Saturday, April 16, 2016

Mami

El sol naciente del 6 de Marzo del 2016 brillo un poco más en el momento en que el alma de nuestra mama se reencontró con el Universo. Es algo surreal y doloroso y desorientador y de repente se me salen las lagrimas con el más mínimo recuerdo de ella porque recuerdos de su tiempo aquí en la Tierra están por doquier; las palabras y los recuerdos de Papi, décadas de fotos, los dibujos de nuestros hijos, cuando cocino o coso, plantas y flores, la cara de nuestra hermana.
Es un dolor físico en el pecho que siento al extrañarla tanto, más sin embargo son esos mismos recuerdos que me aseguran que mami está en mejores condiciones, sin enfermedad o limitaciones, sin luchas o sufrimientos. En paz y cuidando de nosotros aún más que antes. Este vacío que dejó en su estela es solo un testamento de lo mucho que la amamos y lo mucho que nos ama, y la medida de lo inolvidable y por lo tanto eternos que nuestros seres queridos que ya se han ido, son.

De parte de nuestra familia le queremos dar profundas gracias a cada uno de ustedes que aporto un minuto de su tiempo para orar o pensar en Mami; una esposa, una hermana, una tía, una abuela, una amiga. Si por solo un minuto pensó en el dolor o incomodidad de otro ser humano y con toda sinceridad le deseo esperanzas y luz, entonces sembró una semilla en el Universo que algún día podrá dar frutos de salud para usted o un ser amado.
Gracias.


Mami te recordamos y amamos con cada respiro y cada latido de nuestros corazónes. Aunque no anhele el fin de mi vida me consuela la realidad de que cuando llegue, ahi estaras para recibirme.

Mami

On March 6 2016, the early golden sun was made slightly brighter as our mom's soul reunited with the Universe. It is surreal and painful and disorienting and my tears run uncontrollably at even a small reminder of her because reminders of her time on Earth with us abound; our dad's words and memories, decades worth of photos, our kids' family drawings, when I cook or sew, plants and flowers, our sister's face. 
It is a physical pain and discomfort to miss her this much and yet those same reminders is how I know Mami is better, not sick anymore, not suffering or struggling or limited. Peaceful and vigilant of us now more than ever. The void, the vacuum she left in her wake is but a testament to how much we love her and she us, and the measure of how unforgettable and therefore eternal all our beloved departed truly are.

A heartfelt thank you from our family to each of you who took a minute to pray for our mom; a wife, a sister, an aunt, a grandmother, a friend. If only for a minute you thought about someone else's pain or discomfort and sincerely wished them hope and light, then you planted a seed in the Universe that may someday bear the fruit of health for you or a loved one in return.
Thank you.


Mami we love and remember you with every breath and every beat of our hearts. Although I don't look forward to the end of my life I am comforted by the fact that when I reach it, you will be there to greet me.

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Si El Universo Me Permite

Si el Universo me permite durar tanto, ayer cumplí los primeros 45 años de vida. En otras palabras, concluida quedo la primera mitad de mi tiempo sobre esta Tierra. Y esto no me molesta para nada.

Pero aunque tenga la suerte de llegar a los 90 y pico de años, espero que tanto el cuerpo como la mente me lleguen en buenas condiciónes porque de lo contrario pienso que de poco valdria. Admito que esta es mi forma un poco gris de agradecer mi salud y mis logros hasta la presente, pero tengo tantas cosas mas que hacer, que crear y que dar de mi, antes de que mi mente o mi cuerpo (o las dos) tengan que rendirse ante cualquier deterioro genetico a las que pudieran estar destinadas. Y hasta pienso que sea mas facil ahora tratar de llegar mas lejos que antes porque si he aprendido algo, es que nos complicamos la vida en dos maneras muy comunes; desperdiciamos energia deseando que ciertas personas o situaciones cambien, a profundas sabiendas de que no sucedera. Tambien nos aprovechamos, y no necesariamente de forma maliciosa, de ciertas personas o situaciones que asumimos jamas cambiarian, a profundas sabiendas de que si pudieran. Estoy aprendiendo muchas lecciones en el camino (aunque aveces suenan a "memes" del Internet) y estoy contento con seguir aprendiendo.


La calidad de nuestras vidas no las determinan las cosas que nos suceden, sino como reaccionamos a las cosas que nos suceden.


No seas la persona que insiste en demostrar que sabes de todo un poco porque eventualmente tropesaras duro contra los que en realidad lo saben.

Somos mas fuerte de lo que nos damos credito de ser, pero tambien somos muy tercos. Queremos comodidad, facilidad y acesibilidad pero olvidamos que para tal se requiere ganas, sudor y dolor para obtenerlos.

Aveces escuchar a otra persona no significa tener una respuesta lista para contestar, aveces significa que debieras de tomar el tiempo de comprender lo que se esta diciendo.

Amigos no son los que habilitan tus malas costumbres, son los que te las señalan y permanecen a tu lado a pesar de ellos.

No puedes hacer cambiar a nadie. Solo puedas cambiar cuanto permitas que te afecten.

El viaje no deberia tratarse de buenos hoteles, de playas o de fiestas solamente. Deberia tratarse de sumergirse sin peligros en un pais extranjero con un lenguaje extranjero y sus costumbres extranjeras para aprender que esos no son obstaculos. Porque cuando se llega a la esencia de los seres humanos, todos somos iguales.

El matrimonio aveces actua como una lupa - hace lo que ya estaba bien mucho mejor, y lo que ya estaba mal mucho peor.

Los que no comparten tus momentos bajos no deberian sorprenderese si no los invitas a compartir tus momentos altos.

Es mejor perdonar aquellos que nos ofenden no porque se merecen nuestro perdon, sino porque uno merece la tranquilidad mental para poder seguir hacia adelante.

Los mejores regalos que se le puede dar a los hijos son raices y alas.

(Bueno ese ultimo suena mucho a meme porque lo es. Lo vi por Twitter. Es una verdad tan simple y tan profunda que ojala hubiera sido idea mia.)

Soy un ser humano con muchos defectos haciendo lo posible por alimar esos defectos siendo un buen hijo, esposo, papa y miembro de mi familia y de mi comunidad. Mas que medallas o trofeos estoy interesado en seguir compartiendo mi arte con personas de todas partes del mundo, haciendo aunque fuera solo una pequeña diferencia en la vida de una persona con un dibujo, una fotografía o un regalo personalizado. Si el Universo lo permite y llego a cumplir 90 años de una forma que requiera ayuda, espero haber sembrado suficiente energia positiva para asi poder sonreir y bailar con dignidad hacia el crepusculo.

If The Universe Allows

If the Universe allows me to be around that long, yesterday I reached the first 45 years of my life. So no matter how I slice it, I'm about half way through my time here on Earth. And I'm cool with that.

But even if I am lucky to reach 90 or so, I can only hope to be of sound mind and body by then because otherwise reaching that age wouldn't be much of an accomplishment, I feel. This is my (admittedly gloomy) way of saying I am thankful for my health and my accomplishments but I have much more to do, to make and to give before my mind and/or body give way to any decay it may be genetically destined for. And I think it may actually be easier now to push farther than before because if I've learned anything so far, it's that we complicate our lives in two very common ways; we waste our energy hoping people and situations will change, even when we know deep down they won't. And we take advantage of people and situations, and not maliciously, that we assume will never change even while knowing that they can. I'm learning alot of lessons like these along the way (even if they sometimes sound more like memes) and I'm happy to continue learning them.

The quality of our lives  isn't based on the things that happen to us, it's based on how we react to the things that happen to us.  

Don't be the one in the room who insists you know something about everything because eventually you'll be embarrassed by the ones who really do.

We are stronger than we credit ourselves for, but we're also stubborn. We want comfort and ease and accessibility but forget that it takes guts, sweat and pain to obtain them.


Sometimes listening doesn't mean you should be ready to fire off an answer, it means you should take time to comprehend what you're being told.

Friends are not the ones who enable your bad habits, they're the ones who point them out to you and stick by you in spite of them.

You can't really change anyone. You can only change how much you allow them to affect you.

Travel shouldn't just be about a nice hotel, a beach or a party. It should be about getting safely lost in a foreign country with a foreign language and its foreign customs and learning that those aren't really obstacles because when you reach the essence of human beings, we are all the same.

Marriage can be like a magnifying glass - it makes what was already good better, and what was already bad even worse.

Anyone unwilling to support you during your lows should not be surprised to be unwelcome during your highs.

It's best to eventually forgive those that offend you not because they deserve your forgiveness, but because you deserve the peace of mind to move on.

The best gifts you can give your children are roots and wings.

(Ok that last one is an actual meme I re-tweeted a few days ago, a deep and simple truth I wish I'd come up with.)

I'm a very flawed human being trying my best to file down those flaws by being a good son, husband, dad and a member of my family and my community. More than medals or trophies I am interested in continuing to share my art with people from all over this incredible world, making even a small difference in someone's life with a drawing, a photo or a personalized gift.  If the Universe allows me to make it to 90 in a way that requires help, I hope that I would have put enough good energy out there to let me dance with dignity and smiles into the twilight.

Sunday, March 22, 2015

Un Perro y un Amigo

     Al atardecer del 21 de Marzo del 2012, mi amigo mas peludo dejo de existir. A travez del telefono la pena y dolor en la voz de mi mama fue tan palpable como el nudo que se me formo en la garganta. Fue muy dificil escuchar las palabras que empleaba para describir los ultimos momentos terrestres de aquel tan querido animal. Nuestro viejo perro ya llevaba varios meses enfermo, y aunque nadie en mi familia lo admitia en voz alta, era claro que aquel noble, atento y gentil perro tan querido moraba en el crepusculo de su existencia canina. Fue asi que en una calurosa noche Floridana se accomodo de medio lado como habia hecho tantas veces antes, pero con la triste diferencia de que en esa occasion sería para exhalar su último respiro y tener su último pensamiento . Daría mucho por saber cual habra sido ese pensamiento. El pollo que tanto le gustaba separar con su hocico del arroz que mi mama le cocinaba? Como mi papa se dedicaba a limarle las uñas? El sonido de su nombre? Cuanto odiaba al vecino de al lado?

     Lo vi por ultima vez en Enero mientras visitaba a mis padres para celebrar la llegada del año Nuevo. Ya le era muy dificil transladarse de un lugar a otro y habia perdido mucha habilidad para oir, pero sabiamos que aun sentia el estruendo y las explosiones de los fuegos artificiales del vecindario. Esto siempre le forzaba a esconder el rabo y salir de prisa a buscar cobija en el rincon mas obscuro y distante de la casa. En los dias despues de fallecer, varias veces me dedique a buscarlo en mis fotografias, notando el incremento de su ausencia de ellas a lo que su salud declinaba. No puedo decir que fue por un presentimiento y en realidad debido a su estado de salud los peresentimientos estaban de mas, pero tome mucho mas tiempo al despedirme de el ese dos de Enero. El tenia la curiosa caracteristica de demostrarse desanimado cuando alguno de nosotros se preparaba para salir de la casa sin el, pero por su condicion ya no le alcanzaban las energias ni para el desanimo y eso me entristecio mucho. Aun asi, al despedirme de el, una pequeña parte de me acepto que no lo volveria a ver mas en vida.

Tras de encontrar varias fotos muy graciosas de el, despues de compartir simpaticas anecdotas con mi hermana y luego de iniciar algunos projectos artisticos comemorativos para combatir mi pena y dolor, encontre que fue de mucha ayuda revivir, y ahora compartir, mis experiencias favoritas con el.

     Una bella tarde veraniega lo lleve a pasear al parque que queda al cruzar la calle en donde viviamos en la ciudad de Nueva York. Repentinamente senti que el brazo se me quizo desprender del cuerpo porque me jaló violentamente por la correa conectada a su collar. Con mucha angustia me di cuenta que la causa del doloroso cambio de direcion fueron dos perros mucho mas grandes que el y que aun no habian notado que se les aproximaba rapidamente y con malas intenciones. Antes de poder reaccionar me encontre en el centro de una legitima pelea de perros; un tumulto de gruñidos, ladridos feroces y el centelleo de filosos colmillos. A pesar de la mezcla de panico y rabia que senti pude jalar de su correa con todas mis fuerzas hasta que los tres perros quedaron separados uno del otro. Para mi sorpresa y enorme alivio note que ningun perro sufrio daño alguno, dejando de ultimo una rabia multiplicada al ver que fue mi perro el iniciador del incidente. El pensar en lo que le pudo haber pasado a cualquiera de los perros me hizo temblar, pero al pensar en lo que me pudo haber pasado a mi me revolvio el estomago. De imediato salimos del parque con rumbo al apartamento mientras yo le regañaba en voz alta como a un niño desobediente. Apenas entramos al apartamento  lo ordene a que se acostara en la sala y que se quedara acostado, que no se atreviera a moverse de ahi. Su comportamiento para ese momento ya era completamente opuesto al de hacia cinco minutos; el rosado interior de sus enormes orejas parecian estar permanentemente pegadas hacia atras, su cabeza descansaba en sus patas delanteras, sus gran ojos marones y apologeticos querian sostener la mirada conmigo pero nerviosamente rompian el contacto. Ya no viendo necesidad de gritarle mas, me di cuenta que las manos aun me temblaban y pase a la cocina para tomarme un vaso de agua y tranquilizarme, luego a mi cuarto para seguir con el projecto que tenia pendiente.

     Fue una media hora mas tarde que sobre la musica que escuchaba por el radio pude tambien oir el caracteristico sonido de sus uñas largas y obsucras haciendo “clicks” sobre el suelo cubierto de láminas de linoleo. Sin romper por completo mi concentracion me di cuenta que a medida que se acercaba a la entrada del cuarto, reducia sus pasos mas y mas hasta que pararon por completo en la puerta y justo fuera de mi vista.  Considere tan raro lo que estaba sucediendo que me incline lo suficiente en mi asiento para ver que fue lo que lo detuvo.  Resultó que me encontre con la mirada más triste y arrepentida en la historia de miradas tristes y arrepentidas. Su cabeza colgaba tan bajo que sus bigotes se doblaban contra el piso, y cada bigote parecía pedir perdon. Ya habia leido muchas veces que cuando se neceisita diciplinar a los niños, y a ciertos animales, no se deben mantener castigados por mucho tiempo porque entonces desasocian el castigo con la ofensa cometida. En completa infracción de esta Buena regla, se me habia olvidado tenerlo castigado, de haberle dicho que no se moviera de la sala. El pobre perro decidio jugarse la suerte y pedir la misericordia de la corte. Este acto me causo mucho asombro, no tanto por haberlo encontrado muy aprensivo en la entrada al cuarto preocupado, de que aun estaba enojado con el; sino que cuando era niño yo hice lo mismo para tratar de volver a ganarme el “carino” de mis papás despues de que me hayan castigado por A o B motivo. Aveces me funcionaba el plan, y esta vez el plan le funcionó sobre mi. Con el último mal sentimiento completamente evaporado, fui yo quien le pidio disculpas en voz alta y juguetona a lo que lo acariciaba y le sobaba la cabeza. Instantaneamente regresó a ser el perro normal y alegre de siempre mientras rodamos en el piso jugando. Fuimos a buscar unas de sus meriendas favoritas, asi creando una de mis favoritas experiencias.

     Mientras yo todavia era de la opinion de que no podíamos, no debíamos quedarnos con aquel perro que parecia demasiado grande para el apartamento que hasta para nosotros hacia tiempo nos habia quedado pequeño, el hizo algo que me dejo estupefacto. Y como fui el unico testigo de los acontecimientos, estuve tan ansioso de compartir la historia con mi familia al dia siguiente como lo estoy ahora al escribirlo.

Admito que en aquel entonces, aunque en voz alta decia que no nos podíamos quedar con el perro, secretamente me estaba cayendo super-bien. Pero la verdad era que tambien le tenia una medida de miedo; cuando ladraba era estruendoso y resonaba fuertemente contra las paredes del apartamento. Y como les dije, el apartmanto era pequeño, lo que magnificaba el eco del ladrido. Carramba, era intimidante, y yo siempre pegaba aquel brinquito involuntario igual como cuando de cerca explota un fuego artificial. Cuando me atrevia a darle de comer de mi mano lo hacia aguantando la respiracion y rezando rapidamente ya que no parecía importarle mucho si alguna porcion de piel o un dedo entero recibia el pinchazo de uno de sus colmillos. No quiero dar a entender de que viviamos aterrados o en constante miedo, sino que entendiamos que faltaba enseñarle nuevos trucos a un perro viejo. Eventualmente comenzo a comprender las lecciones que le estabamos proporcionando, incluyendo que no le permitiamos entrar a ningun dormitorio de noche. Vividamente recuerdo la gracia que me causaba cerrar la puerta del cuarto noche tras nocher y verle la expression de confusion en su peludo rostro como si se dijera “ Que hacer tu adentro que no dejarme ver?” (en mi mente todos los animales no solo hablan internamente sino que hablan a la manera de Tarzán o como un gringo aprendiendo español. Animales que hablen imaginariamente no me parece extraño, pero que hablen en perfecto Castellano si.)


Los siguientes cuatro ladridos me causaron salir corriendo hacia donde estaba con la intencion de apretarle el hocico entre ambas manos y
susurarle entredientes en su gigante orejota rosada que se callara. 


Mi porcion de lasagna aun estaba en el refrigerador esperando pacientemente el momento en que yo le diera muerte via merienda de medianoche. Estaba especialmente ansioso ya que era una porcion de esquina, o sea que faltaba poco para saborear lasagna de no solo uno sino dos lados crujientes y tostaditos a la perfeción. Entre a la cocina muy enfocado en prepar mi delicia nocturna. Es más, estaba tan concentrado que pasaron varios minutos antes de caer en cuenta que el perro estaba estrañamente ausente. Esto era especialmente raro ya que el mostraba mucho mas interés en lo comiamos nosotros que en lo que le dabamos para comer. Bueno, yo segui con mis planes y cuidadosamente regrese al cuarto, puse el plato sobre una mesita y cerre la puerta tras de mi…y fue justo cuando empezaron los ladridos. Los ruidosos e incesantes ladridos. El primero me causo tanto susto que derrame la mitad del jugo en el suelo, y por un instante no tenía la menor idea que era aquellas explosiones. Los siguientes cuatro ladridos me causaron salir corriendo hacia donde estaba con la intencion de apretarle el hocico entre ambas manos y susurarle entredientes en su gigante orejota rosada que se callara. Al acercarmele me di cuenta de que ladraba desde el centro de la sala obscura, donde mas lejos del cuarto se podia estar sin perder la vista de la puerta. Habia algo muy raro en eso pero antes de ni siquiera poder imaginarme lo que estaba a punto de suceder, este perro astuto espero hasta el ultimo posible instante antes de alcanzarmelo para esquivarme y salir en carreras derechito hacia el cuarto. Pude oir el momento en que un colmillo hizo contacto con el plato a lo que devoro mi perfectamente calentada porcion de ricura italiana. El operativo solo duro meros segundos, pero llegue al cuarto con tiempo para ver como se lamia la salsa de tomate que le quedo en los bigotes. No lo podia creer – este perro me habia atraído con sus ladridos al punto necesario para tener suficiente tiempo en llegar antes que yo al plato de comida. Cosa que obviamente encontraba mas delicioso que yo. Mission cumplida, perro bandido, pense para dentro de mi. Lo unico que le falto fue el haber atrancado la puerta y dejarme afuera toda la noche. Lo cierto era que con esa acción tan clandestina, tan perfectamente ejecutada me gano el corazón. Le dije que si hubiera tenido una segunda  
Lo deje dormir en el cuarto esa noche.

     En Septiembre de 1997 algunos aspectos de mi vida no andaban muy bien que digamos y mi auto-estima la traía arrastrando detras de mi. En aquel entonces fui diseñador de juguetes y sus empaques, lo cual en si era un trabajo bastante rico, pero lo hacia bajo la supervision de un individuo quien con el tiempo me vine a dar cuenta conducia una vida altamente destructiva llena de drogas y transnochos. Las cosas pasaron de hacer el trabajo que le correspondia de vez en cuando, a constantemente hacer lo que le correspondia ademas de mis responsabilidades. Acostumbraba presentarse a lo hora que le daba la gana, marcharse mucho antes de la hora debida y mientras tanto era poco lo que laboraba. Ademas de eso, mi relacion con la novia de ese entonces se había convertido en un nudo de amarguras y conflictos debido a una basica realidad que ni ella ni yo podiamos en el momento aceptar; que por diferencias de caracter y filosofias habiamos llegado al fin de la relacion, pero eramos incapaces de dejar ir el uno al otro. Esa incapacidad destrozo no sólo lo poco que quedo de la relacion sino toda posibilidad de una futura amistad tambien. No lo sabia todavía, pero estaba a punto de aprender de que si es preferíble estar solo que mal acompañado. Habia oido a mis padres pronunciar esa axioma muchas veces antes, pero por primera vez la estaba escuchando.

Despues de un dia particularmente desolador en ambos frentes de trabajo y del corazón, llegue a casa con la intencion de colapsarme, comer y quizas echarme una lloradita también, en ningun orden en particular. A lo que cerraba la puerta, de re-ojo note una fugura agil y rubia que cruzo el final del pasillo. En mi estupor emotivo pense por un segundo que una persona de largos cabellos dorados acababa de gatear de la sala a la cocina. Como ya venia muy desubicado, no encontre que esto fuera raro. Despues de descansar mis cosas en sala y saludar a mi famila fui rapidamente enformado de que mi hermano se habia encontrado un perro claramente sin dueño montado en un elevador de su colegio, y que al finalizar el dia decidio llevarselo a casa. Ya eran tres los informativos consecutivos que cualquier otro dia hubieran sido noticias supremamente extrañas. Pero ese dia no. Como si estuviera siguiendo un libreto, en ese instante volvio a entrar a la sala muy campantemente un perro rubio con orejas muy grandes, luciendo como si siempre hubiera vivido con nosotros. Se acomodo en el sofa directamente en frente de mi, y en un movimiento natural pero a la vez completamente contradictorio me dije para entre si “no podemos quedarnos con este perro”, a lo que le abraze por el cuello con ambos brazos y senti parte de el estress que llevaba salirse en las lagrimas calientes que derrame sobre el.


Referiendonos a la compañia de elevador en que mi hermano lo encontro montado, comenzamos a llamarle OTIS.


QEPD

For a doG

On the evening of March 21st 2012, my furriest friend passed away. The sorrow in my mother’s voice on the phone was as palpable as the knot in my throat that grew with every word she used to describe his last moments on Earth. Our old dog had been sick for quite some months, and although no one in my family wished to admit it out loud, the noble, attentive and gentle dog that was every bit a member of our family was in the twilight of his canine existence. And so it was that on that warm Floridian night he lay down on his side as he had done so many, many times before, only that time it was to exhale his last breathe and think his last thought. How I wish to someday learn what that thought could have been. The chicken he so carefully plucked from amongst the rice that my mom cooked for him? My dad filing his nails down to smoothness? The sound of his name? How much he hated my parents’ neighbor?

I last saw him that January while visiting my folks for the holidays. He had difficulty getting around and although he had lost a lot of his hearing by then, we think he could still sense the boom of the New Year fireworks in the neighborhood which always forced his tail between his legs and caused a hasty retreat to a corner of the house as dark and as distant as possible. In the days after his passing I found myself pulling old photo albums out to hunt for images of him, noticing the steady increase of his absence from photos as his health began to decline. Although I can’t say I foretold anything, although I had no premonition of any sort, I guess I didn’t really need one in order to take extra time saying goodbye to him on January 2nd. He was always a little despondent when he saw anyone prepare to leave, but by then he seemed to simply lack the energy to even be despondent, and that made me sad. Nevertheless, there was a small part of me that believed that I wasn’t to ever see him again.

After finding several great photographs, after sharing memories with my sister the day after he passed, after deciding on several commemorative art projects to work out my grief, I found it helpful to think about, and share, my favorite experiences with him.

One warm summer afternoon while walking him in the park across the street we used to live on in New York City, he suddenly yanked my arm sideways and launched himself forward towards not one but two dogs that had not yet made note of his presence behind them. Both of these dogs were not only considerably larger, they were off their leashes and before I had any chance to react I was smack in the middle of a melee of ferocious snarling, barking and glints of sharp teeth. With a roiling mixture of fear and anger I managed to pull on his leash until all dogs were clear of each other. To my surprise no one was hurt, so the only emotion left was even greater anger that my dog had actually instigated the incident. Although I shook at the thought of what could have happened to any of the dogs, thinking of what could have happened to me made me madder still, as I yelled at him while we crossed the street and raced up the four flights of stairs to our apartment. Once inside I ordered him to lay down and to stay down in the living room. His demeanor was by now of course completely reversed; his giant, pink bat-like ears practically glued back onto his head, his chin resting on his front paws, his large apologetic brown eyes wanting to look at me but darting away nervously. My yelling having ebbed, I realized I was still shaking so I went into the kitchen for some water and then to my room to continue whatever project I had been working on prior to walking him.
It was a good half hour later that slightly above the music playing on the radio, I heard the distinct ticks and clicks of his long dark nails against the linoleum floor coming towards my bedroom. Without completely breaking my concentration I became aware that his pace had slowed considerably and had come to a complete stop outside the room and just out of my line of sight. I found that to be so odd that I stood up and came around my drafting table to see what had made him stop. As I leaned out to see, I was met by the most saddest, sorriest gaze I have ever seen; his head hung so low his whiskers were bent along the ground, themselves looking desperate for forgiveness. I had read many times that when disciplining children and dogs, you should not punish them for too long lest they disassociate from what they were punished for in the first place, and there I was having actually forgotten he was still punished. The poor dog had figured he’d try and throw himself on the mercy of the court. This act amazed me, and my gasp was not so much for finding him standing apprehensively in the doorway, apparently worried that I would still be mad at him, but that as a child I did the exact same thing to try to regain my parents good standing after being punished for bad behavior. It worked for me sometimes, and it worked on me this time. The bad feelings now long gone, I apologized to him in a high, happy voice as I hugged his scruffy neck. He was immediately back to being his normal happy dog-self as we wrestled and then got up to get him some of his favorite treats, creating what would be one of my favorite memories of him.

While I was still of the opinion that we could not, should not keep this big mutt in our long-since too small apartment, he did something that held me in absolute awe. And because I was the only one awake at that hour, I was very anxious to share the tale with my family the next morning.

I admit that back then, although I would say out loud that we couldn’t keep this dog, he had already started to secretly grow on me. I was still, however, a bit afraid of him; when he barked his deep, big-dog bark it boomed and resonated even more loudly off the walls and surfaces of our apartment, and dang it, it was a little intimidating. Whenever I would dare to feed him from my hand, I did it holding my breath and reclaiming my fingers as fast as a ninja because he didn’t seem to care too much if he nipped your fingers with his teeth during the exchange. Not that we lived in fear of him; we were aware that teaching an old dog new tricks would be necessary. Eventually he picked up on what we putting down for him in terms of behavior, but at night there was a rule; he was not allowed in any bedroom under any circumstance. I vividly remember closing the door night after night and seeing the puzzled look on his half-cocked face as if asking himself “What they do in there they no want me see?” (In my head all animals speak like Tarzan or Cookie Monster. Animals speaking perfect English is too ridiculous a notion even for me).

The first bark startled me so much I spilled an inch of liquid out of my cup, the next 4 barks had me rush out of the room to prevent him from waking anyone up 


My portion of lasagna was still in the fridge waiting for the moment I would condemn it to death via midnight snack. I was especially looking forward to it given it was a corner piece, and therefore the last of the Coveted Four; everyone knows the corner pieces are the best, tastiest and crunchiest parts of any food made in a pan. I got myself to the kitchen and prepared for my midnight mini-feast. So engrossed was I that it was a couple of minutes before I realized the dog was nowhere to be seen, or how odd that was considering how much more interested he was in what we ate than what we fed him. Oh well, I thought. I made my way back to my room, placed the meal down, locked the door behind me…and that’s exactly when the barking started. The loud, incessant barking started. The first bark startled me so much I spilled an inch of liquid out of my cup, the next 4 barks had me rush out of the room to prevent him from waking anyone up. As I rushed towards him with the intent of squeezing his muzzle and death-whispering in his giant ear to shut up, I realized he had been barking from the middle of the dark living room, which is as far as you could get from our room and stay in direct line of sight. What was wrong with this picture, I wondered but before I could even begin to imagine what was about to happen, this clever dog rushed passed me, darted straight into the bedroom and snatched my perfectly-heated piece of Italian goodness from the plate. Although the operation took but a few seconds, by the time I made it back to the room all I saw of my precious lasagna were small remnants of sauce he licked from his whiskers. I could not believe it. This dog had actually lured me with his barking to the perfect spot just far away enough in order to out-run me back to the room and gobble down what he clearly found to be even more delicious than I did. Mission accomplished, you smart-ass dog you. The only thing missing was shutting the door behind himself and locking me out entirely. I officially loved that dog right then and there. Had I a second portion of lasagna I would have given him that one as well for having so earned the first one so majestically.
I let him sleep in the room that night.

September of 1997 was a difficult time for me emotionally and spiritually. It felt like my self-esteem was in a bag tied around my ankle, dragging through the dirt and mud behind me. I was working as a toy packaging designer which was great, but alongside an individual whom I came to realize lead a very destructive lifestyle of drugs and partying. Things very quickly went from covering for him every now and again to constantly stepping in do to his work as well as my own because he would show up late, leave very early and not get much accomplished in between. In addition, the relationship I was in at the time had grown increasingly bitter and conflictive due to a fact that neither I nor she was willing to accept; that we had reached the end as a couple but were unwilling to let go, destroying not only the remains of the relationship but any possibility of a friendship as well. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was about to learn that it is preferable to be alone than in bad company. I had heard my folks utter that axiom so many times before, but until that moment in my life, I hadn’t listened to it.

After a particularly defeating day on both the job and heart fronts, I came home with the intent of collapsing, having dinner and maybe crying a little, in no particular order. As I opened the door, out of the corner of my eye I noticed a lithe, yellowish shape move across the end of the darkened hallway. In my emotional stupor I actually thought a stranger with long blonde hair had just quickly crawled from the living room to the kitchen. I was so out of it that this idea did not really strike me as odd. Once I settled myself in the living room and said my hellos to the family, I was quickly informed that my brother had encountered a stray dog in the elevator of his high school, and that he had brought it home. That was now three pieces of info in about as many minutes that did not strike me nearly as odd as they should have. As if on cue, back into the living room pranced a rather large blonde dog with huge freaking ears, looking as if he had been living with us all along. He made himself comfortable on the sofa right in front of me, and in both a natural but fully contradictory motion, I said to myself “we can’t keep this dog”, as I reached both my arms around his neck and quietly cried my days’ sorrow away.

Referencing the elevator (company) my brother discovered him riding in, we began calling him Otis.


RIP





Thursday, June 26, 2014

Date Night

The deceptively strong middle-aged Asian man held me face down with both of his vice like hands tightly squeezing the sides of my throat. I saw stars behind my firmly shut eyes and I stifled the desire to yell for help, if only to deny the man the knowledge of how much pain I was in. For a moment I thought about my wife and kids, trying to remember what they wore that morning. He let go of my throat only long enough to then press one of his feet deeply into my back, his bony heel digging into my side. I could feel him reach to hold onto the wall while he adjusted his footing to lean right into my spine. He switched feet to do it again, and then with an involuntary gasp I felt my ribcage flatten under both his feet, his entire weight balancing on my back. He went on to use his elbows and knees to inflict more pain into other areas of my body and just when I started to actually believe this man was trying to kill me, I heard an alarm go off.


"Time go by so fast, sir."
"Mm hmm.." I answered.
"Maybe next time you take more time? Your muscles too strong."
"Mm hmm" was really the only answer I was capable of at the time. I lay still for a few minutes, actually unable to move. My wife on the massage table right next to mine asked me if I was ok.
"Mm hmm."
As we left one of our favorite Back and Foot Rub (that's actually the name of the place) spots in Little Italy (185 Mulberry St, NYC), I asked Bobby how much he weighed.
"About 200 pounds sir."
"Hmm…(Jesus...I thought). Felt good!" I lied.


Although a small part of me still thought Bobby was indeed trying to destroy me and simply ran out of time, I was already grateful for his particularly strong hands which I swear sometimes felt as if he were using only to push hidden blunt instruments of torture into my flesh. Everywhere this man put his hands on me he managed to generate a sharp, penetrating pain; the tips of my toes, the topside of my feet, my calves, what I think was my gall bladder. It is a pain, however, that eventually opened the door to deeply relaxed muscles. Nothing like a deep tissue massage from a guy who knows what he's doing but may also be trying to end you.




So. Freakin'. Good.



So don't go to Back and Foot Rub (185 Mulberry St, NYC) and ask for Bobby unless you actually want a deep tissue massage that feels a little bit like a medieval torture device, but worth every penny. Do not even think about visiting Rice to Riches (37 Spring St. NYC), particularly if you love rice pudding. That way you will not have the near out-of-body experience that is the exquisite taste of their rice pudding selections. You will also not have to marvel at the fact that non-latinos actually improved upon something so seemingly Latino. Touché, non-latinos. It's so good it actually makes me mad, but I write that between carefully guided, heaping spoonfuls of "Category 5 Caramel" combined with "Man-Made Mascarpone" into my big fat mouth. And applying a fresh ice pack to my neck.