All a man needs out of life is a place to sit ‘n’ spit in the fire.

Month: March 2008

My Favorite Super Heroes – Iraq Memories Part III

Here is a little list that I wrote to my kids before I was mobilized for Iraq in 2003.  Laura came up with all the subjects.  I just filled them in.

Daddy’s Top 10 Cartoons and Super Heroes

  1. Spider-man
  2. Daredevil
  3. Wolverine
  4. Samurai Jack
  5. Iron Man
  6. Bugs Bunny
  7. Tom & Jerry (old)
  8. Conan
  9. Power Puff Girls
  10. (I couldn’t think of 10)

A More Recent Example

A couple of weeks ago, I had the pleasure of meeting Luis Alberto Rodriguez Guadalupe at the Centro de Evaluación Residencial (Residential Evaluation Center for the Juvenile Justice System in Puerto Rico).  His story is as follows:

He was turned over to foster care seven years ago when his parents found they could no longer take care of him.  He was lucky to find a family willing to take him in through the foster system.  He was particularly bonded to the husband of the family, Fernando Luis Cartagena Torres.

“So, how was it with them?  Did you get along?”

“Yes, I was welcomed into the family.  I lived with the father.”

“What about the mother?”

“Oh, well,” he said, “They split up about 3 years into my stay.  I chose to live with the father.  I still saw the wife, but I stay with him.”

“Well, let’s talk about him, then.  What is he like?”

“He was great to me, but he was sick.  He had a lot of health problems.  Actually, he already died.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, when did that happen?  How did it happen?”  I leaned forward.

“It has been three and a half years.  I was with him, and he started having… he had diabetes, and it caused all sorts of problems.  He was at home and was feeling weak, and collapsed.  They called the hospital and an ambulance came.  I rode to the hospital with him.  I was with him when they said he died.  His heart stopped.”

“Oh my gosh.  That must have been terrible.  But he sounded like a great man.”

“He was, and then his children came for the funeral, an’ they scattered his ashes on a hill in Coamo his hometown.  I got to throw some of the ashes.  His kids were there too.”

He didn’t actually say it.  I think being a young man, too much emotion wasn’t going to cut it here.  But the way he said, “His kids were there too,” a couple of times, I got the sense that he felt accepted into the family.  Birth, death, these are the sacred waypoints, and for the siblings to have accepted a foster kid into that moment said something about the family and the bond that had grown.  In any case, I understood the implication.

“So,” I said, “He sounded like a great man.  A modern example of Christ.  You know sometimes we look to the past for examples of how to live our lives, but many times we have the best examples in front of us.  Let me ask you something.  Have you ever been tired or sick?”

“Yes.”

“How does it make you feel about helping others.  When you feel bad, really sick, do you want to go out and help others?”

“I guess not,” he replied,  “no.”

Don’t you just want to sit and sulk?  And who would blame you?  Most people would say for you to get well first, take care of yourself, and then look after others.  That’s what is normal. You say that Fernando Luis was very sick.  Wouldn’t it have been easier on him if he had said, ‘I will take care of myself first’?”

“I guess.”

“Just think about it.  This is a man who was dying, but chose to look after you because he thought you were important. You were important to him.  He loved you.  He didn’t push you aside and say, ‘I can’t take care of you, because I am sick.’  No, he said that there was nothing he would rather be doing.  He gave himself to you.  When we talk about the sacrifice of Christ, that is what we are talking about.  I hope you take that example with you and apply it.”

Luis Alberto was smiling now.  He already knew that Fernando Luis was special, but perhaps my take on the situation exposed a new facet.  Maybe he didn’t realize the depth of the man’s love.

“I will say an intention for Fernando Luis,” I said.  “I will mention his name at Mass.  We will pray for him.  I will tell his story.  It is an important story.  It was good to have met you, Luis Alberto.”

We normally distribute Rosaries at the end of each session.  The kids snatch them up with gusto.  Although many are not Catholic, Catholicism is deeply embedded into Puerto Rican culture.  The wearing of a Rosary is a powerful symbol on the street.  I try to combat the “Rosary as accessory” by telling them that it is a reminder of their commitment, un recordadorio de tu compromiso.  It is something that helps them not forget what they have been given and where they want to be.  In the times when they feel small, petty, vengeful, selfish, or weak, it shall be a symbol to them of the love they have been given.  Remember Fernando Luis, the man who gave his life so you may know love.

Remember Fernando Luis Cartagena Torres, Luis Alberto, so that you may be inspired.

Small Victory on the Road to Jericho

I was on my way to the office when I passed an older man working to change a flat tire.  He looked to be in his sixties and drove a modest car.  My first inclination was to stop and help him out.  Here is a recap of my internal dialog.

I should stop.  He looks like he could use a hand.

Oh, there’s no real place to stop.  Oops, I just passed him.  The traffic is heavy, there’s no space.  Should I turn around? 

Would I want someone to help me?  

But I’m dressed for the office.  I’ll get all sweaty and dirty if I stop.

It looks really dangerous.  He’s got only 1 or 2 feet of clearance parked where he is in the middle of the road. 

It’s too dangerous.

If I stop to help help this man, what will happen to me?  I shook my head, and then it hit me.  I was on the road to Jericho.  No, I think, if I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him? 

He is in the middle of the road, there is traffic all around.  If he slips, if a car passes too close… what would happen to him if I’m not there to help?

I wheeled around and pulled up in where he was.  I stepped out of the car and asked him if he needed a hand.  He didn’t really, but "Thank you," he said. 

He was finishing up, but I told him I’d stand and watch for cars.  I’m tall and hard to miss.  I’ll make sure that the cars see you here.

Again, he thanked me.  I said I wished I could have gotten there sooner to help, because this thing has happened to me many times.  He tightened the lugs and stood up.  I shook his hand and wished him a good day.  We got into our cars and drove off.

I know I didn’t really do anything physically helpful.  Would that I had arrived earlier, but I suppose, with all the cars passing by barely noticing a fellow, my presence was lifting.  You’re not alone, hermano.  If anything, there was someone today looking out for you on the road to Jericho. 

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