I remember

My family makes fun of me because I struggle to remember key scenes and phrases from movies or lyrics from songs that they easily recall.  It's a running joke where they will go into 20-30 minutes of lines, with each saying the next line, as I watch them re-enact the scenes and laugh out loud.  

Every now and then though, I shock them when I happen to say something that they clearly know.   I don't know why that is the case but I just don't remember things like this, like I used to.  If I ever did.  

I do remember when and where things happen, what I felt during those momentous times or things that really hit my gut.

One scene etched in my mind is from The Lion King where Simba is reminded by Rafiki about his father and that his father's wisdom, character and strength is ingrained in him.  It is in his DNA and is his Legacy.

Sometimes, just like in The Lion King, what is needed is "un cocotazo" or a knock upside the head to make sure that you get reminded of what is important.  The importance of the truth, your values, your character, your heritage, your family - past, present and future.  The best part was when Rafiki says "You see he lives in you".  At this point, Mufasa comes back through a spirit and says "Simba, you have forgotten me.  You have forgotten yourself and therefore you have forgotten me."  

My parents instilled that in me.  We all have a sense of revolt towards our parents and want to set our own course, create our own path and be nothing like our parents.  It took time for me to realize and acknowledge, just like Simba, that I am like my parents.  The Good, the Bad, the indifferent.    My dad's hot headedness, his tell it like it is approach, his extremely high and sometimes unreachable expectations, but also his worth ethic, love for family, love for our Puerto Rican heritage.  My mom's emotions (yes, men do cry), her empathy, her love of family, her "skills" with children as my son Nick attests to.  Add to this my own character traits: my desire to do the right thing, my moral compass, my social personality to befriend everybody.

My dad had half a dozen Puerto Rican stickers and flags in his car, if not more.  In my car, I have a single Puerto Rican flag attached to the front window to always remind me of where my parents came from, where I come from "pre birth".  Where my roots are and who I am.  From people that are proud yet humble.  Strong but respectful and caring.  Full of life, passion, hope and most of all resilient to the incredible challenges of living on an island that at times feels isolated from the mainland even though it has been part of the U.S. since 1898.

Never was Puerto Rico reminded more about its isolation, 2nd class citizenship and association with the United States than when Hurricane Maria nearly destroyed the island in September 2017.  Unable to have direct contact with family over there for weeks,  which seemed like months.  Having to turn to people in other states who had long range CB radios who could connect with people, isolated in an island without water, electricity, communication, essential hospital and healthcare services, just to name a few of the things they lost.  

The following year, I went to Puerto Rico, to visit my family and pay my respects to one of my aunts that had passed away.  My own father, her brother, had unexpectedly pre-deceased her by 6 months.  While there, another one of my 70 year old aunts told me about how difficult it was for them after the hurricane.  She would wake up at 5 in the morning to start digging out the sludge from the basement because of the mud slides while praying to God to give her strength to continue doing this and taking care of her husband who was in a wheelchair and needed help full time.

Things were so bad that months later, FEMA and a team of rescue personnel from different countries, this one from Africa of all places, showed up to ask my aunt where they were getting water.  My aunt brought them to the back of the house to show them the tank full of water. She told them that she was filling it up with the water that would come from this pipe/hole (circled in the picture below) in the wall that God had provided.  It is what they were drinking from, since the hurricane had shut down everything.

The response from the Federal Government under the helm of the former President was disastrous, pitiful if not downright shameful.  It lacked empathy, care and respect for fellow Americans.   

I previously wrote about it in a prior blog.  Even the Daily News made a note to plea for help on behalf of the American citizens in Puerto Rico.

It has been 7 years since Maria.  For Puerto Ricans on the island, it is still hit and miss to lose power on a regular day because of the slightest rainfall or even no rain at all. Just regularly occurring power outages that also prevents the water from being pumped up to the remote part of the island where my family lives.  

Yes they are resilient and most have built additional reserve tanks that they depend on when "the water goes" or as they say "se fue el agua".  Yes, while some of them have solar panels and battery backup that were added to their homes as part of the recovery process, not every home has it.  In October of this year, for another funeral, I was able to go there and experience the lack of power and water myself, but luckily I stayed at one of the homes with the additional reserves and backup power.  Half of the house had power and half of it did not since the power system was not big enough to supply power for the whole house.

Less than 2 weeks ago, during an event in Madison Square Garden, Puerto Ricans were reminded of how they are viewed by the "conservative" party with a joke about a floating island of garbage called Puerto Rico.  

The response from the nearly 5.2M Puerto Ricans that live in the U.S., was instant, resounding and continues to this day, several weeks later.  Tonight, the night before the 2024 election, it is being viewed as an inflection or turning point in this election.

I Remember.  I remember what I felt, not being able to know if my friends and family in Puerto Rico were alive.  I remember the long hours of collecting donations and the generous response from the churches, people in the community and businesses to send help to Puerto Rico to make up for the weak response of the Federal Government.  I remember the despair of the voices over the phone, the tears streaming down my face when I spoke with my family on the island after weeks of not knowing.  I remember my community of Puerto Ricans and the constant saying that Puerto Rico Se Levanta, translated as Puerto Rico will Rise Again.

Marc Anthony, in a recent ad captured this emotion.  As he said the words, I too remembered what I felt.

This year, I voted for whom I believe will sincerely make a difference in this country and hopefully for Puerto Rico.  For whom I believe actually cares about others and is not, self absorbed, in it for himself or running away from what is well deserved.  I voted for whom I truly believe values the beauty of all of the citizens of this country, be they white, black, hispanic, asian, straight or not.  For the quilt that is America the Beautiful.

For I believe in Compassion, Integrity, Empathy, Love and not hate.   I voted for the future and not the past because I remember my parents, my family, my people.  I voted because I Remember.

A Father's Day Message

There is nothing more gratifying than just watching my son Dan, be a father to his daughter Audriana.  To see the look in their eyes, the tenderness with how he holds her, the rough way he tickles her and the shear joy in her eyes when I drop her off at home and he opens the door.  

What we are witnessing in real time is the genuine beginning of Audri's path towards becoming Daddy's girl.  Not to be overlooked, is the awe Luisa and I have at Dan's role of being a dad.  He was always kind and tender with kids, including with his brother Nick, though he did manage to push Nick's buttons one time a bit too far and get a well deserved clock in the head with a plastic hammer in return.

What is also incredible is the feeling I have of being able to witness this, as it helps remind me of what I felt as I went through that same evolution of becoming a dad.  I always wanted to be a dad.  I wanted to be able to share with my children my views of family values.  Growing up with sisters, I thought all along I was going to end up with daughters, though seriously wanting boys.  

My desire all along was to pave a path that they would follow.  To inspire them to do what is possible, to be strong in their moral character and conviction but to be kind, gentile and genuine to every person they meet. 

The memories I have of playing with the boys, in the same way that Dan plays with Audri makes me pause from my normal activities to reflect on those early days.  Even Nick, who has always said he is destined to be a "dog dad", has commented on how he remembers the amount of fun he had with me when he was much younger.  

Audri is only 15 months old at this point and too early to schedule her soccer, softball, dance, girl scout, karate, swim activities so at this point it is imagining having fake cafecito, imaginary meals with plastic hot dogs and hamburgers, singing and dancing to the wheels on the bus and We Don't Talk about Bruno.

But what she is already beginning to realize is that her dad will be her best friend and her first true love. 

To me, my sons as well as my wife of course, are my best friends.  The ones that know more of my secrets than anyone else.  The ones that have seen my struggles and my successes and have been there from the beginning to celebrate those successes and to help me get up when I fell down and needed the support.  The ones that have given me the reason to push harder and achieve goals that I did not think was possible but also the ones to keep me in check to ensure that the path I paved, was one they wanted to follow.

To Audri, Dan will be the perfect example of a man to which every boyfriend will be compared and measured against.  A high standard indeed.  

I believe in leaving a legacy and of all of the things I have done in my life, being a father to my sons is the greatest accomplishment I am most satisfied with.  A goal achieved.

When talking with Dan, I see the same evolution that is only reinforced by his words indicating that he did not think he would love someone as much as he loves his little girl.

Dan, on this, your 2nd but in reality, the first where you have had the chance to enjoy a full year of being a father, I wish you only many more years of this feeling, memories to be created, goals to be set and life to be lived as a father.

Mom and I are very proud of the father you are to your daughter.  But I am especially grateful of the father I became the moment you came into my life and for everything you do to keep me in check and support my goals.  Along with your brother and mother, you are my support system and I could not imagine doing anything more important than being a dad.  I am sure you feel the same.   Happy Father's Day son.

One for All, All for One

As displayed in the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, after World War II, German Lutheran Pastor Martin Niemöller had a well known quote which he repeated numerous times, about the guilt he had over his lack of action and complicity during the rise of Nazism.

It is said that if you don't know your history, you are bound to repeat it.  When I attended public elementary school I was taught American History one year and World History the following year.  These were mandatory classes that helped me understand not only how big the world was and the significant events that took place that changed it, but in fact how small we are in retrospect.  That we are actually a part of a bigger picture, one world and that we share many of the same values of love of family and the pursuit of happiness. 

Over the years, our public education system has deteriorated to the detriment of our society where the only history being taught is the one-sided view of the state the students reside in.  Note that I am not just talking about the schools in the South but the fact that I know someone about my age from the midwest that had never heard of the Holocaust, is indicative of the endemic complacency that has taken over this nation.

Given what is happening in this country with the "fixing" of the voting regulations that are intentionally being designed to make it harder for people to use their one voice through the power of the vote, it is worth adapting the above quote to today's situation, with no disrespect to the original author, or to the members of the Jewish community:

First they came for the people of color, and I did not speak out—because I was not a person of color.

Then they came for the LGBTQ, and I did not speak out—because I was not an LGBTQ.

Then they came for the Non-Evangelical Christian, the Muslims. the Jews, and I did not speak out—because I was either not part of those groups or afraid to speak out.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

As a Puerto Rican, whose family in Puerto Rico can vote in the presidential election but not for those that officially represent them in Washington, unless they move to FL or another state like NJ where my parents moved in the 60's and were automatically granted that right, I understand and can relate to the disaffected "US citizens".  Especially after Hurricane Maria and the response of the Federal Government (the withholding of precious funds, the denigration of US citizens with the throwing of the paper towels, the talks of exchanging them for Greenland)...etc. I value my right to Vote and have faithfully exercised it at every opportunity, especially for my people in 2020 as I wrote about regarding the disappearance of our Moral Compass.

Now for the much needed history lesson.  

Originally, the right to vote was actually not for all citizens but for white men only.  It wasn't until after the Civil War in 1868 that the 14th Amendment was passed that granted African Americans all rights accorded any other US citizen.  

As described in the official US Government Archives site regarding the 14th Amendment:  

A major provision of the 14th Amendment was to grant citizenship to “All persons born or naturalized in the United States,” thereby granting citizenship to formerly enslaved people.

Another equally important provision was the statement that “nor shall any state deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.”

This would obviously include the right to Vote.

The 15th Amendment, approved by Congress in 1870, was required to clarify that right given the laws passed predominantly in Southern States, that were aimed at restricting that right given by the 14th Amendment.  Specifically, the official US Government Archives web page describing the rationale for the 15th Amendment clearly says:

African Americans exercised the right to vote and held office in many Southern states through the 1880s, but in the early 1890s, steps were taken to ensure subsequent “white supremacy.” Literacy tests for the vote, “grandfather clauses” excluding from the franchise all whose ancestors had not voted in the 1860s, and other devices to disenfranchise African Americans were written into the laws of former Confederate states.

As crazy as that sounds, it wasn't until the 19th amendment to the Constitution, passed by Congress in 1919 and ratified in 1920, that the right to vote was granted to women as follows:

The right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of sex.

USA Today had a comprehensive story on the path it took women to obtain this fundamental right.

Then, the 26th amendment to the Constitution, gave the right to vote for any US Citizen 18 years of age or older.

The right of citizens of the United States, who are eighteen years of age or older, to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of age.

Now, both in the 19th Amendment, and in the 26th Amendment, the words that jumped out at me were "shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State"

So getting back to why and what compelled me to write this post.  The rights of a US Citizen to vote, has had to be clarified and re-enforced numerous times through legislation.  Because for one reason or another, there is someone that feels they need to restrict that right from others because of how different they are, their different beliefs, or even in some cases, that the other person is "beneath" that of their own kind.  

Around the time of the last election, Time Magazine, had a story on the attempts at restricting the votes of minorities, especially the African American community.  Who knew that this would be the beginning of a trend that has only accelerated as time goes on and continues to this day and election.  I had someone tell me just last year that they should eliminate the Sunday Souls to the Polls because too many black people vote.  

The combination of this comment, along with the articles I have referenced above, and the constant laws being passed restricting this right is why I felt compelled to speak out and say something before My own rights were taken away.

Let me state this as clearly as I can.  ALL US CITIZENS, regardless of color, race, age (at least over 18), sex, beliefs and values have the RIGHT TO VOTE for who we believe represents us and our values.  I am not suggesting that you vote for who I Vote for but I am absolutely saying that in no way is YOUR vote more important than MY vote.  We should expand that capability to online registration and voting because if it is secure enough to file my taxes, change my address, pay my bills through online banking and do everything else online, it is clearly safe enough to vote as well.

For those that really need to learn about the Constitution, so you can accurately quote the things that you think you know, like for example the 2nd amendment, here is a great pocketsize booklet with the Constitution, the Amendments, the Bill of Rights and all of the important things every citizen should really know.  I got my copy.  Will you get yours?  At about $2, it's cheaper than a bad cup of coffee but better for you and everyone else you share this nation with.

Also, let's bring American and World history classes back to Elementary School.  Who knows, the students may actually learn something that would help us avoid repeating history.

We can do better

We can do better.  About a month ago, Dan and I were talking about what it was like to raise a child in "today's" environment.  The challenges of parenting, especially to a young little baby girl are compounded by the political environment, the never ending pandemic, the insane amount of guns threatening everyday life in schools, movie theaters, parks, churches,... no matter where you go.

Add to this the hate.  I mean the real hatred that everyday Americans have for one another.  At one point, until recently it seemed as though the majority of Americans valued the cultural differences that this great nation's melting pot fostered.  We relished the opportunity to go to Chinatown, Little Italy, an authentic Indian or Japanese restaurant.  We all wore green on St. Patrick's day and downed our fair share of Margaritas on Cinco de Mayo.  We raised our flags on the 4th of July and enjoyed hot dogs together at the local baseball park until we stood up for the 7th inning stretch singing Sweet Caroline.

Then it happened.  Like the flip of a switch, the undercurrent of hostility, racism, animosity towards one another came to the forefront and became an everyday occurrence for us. It was everywhere you turned.  You could not go to a store without hearing someone yelling at another person for them to "go home".  

When I moved to SC from NJ, the common question was where are you from and what church did you go to?  Now it is where are you from, no, really from.  People wearing t-shirts saying "If you have problems with this flag, let me know and I will help you pack your bags".

What happened to the great melting pot?  The common thread that made us unique in who we are, a people with a common goal to provide the opportunity for any person of this great country to pursue the American Dream and make our children's lives better than our own.

In 1931, James Truslow Adams wrote in The Epic of America, “The American Dream is that dream of a land in which life should be better and richer and fuller for everyone, with opportunity for each according to ability or achievement."

That philosophy is rooted in the Declaration of Independence that clearly states: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of happiness.”

Our family's favorite pastor is Jorge Acevedo from Grace United Methodist Church in Cape Coral, FL.  In a recent service and sermon, Pastor Jorge addresses a topic that frankly, I wish all clergy from all of the churches would have addressed years before we got to this point.  Specifically about 57 minutes into the sermon (but frankly the whole sermon is worth watching) he addresses the polarization of the American political culture.  

I won't spoil it for those that should watch it but needless to say, I personally believe this is one of the primary causes of our problems, among many others that have planted the seeds of animosity towards others as I have described above.

On a slightly different note, but within the same theme, on Amazon Prime day, I was presented with a doll that was on sale. I thought, maybe I could buy one for my new granddaughter.  Yes, she is too young but Prime day comes once a year, I thought.  As I perused the different ones they had, my jaw dropped when I came across the last one.

"One of these things is not like the other"

Why on earth would the only doll representing a person of color have straight, purple hair, light hazel eyes but to really highlight the discrepancy that jumped out at me, not be as affordable or on sale as the others?  All the other "American Girl" dolls were on sale for $69 but not this one which was almost twice the cost at $115.  Whether it was intentional and in poor taste, neglect by a quality control team or a supplier asleep at the wheel, we would never know.  My point about the doll's hair and eyes is not that people of color don't paint their hair or use contacts that change the color of their eyes but why did the designer of the dolls go out of their way to change a person's natural beauty?

In the town of Greenville, 10 minutes from where I live, during the summer they have a Latin dance event once a month for about 3 months.  It gives my wife and I an opportunity to head downtown and dance to Latin music, typically from a band from the Carolinas, where it is not just the Spanish speaking members of the community that come to dance but many times we see people from all walks of life, dancing in the nightlight to the rhythm of the beat.   

I want to get back to those days.  That to me is when America was on the right path to being great.  While we still had a way to go to reach the American Dream stated earlier, we respected and valued the difference in each other.  When we appreciated each other and accepted people for who they are and the cultural difference we each contributed to this great melting pot.

To my sons Dan and Nick.  The reason your mom and I decided to have a family was because we knew we could make the world a better place with you guys in it.  That you both would be the best of what we had to offer the world and that we would know that the values we instilled in both of you would be shared by you guys with others. 

To you and everybody else I say the following:

We can do better.  We must do better.

Remembering "Rafa"

Exactly one year ago today, I received a call from my sister that something was wrong with dad. She was crying on the phone, telling me she was on her way to the house. That she had received a call from her son Tony, who had busted the back door to find my father, not breathing, sitting in the recliner, toothpick in one hand, remote control in the other, with the TV on full blast.

I’ve been thinking about this day, in light of all of the loss of family this year, how would I feel? What would I say? Would I still remember what happened that dreadful day? Would I still feel the incredible pain of guilt of not having closure. From not saying goodbye to him when I had the chance and seeing his smile one last time. 

The regrets are long gone and the tears have slowed down. But the desire to hear his voice, his laughter, smell the cooking as I walked into his house, and basically, just get back the norm that once was, is still there.

As he lay on the ground I whispered to him that I was sorry I let him down but I promised him that we would take care of mom and do as he expected. It’s been a year and we have kept that promise.  There are times that Mom takes a turn for the worse, but she bounces back with the extra TLC we give her and God saying, "not yet".  We have lost a lot of people but Mom continues to show strength despite her delicate condition and this gut wrenching disease.

There are so many things to say, without knowing where to begin.  Dad was a simple but complex person.  You knew right away what his values were.  Family, Faith, Strong work ethics, Responsibility, Food, Heritage, Baseball - especially his Amazing Mets, his Garden, playing dominoes and his special type of music.

Dad would have been proud of us. Family was everything for him and all he ever wanted was for us to be together, be good to each other, and to do our best taking care of the love of his life.  I do believe that the primary reason he had the strength, along with his faith, to beat cancer twice was so that he could stick around to take care of his wife, Angela.  He prayed daily for a miracle without realizing that the miracle was how close we are as a family and our common goal of taking care of Mom. 

He was a very faithful man, never missing a Sunday to go to church, unless he was in really bad shape. When Mom went with us to church, he would hold her hand and then eventually, he would grab her by the shoulder to bring her up for communion, even though she was past the point where she understood what was going on at church or that she should even be going there. Seeing him in his Sunday routine, from how every Sunday he would go early to church and would kneel to pray the rosary before mass, and then afterwards, mention how much his knees hurt for being in that position so long, to the way he walked up to get communion, was something to see.
 

Since his retirement in 2005 and move to SC, we got to really know a different person than what we knew in NJ.  Time changes people.  Dad was a changed person, but at his core, he was the same.  We just never really understood that.

Dad would work during the week and after work and dinner, would hangout mostly in the living room but many times in his bedroom, watching TV.  He worked hard and it showed.  On weekends, he would hang out, every weekend, in the Spanish Club, playing dominoes, pool, having a few beers - much to our resentment. When he wasn't doing that, he was working in his garden tending to his tomatoes and other stuff he grew.  That was probably his biggest struggle, to leave his routine, his friends, the club and move to SC.  But once he made up his mind, it was done.  He looked forward, not back.

Dad was taken out of school when he had completed his 2nd grade so that he could take care of the animals and bring lunch to his father who worked in the field.  Work was so important for him but at the same time, his regret. Besides our family trip to Puerto Rico every 5-7 years or so, primarily to see family, he never really had what we would call "a vacation".  Many a times, he would cry because he felt like any opportunity he had to do something with his life, was taken away from him, at a young age.  Mostly, his desire to finish school.  So he put all of his energy in his work, and he was serious about it. Something he instilled in all of us.  For most of his life, he was a landscaper and I remember growing up and going with him to cut the grass at one of the places he had to take care of.  Towards the later years, he was a factory worker, and worked to the point where he became the union rep at the factory.

When the time came, he retired and moved down to be with us.  He worked every day until he retired at 69, saving up his social security checks so he could put his down payment on the house they could finally afford.   At 70 years of age with his wife at 63, they not only bought their first house, it was a brand new house that had just been completed in a new neighborhood.  The ultimate dream home. Throughout my entire life, mom would constantly ask me if one day, I would be able to buy a house for her, but in the end, they did it themselves.  I still cry just thinking about how happy they were, and how proud we were, that day.

He did an amazing job taking care of his lawn and his garden.  He had years of practice and took it very seriously. We encouraged him to start walking and even about 5 months before he passed, he would go walk, and come back and cut the grass.  It did get to the point when he had to rely on us to cut his grass because he could not do that anymore.  However, when I would do it, he would only want me to cut the grass and would tell me that Manny, my brother-in-law, would be coming to edge and weed whack it.  Little did I know, he had made arrangements with him to do that because apparently I sucked at it.  He would complain that I was in a rush and would do a horrible job :)  He would not tell me that though.  What I heard was the Manny had offered to do that.

His garden though, that was something.  Every year, he would grow watermelons, beans, pumpkins and other stuff, primarily from seeds he would get from his brother in Puerto Rico.  His tomatoes never had a chance, due to the horrible dirt and the constant beating of the sun, because according to dad, he lived on top of a hill in a desert, "en esta loma, no crece nada".  I finally picked up his habits and started my own garden.  This year, we are planting his seeds that he had stored in the refrigerator and will be growing all of his items, in various places, including the back of his house.

At one point, I mentioned to him that we were going to start making meals for him because he was struggling with his health.  His response to me was, "Rafy, don't take that away from me.  Let me cook.  It's ok if you want to help with the yard and you guys are already taking care of Angelita, but I have nothing else to do.  I can continue to cook".  And cook he did.  Dad was known for cooking and boasted about he was even a better cook that mom and he had taught her how to cook.  We never really knew for sure if that was true as mom would not really push back.  Dad was always cooking and making things for us.  For every holiday, dad would make the rice, we would make everything else.  Whenever we had out of town family visitors, dad would prepare the meals and make his famous rice.  We would be responsible for lunch and taking them out but dinner was at dad's house.  He showed his love through his cooking and amazing food.  We continue to try to replicate his meals but they are not the same.   I miss walking in seeing the spices ready, about an hour before he would start to actually cook, smelling the food that was cooked or getting his voicemails saying he was done, but a bit too early because it got ahead of him.  Which frankly, was every time he cooked.

         

Dad first left Jayuya around 1955 or 1956. Trying to find a decent job in Puerto Rico that paid a good wage was impossible.  In NJ, he would work during the spring, summer and fall as a landscaper, but then winters would head back to Puerto Rico.  He never really wanted to leave and his heart was still back "home" in Jayuya.  That's actually why he never really bought a house in NJ.  He always thought he would go back and build a home on his "parcela" but that never came about.  This would be the routine every year until he and mom got married.  He and mom made the decision when mom was pregnant with me that they would move finally and the back and forth trips stopped.

He was a very proud Puerto Rican.  Not the standoffish kind that has never really been there and understands what it really means to be Puerto Rican, but the kind that has more like a spiritual connection with that island like he had.  His Jibaro Music was always playing at home or in his car.

His car had a ton of Puerto Rican stickers on it, including the necessary "el Gallo" (the rooster) emblazoned with the PR flag, several flags and one of the island shape.  We called it the Puerto Rican Mobile and when we decided to hand it off to Evelyn, because that is what he would have wanted, the condition was that she could not remove the stickers.

My ringtone for him was Lamento Borincano, and specifically the Marc Anthony version.  In it, he says:

"La mañana entera sin que nadie pueda su carga comprar

Su carga comprar

Todo.

Todo está desierto, el pueblo está muerto de necesidad

De necesidad

Se oye este lamento por doquier

De mi desdichado Borinquen

Y triste.

El jibarito va pensando así, diciendo así, llorando así por el camino

Que será de Borinquen mi Dios querido?

Que será de mis hijos y de mi hogar?

Borinquen.

La tierra del Edén, la que al cantar el gran Gautier llamo la perla de los mares

Ahora que tu te mueres con tus pesares

Déjame que te cante yo también.

Borinquen, de mi amor..."

He represented everything in that song. Worried about his wife, his family, his home and his Puerto Rico.  Whenever I play the song, I immediately begin to cry.  However, the lack of the ringtone going off every week, is even more painful.  Dad was and forever will be, my Jibarito.  My desire to learn more about Puerto Rico, the culture, the people, my family and especially my ancestors is at its core, because of my dad and the fact that deep in his heart, that is who he was.  Proud to be un Jibaro from Jayuya.

I pay more attention to the lyrics of those older songs to understand the meaning of them in relation to him.

His favorite time though, was Christmas when the aguinaldos and memories of the parrandas would come out in full force.  We gave him one years ago and the look on his face when we showed up, how he sang and how happy he was, will be forever etched in our minds.  I still listen to all of that music, especially when taking care of mom, every Saturday.  I play it to help remind her, and of course myself, of our Jibarito.

Growing up I remember the Puerto Ricans from the town I grew up in, always using the phrase Jibaro in a demeaning way, implying a country person instead of someone "from the city".  Which was supposedly better, according to them.  As I got older though, I realized they were completely wrong because of my dad, the family back in Jayuya and what I came to really understand about what that really means.

From the website El Boricua, "Jíbaro is a term used to refer to mountain people, who lived "in-land" in the heart of the island, and are the backbone of the Puerto Rican culture."  To me, it is probably the best description of what dad represented.  Honor, Honesty, Bravery, Tenacity, Hospitality, and as the website continues to describe, Self Sufficiency, Stubbornness and Mucho Orgullo!

The stubbornness especially came out when he was playing dominoes, which besides watching baseball on TV, was the only thing he ever really wanted to do. He was amazing at it too.  Before the first hand had gone around, he had already figured out what everybody had and was trying to put us in a position where he would take advantage of that and get as many points as possible.  It got so frustrating at times that it felt like entrapment.

It was also painful to listen to the "Rafy, why did you not go here when you had the chance...etc..." comments.  I would piss me off to no end since I had no clue what the heck I did wrong or what play, 3-4 plays back he was referring to.

Looking back at those moments, I am not sure if he was trying to "teach" us how to play by pointing out what we did wrong, or just making sure we understood how much he knew.  It was especially hard to tell when he would say that he won, when you consider that this is a partner based game.

What I would give to play another round, despite knowing that I was definitely going to get yelled at.

When it came to sports though, Baseball was it.  Nothing else mattered and it was his pastime. A die hard Mets fan, dad would prefer to watch the Mets on TV than go to a local baseball game.  We tried multiple times to get him to go to the Greenville Drive games, and while once in a blue moon he would go, most of the times he would just say no, that he was just going to stay home.  We knew immediately that it was because the Mets were playing.  It did not matter if they were in a complete losing streak or not and in last place.  He was not a fair weather fan.

The only exception to that norm was when the Big or Senior League World Series tournament was underway and the Puerto Rican team was here.

The games are always the end of July or first week of August and it did not matter how hot it was going to be, Dad would show up about 30 minutes before the game started to get the best seat at the bleachers, with his cushioned seats and umbrella in tow.

I would always see him there with mom, and when mom became bedridden, the girls would make arrangements to stay with her so that dad could go to the games.

In 2018, when the tournament started again, just three months after dad's passing, during the entire first game while I was in the dugout where I usually am with the team, I could not stop crying almost the entire game because I was in my usual spot but he was not in his.  I kept looking over to an empty bleacher while at the same time feeling like I had the worst sore throat I have ever had due to the gigantic lump in my throat.  It was 3 months after my team's number one fan was gone, forever.  It will never be the same.

He was so happy one year that Puerto Rico came and they were doing great, that he even made his famous rice for them.







Lastly, how we remember dad, was how much he adored his family, especially his grandchildren and great grandchildren, how much they adored him and miss him so much.  From Adrian asking why Papa's heart was bad while taking out a plastic screwdriver and saying that he could fix it, to Brielle bringing flowers regularly to his gravesite, to Lexi holding on to one of the overly used plastic bowls that Papa used to send her food in, to Angela who feels honored to be living in Papa's house, to Joshua who wanted one thing only, the recliner he took his last breath in, to Dan who wanted his Jibaro Music, to Tony who broke the door down and had to call 911, to Michael who is constantly reminded about how he looks like you, to Mom who I am sure, deep in her heart knows that a piece is missing, to everyone of us who lost the patriarch of our family.

We have missed you everyone of these 365 days since you left us, but we will never forget you.