It's never too late

I was married once. It didn't end well. However, we've always maintained friendly terms with his family. I still think fondly of them. One of the things I remember well is talking with his father. He once told me he was proud of me for graduating high school with honors. I was college bound. I didn't think anything about it at the time. Later, he explained he never graduated high school. He told me he and his wife eloped in a different state when she became pregnant. She lost the child; but, he stayed. I found that admirable. He worked until he was old enough to join the military. He served overseas. They were stationed in Germany. Upon returning, he had tradeskills that allowed him to become a lineman for the telephone company. He worked his way up from there. Along the line, they had their only living child, their son. He was pensive. A while later, he informed me he was attending night school for his high school diploma. After all those years, he really wanted his diploma. He did it. He graduated. It was my turn to say I was proud of him. It's never too late to attain the things you really want in life.

Gato

When we were young, we used to live with our grandmother. I remember my cousin Jojo asking all the little children if we wanted to meet his pet. He told us he had a kitten. That was a silly question. Of course, we wanted to meet his kitten. It was small and black with blue eyes and fluffy fur. We asked him what he named it. He said, "Gato". My cousin Gene snort-laughed but covered it with a coughing fit. Apparently no one noticed except me. I raised an eyebrow at him.

Later, I asked Gene if he laughed because Jojo named his baby kitty, "cat". Gene raised his eyebrow at me and asked who taught me Spanish. I shrugged my shoulders. I said, "I don't speak Spanish". Gene nodded then explained that Gato meant Cat in Spanish. Yes, he did find it funny. He said Jojo was so weird. He could've at least come up with a more creative name. I thought about it for a moment then replied, like Noire, Salem, or Midnight? Gene laughed. He said, let me guess. You don't speak French? I replied, like fries? He said, no like the language but that answers my question. 

He asked me why I chose Noire. I said it's because of the color of the kitty. He said right, in French. I just stared at him. He said, "okay then". Then he explained Noire meant black in French. I nodded my head. He guessed I picked Salem because of a certain television cat and Midnight because it's dark outside like the kitty's fur. I responded he was half right. Salem and Midnight were both black television cats. 

Over several weeks, all the little children grew fond of playing with Gato. I was always examining that poor little kitten closely. My cousin Odie noticed and asked me why. I explained the kitty's eye color, size, beans, ear shape, and fur texture keep changing. I told him, I didn't think it was the same kitty. It was an innocent observation. I was by nature very curious. Odie, Gene, and Lando went out to investigate. Apparently, the garage where we kept the boat was filled with cats and kittens as was a barn in the field behind my Grandmother's home. They were all named "Gato" because he couldn't tell them apart.

The interesting thing was they were all black cats except for a basically black siamese cat. It was shy and didn't come near people often. Out of the blue, it started hanging out with the other cats and people. It made its home in the garage. It became a family favorite friend. Then it disappeared. My Dad and Uncles looked for it. They found it beneath the boat cover. My Dad speculated that it knew it was dying and not having long to live, it no longer wanted to be alone. I suppose people are a lot like cats in this way.

The Lettermen

Five letter girls said, "we love you" Baby, Dell, Vangie, Boots, and Rocel too. And the three Lettermen who we love and adore, they always give us back our love and more!

This is a song my Auntie and cousins made up and sang while they got ready for Lettermen concerts. I remember they recorded and sent it before a concert in Evansville. I may have saved a copy of this recording. I enjoyed being the little tag-a-long. 

I was just a child. However, I loved hotel amenities. This is likely where my children get this characteristic. I also, loved music and concerts. I have an old lockbox someplace. One of my most prized possessions is a card that appears to be handmade. I was having brunch with my Auntie before a concert. One of the band members, Tony hand delivered my birthday card really early. It was my birthmonth but my birthday was at the end of it. 

What made it memorable was that I didn't even think they noticed I was there. For a member of their band to hand deliver a birthday card to a small child is something I can't put into words. It goes beyond being kind. For me, it embodies what it means to truly be seen as someone special. That's why I keep the card.

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.

Penny candy, skateboards, and guitars

When our Grandmother moved for the last time, the only ones left at the new house amid mountains of stacked boxes were my cousins Joey and Rovin and my bother Jay and me. The first recollection I have of that moment is playing hide and seek. I can hear Joey singing the lollipop song. He always sang the lollipop song when he was "it" instead of counting. On that particular day, he found a sombrero somewhere. He wore it when he went to find us. He looked ridiculous. I'm relatively certain he wore it to get us to laugh thus revealing our hiding place. 

Down the street from my Grandmother's new home was a family grocer and penny candy shop called, "My Store". We loved walking down to the shop to purchase our little bags of candy. Of course, they also sold milk, bread, eggs, and other items. However, to all of us children it was a special place where we could buy candy for a penny. 

My cousin Joey was the youngest of his siblings. He used to tell people I was his little sister. I honestly believe he really just didn't want to be the youngest child. He loved the band Kiss. He loved that I'd sit and listen with him. He and his older brother were eleven months apart. His Grandmother told me an old wives tale that they were twins. She said Joey wasn't ready to be born yet. That's why Lando was born first. I was just a child. I believed her. Years later I told him about it. We got a good laugh. He said, he always felt a few steps behind. Perhaps that's why he felt that way. 

Joey taught me how to play the bass guitar. He taught me how to skateboard. He taught me how to ride my first bike. He taught me how to swim and snorkle. He was there the first time I climbed a tree, road a horse, flew a kite, and paddled a canoe. He sounds like a big brother to me. I should probably mention that my first guitar, amp, and gear as well as my first skateboard and first bike were lightly used hand me downs from Joey. He didn't just teach me how to do things but also how to take care of what I owned. He taught me it was okay to try new things. He taught me to always take pride in what I do because only I do it the way I do it. I've never forgotten any of it.

He also taught me not to stress too much about what other people think about me. You're alright as long as your opinion of yourself is still good. Sometimes I forget this one. I'm always working on it. I remember giving him a hard time over this really young girl he dated. She was not very bright (and I'm really being generous here). Her voice was unusually high pitched. She had this cat named Chelsea. Weird that I remember that after all this time. She used to tie a big red bow around its neck. I really only remember the cat because his brother and I thought we were hallucinating during a visit. We noticed the cat casually walking up the wall. It wasn't until later that Joey laughingly told us the cat does this easily because the walls in his apartment are carpeted.

About that first time I road a horse, I was with Joey's family. I was on a horse that was trained to walk circles around this track. Someone had opened the gate. Many of the horses including mine had walked out. It was fun but also a little frightening. I remember knowing I was safe when Joey ran up alongside my horse, took the reins, asked if I was okay, and lead the horse back. Joey is only five years older than me. I can't explain why but I always felt safe just knowing he was nearby.

All you see is magic

The year was nineteen seventy eight. My Aunt from California on my Mom's side, Nessie came to visit. Her visit was extended due to an unexpected ice storm. It was bad. I remember when it started, our landlord stopped by to check on us. I was supposed to be asleep. My Dad told my Mom he wanted to make certain it was warm enough since there was no power. 

We have photographs. The trees look like glass. I recall attempting to walk though the mountains of snow with my visiting Aunt. We thought it was fun. All the schools were closed. The neighborhood children were all out and about. That was a natural disaster. It just hits differently when you're a child and all you see is magic.

Its been a while

I haven't written in this particular blog in sometime. This first entry will be short. I've been reconnecting with friends lately. We've been reminiscing. Everyone remembers my Dad. I'm glad. One of the things my I remember my Dad telling me is you're never truly gone until you're forgotten. That's why he always told us so many stories. He wanted those people to live on in our memories. That's a lot of what this blog was about for me. Remembering those who are or were close to me.

We all have choices

As children, we were easily entertained.  We loved fairs, carnivals, museums, amusement parks, parks in general, zoos, haunted houses, aquariums, water parks, those off the beaten path curiosities,... if it even seemed as if it might be fun, we wanted to try it.  It was this spirit of adventure that lead us to a series of fortune tellers, usually at fairs or carnivals.  It was all in good fun.  Sometimes we'd get one that was right on the mark and pretty impressive.  For children, this was extremely exciting. 

Once we all gave up a precious ticket to be read by a mysterious lady in a darkly colored tent.  Afterward, everyone sat on a nearby grassy hill sipping lemon shake ups and exchanging stories of what we were told.  This was pretty much how we did things - saw the fortune teller, bought refreshments/snacks, waited on everyone else, exchanged stories, mercilessly teased each other.  However, this time things were different.  Three of my companions, were told how they were going to die.  One guy was told he'd die by fire.  One guy was told he'd die of an incurable disease.  One guy was told he'd die by water.  You'd think everyone would laugh it off and be done with it.  This wasn't the case. 

The guy who was told he'd die of an incurable disease.  Is alive and still going strong.

The guy guy who was told he'd die by water, never swam again.  He never went boating or fishing.  He never drank water.  He didn't like rain.  He somehow never got wet when he went out in it.  According to his brother he took record breaking short showers and rinsed his mouth out with mouth wash when he brushed his teeth.  He took "die by water" very literally.  Everyone tried to snap him out of this irrational fear but gave in because he was truly terrified.  He was a nurse by profession.  He never married.  He never had children.  He passed away of cancer.

The guy who was told he'd die by fire, became one of the finest volunteer firefighters.  He never missed a call.  He never hesitated to assist even if the situation was dire, even if it required him to run into a burning building.  He was a loyal friend, husband, and father.  He served in the military.  He was a marine.  He was an engineer by profession.  He loved hiking, spelunking, video games and spending time with his family and friends.  He was heading home one day when his tire went flat.  He pulled over to the side of the road to change it.  From what we were told, he was killed on impact by another vehicle.  It was a tragedy but he lived his life instead of being afraid.

Just because you're told or even if there's evidence to support that something may occur, we all have choices.  You can't live life by being in constant fear.