El Gringoqueño

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 Utuado 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.

Tuesday’s prison session was good in a way that made it different, left me hopeful. I sat with two young men, Yadiel and Gabriel. Yadiel, un vacilón, an easy going jokester, and Gabriel, smart serious earnest were both happy to get out of their confinement for a time.

"Why did you come down?" I asked.

"To get out of the module."

"Really?"

"Yeah, oh yeah, I mean, we came to hear the Word, but whew, it’s great to get out."

I smiled. I look for small victories. I have already eased their suffering by being a vehicle by which they receive a short respite from being locked up. "Cool," I said.

Gabriel, seemed a little embarrassed, as if he had offended me by his remark. "No, but we came down because we wanted to hear about Jesus."

Such a caring kid. His exuberance had revealed that he just wanted a bit of freedom, but his empathy caused him to rephrase it considering me.

We talked a bit about some of their favorite things, what they wanted out of life. I lead them through the little exercise where I put them in an MTV Cribs home.

"So let’s say tomorrow, you’re out of here. I give you each a million dollars, a home on the beach with a pool too. It’s a big house with a Lexus and a Cadillac Escalade in the garage."

Their eyes got big.

"You’ve got your fridge stocked with refreshments. You’ve got a killer sound system, a DJ mixing table with all the hot tunes. You’ve got all the hot ladies at your party. And they look fine. You have everything you’ve ever wanted." I paused. "Now What?"

"Enjoy it." they both responded.

"So that’s what it’s all about? Get some stuff and enjoy it? You guys know how some of these reggeaton artists lose all their money, right? They spend it and it’s all gone. They think wealth is an end in and of itself, that the goal is wealth. You’ve got to have a plan for your wealth.

Listen," I continued, "Try to think of wealth like a businessmen thinks of wealth, as capital, a resource. Money is a means to an end and not an end in and of itself. Most poor folks think of the goal as money, but money is just a means to an end. What do you want do? I’ll tell you, spending money will be over before you know it if you don’t have a plan. So, what do you do?"

They sat there a little confused, searching for the answer to the question.

"You might use that money to start a business?" I offered.

"Yeah," they agreed.

"What business would you start?" I asked. "What are you good at? What do you like to do?"

Gabriel thought for a while, searching for something he was good at. He paused and hesitantly offered, "Selling drugs?"

I smiled. I loved that answer. Gabriel was right where I wanted him. "That’s great, Gabriel, don’t be ashamed of that. It’s a skill you have and you did it well. But let me ask you something. What is the most important part of that skill? Does it matter what you sell as much as your ability to sell?"

Gabriel nodded.

"So let’s cross off the ‘drugs’ portion. Let me ask you, Gabriel, what are some of the skills required to sell well?"

"You have to keep the numbers straight."

"Like a CPA, no? And you’re on the street with no computer to keep track of it all."

Gabriel smiled. I am positive that no one had ever congratulated him on his one skill, the one thing in his short life that he had excelled at and been incarcerated for. Instead of simply saying what he did was wrong and throwing it all away - along with him, I turned his talent on its head and gave him a slap on the back. Good job with the selling, but let’s try selling something else, okay?

"You have to create trust with your clients, no?" I asked.

"Yeah," and he smiled. "Trust is important."

"You have to create a trust relationship. They have to trust you and you have to trust them. If there are problems, you have to be able to handle them. That’s customer service. I’ll bet you gave better customer service than a government office, right? Quality product? You have to have a quality product that you believe in, no? If not, you can’t sell it."

Gabriel was nodding vigorously. He seemed to being saying, yeah, man, you got it. You got it. I’d never thought about it like that.

We continued talking and inventing businesses where he could apply his talents, mapping out a plan for his life that rolled in a more positive direction.

When it all finished, I was left, as I always am, with such a hopeful outlook on life. As I complain about sleepy people, entitled people, self-absorbed small petty little people, I come to prison and I am left more hopeful. It’s insane, I know, but sometimes outside, I see the worst of people and within the walls of the prison system, I see such talent, raw un-utilized talent.

Outside, where the sleepy people lie, they have no idea that there is a better way of being, that their lives are anything but perfect, exemplary, normal, tranquil, and pious. On the inside, though, with the sinners, those who have fallen, those who know there is something missing, I see a yearning for a better life. I see people looking to make a change in themselves and who know they are hungry.

Will they make a change? That remains to be seen, but I’d say they are already well beyond those that continue to stuff their fat little faces at the banquet, gluttonous in their excess, and never ever considering that the hunger they feel isn’t in their bellies.

Intenté algo nuevo con los jóvenes en octubre. Yo quería que ellos me escribieran una carta a un familiar, novia, o amigo y que contaran de sus esperanzas y deseos para el futuro. Aquí les presento las cartas intactas como testimonio de nuestros jóvenes.

Hector Garcia Rodriguez.

Yo Hector quiero de la vida: Yo quiero echar hacia delante para poder trabajar no faltar respeto a mi madre y estar con mi novia en mi casa para poder amarla que no sufra mucho porque estoy aquí. Y la amo. Hector y Cristina. La amo por siempre. Cristina es buena atractiva linda. Es la nena mía y que me perdona por todo que le he hecho por darle en la cara. Y que me perdona mucho por todo el daño que le hice. Estoy repentido. Que le extraño. Quiero estar con ella en estos momentos. Comida favorita de ella: Buger king. Actividad preferida: dormir y comer. Baila muy lindo. Tiene cuerpo. Tiene mente. No se deja de mi. Es guapa conmigo por eso me molesta con ella. Y que ella siga conmigo.

Jesús M. Nieves Lopez

Yo Jesús quiero de la vida: Salir de todo esto y irme a estudiar la escuela hotelera de San Juan. Me pienso portar bien con mi familia, no volver al uso de la drogas. Quiero volver con mi pareja sin tener ningún problema. Jesús y Marilyn. La extraño demasiado y siento un sufrimiento indescriptible por ella. Siento que me voy por un abismo y tengo un largo sufrimiento por todas las cosas que yo le he hecho. Ella le gusta mucho los dulces. Le gusta salir. Le gusta compartir en grupo. Que yo quisiera que me de una sencilla oportunidad que yo la voy a aprovechar. Se que he cometido muchas ignorancias en esta vida y que estar preso me he enseñado muchas cosas y una de esa cosas ha sido valorar a las personas y una de esas eres tu. Que eres una persona muy especial en mi corazón. Siempre vas a tener un espacio muy grande en mi corazón. Te quiero mucho.

No disrespect there, I assure you.  I just want to set it up properly.  I’m a college educated professional, with a background in Art, Technology, Engineering and ample business and life experience.  

But tonight, I felt insignificant, shamed, and incarcerated as I was within my own limits.

Tonight’s activity in the prison was to design Christmas cards.  We gave the young men paper, crayons, and color pencils and asked them to draw Christmas cards.  I offered that they should draw something they knew or draw something in which they were interested.  "What do you have to say?" I asked.

They busily set forth with religious iconery, scenes of nativity, presents, Christmas cheer, cars, Santa Claus and the like.

I sat with my paper blank with my head in my hands. 

I had nothing to say.  I’m not into blindly recreating religious themes.  As an American Catholic, I more resemble a Protestant, indifferent to the rendering of religious symbols.  Drawing a baby Jesus doesn’t come naturally to me.  Virgin Mary?  You kidding?  Three wise men?  Maybe, but it wasn’t coming.  Could I draw a camel?  I don’t think I’ve ever looked at one closely enough.  I thought about as many different Christmas or Puerto Rico images I could and rejected them - each and every one.

I was afraid what I had to say was not worth saying, that my drawing would suck, or be irrelevant.  I sat paralyzed by indecision and apprehension.  The more I sat, the worse it got.  I’m an artist.  I still look at some of my charcoals and think, "Damn I was good."  But today and recently… I just don’t know.

And these kids, disadvantaged, without the love of their parents or stable communities, and locked up as they were, happily drew whatever their hearts told them.  To quote Satchel Paige  "…dance like no one is watching." 

They did.  I couldn’t.

They seemed freer to me somehow.

We visited the inmates last night and brought with us an assortment of treats to share. Our group threw the young men a little Halloween party with chips, dip, soda, candy and a cake for good measure. We played a little party game, one of an audience participation charade-like sort and then shared some food.

I poured drinks and wiped spills and when it came time to leave, I looked to the bowl for a piece of candy - for the road, I thought. There was none to be found.

"Ay, no hay paleta," I remarked. One of the younger kids thrust his hand into his pocket and produced a lolipop.

"You can have this one," he said handing it to me.

"No, no, you keep it. I only wanted one if there was extra. Está bien, quedate con ella."

And smiling, he insisted, "No, it’s fine, I have another one in my pocket."