friends giggling and oblivious to a moment in time that I will never forget.

Set Your Imagination Free

I love to sketch & just doodle.

A few weeks ago I started drawing a highway on a regular sketch paper.

Sure enough I ran out of space on that paper & the highway just ended - going to nowhere. I added another piece and just continued the sketch. I ran out of space again & just added another piece.

This went on for days and even weeks. Alone sketching in my room, letting my mind wonder freely.

This reminds me of this lady, friend of the family, she lives up in NewPaltz, NY. When she used to live with us, she used to tell me...

"Don't let anything stop you from getting what you want. Let your mind be free.
Nobody will ever take that away from you."

So like this photograph, my sketches just grow & grow indefinitely. They seem to be random sketches, but taped together, it created a single image out of the many pieces.

Before I knew it - it was 10 pages wide x 10 pages long. I took down some posters from the wall and hung this up. It took the whole wall behind my bed.

That was 85"x110" of paper with lines that in my imagination represented highways leading to somewhere. All those lines, stretching for miles, set my imagination free.

I was able to go anywhere I wanted and space was no limitation. Once I ran out of places to go all I had to do was add another piece of paper and I was set free again.

Beth, I Hear You Calling...

This morning I woke up with a strange feeling. I don't know how to explain it, except that it was a sense of dread. Sounds awful, I know but it's all consuming! It is coming from somewhere and I have a feeling that something is up today.

Anyway I had a quick breakfast, of milk & cereal, and went off to school feeling like that way. The whole day just seemed to drag along. In gym class, we played soccer with the shirts vs. no-shirts. I ended up on the no-shirts team and it was a bit too cool outside. My asthma started acting up and I was having a hard time breathing.

The weather outside was stormy and the gray clouds just loomed overhead like spectators, looking down into the lion's den at the zoo, waiting for something to happen. Even worse, when I went to take a shower, the hot water refused to flow for me!

Ughhh! What a day!!!! I'm glad school is over though and I can finally get the school day done now!

So as I drive home, the feeling of dread is still present and getting stronger. It pulsates and causes the veins in my neck to bulge. I don't know why it's there nor what is causing it, but it's just strange. I guess not strange enough! Because as I turn the corner onto our block, I see exactly what is causing this feeling.

There in the middle of the street, in front of our house, is a growing commotion. The neighbors are standing together as a group in total disbelieve. They had their hands clasped over their mouths, as if they have experienced a horrific event. They are sobbing as the rain starts to fall on their shoulders.

Oh God don't tell me something happened!

As I am parking the car, the girls from upstairs bang on my window. "Open this window!" they scream. "Dammit open it now!"

"What's going on?" I ask.

"Baby Daniel got sick. He was found in the crib and he was not breathing! His little face was blue!" they explained loudly. "Come with us, we will drive you to the hospital!"

"Wait!" I shouted "I haven't finished parking the car!"

"Dammit, don't worry about the car! I'll get my dad to park it! We have to go now!" They shout as they drag me towards their car.

I leave the keys in the car. The door open and the engine running. My lunchbox is open on the front seat and I think I spilled my Coke on the rug from all this commotion. I don't know why, but I am not even a little worried.

"He's going to be alright!" I reassure the girls. "Don't panic. Everything will be OK, You'll see."

Looking back, I must have been out of it, since I was not worrying. But as I look at the speedometer, I noticed that she is driving over 50mph on the city streets. Now I am starting to worry and even a little scared!

They pull up to the front door of the Perth Amboy General Hospital's Emergency Room and the electric doors slide open. We climb out of the car clumsily and almost fell out even before the car was in park.

We rush into the emergency room and immediately run into the patient's area. I see my mom, Beth and my baby sister, Patty crying. By the look in their face, I can see that same feeling of dread - only deeper and more painful.

No question had to be asked. My mother's strong hug told me everything! Beth and Patty also came over to create a group hug in the middle of the hall. While crying, my mother uttered these words: "Little Daniel just died."

Oh God, Why!!!! How am I going to tell my brother his son is dead!

The terror of the moment just fills me. I wonder how my brother would react to the news. Then my thoughts and wanderings go to Beth. She had been taking a nap and when she woke up, found Little Danny face down in the crib. She had been alone in the house at the time. The terror of finding her son dead must be horrific for her!

She is so far from her home & her family. She finds herself surrounded by a bunch of strangers who now find themselves to serve as her family. This house isn't her home. Oh My! She is so far from home...

Beth, I know you're lonely and I hope you'll be alright...

Happy Father's Day

For Father's Day, I want to give my dad something that he would actually use. Something different that he's never had. Maybe even something that we can do together.

See every year the gifts we give him end up in the drawer and never gets opened. One year I gave him a pair of pajamas. He now has over 5 sets of pajamas in his drawer.

Another year, my brother gave him a tie for his church suits. His drawer now has several different ties. See having five kids, I guess you can't wear or use every present you get. And I guess he tried to protect us by hiding this fact from us.

That is until the day my younger sister, Nancy, found the drawer and found the pajama she had given him, the year before. The grey and white stripes on the flannel still pristine wrapped in its original packaging. My mother was pissed and sarcastically jokes with him that he is creating a stock pile for his 'next' life back in Ecuador.

This of course caused a big argument between them. They yell at each other & scream that they have had enough of each other. But we all know that, hidden in the sarcasm & dry humor, mom sadly also knew that he will divorce her.

We, deep down inside, knew that dad will return to live in Ecuador and actually have a stock pile to take with him. Our feeling is that he is fulfilling his obligation as a husband & dad until the last one of us is old enough. That day he will move on. Maybe even get himself another wife & possibly even get himself another set of kids.

So anyway, I gave my dad Silly Putty - I love Silly Putty!!! Now I am hearing you say "What the heck..." and yes that's exactly what he must be thinking. But you know what! He actually spent time playing with me. We molded stuff and even picked up the images off his 'help wanted' newsprint.

Just like Silly Putty, children pickup impressions from the environment and from the people in their lives.

How my dad behaved, that day, left a lasting impression on my life! Even though this day turned into an argument, the minute or two, he actually spent it with me stays with me. He's never really done that before, but on his special day, he gave up those minutes for me.

This I will never forget!

Boogie Nights

Something weird happened today and I'm not sure how to even talk about it. It feels like a nightmare that I cannot shake. Every day after school we spend the afternoon outside playing. Playing ball, playing tag, chasing one another and even riding our bikes.

You know kids in the neighborhood doing what kids are supposed to do - being innocent and having fun!

That is... all kids with the exception of little Peter. He is only 4 maybe 6 yrs old and his mom is really protective over him. The only times I see him out is when his mother takes a nap. He sneaks out of the house, not to play with us but to go to the gray house at the corner of Warren and Salem.

He skips and hops his way over to that house.

The gray house is the home of an older couple with no kids. The lady is quiet and goes to work six days a week. The man is gray-haired and seems to have retired early. Because he tends to the garden everyday and is always outside in his yard.

As we walk home from school, he greets us and offer us candy thru the bushes. My father is friends with this guy, but I find him to be very strange. I don't know why but I am freaked out by him.

But Peter seems to like him enough to go to his house every week. He goes there by himself at least once a week and spends over an hour there.

One day I asked him "what do you do at his house all that time?" He replied, "We play games and eat candy." But he would look away and not go into detail of what games they play together alone.

One day when he came out crying I asked him what happened. This time he did say that they danced to music and watched a movie that he did not like. The movie made him cry.

Yesterday my dad wanted to go visit the people in the gray house and he says that I have to go with him.

"No!" I replied "I'm not going!" But my dad insisted and we went anyway. My dad was going there to teach him the bible and wanted me to learn how to do it.

The house was dark. The furniture was wooden, stained dark brown, with a brown tweed fabric that even thought it was in good shape, always looked dirty. The walls were wood-panelled in a honey-colored stain. The grain was deep but looked worn from years of usage. The lighting was very dim with only table lamps lighting the immediate area.

I never understood why someone would choose to live in such darkness.

Anyway I asked my dad if I could leave. Finally after nagging him enough, he let me go. I rushed out the door so quickly. Later on my dad catches up to me and asks me "what happened back there?"

I finally broke down and told my dad what I felt. "I don't like going to that house dad. Peter tells me that he does some weird things, dad! They play alone together and Peter sometimes comes out of that house crying." My dad replied "What are you talking about?" He continued with "They are nice people, how do you know that Peter is telling the truth. You have to be sure of what you are saying before you judge anyone! You have to love thy neighbors no matter what you opinion of them."

This is not unusual, dad never takes what I say seriously anyway. I wish I had someone to talk to, but my dad just won't listen.

So today, I walked home alone and sure enough he was there working in his yard. He stops me by offering me my most favorite candy - a Three Musketeer bar. The words "love thy neighbor" ring in my head and I choose to give up my suspensions of him and accept him for who he is.

It was a mini bar and he said he had plenty more inside. We talked for a bit and he says "come inside & I will give you more Three Musketeers."

The words "love thy neighbor" ring again so I accept his invitation and went inside.

No judgement!

Inside we played games and ate candy just like Peter said! Then about 45 minutes of playing he says...

"I have a game that I bet you've never played before. Its fun! You're gonna love it!"

"Can I teach it to you?"

He gets serious and says "the game is a secret! It's a big kids game - I'm not sure if you're big enough to play this game..."

Of course I insist he'd let me play. I should have notice something was off when he made me promise I wouldn't tell anyone.

Anyway he gets off the floor puts on a record - I still remember it - it was Boogie Nights by Heatwave. I remember it well! It is my favorite song. It used to be, that is until now. He then comes over and sits right next to me on the sofa.

Instantly things start to feel weird. He speaks softly and moves in slowly now. Almost as if he is deliverate trying to avoid scaring me. He puts his hand, slowly, on my knee and tells me to relax. Now I am really shaking.

Then he says: "Open up your pants and ..."

Before he could finish his sentence I was off that sofa and out the door! Sorry, I cannot love this neighbor... I knew what he wanted and I was not going to play those games.

But poor Peter! I just realized that he has played that game before and he is keeping that secret.

I now know why Peter's attitude had change lately. He did not skip back & forth anymore. He walks there with his head down and his shoulder seem to just droop - like he has lost his spark.

I know he has a hard life at home, with his dad never being home & his mom being controlling. I'm sure he does not have anyone to talk to - even if they did listen - I'm not sure they would hear the secret he's keeping.

This is enough to stress anybody out! Deep down inside, I know that Peter has changed from the many times he's gone into the darkness of that gray house.

I know that the one and only time was enough for me. It left a lasting impression on me. Like a nightmare, it lingers in the shadows of secrecy. It is one thing that even though I want to forget, I have not been able to do.

I wonder if Peter has been able to forget.

House of Cards

Summer's here! I love summer!

Last year, we played monopoly all summer long! Playing for a few hours a day & then sliding the board back under the bed before mom came home. This went on for days - even weeks at a time. We would finish one game and then start all over again.

If was fun playing, because it kept us entertained but mostly because we got away with something - we got away by hiding this from mom & dad. Shortly before they got home we would hide the game & then complete our chores. Getting away with something gave us a new kind of freedom. A freedom I've never known before.

Sure enough Daniel & I would have our room cleaned, our beds made and the toys put away.

This summer we started a different game. I don't know how we started it but by 12noon we had drawn on the wood floor, in chalk, a roadway for our toy cars. It was pretty elaborate with exit ramps and even bridges and tunnels. It started in the kitchen, stretched across the dining room and into the living room.

We even had several boroughs of New York streets with highways to connect them all.

We drew, till our hearts content, of highways and roadways. Of freeways that flow past the confines of this city.

We drew of country roads where dreams peacefully meander under the cover of tall oaks. We drew of byways and crossroads that serve as arteries. Filling our hearts with the blood of adventure. Our minds travel freely and dream of the road trips we will one day make.

Every bit of our imagination and creativity was spread out across the wood floor of our home. Scribbled and measured as if we had engineered where we were going.

Our wings spreading over these byways like eagles souring high above the scenery. Free to go anywhere and free to dream of anything!

We used my collection of baseball cards to make the bridge and tunnels. We would play for a few hours & then the cleanup would start. Mop the floor to get rid of the chalk lines; put the toys away and complete our chores in time for mom & dad to get home. All to allow the dreaming to flow freely over again the next day.

Day after day, we have fun! And day after day, we are free to imagine anything we want. The world is ours and we are free to create it as our own.

Spring Cleaning

This morning I was woken up by the sounds of a vacuum cleaner and loud music coming from the stereo. I throw the blanket over my head because I don't feel like getting up.

Looking out the window, I see a beautiful Sunday morning. The sky is bright and a beautiful shade of blue with only one gray cloud. The cloud is casting a shady spot as it rolls down the street and its heading towards my front yard. I close my eyes, fall back asleep again for a few more minutes hoping that the gray cloud would just go on by.

Again the loud whirling of the vacuum cleaner wakes me up. I give in and decide to get out of bed and head downstairs for breakfast. The sounds of mom's Spanish music fills the air as I descend down the staircase. Loud, upbeat and a happy mood fills my mother's way of being. I guess she is enjoying Spring cleaning...

"Mom, can I go outside and play?" I ask her excitedly. "Sure, after you clean up your room." OK that sound fair enough. I can do my part of the Spring cleaning chores. I run back upstairs, make my bed and put the dirty clothes in the hamper. Again I charge down the stairs and I'm heading out the door, when my mom asks... "Did you sweep and mop the floor?"

Oh no! "do I have to do that?" I challenge her. "Just do it! Then you can go out and play." was her reply.

About 45 minutes later I am done mopping the floor & cleaning out the bucket. I head downstairs and this time the music filling the air is soft ballads from the old country. They are love songs and patriotic ballads from Ecuador. I thought nothing of it. She would always play sounds from back home. It was music from her youth & her old friends. The ballads sang of hope and heraldry for the love of our country.

The love songs sang of missed opportunities and love that cannot be. It was melancholic and a bit dramatic. I guess mom is missing the old days.

"Mom, I'm done! I'm going out to play?" This time there was no reply. I had to go searching for her & realize that she was in the front yard picking tomatoes for lunch. "OK mom, I'll be back by lunchtime."

"Where do you think you're going?" she asks. "out to play..."

"No. Go and clean the upstairs bathroom." she demanded "But mom, you said I can go out when I was done with my room..."

"Now you need to do the bathroom!" she insisted.

Begrudgingly I went and did it. "Well, If I can go out and play after that, then it won't be so bad." I justified that to myself.

Again another 45 minutes passed, but I was done! Now I can go out to play. Heading down the stairs, the music still blaring, I hear my mother crying. This time the music went from melancholic to downright sad. It sang of loves lost & the longing for days gone by. It sang of missing out on what life has to offer.

Oh Boy! She is in her sad mood.

This time I try and sneak out the door. "Where do you think you are going?" mom stops me. "Umm, outside to play..." I reply

"Go to your room!" she yells. "Why mom?"

"Because I said so..." was her reply.

I could see that she had been crying. A sadness welts up in her eyes. And a single tear rolls down her cheek. Immediately she wipes it off and turns so that I would not see. My mother always has to be strong and never allows us to see her vulnerability.

But today I did see it and I can understand her pain. She gave up a lot to come to the United States. She gave up her education; her career; her friends and family; her hopes; but most of all she gave up her future & dreams so that we can have ours.

Once in a while she allows herself to feel this. I don't think its of remorse for giving up her past but out of shear loneliness. Having to bear the burden of bringing up five kids - practically alone - in a new world can be a daunting task.

Carrying a heavy burden is daunting...
but even worse having to do it all alone.

I Know We Can Make It

I am no longer in my room upstairs. I have moved down to the basement into my brothers area. It is by choice since I am having a hard time dealing with the sounds of the gang fights.

Being down here is going to take some getting used to. There is Karate stuff all over the walls. Nunchucks, uniforms, ninja stars.

"Daniel, what are those ninja stars for?" I ask him. "they are called Shurikens, They are for throwing at your enemy! You never know when you have to protect yourself."

Wow! they look pretty dangerous. I have a feeling I know what he needs to protect himself from.

"Forget that! pass me my shirt, I need to iron it." I reach over for his shirt on the bed and hand it to him. I forgot about the ninja stars & just kept checking out this place. There are no windows down here. Just some weight equipment on the floor & Disco music spinning on the turntable. Tonight, my brother is getting ready to head out to the Disco. Ahh! over there, up agaist the wall is my new bed! That's where I can put my stuff.

Over in the bathroom, my brother continues getting ready. He is blow drying his hair, applying some cologne & ironing his bell bottom pants. Boy! I am not a fan of disco & that music is blasting!

"We can make it, if we try
we can make it, touch the sky
we can make it, if we try
we can make it, get on high"

As I lay down on my bed, I close my eyes and just imagine Donna Summer's (MP3) words just running thru my head. For some reason the lyrics seem to have a calming effect on me.

Suddenly I get the feeling that just by being down here, things will be better. Being with my brother & seeing his space, I feel that yes, we can make it...

Finding the Way Home

"I can always find my way home from here..."

This has always been how I see my sister Nancy. She is a strong willed and independent person. No matter what life throws at her she will always find h-e-r way. My mother and father have always mistaken her uniqueness & independence for misbehaviour & rebellion. I never saw Nancy that way.

One day, back in Ecuador, Nancy took my mother's shearing scissors and cut up a dress my mother had just finished making. Nancy was only maybe 3-4 yrs old but my mother was very upset and only saw this as her being rebellious. But the part that I don't think my mother understood was that Nancy was just playing the role of a seamstress.

Also what I saw was that Nancy is crying out for attention. My mother is very focused and driven to excel. She works her fingers to the bone & in doing that, she does not have time to dwell on silly sentiments and childish needs.

Don't get me wrong! I am not saying my mother was mean or neglected us, but she did the best she could in raising 5 kids. She earned our daily bread, putting clothes on our backs & providing a new life for us. It is just that she sacrificed her own in doing that for us.

She sacrificed her feelings, her needs and desires - all for us to have ours fulfilled.

So the other day Nancy played hooky from school. She took off to Coney Island with a couple of her older friends. Mom was worried for her because she did not arrive at the usual time. She was so upset - no mad! - so mad that she needed to teach Nancy a lesson. Teach her a lesson & scare the rebelliousness right out of her!

Standing at The 41st Precinct police station over on Longwood Ave, we are waiting to see the Sargent. Mom has arranged with a police friend of hers, to have Nancy held in an interrogation room. The police office interrogated her "where did you go? why did you play hooky?" Nancy was scared and very disoriented. Even frightened when the officer told her that she may be put in jail for what she did.

A few hours later she was released to the custody of my mother with the acknowledgement that she will never play hooky again. The trick worked, worked too well, because after this day Nancy changed. She seemed different somehow.

To me, Nancy was always a soul searching for herself. Searching outside of herself for a definition of who she can become. I know Nancy will find herself & I know she will one day realize that it has always been within her to find her way home.

Good Friday Feast For Everyone

I woke up late today. Being Good Friday, I did not have to go to school.

Everyone is involved in the preparation of the traditional Ecuadorian Easter meal of 'Fanesa' (Lenten chowder) for our Good Friday feast. She started by soaking the 'bacalao' (Salt Cod) late yesterday and the house now has a strong fishy smell. I did not want any part of the preparations.

This soup is made with squash, Lima beans, fava beans, green beans, anyway 7 beans galore! If that wasn't enough, she also adds cabbage, milk, heavy cream, cream cheese, and then even more cheese. Oh I forgot - cheese empanada as a side dish!

My sisters and neighbors help my mother in the preparation of this feast. This is a day long event and I am not crazy for this ritual nor for the smell. Just thinking about this has me feeling overstuffed & out of place. Food to me is just to fill my stomach, nothing to spend so much time, effort & rituals over.

So I sneak out and go for a bike ride.

"Don't go too far!" mom yells out. "I need you back in time for the feast!"

I ride off to check out the other side of the "hill." All my friends talk about going to the "hill" on our bikes, but no one dares! They say that on the other side lies the Arthur Kill - the deadliest waterway in Jersey.

It is said that nothing lives in these waters. Nothing can! It is the filthiest body of water. So bad that if a sailor falls off a tanker, they just leave him there. He is better off! since the acid in the water will eat you alive and the oil slick will choke you to death before they can even get to you.

Anyway, that is what they say - but I don't believe them.

None of my friends are around and we've been talking about it for so long, that I decide to go by myself. The stories must be exaggerated! it can't be that bad.

I ride off thru the abandoned, desolate grounds for about 1 mile and what I found on the other side was worse then even the roumors said. This area in loaded with homeless people; bon fires out of 50-gallon drums just to stay warm; a smell of dead fish; and plenty of black grime on the shores of the river.


I ride down the back edge of the hill and ride alongside the baroness of the riverfront. Faces that seemed like they haven't eaten in a long while, stare back at me as if to say "What are you doing here kid?"

I stopped in front of this old man. He had his hand stretched out. I didn't even dare climb off my bike & dragged myself over to him. I put in his hands the snack & water that I had brought with me.

"Happy Easter kid! May God bless you." he said.

I rode back to my house, no longer complaining and ready to partake of the feast. Even if I didn't like the smell of it, I feel fortunate to have a home, a family & a safe haven where I can grow up a normal life.

A Cold Winter's Night

Sunday night, a cold winter's night, we gather under the blanket. Turn on the space heater and the black & white TV to enjoy family night.

We nuzzle close together and put the space heater under the blanket, at our feet. The warmth of the space heater & the closeness of one another feels nice. This is our weekly routine. My baby sister is our remote control. She gets up and changes the channel until she turns the dial to our favorite station. An evening of Mutual of Omaha, Wonderful World of Disney and mom's favorite show, Bonanza.

I'm not sure why the house heater was not enough, but I guess that does not matter - we're getting together to enjoy family night.

These nights are the closest our family gets.

The Prodigal Son Returns...

Daniel. my brother. came back home!

If only for a few days. He came back with his wife and their child. He had asked mom if she could care for Beth and the baby for a few months.

See he was still working a job on the road and it would be a month or two before they are done. He and the boys travelled a lot and Daniel did not want her to be on the road with a baby. Daniel kissed Beth goodbye and promised to come back so they can start their life together as a family.

Beth moved into my room. My mother helps her setup a crib with a blue mobile of sheep and clouds. The crib, lined with blue sheets and white fluffy pillows, was perfect and seemed almost dream-like. Beth spoke only English and my mom only Spanish but the language is not a barrier for mom.

Beth (MP3) felt like an outsider, and spends her days waiting for Daniel to return. She didn't talk much and kept to herself spending most of the day in her room with the baby. Mom tries to communicate with her.

For a few weeks, mom has stood up late at night, knitting a pair of booties and a hat for the baby. With the hopes that Beth and her can have something in common. Beth was very appreciative of mom's kindness and started warming up.

Over the weeks they started to understand each other's circumstances and started to accept one another. They even started communicating through some kind of sign language. Beth even came out and started to spent the evenings in the living room watching TV with us.

All I know is that I have a new sister-in-law, a new nephew, little Daniel, and - my brother is back!

Beaver & Wally Live Upstairs

One morning I wake up to the news that we are moving again. We've lived in this house for a few years and I was just getting used to the suburban lifestyle of Carteret. How am I going to tell Leo, Karen and Anthony that we can't be friends anymore? I was just starting to feel rooted and here we go again.

We moved in a hurry to a rented house over in Perth Amboy. "Just a layover till you finish High School next year," mom says. MY parents sold their house on Warren Street and moved on. For some reason though, we left a few things behind. Lots of boxes, my bike, my baseball card collection and my records. Mom called them unnecessary items. Oddly enough, with those unwanted boxes we also left my father behind.

This new house is nice with lots of windows. The living room has a bay window that looks out, over the lawn, to the tree-lined street. The window of my room faces out to the side driveway and every morning I see the landlord and her husband leave for work. The backyard is large with lots of trees and an above-ground swimming pool. Every weekend I hear the neighbors laughing and splashing in it. Unfortunately it is off-limits for us.

The neighborhood is urban, but quiet. Too quiet compared to the house on Warren Street. No kids outside playing just lots of cars going by. The road is very wide but doesn't have too much traffic. Wide enough for two lanes of traffic each way and an isle of parking on each side of the street. It seems like they were expecting this to be a major roadway.

On the second floor, above us, lives the landlord and her family. They are a traditional family and nice neighbors also. The landlord, her husband and two daughters are extremely quiet. The only sound we ever hear from them is the shuffling of the dining room chairs. The deep bass-y sound is backed up by the 6pm chime of their grandfather clock. Almost like a beautiful Aria, I hear the sounds of them sit down together for dinner as a family.

I can only imagine the dad saying "pass me the butter" and the mother happily doing so with a soft reply "here you go dear." At that moment, almost as if waking me up from a dream, my mom yells out "turn off the TV and take out the trash!" I can't believe it - I'm missing my favorite episode of Leave it to Beaver. This is a rerun and they will never play this episode again!

My Birthday Surprise

Today is my 17th birthday! My brother-in-law surprised me with a new car! Well not really a new car but definitely new to me.

It is a 1972 Kermit-the-frog green Chevelle with a blue driver side door and a red bench seat in the front. It is a straight six with some basic rims - I love this car! It is all mine and I love it! The car my new wheels and my symbol of freedom. In the morning I told my mom to go to work without me. I will be there a little late.

I spent the whole morning washing the car and polishing it like if it was brand new!

Footprints in the Snow

This morning we woke up to a beautiful white winter's morning. The sky is glowing white with no distinction between the clouds and the sky. The blackness of the paved street is now covered by the purity of the snow. The trees glisten from the icicles dangling like ornaments on the Christmas tree.

This morning is turning out to be great! My mother is in a good mood and my brother is already outside shoveling the snow. All of Warren Street seems to be unified under a pure, clean blanket of snow.

The beauty of the white winter's morning is disrupted only by the red glow of the police car lights. It seems that our next door neighbors were robbed last night. All their Christmas presents are gone - nothing left for tonight's celebrations.

The police officer & my neighbors comes out of the house and are now following the footprints in the snow. They lead from the rear of the house, where the sliding door was pried opened, across the yard; to the parking lot and seem to be cutoff at the edge of the street. The cars driving by have obliterated the 'evidence.' Across the street, a similar set of footsteps seems to start up again. Oddly enough they seem to lead to Joe Pigney's house. The police (under the urging of the neighbors) put two & two together and go knock on Joe's door. Joe's father answers the door not with a look of surprise, but with an expression of disgust. They are very familiar with the police officer's distinctive knock.

The neighbors immediately start accusing Joe & demand that Joe come out. See a few months back their prized 1965 blue Thunderbird Convertible was keyed. Joe was nearby when they discovered it & started accusing him of causing the damage. They still believe that Joe was responsible.

So now Joe shows up to the door in his boxers & immediately says "Hey, I didn't do anything!" This is Joe's instant reaction when seeing a police officer at his door. The image that Joe & his brother's have is that they are criminals and we are friends with those "criminals." The neighbors have always questioned my mother "why do you let your kids be friends with criminals?" My mother always replies "I don't have any evidence that they are bad people."

Joe does have one brother that has done time & in a small suburban town, once a criminal always a criminal. Needless to say, the police walk out of Joe's house with his older brother in cuffs. They put him in the police car & drive off creating a trail of slush that uncaringly splashes over the driveway that my brother had just finished shovelling clean.

God it looks like Daniel, must be the clouds in my eyes...

Today Daniel, my brother (MP3) moved away. Daniel is 18 years old & I guess he needs to grow on his own. He says that it is time for him to develop his manhood.

If that is what he wants, then I can't stop him. But I am dreading the moment when he is no longer in our room. I am going to miss him teaching me Karate in the basement. Him insisting "do that last sit-up! hurry up or do you want to stay a sissy all your life." I'm going to miss the Disco music he used to play as he gets ready to go out dancing on Saturday nights.

I am going to miss the brawls we used to get into. You know all the typical stuff brothers are supposed to do.

He is going off to work with our brother-in-law in the paving business. They are going to travel thru out the U.S. laying brick pavers and making money. He says he wants to experience the freedom of the road.

But last night Daniel and my dad got into a very big argument. The biggest I can ever remember. Deep down inside I get the feeling that he's leaving not of his own free will.

Daniel, my brother, you are older then me! Do you still feel pain of the scars that won't heal..."

I am missing you already.