A Love Like You Have Never Experienced Before

Back in 1989, Luisa became pregnant with our first son, Dan.  We were ready to start our family.  It had been 4 years after we had exchanged our vows and we were anxious to begin writing the next chapter in our lives.  We had this great feeling inside that we would be great parents even if that sounds arrogant.  Of course, we had no real basis for this except that we saw the world and our role in it, the same way.  We felt we were very compatible with each other.  We shared the same views and priorities in our life.  

When Luisa was in her 4th month of pregnancy, I happened to be on a business trip in Puerto Rico.  I stayed a few days extra to visit my grandparents and relatives.  After several days there, pre-cellphone, even pre-house phones, Luisa was desperate to talk with me about a problem she was having with the pregnancy.  The doctors believed there was a problem with the baby and she was alone and I was not there to support her or be there with her or for her. 

I called home after a few days of her trying to get a hold of me and the gut punch to my stomach was immediate when I heard her voice and what was going on.  Not able to go to the house to call the airport/airline to change my flight, I ran back to my uncle's house, packed my bags and stopped by all my family's homes to say my quick goodbye and headed to the airport 2 hours away.  I prayed all of the way to the airport, asking for everything to be ok with our baby.  Anxious with tears running down my face, I actually don't remember the 2 hour trip down the mountains of Puerto Rico.  I got there as quick as I could and was able to get the next flight home.  

Fast forward 5 months, knowing that we were having a boy by then due to the scare we had, we could not wait to meet our precious Dan.  Still wondering if everything was going to be ok, we knew Luisa was going to have a C-Section due to Dan being breech, we woke up the day that he was scheduled to arrive and went to the hospital on the morning.  It had snowed outside the night before so at 5AM, we began our long, roughly 45 minute drive in our Ford Tempo to the hospital.  There was nobody on the road.  Dark due to the November day, but bright because of the white, snow covered road and the orange lights all along the highway.

I pulled up to the hospital main doors, got out, ran around the car and opened the door to make sure that Luisa did not fall out.  I grabbed the overnight back and walked her into the hospital. I ran out and parked the car in the nearby parking lot for temporary visitors.  Once back inside, I grabbed a wheelchair for Luisa and I pushed her to the area we were supposed to go, passed the doors to the other side where our lives would change.  Dan was born at roughly 8AM and all we could think about was how perfect he was and that the scare of what could be wrong with him was all for naught.  Just perfect.

A long 32 years have passed and the memories that we have created with both of our boys are just incredible.  The birthdays we have celebrated, the trips we have taken, the highs we have experienced and even the lows we have struggled through are precious memories that began that winter, snowy day.

Today, March 11th 2022, we re-lived that day through the eyes of our son Dan and daughter-in-law Jill as they took the same journey on the way to the birth of their daughter, our first grandchild, Audriana.  We got the text the night before from Dan and it started "Hey, so first off everything is ok... Jill is having contractions and the nurse recommended we come in."  

We did not sleep last night, wondering what they were going through, what they were thinking, as it brought us back to that trip down memory lane.  At 3:30 AM, I was texting Dan to see how things were going and then looked at my phone 15-30 minutes later.  Then again an hour later, and an hour later, and so on until 7AM when I finally got out of bed.  Luisa was up by 5AM and shared the message received by Dan at 5:38AM.  Audriana was coming and it would not be too long from now.

Our precious and beautiful granddaughter arrived at 9:26 to be exact.  Healthy, absolutely just perfect in every way, had made her grand entrance.  A true gift from God, about to start her life long journey with parents, grandparents, an aunt, an uncle and an extended family who have been waiting for her arrival to show her how much she is really loved. 

Looking retrospectively through the lens of what we have been through, we could not be more proud of Dan and Jill and how they have prepared for their lives to change but how ready they are to become the absolutely best parents to their new baby girl.  To experience the first touch, first kiss, first embrace and the many other firsts that will come as a result of graduating from being just a couple to a family.

Dan and Jill, you will never love anything or anyone as you will love your children.  That Love is nothing that you have experienced before and we could not be more proud to see the steps you will take with your precious daughter on this journey.  We thank you for giving mom and I our first grandchild and the first girl in our immediate family.

 

     To Audriana - Lelo and Lela Love you so much and can't wait to meet you and spoil you.

La Casita

I have written previously about how important it was for Mom to have her own house.   From as far back as I could remember, even before my teenage years, mom would sit by me on my bed and say, "Rafy, cuando tu crezca, tu me compra una casita?"  (Ralphy - when you grow older, would you buy me a house?)  I don't recall Mom ever ask for anything else.  I am sure there were lots of other things she wished for or wanted but she never let me know.

Mom was very simple.  She basically had two things on her bucket list.  Her home and her family.  She was happy with life because she had both.  

Mom grew up very poor, as my Dad told us, on dirt floors and surely had days where she would go to bed hungry.  She lived down the hill from Dad.  When I say down the hill, you could say at the bottom of the mountainside where Dad lived.  

Years ago, in the early '80s I had a chance to go to Jayuya with Luisa and I was able to see where it was that Mom lived when she was a child.  There was no real way to get to mom's house, unless it was climbing down the side of the mountain, from the main road where dad lived.  It easily took about 10 minutes on a steep incline.

When I went there, the house that mom lived in was gone.  The only thing standing was the remnants of a structure, such as 3-4 blocks, a bit of cement for the kitchen area, but everything else was gone.

There was this big tree, around the base of the property, that had a special seed that I had never seen before.  

I grabbed a bag full of those seeds, called Mato Rojo or by the official name: Canavalia nitida and to this day, still have the bag.  In the attached spanish link, it says that this is one of the most utilized items in the making of jewelry by artisans in Puerto Rico.

My cousins tell me that if you rub the seed against the concrete, they spark, generate a flame and heat.  They said that this is something they did with it when they were younger. 

Whenever I look at those seeds, I am reminded of the struggles that my mom and her family had and how far along she came, and us after that.  I love the symbolism of it.   From the base at the bottom of this steep hill, there is a tree that produces the hardest and strongest seeds.  I saw that strength in my mom.

When they retired and moved down to South Carolina Mom and Dad bought the first and only home they would ever own.  Prior to moving to SC, mom working at K-Mart, would buy things for her casita.  The one that she was going to get, when she retired.

They spent several amazing years in "la casita".  Every birthday & holiday would be celebrated at Mom's house.  Yes, it was Dad's as well, but to Mom, it was her dream house.  The one she always desired and deserved.

During her battle with her late stages of Alzheimer's, she would cry and say she wanted to go home.  Not realizing of course that she was home.

Dad passed away first and Mom followed him a little over a year later.  The house was transferred to my 3 sisters and I.

Mom wanted a large family.  Raised as the only female by her father and her 3 brothers, losing her mom at the age of 6, she wanted nothing but a big family.  She adored her children, grandchildren and even got to meet most of her great grandchildren.  Though by this time, she was so far on the losing side of her Alzheimer's battle that she could not tell the difference between her own descendent, a complete stranger's child or even the plastic doll she would cuddle in her arms.

Dad would have wanted us to sell the house to anybody at whatever price we could get for it.  Mom though, would have clearly wanted for her Casita to stay "within the family" if possible.  For a family member to start building a future of memories based on the foundation she had laid, or better yet, the seeds that she had planted.  

Today, just 2 weeks shy of when Mom and Dad bought their Casita back on Valentine's Day in 2006, exactly 16 years ago, we sold La Casita to Kayla.  One of Mom's grandchildren.   

We got to close another chapter in this book about Mom and Dad.  The last chapter of our responsibility to Mom and Dad to take care of their possessions.  It took longer than all of us would have imagined and we could have chosen the easy path but sometimes the more difficult path is the right thing to do.  

To Kayla - Congratulations on purchasing your first home.  It is even more memorable as you are the 2nd owner on a home that was originally owned by your grandparents.  They left Puerto Rico before anyone of us was born, with the hopes of making a better future for all of us.   You and that house are both a direct result of that hope.    

Remembering The Most Important Thing in Life.

After living what feels like perpetual Ground Hog Day due to the pandemic, it was time for a vacation.  A week before the pandemic started becoming an issue in the US on March 2020, and all travel from Europe was locked down, Luisa and I were actually headed to Cancun with some dear friends.  

It was going to be the first vacation that Luisa and I had taken in about 10 years.  Over the years, we had taken days off here and there, such as Luisa accompanying me on business trips, or going to the beach for 3-4 days and of course there would be our annual trip to Florida to kiss off the old year and welcome the new year but none of these are what I would truly call a vacation.  

Right before the Cancun trip, I had just gotten back from Toronto on business and was really concerned that we would not be allowed back into the US so we decided not to go.  Prior to the lockdown though our primary focus was on taking care of my mom and dad especially in the latter years.  Luisa also flew down multiple times, most of the time alone, to spend the last precious moments with her brother and father before they passed.

After having lived through 18 months of painful loses and then roughly 18 months of a pandemic, we were ready to start a new chapter.  To be able to live again.

In early 2021, I started planning for a trip to Puerto Rico.  My initial goals were to do Ancestry Research, visit family and get to know Puerto Rico like I have not experienced it before.  My Ancestry research portion was going to be the first time I was armed with knowledge of the island like I had never had prior to any previous trip there.  When my parents started to have their health issues in 2010/2011, I started to research my family tree and got really into it.  I studied and learned a lot about our family history, took DNA tests and convinced many relatives to do the same.  Joined many groups on Facebook and got to learn a lot about the various parts of Puerto Rico that I was not really aware of.  

So the trip to Puerto Rico was to help discover what I did not know, continue to research my tree and ancestors and start a new chapter in this thing we call life.  A "re-discovery" trip of sorts.

As the trip got closer, I started to make arrangements.  Planning to visit cemeteries throughout the island,  spend time in the Ancestry research centers, and of course with the family eating wonderful meals that would remind us of my parents cooking. 

I was actually intending to surprise my family there by only telling a few select cousins so that I can plan specific things we were going to do, but you can imagine how that goes.  Keeping a secret over there is like, well there is no such thing.  I can imagine that they would each tell each other "it is a secret so don't say anything", as they went person by person telling each other "the secret".  When I was growing up and I did something I was not supposed to do, I was surprised as heck to learn when I got home that my mom already knew about it.  When I would ask her how she knew, her response was "Un pichoncito me lo dijo."  Well, in Puerto Rico they must be inundated with pichoncitos because the planning for this trip proved that there are no secrets with a family as large as mine.  Luisa actually commented "Note to self.  Puerto Rican's can't keep a secret."  

Early on, one of the highlights I planned was to go zip lining on the Monster at Toro Verde.  As I have gotten older, I have actually become more fearless.  Life is of course, for living.  But to insure that I did not chicken out and actually went through with it, I invited (OK, for those that know me, I intensely pressured) cousins from NJ, Boston and several on the Island to go with me.  Even my sister Evelyn joined us on that trip.  It was a condition for her going with us to PR, that she had to do everything we did, including the Monster.  For those that don't know what the Monster is, check out Jimmy Fallon and his journey.  In the end, we had a total of 9 of us take the leap.

It is something else to experience and all I could think about as I was hovering around 1200 feet in the sky above the trees, was how I had ancestors that had crossed those paths below and had most likely looked up in the sky.  Now here I was in the sky looking down at the footprints they left behind.   Thanks to my cousin Manuel and son Dan for the proof we went through with it here and here.

We then headed to Jayuya where my tribe lives.  To say I have family there is an understatement.  There can never be enough time there to truly appreciate the beauty of the mountains of Puerto Rico, the amazing, humble people and of course the incredible food that they prepared.  From a Pig Roast to a Sancocho to home made bread to bacalitos, to Arroz con gandules with a side of conejo.  I had my fill and gained 10 lbs over the 2 weeks there and I am sure the bulk was during that time.  It actually started before the Orocovis trip with gandiga, empanadas, alcapurias, garbanzo with chorizo, arroz and tembleque.  And that was only one dinner thanks to chef Aby!

There was so much family, including some cousins I had never met given that I had not been there in such a while, that we had to have 3 different "events" to be able to see everyone.  Luisa said to me that she had not seen me laugh this hard in years.  I agree.

We were there for 2 whole weeks and it would take a lot to describe everything we did as we traveled throughout Dorado, San Juan, Jayuya, Utuado, Isabela, Rincon, Cabo Rojo, and Cayey.  With 4 AirBnBs, a hotel stay and of course several days at my uncle's house in the mountains, it was an incredibly memorable trip. One that I will never forget and only makes me want to go back as soon as possible.  I felt my parent's presence there.  We all did.

Once, when our boys were younger we took them to Puerto Rico.  They ran around throwing coffee beans at each other.  Coffee was something that my family grew in those mountains of Jayuya.   Coffee that my uncles would pick, and my aunts would actually roast in the largest cast iron pot over a wood fire.  My uncle once yelled at them and said, "Hey, stop throwing those beans.  That's money!".

This time, during my visit one of my cousins told me that he grows coffee.  That my uncles and cousins actually pick the coffee and my family sells it to Hacienda San Pedro who produces it and commercializes it.

On the last day of our trip, on our way to the airport, I actually went by the Hacienda San Pedro and picked up some of that coffee.  

Today, on Thanksgiving, roughly 25 days from my healing trip, I thank God as I started my day drinking some of the coffee grown and picked by my family.  I am thankful for all of my family, here and in Puerto Rico and for being reminded what truly is the most important thing in my life.  My family.

An incredible family that helped heal the wounds of isolation and pain that Luisa, Evelyn and I had, which had not fully healed until now.  A cathartic trip indeed.

Note: While I did get to visit some incredible places, to fulfill my ancestral search, I never did get to the research centers, walk the cemeteries or meet up with the dozens of DNA cousins I originally intended to visit.  I guess I have to go back soon to finish my trip.  Luisa - pack your bags.

A special shoutout to Manuel and Shirley, Grenda and Benny, and Dan and Jill for joining Luisa and I on this trip.  For Mael, Melvin, Glenda, and Junior for helping me with the plans and to all of the others that helped make this trip better than I could have ever imagined.

Indelible Footprints - by Martha Fernandez

This is a translation of a Spanish poem by Martha Fernandez written twenty years ago during the terrorist attack on 9/11.  The original version can be viewed here.  

As New York City began to wake, its people arriving early and ready to work, they would never think that they would lose their spouses, children, and homes that day.

It would be, the final goodbye, the early departures, the breakfast, the bed, the cell phone, the car, everything would be immobile on that fatal day.

The innocent reviewing their daily tasks, greeting their companions as they came, little sips of coffee hurried in between the computer strokes, without knowing that their lives would end that day.

As the clock marked the fatal hour that would leave behind traces of destruction, one that would take the lives of so many, robbing families of brothers, parents, children with no illusion of what occurred.

The first explosion of the terrorist driven plane, for all the bystanders outside to feel the horror, death and pain. Screams, moans, filled that huge building, some focused on helping while others communicated through their cell phones with those relatives who were far away.

Only minutes before another plane would implode into the second building, the elevators failing, the suffocation overwhelming the people’s senses, making it difficult to navigate the twisted steel to reach the goal of their escape. While terrified others ran down the stairs, running over whoever their footsteps met.

The few who fled, while some carried strangers on their shoulders, through the exits full of debris that would soon become.

The flames that appeared, engulfing a place reminiscent of hell, with sirens glaring of the first that would come down, cascades of black smoke, glass, shattered walls and steel, forcing women and men who lacked hope and full of despair driven to commit suicide in the madness that appeared.

The rush of doctors and nurses, the sirens of the firefighters, the police, and the press, wanting to help all. Even though everyone gave everything they could, they were overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.

And so it was, that one could only find the corpses left behind amongst the mutilated remains of others in this sinister place. Heavy equipment brought in together, with big trucks to begin the task of endless months, of the many workers drenched in sweat, to uncover the answer to this dark affair.

The rescue dogs brought in from different places, beautiful animals trained to sniff, would look in the rubble for trapped people until their paws bled and burned, but that would not prevent them from continuing their mission of finding the solution to the problem at hand.

The rest burned to ashes leaving no trace, marching to the stars that will be forever inhabited. Leaving only memories due to their sudden departure taking with them the smiles of those that remained.

Imborrables Huellas - por Martha Fernandez

La ciudad de Nueva York empezaba despertar, y sus hijos al llegar listo para trabajar, nunca pudieron pensar que ese día perderían, hijos, esposos y hogar.

Era aquel, adiós final, tus despedidas tempranas, su desayuno, su cama, su celular, su automóvil, todo quedarían inmoble en aquel día fatal.

Inocentes repasaban las tareas de aquel día, sus compañeros venían entre ellos se saludaban, un cafecito apuraba entre las computadoras sin saber que en esa hora sus vidas terminarías.

Al fin el reloj marco, aquella ora fatal que llevaría huellas de la destrucción. Que le arranco de un tirón en la vida de tantos humanos dejándolos sin hermanos, padres, hijos sin ilusión.

Y la primera explosión de aquel avión terrorista, dejaba para la vista del grupo que estaba afuera, una centelleante esfera de horror, de dolor y muerte. Gritos, quejidos, llenaba aquel enorme edificio, otros con un sano juicio, a unos pocos se ayudaban, otros se comunicaban mediante sus celulares con aquellos familiares que muy lejos se encontraban.

Solo pasaron minutos ante que el segundo avión proporcionara otra explosión en el segundo edificio. El elevador no estaba funcionando en esa hora, y la asfixia abrumadora lo dejaba sin sentido, entre yerros retorcido, pretendía avanzar más déficit alcanzar la misión que ellos tenían.

Los otros despavorido corrían por las escaleras, atropellando al cual quiera que a sus pasos se encontraran.

Unos pocos que apiadados por la suerte que corrían, a otros ayudarían llevándolos en sus hombros, por las salidas que escombros muy pronto se tornaría.

Las llamas que ahí salían se podían igualar a ese lugar sin pal, al que llamamos infierno. Mientras se venía abajo el otro que fue el primero, con cascadas de humo negro, cristales, llamas, paredes, avía allí mujeres y hombres que se suicidaban. Y que al vacío saltaba en arranque de locura.

El rescate de su grupo de médicos y enfermeras, los bomberos, la sirena, la policía, la prensa.

Todos querían en recompensa ayuda prestar a todos más, aunque todos luchaban por esas vidas salvar, no podía penetrar por la intensidad de todos.

Y fue así, que de ese modo solo podían encontrar cadáveres que, al pasar, y otros que mutilados se quedaban sepultados en el siniestro lugar. Equipo pesado llega juntos a los grandes camiones, para empezar las labores de meses interminables, y con ese gesto amable de tantos trabajadores que empapados en sudores siguen buscando la meta de encontrar una respuesta a esto negros sin sabores.

Los perros también llegaban de los distintos lugares, eran bellos animales entrenados a olfatear, buscaban en los escombros las personas atrapadas, sus patitas le sangraban y quemaduras tenían, pero eso no impedirían continuar con la misión de encontrar la solución al problema que existía.

Lo demás carbonizados no dejarían ni huellas, marcharon do las estrellas por siempre han habitado. Solo recuerdos dejaron al partir así de prisa, llevándose así la riza de todos lo que quedaban.

My Birthday Buddy

I thought about calling this post, Angela's baby boy.  I have written previously in my blog about how I was born on my mom's birthday and after my mom passed away, it has been hard to be happy when I was of course, Angela's baby boy and she was my birthday buddy.  I have no problems admitting that.

Yes, today is August 25th, and once again, I woke up on my birthday with the memories of my mom and I sharing our birthday together over all of these years.  Especially with all of the Facebook and Google photo memories of this day and the tons of comments from people overwhelming my feed.    

Truth be told, it feels like just another birthday, especially on a work day full of conference calls and business as usual.  However, leading up to this day the sentimental nature of my shared birthday with my mom builds up over the weeks, without the culmination of our joint ice-cream cake, which is what we would always have on this day.   I have not had Carvel ice-cream cake on my birthday since mom passed.  Now celebrating my 3rd birthday without her.

Ice cream was my mom's favorite.  Vanilla, of course.  

Every time we went out to get some, as I was standing in line with her, I would ask her what flavor she wanted, knowing her obvious answer ahead of time.  

Me, being the stubborn, ok if you ask Luisa, "the controlling" person I am, would tell her that she had to live a little.  So I would get her a different flavor be it Coconut, Mint Chocolate Chip, Banana...  Put a little spice in it lady!  After all, there are more than 31 flavors of this heavenly stuff.  

She would devour that ice cream, as a professional ice cream eater would generally do.  Then when asked if she liked it, her answer was a glowing, "oh yes!  It was delicious!"

The next time out, what flavor?  "Vanilla.  You know that is my favorite."  And the cycle would repeat itself.

She said that when she was carrying me, all she could eat was ice cream.  She would get sick with anything else.  Which is why I am a huge fan and probably the reason for my high cholesterol! 😳

At first, I was unique in sharing a birthday with my mom.  Over time, I came to know others that were similarly blessed with their shared birthdays with their respective moms, or as siblings like my nephews or even in the case of our son Nick, with his much loved and profoundly missed Uncle Mickey.  Who was born on the best day of the year, according to the way they both used to tell it.

I wrote in another blog, how our family has been graced with the celebration of a new birth, in a day full of sorrow and pain, like that of the 2nd anniversary of my brother-in-law Miguel's passing, when his 3rd grandson Beckam Miguel was born.  How Beckam's birth gave us something to look forward to on that day.  The entire family firmly believes Miguel had a hand in that specific arrival to let us know that he wanted us to be happy.

Today, it is my turn to celebrate not only my birthday, but the arrival of my new birthday buddy and great nephew, Kaden Drey.  My niece Angela's baby boy!  Again, both divine and heavenly intervention from my own mom to ensure that my future birthdays would be a day of celebration of a shared birthday.   I will always share my mom's birthday but now have a birthday companion to have ice cream with.

About 9 months or so ago, Angela called Luisa and I to tell me that she was pregnant and that her due date, was, get this, August 25th.  For these past months we have been waiting the arrival of Angela's baby boy and wondering if indeed, can it be, that he will be born on my birthday. 

Last week, on the 18th of August, Angela had a visit with her doctor to discuss the logistics of Kaden's arrival, whether they would need to induce her if Kaden decided to procrastinate and to schedule her hospital admittance so they can induce her the next day. She would be admitted one day and Kaden would be born the next day.

The nurse came into the room and told the doctor that both Sunday the 22nd to Monday the 23rd, or Monday the 23rd to Tuesday the 24th were available. The nurse then scheduled her for Monday/Tuesday. 

The doctor said wait a second the other doctor that would be delivering if she was not available was not on call.  The doctor also said that she had an in office surgery to do on Tuesday.  So she told the nurse to change it to the next date which which would be to be admitted on the 24th with Angela being induced on Wednesday the 25th.  Today.

Angela began to cry and the doctor asked if there was a problem with that date? Angela told her it’s a very special day that it was her Grandmother's birthday (uhm.. mine too by the way) and that her Grandmother had died two years ago. 

The Doctor said well then it is on Wednesday when Kaden will be born.  At exactly 8:21AM on August 25th, Kaden Drey Burton came to this world.  To celebrate every 25th of August eating ice cream with his Uncle Ralph. 

I firmly believe that this was my mom Angela, pulling the levers and making sure that I once again had a birthday buddy to share my birthday with.  Thank you Mom.

I promised Angela that if Kaden was born on my birthday I would buy the ice cream every year. But if he was born any other day it would be on him. 

Well, Kaden, I will hold up my bargain as my new birthday buddy.  Of course, it will have to be Vanilla in honor of your great grandmother Angela.

Happy Birthday Kaden and of course, Happy Heavenly Birthday Mom.  I miss you dearly but thank you for giving me a reason to enjoy having ice cream on my birthday again.

Hook, Line and Sinker

There is a famous quote, believed to be a Chinese proverb that says: Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.

When I was about 10 years old, my uncle Tito took me fishing for the first time. I did not even have a fishing pole and when I told him that he said don't worry about it. We'll figure it out.

We get to this reservoir that was the primary fresh water source for the county. Fishing was actually prohibited in this fresh water lake, but that is another story. We pull up to the edge of the lake and get out of the car. My uncle with his tackle box and gear and several of the longest and coolest fishing poles I had seen. It was clear he was going for the big stuff.

He proceeds to grab a fairly descent size branch from one of the trees at the edge of the lake and ties some fishing line to it and adds a hook. He tells me to sit under the bridge and to be quiet but just drop the line in the water. That evening, I caught 14 sunnies or brim, Lafayette's as they were known in that area, and a good sized catfish! I was in fish heaven and that day changed my life.

As I got older I would come home from school, drop my books and head down to the local pier to fish with all of my friends. There were times that we would have about 8 of us all lined up fishing, crabbing and selling the eels we would catch to people that wanted them. It became my past time but was, and has always been, my retreat. My chance to escape the challenges and pains of the teenage years.

Even today as an adult, I love to spend time with a pole in my hand, taking in the fresh air and trying to catch the big one that seems to always get away with my bait.

With the tons of fish I have caught over the years, there are some special memories that I have, such as fishing with my friends, or more recently when I went deep sea fishing with Dan, Nick and Dan's friends for his bachelor party. We were on fire that day and caught an amazing amount of fish. Though this trip was a couple of years ago, everyone to this day still talks about that time and that we should do it again.

However the one that made the most impact in my life was that of my uncle taking me fishing for the first time. It was a bonding time that he shared with me, not because he had to, but because he wanted to. He was showing me that I was so important to him that he would share with me what he loved to do most.

His simple act showed me that life was for living and for a purpose. At a time when most adults did not care to do anything with the younger generation, it was important to set an example and become a positive role model in a young life. Mine.

In Matthew 4:19, Jesus said to Simon (Peter) and his brother Andrew “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.”

Obviously, it is not the literal sense of fishing but to follow Jesus and be an example for others to follow.

At times, it seams with the craziness of the moments we are living, we cannot be bothered to do the simple things in life like teach a young child to go fishing.  To step away from the TV and other electronics and be one with nature.  

I have fished with friends, my boys, my nephews and most recently with my 3 year old grand nephew Liam.  With such an amazing lake in the back of his house, he had never gone fishing.  

Every time I visit my Florida family, I fish on that lake.  I usually go in the afternoon and evenings but have found myself even going fishing before I start my day.  Trying to catch the big bass, which are definitely out there, but mostly to catch my breath and be at peace before I start my day. 

During one of those evenings, Liam was inside the house and said "Is that my Tio out there?" and then preceded to walk down to the dock where I was fishing.  I asked him if he wanted to fish and he said yes.  I asked him to sit down in a chair, primarily because I did not want him to fall in the lake, but also so I did not hook him myself during my casts, and then handed him a pole.  I put some bread on it and told him we were going to catch a big fish.

I told him when he caught it, to yell Tio and that I would run and reel it in.  Of course, being the busy body he is, he reeled it in a couple of times himself and would also squirm off the chair.  But I placed him back and told him he had to be quiet and just look at the float.    He was distracted looking at the other side of the lake when I saw his float go under water.  I said "Liam, you have a fish!".  He got excited and tried to real it in but I grabbed the pole and reeled the fish as I did not want it to get away.

Once I did, he screamed like I had caught the Loch Ness monster and it was going to eat him up!

We managed to calm him down and pose for a picture with his first catch! 

This brought back the memories of my uncle helping me catch my first catch.  Life came full circle and I could not be happier.  Though it did bother me that the fish Liam caught was bigger than the fish I have caught all month on that lake.  I'm still chasing the big ones.

As I have gotten older, I think more about my words and my actions.  I genuinely try to do the right thing and be an example for others to follow.  Most of the times, I get it right.

This is one of those times and I hope that Liam grows up to appreciate and understand how impactful this simple moment could actually become.   I love you Muchacho.

A special thank you to my own Tio for setting the example for me to follow.