The NY Times in a March 1985 article entitled, Puerto Rico's Quite Edge, had this quote: "The delights of lunch, for $6 or $7, on some of the hotel's Puerto Rican specialties - say, onion steak with rice and beans and plantains, followed by a siesta in a hammock on the terrace overlooking the forest - is one reason people who visit Puerto Rico's west keep coming back."
I remember the garden my dad had, where he would grow tomatoes and beans. Don't remember much else he grew but I am sure there were other things as well.
When I was young, our family went on vacation to Puerto Rico and we happened to be there during the time that the beans were ready to be picked. I remember sitting on my uncle's porch with my uncle, aunt, parents and cousins helping them peel the beans that had been freshly picked.
It was a tradition that probably goes back hundreds of years there and was common in my house in NJ every year.
Several years after my parents moved down, my dad started growing his garden in the back of his house. He started with the tradition of tomatoes but quickly figured out that it was way too hot in his back yard with the sun beating down on it from sunrise to sunset.
During one summer, my dad's brother, Tio Confy, came to visit us from Jayuya. He brought some white beans with him from Puerto Rico and gave them to my dad. My dad placed the beans in the refrigerator so he can keep them fresh, though dry, with a plan to plant them in his garden the following spring.
Dad planted those beans and low and behold, they took to the sun and produced a fantastic crop.
The pattern repeated itself every year, producing enough beans for dad to share with all of us. He would also make some great meals with the white beans that he had grown. Facebook reminded my wife Luisa yesterday, July 1st, of one of those great moments in time.
In April of 2018, when my dad passed away, we found several bags of beans all neatly separated in the freezer. 5 bags to be exact. We gave one bag to each family member (my 3 sisters and I) to make a meal in memory of dad. I also gave one to our cousin Manuel, Tio Confy's son, for him to take home and remember our father with. After all, it was his father's beans that started that annual event here in SC.
I also found a bag of dried beans along with bags of corn, pumpkins and squash in the refrigerator. All from Tio Confy and the ones dad used to plant his garden every year.
This year, my sisters and I all repeated the tradition in our own respective gardens.
Yesterday, July 1st, 2019, I picked my first beans that I had ever grown. I've been thinking about the beans for about a month now. How will I know when they are ready to pick? Have we given them enough time, for them to mature and not end up with string beans?
I got my answer from Dad in Luisa's post. Exactly 2 years to the day, Dad's post was telling me it is time to pick the beans. They're ready.
When I was a teenager I got sick and tired of eating rice and beans everyday to the point that I complained to my dad, why do we always have to have rice and beans. Why couldn't we be like the other families and have Pizza, Spaghetti, Chinese food and other stuff. My dad said because we are Puerto Rican and we have Rice and Beans. That's our food.
Life is a circle that can repeat itself if we want to. It is symbol of our traditions, our values, our culture, and our identity. But just like the beans, we have to plant, water and nurture them to continue those precious traditions.
Thank you Dad for the wonderful tradition, for the memories, for the beans and most of all, for giving us the signal that they were ready to be picked. Today marks 15 months since you took your last breath. I miss you.
OMG! What a beautiful story, Ralph. I'm happy to see that you've inherited your Dad's green thumb. I know you'll be passing on this skill to your children to continue this circle of life.
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