"El Campo" Memories

Today I went to the country house up on the hills, the place were my inlaws lived for many years. That place from where I've tempted many of you with the pictures of its awesome views. 

Sadly, since the passing of my father in law, and the move of my mother in law to the city, the beautiful gardens no longer thrive. Missing are all the orchids and many other flowers that surrounded the yard. The coofee plants that served as boricua christmas trees, adorned with ripening coffee beans, no longer thrive. Fifteen feet high plantain plants bearing foot long plantain bananas, that looked more like palm trees are no longer cultivated. Nature is working fast at claiming what it is hers. Hornets are building their nests everywhere they find a suitable place, and a bee colony has made it's home inside the walls of the old laundry room.

The trails where we used to escape to become part of nature are no longer passable. You can no longer hear the the roosters sing, neither the hundreds of perickites, lovebirds, cockatiels and parrots they used to grow, that use to fill the air with their songs. Much less heard are the voices of the family chatting and laughing in the kitchen, accompanied by the smell of freshly brewed coffee, and hot pan de agua and sobao (French bread, and lard bread), eaten with lots of butter.

The hammock were we used to escape to sleep off after over indulging on delicious food no longer hangs. The nights sitting on the balcony looking down at Ponce, shivering from the cold breeze, and enjoying the coqui frogs singing after the afternoon rain showers, no longer happen, at least not there.

Without the hands of my late father in law, and his wife who tirelessly worked to keep nature from taking over, the place is not the same. Someone recently broke into the property and stole several copper pipes for the water and the gas system, a problem that abounds on the island thanks to high copper prices paid by metal recyclers. Well, tomorrow I'll be working on the issue as well as ways to protect, water, gas and electrical lines from theft.

  

For about a quarter of a century "la casa de campo" served as a little peace of heaven where friends and family were always welcome, filling our hearts with peace and happiness. This was a place that allowed me to escape the hustle and bustle of the big city to become a jibaro.

Today, even though no one is living the house, it is still a very peaceful and serene place that evoke the memories of past times. Memories of gone by times that will never return. But at least I have those memories, that coupled with the many pictures I took there, will allow me to re-live in my mind those beautiful times.

I

The Cane Trick

On our recent flight to Puerto Rico, I discovered that canes can be deceivingly used in order to break some airlines rules. While waiting to board the flight to San Juan, there where an unusually high number of passengers using canes, several of them also needing wheel chair assistance. 

On this flight there where about six or seven persons awaiting wheel chair service. When the gate personnel called on those needing wheel chair assistance, a line quickly formed, some where already sitting on wheel chairs, while others were standing, and pretty much all had canes. The gate staff asked one lady who had arrived on a wheel chair, and was now standing, where was her wheel chair, she replied, "it's over there, I have to get it". Earlier my wife had seen the lady get up from the wheel chair, and walk to a coffee stand, without any problems whatsoever, but she did't think much of it. Now the lady was being boarded early on a wheel chair. On the line we also saw an elderly man, seemingly in his late sixties, waiting, standing up shakily, supported by a cane. I was concerned because the poor man appeared to be about to fall. He was also boarded early in a wheel chair.

Once we arrived at San Juan, and we made it to the baggage area, for some reason there were not as many wheel chairs as we saw during the boarding process. What we did see however, was the same lady that I mentioned before, without a wheel chair standing, waiting for her bags. When the carousel started rolling, the lady grabbed two good size suitcases, and then rolled off with them like nothing. 

We grabbed our luggage and headed down a very long hallway towards the rental car shuttle. We where walking slow, and as we near the exit, around the corner came at a hurriedly pace, the sixty-something old man, pulling two rolling suitcases, with the cane now strapped to the top of one of them. Lucy and I looked at each other and had no remedy but to burst into a loud laughter. 

We had just witnessed two totally unrelated people play the gate staff so that they could  board the plane early. The next time you take a flight, you might want to make sure you have a cane with you, it can open the door to some fringe benefits.

Memories Lost

Several months ago I came across an old  acquaintance, someone from my childhood neighborhood, who grew and studied in the same schools I did. The last time I spoke to him was during the summer of 2008, during a reunion our group of friends had, after 31 years of being apart. We spoke briefly, as he was always somewhat shy, but we managed to catch up with gone times.

Several months ago I visited the bakery he owns and he was there, at least so I thought. I greeted him, and he looked at me puzzled. Do you remember me? I am Edil, I use to live in Tallaboa. He still looked at me stone-faced. I don't know who you are, he said. The establishment was full of people, I felt embarrassed, as the employees and customers looked on. 

I left the store confused, knowing that the  person I was speaking to was the same friend I grew up with, the same one I spoke to 4 years before, at least so I thought.

That same day I called my friend Socorro, who also knew him, and had also seen him for the last time during the reunion four years before. I shared with her what had happened, but she had no answers. She knew that he owned the bakery, and kind of confirmed that he was the person I was talking to, based on my description of him. We were both puzzled now, without a clear understanding of what had happened. 

This morning I went to the bakery again, since it is the closest one to my mother in law's place where we are staying. There he was, talking spiritedly and cheerfully with his employees. After I payed for my order, I hesitantly said, excuse me are you Samuel? Yes I am, he said. Samuel Ramirez? I said in an effort to confirm who he was beyond any doubt. He answered, yes, that is me, while again looking at me as if I was a stranger. Once again confused, I said, I'm Edil, pausing for a few second, then adding Rentas, after seeing no reaction from him. I'm from Tallaboa, don't you remember me? No he said once again. I lived right by the  community center, of the Rentas', the nickname my family was known by, eliciting no reaction from him. 

As he looked at my puzzled face, he said to me, I'm sorry, I don't remember many things since I suffered a stroke 3 years ago, I lost all my memories, and I had to start from scratch once again. I'm sorry, I said, feeling sad about his situation, after all Samuel was only 47 when he suffered the stroke. This guy is from Tallaboa too, he said as he introduced me to his baker, who happened to be the son of a family my parents used to visit. He looked at me and said I know you, you are Edil, the son of Quique and Monín, the nicknames my parents were known by. You used to always be riding your bicycle, and you were very skinny, he added, noticing my now big frame. Yes that is me, and I remember you too, and your family. It's nice to see you, I said.

After speaking for a few minutes and attempting to catch lost times, I departed  the bakery with sorrow in my heart for Samuel, but happy that I had found an answer to my inquest. I was happy to have reconnected with two old friends, one with old memories, and the other with all memories lost.

Paseo Atocha

Paseo Atocha, Ponce PR (Foto Edil Rentas)

Las viejas calles de mi pueblo, 

tumultuosas, parlanchinas,

abarrotadas de transeuntes 

despistados por sus compras,

llenas de olor a frituras,

a café expreso y domplines,

adornada de flores en venta,

de billeteros y limpiabotas,

de palomas en vuelo,

de viejos predicadores

de ventanas abiertas 

y balcones adornados

con tapices polvorientos,

carros cotorrientos van,

guaguas gritonas vienen,

anunciando los especiales

del sàbado en la mañana,

y la gente alborotada entra

en cada comercio abierto

desmadrando escaparates 

como si el fin se acercara,

y en las vitrinas adornadas

los pobres cuelgan sus ojos

soñando lo que no tienen,

lo que quisieran comprar

y en la esquina el limosnero

extiende su mísera mano,

el niño triste lo mira 

y el adulto lo desprecia

pero una mano generosa

le aventa una moneda,

toda la calle era bullicio,

toda la calle era vida,

queda, bajo la hojarasca

de los robles rosados

las pisadas taconadas

retumbando en sus paredes 

y la nostalgia dormida.

Elvin Pierantoni

"Connection"

Many years ago we visited the National Zoo in Washington DC. One of the exibits was a huge gorilla that was in a cage set beside a walkway, with a wall to wall glass partition dividing the cage and the people. Immediately following the glass on the bottom there was a ledge about foot and a half high where the gorilla sat, with his back on the concrete column, and his right side against the glass. He was sitting with his right leg up and bent towards his chest and his right elbow resting on his knee, while his left leg lay rested on the floor. 

I approached the glass and stood right by him, he looked up into my eyes, directly into my eyes, for a several seconds, then looked at another person's eyes, then another, then another. He kept switching, his look from one person to another, as if he was seeking an answer. An answer no one there could provide. I mean, we were separated by only a few inches of glass, but I could almost read his thoughts, his never ending question. Why am I here? His demeanor was so human, the way he sat, relaxed, thinking, observing, it left a mark in my heart and in my mind. Although he was in a safe place, well taken care off, I'm sure he would have preferred to be in the wild. Since that day I view caged animals in a different way. I'm happy just to see then on a National Geografics documentary, in the wild.