Writing on Frosted Glass

When I think of my cousin Gene, I'm filled with memories. However, the first thing that comes to mind is writing on a frosted glass window in the winter. The window in question was at our Grandmother's home. It had an enclosed terrace where she kept hanging plants year-round. In the winter, the windows would frost over. As children we'd draw and write on them. I vividly recall my cousin Gene writing the word Generosa. I was very young. He asked me if I could read it. I said "yes" and read it to him. He asked me if I knew who that was and I shook my head no. He smiled. He picked me up. He said "it's me!" When you're a child, there's a big difference between Gene and Generosa. Of course, I laughed and didn't believe him.

The cousins were easily grouped by age. Gene and Odie were older cousins. Joey and I were younger cousins. Essentially the older cousins looked after the younger ones. I remember one year Joey was being bullied at school, badly. Our Auntie used to keep a little sword shaped letter opener on her desk. One day, Gene took it to scare the bully. It worked a little too well. He showed up at the house with his dad demanding to see the parent or guardian of "the boy that pulled a knife on his son". Our Auntie was furious at first. She yelled for Gene. We weren't going to let him go out there alone. He was smiling and didn't care. The bully's father was pointing his finger and yelling at him. Gene very quietly replied in detail that he only wanted to scare him because of what he'd been doing to Joey - and he listed the infractions. The red faced man said it was no reason to pull a knife on his son. Gene smiled and replied, "you mean this?" and produced the letter opener. The bully started screaming "that's it! That's the knife!" not realizing it wasn't a knife at all. My Auntie grabbed it by the blade and said "how many times have I told you not to take my things without asking?" She apologized to the bully and his dad with a shrug and said "it's just a letter opener." The bully's dad dragged him away by his collar. We all went back inside. Gene got in trouble but not for the reasons you'd think. Our Auntie was proud of him for taking care of Joey. 

Gene was proactive. He got a black belt in karate. He taught pretty much everyone self defense. He always told us it was never good to start a fight. However, if you found yourself in a situation, it was better to know how to fight than to be on the losing end of a battle. I've never forgotten those words.

Gene had a difficult time growing up. He'll hate me for saying it. However, one might say, "he ran away to the marine corps." I remember how angry his parents were at the time. I remember my Dad telling my Uncle Navaro, "we really have no room to talk." My Uncle knew this but every parent wants their children to have things better than they did. I remember Gene's first call home. He called my Auntie's house. My cousins and I are menaces. I answered. I heard, "collect call from Generosa DeGala will you accept the charges?" Of course me being me, yelled "hey! Do we know a Generosa DeGala?" My cousins being my cousins, all went with variations of "hmm Generosa Generosa can't place it". Our Auntie screamed, "don't hang up! Accept the charges! It's Gene!" Except for that whole tour in Lebanon thing... the Marine Corps was good for him. He stayed with our Auntie after he got out. He took a job surveying roads. We loved it when he'd bring home random things from roadside stands and farms. I remember some particularly delicious watermelon but that's a tale for another day.

I saw him at our cousin Odie's funeral. He looked at me and said, "are you okay? You were close right?" It made me a little sad. Yes, Gene. Odie and I were close. So were you and I. We were all close at one point in time. I suppose I'm a little sad that he doesn't seem to remember.

My Grandmother taught me to

This is something we used to laugh about when it was a thing to ask about your family life in school. My cousins used to shudder. The struggle was real. The question was, "what did your Grandmother teach you? or what did you learn from your Grandmother?" Typical responses were things like knitting, crochet, sewing, cross stitch, baking cookies or biscuits. I know my cousins came up with something that wouldn't get a parent or guardian called to the school. However, their candid responses were, "how to play blackjack, poker, and keno". We travel with our Grandmother (Mama, My Dad's Mom). We learned etiquette and how to behave at high social functions. We learned appropriate behavior at horse and car races. We had a somewhat different upbringing from typical children. 

These days I tell people my Grandmother taught me the difference between living and existing.

When I feel like dancing

You'll get tired of reading it. Art, music and dance was important on my Dad's side of the family. Academics, mathematics and science were important on my Mom's side of the family. Yes. We were all formerly educated. Sometimes it just doesn't feel like enough. I remember asking my cousin Odie for help with dance. I really should've waited until he was through with competition season. He gets in this zone. It's difficult to explain. I do recall him finding my focus lacking. He thought since I just wasn't in his words "becoming the music", perhaps it'd help me to have an external focal point. 

The first time we tried this "find your focus" experiment. He was teaching me to spin the rifle. He tossed it a little high. He punctured the ceiling. We hid it for months until he could fix it. On another occasion, he thought it might help if I saw old photographs and film reels of my Dad. My Dad and Auntie Nilda were national dance champions in their youth. He was in my Auntie's attic under the ruse of finding Christmas decorations when he fell through the ceiling in the living room. The funny thing was our Grandmother had the photographs and reels. 

He wasn't wrong about dance being a feeling. Some people can be inspired to move with the melody. Others really just have to feel it first. When you watch a crowd or a performance, you can tell who's there to be there and who's there because they love it. He always loved what he did. That's why people gravitated towards him. That's why his enthusiasm was infectious. He didn't just teach me how to be a better dancer, he taught me life is short. He taught me it isn't worth doing if it makes me miserable. He taught me to pursue the things I enjoy and love. He also taught me that happiness is best shared.