PinF has slowly mastered the new Beta dashboard enabling some nifty new colors, fonts and ease in adding links. Fitting in a way, as I am now poised to accept my 20,000th visitor all spruced up.
Stayed tuned for audio links next. I'm sure the next Blog that shows the upgraded capabilities has surely got to be JGLOW's, just because I know how "due" she is, and what a slave to tech she is as well.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Thursday, September 21, 2006
PinF is BACK
I'm thinking my all-powerful and incredibly wise and gifted (technologically speaking) friend AofC had at least something to do with this?
Or maybe as PinF lay comfortably tucked into his bed all of his Blog friends decided to secretly convert to BETA thereby allowing PinF to comment once again without using his generic sign on. Most likely it was just time to work out the bugs, and allow BETA accounts to comment on ANY account.
Either way PinF in BETA is back.
Or maybe as PinF lay comfortably tucked into his bed all of his Blog friends decided to secretly convert to BETA thereby allowing PinF to comment once again without using his generic sign on. Most likely it was just time to work out the bugs, and allow BETA accounts to comment on ANY account.
Either way PinF in BETA is back.
Flying Grapes
UPDATE: (9/22/06)
Bottle is nestled safely in casa de PinF. Gracias CNN.
My dear friend CNN, bless her little heart--has sent the PinF a bottle of vino. Or has she? Such is the crisis in PinF's blog fueled life this week. CNN, in act of blissful friendship and affection for her favorite southern based BLOG decided to lose control and wire PinF a botttle of vino. Apparently CNN has discovered her new "favorite" wine of the week and was so moved she decided to share her discovery with the PinF--one of the reasons PinF digs the CNN--her spontaneity. Well of course this wine has now taken on a "nectar of the Gods" status as I've awaited it's triumphant arrival here in the "Sunshine State". But wait! Where is it? Oh yeah that's right, it's in Pennsylvania. What?, Pennsylvania you say? I thought they couldn't ship alcohol to that archaic, Puritan state with a legal monopoly on alcohol? Apparently you can. It would seem that maybe my dear friend maybe had too much of her beloved new RED when she ordered online and sent it to herself, a sort of Fruedian/Alcohol "slip" I guess.
Well you can imagine the "life" this bottle has assumed in our many conversations, emails, and snarky comments to each other all week. The bottle has been re-routed(due to CNN getting mad at PinF), then it was "cancelled", resent, and finally, it was confirmed as on its way after being re-shipped from the great Puritanical lands of the Keystone state. So where are we now? Well PinF arrived home from work yesterday, parked his moto and saw what he thought was a check on the ground by my flower beds, I picked it up discovering a "UPS was here" sticky note sticking to nothing but the mulch in my yard (as opposed to the door). It said they had made an attempt, but that they needed a signature and proof that I was over 21. They also said they'd return between 2-5PM. Great--but there's another problem-- since PinF is over 21 he has this thing called a J-O-B, you know that place you're usually found at between the hours of 2 and 5PM.....
This wine better be good. Considering it went a whole season on the vines of California, then flew to Philadelphia, then back to the airport, and then down to Florida, this wine has traveled and matured, along the way it has garnered a cult-like status. It would be easy to get caught up in the quagmire of laws, shipping, and screwed up orders---PinF won't. Instead he'll focus on the "donut" since CNN's friendly gesture far and away overshadows the weird journey this bottle has taken. In honor of this fact PinF will carry it around a bit, maybe take it to the beach, then back home and will wait for just the right time to enjoy this wine.....I'm sure neither she nor I have heard the last of this bottles' story.
Bottle is nestled safely in casa de PinF. Gracias CNN.
My dear friend CNN, bless her little heart--has sent the PinF a bottle of vino. Or has she? Such is the crisis in PinF's blog fueled life this week. CNN, in act of blissful friendship and affection for her favorite southern based BLOG decided to lose control and wire PinF a botttle of vino. Apparently CNN has discovered her new "favorite" wine of the week and was so moved she decided to share her discovery with the PinF--one of the reasons PinF digs the CNN--her spontaneity. Well of course this wine has now taken on a "nectar of the Gods" status as I've awaited it's triumphant arrival here in the "Sunshine State". But wait! Where is it? Oh yeah that's right, it's in Pennsylvania. What?, Pennsylvania you say? I thought they couldn't ship alcohol to that archaic, Puritan state with a legal monopoly on alcohol? Apparently you can. It would seem that maybe my dear friend maybe had too much of her beloved new RED when she ordered online and sent it to herself, a sort of Fruedian/Alcohol "slip" I guess.
Well you can imagine the "life" this bottle has assumed in our many conversations, emails, and snarky comments to each other all week. The bottle has been re-routed(due to CNN getting mad at PinF), then it was "cancelled", resent, and finally, it was confirmed as on its way after being re-shipped from the great Puritanical lands of the Keystone state. So where are we now? Well PinF arrived home from work yesterday, parked his moto and saw what he thought was a check on the ground by my flower beds, I picked it up discovering a "UPS was here" sticky note sticking to nothing but the mulch in my yard (as opposed to the door). It said they had made an attempt, but that they needed a signature and proof that I was over 21. They also said they'd return between 2-5PM. Great--but there's another problem-- since PinF is over 21 he has this thing called a J-O-B, you know that place you're usually found at between the hours of 2 and 5PM.....
This wine better be good. Considering it went a whole season on the vines of California, then flew to Philadelphia, then back to the airport, and then down to Florida, this wine has traveled and matured, along the way it has garnered a cult-like status. It would be easy to get caught up in the quagmire of laws, shipping, and screwed up orders---PinF won't. Instead he'll focus on the "donut" since CNN's friendly gesture far and away overshadows the weird journey this bottle has taken. In honor of this fact PinF will carry it around a bit, maybe take it to the beach, then back home and will wait for just the right time to enjoy this wine.....I'm sure neither she nor I have heard the last of this bottles' story.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Days of Change
Fall is coming. Even here in Florida one can notice the subtle changes. The postion of the sun in the sky, the decreasing humidity, the roughening ocean from distant storms far out to sea. Sophia is in school. Summer experiences are now becoming yesterdays memories, savored like your favorite home cooked meal. You know your little baby is turning into a young "lady" when she says she wants to go to the dance on Friday nights. ??? Dance? Times are a changing PinF. Friday nights 7-9PM, is 3rd-5th grade dance night. I want so much to see Sophia grow and experience her wonder as she matures into a beautiful, smart, nice young woman; but like the owner of a cute little kitten there is a part of me that wants to keep her small, innocent, playful. Such contrasts. I still have her in my mind, eternally small and always my little girl.
Sophia is talking Halloween--God she loves Halloween. Sophia wants to know why papi's don't dress up? I tell her we did already---on the boardwalk. The Eagles have started. PinF saw his beloved boys in green last Sunday. Nothing like Sundays. Probably the only day when PinF maintains a routine. Mass, Sunday paper, breakfast, game. If it's a 4 O'clock game, insert beach in between breakfast and game. The routine remains. The only discernible difference is not having my dad to strategize, analyze, and disect the "X" factors with--this still hurts and sucks. Sophia is talking about my birthday already. God knows she loves birthdays. Surely a trait from her mother, as I've never been one to make a big deal out of "another year". Sophia does, and she keeps asking me what I want? Peace, love, happiness. That isn't too much to ask for is it?
Normally this time of year Sophia and I would be making our now annual Fall sojourn north to enjoy the seasons colors, Philadelphia's museums, and cutural treasures. This year we're not. A break is in order for PinF and Co. as it's been an incredibly taxing year emotionally and financially. In some ways I feel like a visitor to Florida after all the trips I've made to Philly. Still I love this time of year up north when you can begin to see the majesty of change. I miss the Autumn smell of a fireplace at night, and the burning of leaves on a Saturday afternoon. I miss alot of things this time of year, making me wonder if I'll ever really feel like I'm a part of Florida or just passing through?
Monday, September 11, 2006
A Mile of Stones
Catastrophic events often serve as "milestones" for our lives and the events that have shaped them since. In the past few weeks we've all been treated to innuumerable pundits, politicians, and newscasters telling how much we (the USA) have changed since that fateful day in September of 2001. In fact we have. Change is natural, expected, and unstoppable. The question is have we changed for the better? Ask any person born pre-1950 where they were the day John F. Kennedy was shot and they'll tell you very specifically where they were, and what they were doing-- almost down to how the weather was that November day. Incredibly you would most likely find the same is true even for foreigners, as JFK was probably more beloved abroad than he was in the US. The WTC catastrophe will be that defining event for this generation.
The sheer magnitude of the World Trade Tower attacks would almost be unfathomable were it not for thousands of images, videos, and eyewitness accounts of this horrific event. It left PinF wondering whether there had ever been such devestation and heartbreak caught live on television that involved so many lives? Probably not. This fact is probably what has insulated us from so many other horrific and violent events in this world we live. Again, this fact serves to make this event a "milestone" for millions upon millions of people worldwide. Life has changed and not just for Americans; life has changed for the world we once knew, a world we so many people were either lost in their own innocence, or blissfully ignorant to the threats facing us all as we began a new century in an increasingly smaller, hostile, world. A world with more people than ever living oppressed and starving, and as refugees from their homelands.
PinF remembers well exactly what he was doing. He was preparing his daughter for pre-school while dressing for work. I had an appointment with a client after dropping my daughter at school. I turned on the news maybe 5 minutes after the first tower was struck. Confusion reigned. Morning talk hosts had conflicting and convoluted reports. Then came the first video images confirming what we were being told.....the day stopped right there. Shortly thereafter the next plane, the next tower. After being delayed for over an hour I took Sophie to school where I was met by stunned teachers and parents, their children completely shielded from the day's ugly realities by their innocence and age. I got on with my day, glued to my car radio and went about in a funk listening to the unprecedented news that ALL commercial aviation was grounded and that we were now on a war posture having been attacked for the first time since Pearl Harbor. But with whom? For all we did know that day, there was even more we didn't know. One thing we all knew was that life as we knew it was forever changed. The innocence, the detachment from world events and the threats they posed was all coming to a quick end. Americans were to learn what Europeans and much of the rest of the world already knew; no one is immune from terrorism.
I could go on about how "we" have changed-- airport security lines, knee-jerk ractions to Mexican border issues and host of other hysterically motivated laws and reactionary changes. I won't though, because we all know what they are. Like I said this event is a "milestone" and what it does is serve to guage and organize the events in our own lives a little more clearly. For instance, I think based on this event and maybe the London bombings too, that we've all probably told people we loved and cared about how much we really do love and care about them. As we all saw like never before the fragile nature of our lives reflected in the thousands of family members posting pictures of their missing loved ones. I know I held my daughter nearer and told her even more how much I loved her.
PinF can recollect five tough years of losses, sacrifices and changes since that day, all of which may nor have been so clear or noticed if not for the "mile-post" of 9-11. My father's health took what we would now define as a fateful turn during December of 2001, this was and continues to be reverberating event in mine and my other brother's lives. My mother would leave a much shakier nation in search of her dream by serving in the Peace Corps in January 2002, just three months after the attacks. Weighing evn more heavily than the state of leaving her sons, grandchildren and many friends was the fact that she had just learned her sister Rosemary was dignosed with terminal lung cancer. This five year period would also come at a great personal price to PinF as his marriage would end and he would see his daughter's heart nicked a bit from the loss of her innocence.
Life is for the living so you must push on. If nothing else the sight of so many suffering families at least served to put many of our own trivial and mundane worries or fears into perspective. I'm sure as I made my way through the intricacies of my divorce I was always able to put into perspective the forces that were in fact shaping my life thereby allowing me to remain sane, level headed, and sure in my beliefs that "this too would pass". It did. My mother got through her 2.5 years of personal sacrifice and was enriched for her service, though her losses were evident as well having lost her sister five months into her service with the Peace Corps. She returned from Honduras, and I remember well having to break the news to her when she called me from Houston informing me of her home-bound flight progress. I couldn't let her continue on to Philadelphia holding out hope that she would say the last words she longed to tell her sister, and so I told her that her sister Rosemary had passed not but an hour before. She appreciated this and was able to steel herself for the challenges that lay ahead. Remarkably she returned to Honduras 2 weeks later and not only continued, but thrived in her life, her mission, and her willingness to honor the commitment she made.
Not long after my mother's return I was privilaged to be asked to introduce her to her high school alma mater to be inducted into the "Hall of Fame", a fitting end to a arduous journey. Soon after this event the end of my marriage my father's health took a disturbingly and continous downward spiral offering all my brothers' and me a continuing challenge that many adults will one day face, though at the time it was seemingly overwhelming for me personally. Like all faith shaking events in our lives' there lies messages and lessons, and I continue to draw mine from the events that lead me to be in St. Agnes Hospice in South Philadelphia on that fateful day on March 13, 2006 as my father drew his last breath, his head cradled in my arms, surrounded by myself and my brothers Chris and Rob. PinF has had the privilage to see people he has loved more than anything be both born and die. Each have their own powerful and beautiful elements and are the very core fiber of the life experience itself, to see the first breath and to hear the last. Incredibly they are one in the same, as they both begin and end with a gasp.
So now here we are five years past an event that in many ways seemed as if we would never recover from the scars it left. We have, and yet we haven't forgotten - we cannot. The changes 9-11 brought are hopefully temporary, as we've sacrificed as many civil freedoms in five years as we've fought to preserve as a nation in 200+ years. Not to mention the paranoia, dread, and general lack of hope for the future of mankind in a world where the inequities of civilizations are settled in barbaric and brutal ways such as slamming airplanes into buildings filled with innocents. PinF has said it before. Take the trillion dollars this war is guesstimated to cost the American taxpayers and seed the world with education, respect for all views and not just our allies, and then throw in some medical goodwill, schools, and civil improvements. I would be willing to risk that we might be safer as a nation, people and world if we stopped spreading bombs in the name of democracy, and started spreading peaceful dialogue propped up by tangible improvements in the lives of those who hold such hatred for our obviously failed policies.
Five years gone. Much has changed. PinF's prayers are especially for the families directly affected. These include ALL families, from the WTC victims and their survivors, to the soldiers' and their loved ones and to the many tens of thousands of innocents who've lost their homes, and lives in far away lands as a result of our pre-emptive doctrines of war. I supect the world will need longer to forget and heal from our reactions to 9-11 than we as Americans will need to recover from the act itself.
The sheer magnitude of the World Trade Tower attacks would almost be unfathomable were it not for thousands of images, videos, and eyewitness accounts of this horrific event. It left PinF wondering whether there had ever been such devestation and heartbreak caught live on television that involved so many lives? Probably not. This fact is probably what has insulated us from so many other horrific and violent events in this world we live. Again, this fact serves to make this event a "milestone" for millions upon millions of people worldwide. Life has changed and not just for Americans; life has changed for the world we once knew, a world we so many people were either lost in their own innocence, or blissfully ignorant to the threats facing us all as we began a new century in an increasingly smaller, hostile, world. A world with more people than ever living oppressed and starving, and as refugees from their homelands.
PinF remembers well exactly what he was doing. He was preparing his daughter for pre-school while dressing for work. I had an appointment with a client after dropping my daughter at school. I turned on the news maybe 5 minutes after the first tower was struck. Confusion reigned. Morning talk hosts had conflicting and convoluted reports. Then came the first video images confirming what we were being told.....the day stopped right there. Shortly thereafter the next plane, the next tower. After being delayed for over an hour I took Sophie to school where I was met by stunned teachers and parents, their children completely shielded from the day's ugly realities by their innocence and age. I got on with my day, glued to my car radio and went about in a funk listening to the unprecedented news that ALL commercial aviation was grounded and that we were now on a war posture having been attacked for the first time since Pearl Harbor. But with whom? For all we did know that day, there was even more we didn't know. One thing we all knew was that life as we knew it was forever changed. The innocence, the detachment from world events and the threats they posed was all coming to a quick end. Americans were to learn what Europeans and much of the rest of the world already knew; no one is immune from terrorism.
I could go on about how "we" have changed-- airport security lines, knee-jerk ractions to Mexican border issues and host of other hysterically motivated laws and reactionary changes. I won't though, because we all know what they are. Like I said this event is a "milestone" and what it does is serve to guage and organize the events in our own lives a little more clearly. For instance, I think based on this event and maybe the London bombings too, that we've all probably told people we loved and cared about how much we really do love and care about them. As we all saw like never before the fragile nature of our lives reflected in the thousands of family members posting pictures of their missing loved ones. I know I held my daughter nearer and told her even more how much I loved her.
PinF can recollect five tough years of losses, sacrifices and changes since that day, all of which may nor have been so clear or noticed if not for the "mile-post" of 9-11. My father's health took what we would now define as a fateful turn during December of 2001, this was and continues to be reverberating event in mine and my other brother's lives. My mother would leave a much shakier nation in search of her dream by serving in the Peace Corps in January 2002, just three months after the attacks. Weighing evn more heavily than the state of leaving her sons, grandchildren and many friends was the fact that she had just learned her sister Rosemary was dignosed with terminal lung cancer. This five year period would also come at a great personal price to PinF as his marriage would end and he would see his daughter's heart nicked a bit from the loss of her innocence.
Life is for the living so you must push on. If nothing else the sight of so many suffering families at least served to put many of our own trivial and mundane worries or fears into perspective. I'm sure as I made my way through the intricacies of my divorce I was always able to put into perspective the forces that were in fact shaping my life thereby allowing me to remain sane, level headed, and sure in my beliefs that "this too would pass". It did. My mother got through her 2.5 years of personal sacrifice and was enriched for her service, though her losses were evident as well having lost her sister five months into her service with the Peace Corps. She returned from Honduras, and I remember well having to break the news to her when she called me from Houston informing me of her home-bound flight progress. I couldn't let her continue on to Philadelphia holding out hope that she would say the last words she longed to tell her sister, and so I told her that her sister Rosemary had passed not but an hour before. She appreciated this and was able to steel herself for the challenges that lay ahead. Remarkably she returned to Honduras 2 weeks later and not only continued, but thrived in her life, her mission, and her willingness to honor the commitment she made.
Not long after my mother's return I was privilaged to be asked to introduce her to her high school alma mater to be inducted into the "Hall of Fame", a fitting end to a arduous journey. Soon after this event the end of my marriage my father's health took a disturbingly and continous downward spiral offering all my brothers' and me a continuing challenge that many adults will one day face, though at the time it was seemingly overwhelming for me personally. Like all faith shaking events in our lives' there lies messages and lessons, and I continue to draw mine from the events that lead me to be in St. Agnes Hospice in South Philadelphia on that fateful day on March 13, 2006 as my father drew his last breath, his head cradled in my arms, surrounded by myself and my brothers Chris and Rob. PinF has had the privilage to see people he has loved more than anything be both born and die. Each have their own powerful and beautiful elements and are the very core fiber of the life experience itself, to see the first breath and to hear the last. Incredibly they are one in the same, as they both begin and end with a gasp.
So now here we are five years past an event that in many ways seemed as if we would never recover from the scars it left. We have, and yet we haven't forgotten - we cannot. The changes 9-11 brought are hopefully temporary, as we've sacrificed as many civil freedoms in five years as we've fought to preserve as a nation in 200+ years. Not to mention the paranoia, dread, and general lack of hope for the future of mankind in a world where the inequities of civilizations are settled in barbaric and brutal ways such as slamming airplanes into buildings filled with innocents. PinF has said it before. Take the trillion dollars this war is guesstimated to cost the American taxpayers and seed the world with education, respect for all views and not just our allies, and then throw in some medical goodwill, schools, and civil improvements. I would be willing to risk that we might be safer as a nation, people and world if we stopped spreading bombs in the name of democracy, and started spreading peaceful dialogue propped up by tangible improvements in the lives of those who hold such hatred for our obviously failed policies.
Five years gone. Much has changed. PinF's prayers are especially for the families directly affected. These include ALL families, from the WTC victims and their survivors, to the soldiers' and their loved ones and to the many tens of thousands of innocents who've lost their homes, and lives in far away lands as a result of our pre-emptive doctrines of war. I supect the world will need longer to forget and heal from our reactions to 9-11 than we as Americans will need to recover from the act itself.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Buena Suerte
I took the bike for speed, yet the sky looked as if it was going to punish me for my decision. Black clouds, a cool wind, and light rain were already starting---a precursor to a nasty bout of thunderstorms for sure. I needed two things: cat food, and laundry detergent. As I thought of the cat food I immediately thought of my snapper filets sitting out on the kitchen counter. Damn. I was certain my ex-kitten-turned-terrorist was already making a sushi meal of this and I was now faced with the dread of what I might find upon returning home.
I quickly shoved that dark thought to the back of my mind looked at the now ever-thickening clouds forming and decided I need to hustle. Wait--lottery ticket, might as well play now. Quick stop at the counter, only going to play two games and then I'll get my cat food and detergent. "sir, you have to put a valid address down"........"do you understand English?"....
22, 11, 9, 13, 33.......I'm choosing the numbers of my lottery as they relate to the people closest in my life. " sir, I cannot read this, do you have identification?"......as I choose each number their face pops into my mind, I'll play two tickets. What the hell, "let me have a quick pick too" I say to the nice girl at the lottery counter. "Three dollars please"....done.
"he doesn't speak English, and I can't understand the address on the form"..... the background annoyances of this woman's voice were by now becoming increasingly louder, as if the young man would better understand what she was saying so long as she said it LOUDER? With my lottery tickets bought, I casually turned my attention to the source of these inquiries and saw the familiar face of the counter woman I see often when shopping in my Publix. Difference being I have not seen her so short of patience nor rude. What is it about immigrants that bring out often rude and impatient treatment? Should the staus or origin of a person have anything to do with how we treat them? I would argue no, as I know plenty of legal or natural born Americans who are more deserving of rude treatment, at least more so then the generally humble and respectful people I come accross.
"Tu habla Inglis?" I asked the young man, interupting the counter woman's demands. " Un poco he replied"....I told him I would help him and he seemed calmed by this, as he had been getting verbally peppered for about five minutes until I interceded. Just to even the table, I turned and asked the counter woman in Spanish "Senora, tu habla espanol?"....I knew the answer, but I wanted to point that out to her. I asked what the problem was? She replied his address wasn't filled out correctly. I quickly figured out that what was happening here was this young guy was attemptiing to send $30.00 lousy dollars to his family in Honduras, yet this woman seemed bent on making it as hard as possible. I saw his name was Hector from the form, I asked him his address, he seemed confused. I turned to the lady and said "look I'll let you use my address and stay here until it's done"...she said no. I told him in my best spanish that "su direccion es mal". He removed from his pocket a bill, and it turns out that the address he was using WAS right.
I informed the lady, printed the form a bit more legibly and handed it to the woman. I commented it seemed a lot of fuss for $30.00, not to mention what he was being charged to send it (25%). I also commented as chidingly as I dared that she seemed to be a bit tough on the kid. By this time I had told Hector in my limited Spanish that I knew his country and that my mother lived and worked in Honduras with Cuerpo de Paz, this lit up his face and he asked "de donde?" I told him in Santa Barbara state "en Gualala"....By this time I think the counter woman was resenting our alliance and wanted to be done with the Western Union transaction.
Humility is the act or emotion of being humble. This young man was the epitome of this characteristic. Polite, nice, and clearly a hard working young man probably about 26 yrs. old. He never lost his patience or became angry, despite the difficulty he was having trying to send money to his family. PinF was humbled by his example. Never mind the immigration issue, this was a human issue. I've been to Honduras and seen with my own eyes the despair, poverty, and life he came from. Yet here he was sending $30.00 dollars home not much in my life; though I can imagine the impact of 566.00 Lempiras in Honduras. Clearly enough to buy the tortillas, beans, rice, and coffee among other staples. In that instant I forgot about my tasks, the weather and even the millions I was already spending in my mind. I had made a friend, and a difference, and for this I felt better about me. We said our good-byes and I rushed around getting my cat food and detergent.
I'd like to think the counter lady might have learned a lesson in kindness as well, though I suspect she was too jaded from dealing with people's problems all day. She clearly had not been to a foreign country before, judging by her lack of empathy and patience. I also couldn't help but wonder if this had been a white middle-aged French speaker from Quebec if she would have treated him so rudely? Of all the countries I've ever been in, I find amazing the disdain Americans often exhibit when dealing with speakers of othert languages. I've never (with the exception of Paris) experienced this before in other countries when I didn't speak their language. On the contrary, foreigners seem to either make an attempt to speak MY language or are every accepting and tutorial with regard to me torturing their language.
As I hopped on my bike rain was starting to fall, and I was ready to zip home before the deluge...I saw Hector walk out and he waved and said "gracias por todo senor" to which I replied "de nada", and motioned for him to come over. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my lottery tickets and offered him my "quick pick" and told him "esta es un boleto de lotteria"....I told him to check La Palma on Thursday morning to see if he won. He thanked me and seemed genuinely happy to have crossed paths with me, and I him.
I rode past him and said "buena suerte"...and hoped he won.
I quickly shoved that dark thought to the back of my mind looked at the now ever-thickening clouds forming and decided I need to hustle. Wait--lottery ticket, might as well play now. Quick stop at the counter, only going to play two games and then I'll get my cat food and detergent. "sir, you have to put a valid address down"........"do you understand English?"....
22, 11, 9, 13, 33.......I'm choosing the numbers of my lottery as they relate to the people closest in my life. " sir, I cannot read this, do you have identification?"......as I choose each number their face pops into my mind, I'll play two tickets. What the hell, "let me have a quick pick too" I say to the nice girl at the lottery counter. "Three dollars please"....done.
"he doesn't speak English, and I can't understand the address on the form"..... the background annoyances of this woman's voice were by now becoming increasingly louder, as if the young man would better understand what she was saying so long as she said it LOUDER? With my lottery tickets bought, I casually turned my attention to the source of these inquiries and saw the familiar face of the counter woman I see often when shopping in my Publix. Difference being I have not seen her so short of patience nor rude. What is it about immigrants that bring out often rude and impatient treatment? Should the staus or origin of a person have anything to do with how we treat them? I would argue no, as I know plenty of legal or natural born Americans who are more deserving of rude treatment, at least more so then the generally humble and respectful people I come accross.
"Tu habla Inglis?" I asked the young man, interupting the counter woman's demands. " Un poco he replied"....I told him I would help him and he seemed calmed by this, as he had been getting verbally peppered for about five minutes until I interceded. Just to even the table, I turned and asked the counter woman in Spanish "Senora, tu habla espanol?"....I knew the answer, but I wanted to point that out to her. I asked what the problem was? She replied his address wasn't filled out correctly. I quickly figured out that what was happening here was this young guy was attemptiing to send $30.00 lousy dollars to his family in Honduras, yet this woman seemed bent on making it as hard as possible. I saw his name was Hector from the form, I asked him his address, he seemed confused. I turned to the lady and said "look I'll let you use my address and stay here until it's done"...she said no. I told him in my best spanish that "su direccion es mal". He removed from his pocket a bill, and it turns out that the address he was using WAS right.
I informed the lady, printed the form a bit more legibly and handed it to the woman. I commented it seemed a lot of fuss for $30.00, not to mention what he was being charged to send it (25%). I also commented as chidingly as I dared that she seemed to be a bit tough on the kid. By this time I had told Hector in my limited Spanish that I knew his country and that my mother lived and worked in Honduras with Cuerpo de Paz, this lit up his face and he asked "de donde?" I told him in Santa Barbara state "en Gualala"....By this time I think the counter woman was resenting our alliance and wanted to be done with the Western Union transaction.
Humility is the act or emotion of being humble. This young man was the epitome of this characteristic. Polite, nice, and clearly a hard working young man probably about 26 yrs. old. He never lost his patience or became angry, despite the difficulty he was having trying to send money to his family. PinF was humbled by his example. Never mind the immigration issue, this was a human issue. I've been to Honduras and seen with my own eyes the despair, poverty, and life he came from. Yet here he was sending $30.00 dollars home not much in my life; though I can imagine the impact of 566.00 Lempiras in Honduras. Clearly enough to buy the tortillas, beans, rice, and coffee among other staples. In that instant I forgot about my tasks, the weather and even the millions I was already spending in my mind. I had made a friend, and a difference, and for this I felt better about me. We said our good-byes and I rushed around getting my cat food and detergent.
I'd like to think the counter lady might have learned a lesson in kindness as well, though I suspect she was too jaded from dealing with people's problems all day. She clearly had not been to a foreign country before, judging by her lack of empathy and patience. I also couldn't help but wonder if this had been a white middle-aged French speaker from Quebec if she would have treated him so rudely? Of all the countries I've ever been in, I find amazing the disdain Americans often exhibit when dealing with speakers of othert languages. I've never (with the exception of Paris) experienced this before in other countries when I didn't speak their language. On the contrary, foreigners seem to either make an attempt to speak MY language or are every accepting and tutorial with regard to me torturing their language.
As I hopped on my bike rain was starting to fall, and I was ready to zip home before the deluge...I saw Hector walk out and he waved and said "gracias por todo senor" to which I replied "de nada", and motioned for him to come over. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my lottery tickets and offered him my "quick pick" and told him "esta es un boleto de lotteria"....I told him to check La Palma on Thursday morning to see if he won. He thanked me and seemed genuinely happy to have crossed paths with me, and I him.
I rode past him and said "buena suerte"...and hoped he won.
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