Her nickname is a play of words in Spanish: Bella which she undoubtedly is! And Bella-ka (proper spelling is Bellaca) meaning deceitful which she was as a teenager, especially to her parents. The fact of the matter is that Sasha has grown even more beautiful and is always concerned for the well-being of family and friends. I don’t think that her teenage nickname applies anymore. I’ll have to come up with a better one; it will undoubtedly be based on bella!
Her age and the fact that one of my celebrity crushes is making ads for insomnia products has got me feeling pretty old.
Mis tres tíos maternos siempre la llamaron “La Mar” y no lo gramáticamente correcto “El Mar”. Y tenian razón: La Mar es femenina, es temperamental; Puede obsequiarte exquisitos regalos o puede desencadenar su furia contra ti.
Desde niño siempre oí a mis familiares decir “Debe ser que ha bajado Serafín”, cuándo iba al litoral desde mi ciudad natal de Caracas y la mar estaba picada.
Mis tres tíos maternos: Paco, Pin y Tolin inmigraron a Venezuela junto con mi tía Titi y una niña sin sobrenombre pero llamada con diversos nombres por familiares y amigos: Mi Madre. Escapaban juntos a sus padres de la tiranía de Franco; Mi abuelo peleó en la guerra civil de España, en el lado perdedor y el nuevo gobierno le dijo: Puedes vivir en cualquier parte del mundo menos en España. Mis tres tíos emigraron a Venezuela ya siendo jovenes y nunca perdieron su acento español a diferencia de mi tía y mi madre
Mi tío Serafín siempre se ocupo que la empresa de su hermano mayor operará eficientemente, lo que la hizo crecer exitosamente. Lamentablemente, esto le sirvió muy poco a la hora de retirarse, cuando de verdad lo necesitaba y claramente lo merecía.
Lo que más le gustaba a mi tío Serafín era salir a pescar con su hermano menor, mi tío Juan, en su pequeño y austero cayuco (“La Victoria”, nombrado como su madre) anclado entre lujosas lanchas y yates en un magnífico club de playa, al lado de Naiguata. Me acuerdo tener que ayudar a mi primo Juanin a achicar y revisar “La Victoria” para que estuviera preparada para su padre, mi tío Juan, y nuestro tío Serafín. También me acuerdo cuando estando en Caracas, y se aparecían mis tíos Serafín y Juan con sendos refrigeradores portátiles, repletos de pescados qué compartian con mi madre y otros familiares.
Como acertadamente dijo una de mis dos hermosas primas (sus únicas hijas: María Fernanda ‘Nanda’ y Verónica): “Paz a su alma y a celebrar con Juanito Chipiron, el Whisky que pidió en el Hospital”.
Just as I have pointed out in years past, most Spaniards and Latin Americans won’t wish you a “Happy New Year” but a prosperous one. I guess if you have a prosperous year, it will be a happy one. After the hardships of 2020, we all deserve a prosperous 2021.
Very few days of 2020 have been great; And they have all involved seeing family and friends, specially my mother and sister, and my children (even if it was on video) and their respective boyfriend/girlfriend. Alas, I won’t be physically seeing them for the holidays because of the coronavirus, like a majority of people around the world. I’ll be happy with group video calls, hopefully including one with my college buddies.
This year has not been kind to me: It all began in May when my Mom (who started living with me since 2019) had her flight to the US cancelled, from a visit to her native Spain, because of covid-19 restrictions implemented one week before her return flight. Then on 9/11 my divorce from Mik became final after 37 years of wonderful marriage, and alas 2½ years of legal separation. Unfortunately, I lost a step-brother in my native Venezuela (QEPD Pablo Jose) and a close friend who had retired to his dream home in Dana Point (RIP Vince) to covid-19. I also lost my dear mother-in-law (RIP Faye) who thankfully passed away peacefully in her sleep.
But even though 2020 was an awful year, I also had some great days: Every Monday morning I have a video call with my Mom in Spain and my Sister in Venezuela. I had lunch with my Daughter and her boyfriend on Thanksgiving, and then had an unexpected video call with my Son (who lives in NorCal) at the end of the day. I was also introduced to his beautiful girlfriend. Just last week, I had a Zoom call with some of my high-school classmates; We set up a WhatsApp group and have been posting all kind of messages. Even though I keep in regular touch with three of them, I had not been in contact with most of these people in 45 years —As opposed to the US, in Venezuelan high schools, you stay together with about 40 people in your ‘section’ and the professors come to your classroom; You develop life-long friendships with most of these people—
Even though I conduct most of my contract work via emails and phone calls, I have a cherished ‘drop-by’ routine when I visit the Irvine office of Spireon in the middle of the week, seeing everyone shortly, and meeting with the engineering and managerial staff for Intellectual Property matters. So the WFH reality has not really impacted me but I realize what a hermit I’ve become. I live by a wonderful Town Center, and I used to run errands or just be outside almost daily, on my wheelchair (I’m handicapped with restricted use of my hands and arms because of a skiing misfortune). Now I just go outside once or twice a week, when is completely necessary and almost always acompanied by one of my caregivers. For work, I also conduct a quarterly IP Committee meeting and had not been able to schedule them; Just a few days ago I was able to conduct a productive Zoom meeting and get IP matters back on-track for the year.
When my old company PROCON (PROtect & CONnect) got acquired by a VC several years ago, my old friend and CEO was ousted and he formed a new company (Advantage Automotive Analítics) that currently competes in some markets with Spireon. His new company is also in Irvine and I would visit its offices every couple of months since I have many wonderful friendships with ex-coworkers, who ended up working at AAA. My old boss is also responsible for my new career in IP from being a “glorified hacker” to CIO (Career Is Over!) I miss visiting AAA and even though one could qualify these visits as akward, that’s another routine that I enjoyed and was not able to do in 2020.
I currently live by myself and none of my lifestyle would be possible, without my wonderful caregivers. I usually have daily help from 9am to 3pm but what gives me great flexibility, is to rely on a night caregiver that transfers me to bed and helps me with my end-of-day routines. She is outstanding as are all my other caregivers!
When I compare my situation with other people who are even able-bodied, I realize how grateful I should be. Even though 2020 has been an awful year, I am thankful for my health, my family and friends, my caregivers and my co-workers; And for everything I have been able to accomplish this year.
If you have previously visited my blog, you know I wrote with great passion about the original 9/11 in A Change of Seasons.
This year, I feel like a personally devastating 9/11 is happening to me. You see, on Labor Day I met with my paralegal; she was notarizing my signature to end my marriage of 37 years! I am a romantic at heart, and even though she could file the final divorce papers that day, I asked her to wait until 9/11 so I could say that I was legally married to beautiful Mik for 37 years —Mik: nickname for my ex-wife Sally, that I gave her after she corrected me; her maiden last name McFerren is pronounced MikFerren and not MacFerren— Even though we were legally married at the Santa Ana courthouse on 8/12/1983, very few people knew about it, we consider our actual wedding day to be 9/10/1983, when we were married in the suburbs of Akron, Ohio, at a little church, where Mik’s parents, family and friends worshipped. We actually did not celebrate with our California friends until we returned from Ohio —We hosted a great party cruising on the Kon Tikiin beautiful Newport Beach harbor—
The last two and a half years have been awful, but we had 35 years of wonderful marriage. So why are we divorcing? It seems I was getting too mean! Mik would disregard my skiingmisfortune handicap and make me late for all my personal and business appointments; a trait that does not define me! As a matter of fact, people know that if I make an appointment with them and they’re five minutes late and I don’t hear from them, I simply leave. I resolved that issue by telling Mik that my appointments were ½ hour earlier. But I am the male of the species and I have to take responsibility in the matter: We mismanaged a lot of money, and Mik decided that the best solution for my immediate future, was to retire me to a nursing home; Of course, after the wonderful life that I had been leading, I didn’t like this proposition at all. That and some financial decisions which I didn’t agree with, turned me mean again and she filed for a legal separation after avoiding marriage counseling that I had proposed. Because of my condition, I might end up in a nursing home after all, but at the age of 55, I wasn’t ready for it. I guess we have irreconcilable differences.
But not all should be considered doom and gloom; We have two (adult) children: A handsome young man and a beautiful girl (I know she is now a young lady, but she will always be my beautiful girl) . And I was able to provide a great life for them and Mik. They grew up in heavenly SoCal and I have always been able to provide great homes for them. Our children are not saddled with student loans and they attended well-known universities, including studies abroad. I was lucky to be able to provide financial resources, most of the time, and Mik worked as she pleased or not at all whenever possible. We were also lucky to have exotic vacations in my native Venezuela, Spain and Hawaii as well as the beautiful US southwest. All my material accomplishments were always accompanied with immeasurable love.
No matter what the future holds, I will keep telling my doctors and therapists, our families and friends and most people I meet that I wouldn’t be alive without the love and attention that Mik provided me during my recuperation from my skiing misfortune. I have always been a pretty active guy challenging myself in marathonic sports events and it could not have been easy to see your spouse almost die and with many tubes coming out of his body while in the ICU and reduced to a severely phisically handicapped person thereafter.
So what will I do know? Will I reinvent myself? 2020 has taught us not to make detailed plans because they can be unexpectedly derailed. One thing that I know for certain is that where two magnificent towers stood side by side, now a gleaming skyscraper has been proudly built. Alas, it stands by itself!
As most of my friends know, Led Zeppelin is one of my favorite rock bands —Some others include Supertramp (go figure!), The Rolling Stones and Jimmy Hendrix; I’m really an old-school Venezuelan— One of my friends remembered the fact and he played some Led Zeppelin songs on the piano, that he had rehearsed for a recent end-of-year college-friends get-together (What a guy).
I have three citizenships: Venezuelan American and Spanish (Thanks to a “Historical Memory” Spanish law and to my maternal grandfather who fought in the Spanish Civil War); But I wish I was a Californio. California, specifically SoCal, has defined my adult life, and I consciously made the decision to study at UC Irvine and to live here.
Just today, I changed the ringtone for my (ex?) wife to this part of the song:
September is a great month for sports. Baseball’s pennant races are heating up and the excitement of the World Series is just around the corner. The NFL and College Football previews are mind-boggling and a great distraction for any arm-chaired quarterback getting a leg up on his buddies.
The beaches of Southern California are at their best. The throngs of tourists are gone. The waters of the Pacific are still warm and somehow seem cleaner and more inviting. It is a great time to perfect bodysurfing tucks or to just horse around on the boogie boards with the kids. If I am lucky, I may even squeeze in an epic ocean kayak paddle with my water-dog friend before the winter storms exile me to the snow of the mountains
When September rolls around, there really is only one sport that consumes me: Coaching my kids’ Soccer teams. There is the challenge of learning 25-odd names and faces and the quirks that go with them. There is the sense of accomplishment of organizing reluctant parents into a circle of friends who turn into rabid Soccer fans every Saturday. There is the joy of meeting previous team members and friends on the fields. There is the pride of winning games and the satisfaction of turning losses into lessons of sportsmanship. September means coaching Youth Soccer and it is always a magical time of the year.
I can sense the changing of the seasons. My Sunday mountain biking rides are getting more pleasurable. The unbearable heat of the summer is almost gone. Cool, overcast mornings are soon replaced with glorious sunny afternoons that intensify the great feeling of being in the outdoors. This September there is another change in the wind. It is not crisp like the autumn air. It is not radiant like the equinoctial Sun. But it is more palpable. It is easy to feel it in the horrific pictures replayed on the TV, in the disturbing headlines of the newspapers and in the strident chatter of the radio.
Something is changing. It is history itself. Like watching the images of the fall of the Berlin Wall or the failed anti-Gorbachev putsch that signaled the disintegration of the Soviet Union, I find myself hypnotized, with the clear perception that an important historical event is unfolding right before my eyes.
I cannot help but share in the collective feelings of outrage, apprehension, reflection and determination resulting from the events leading to the now christened “First War of the Century.” Pundits and talking-heads seem to have all the solutions and provide us with multiple scenarios of how the future might unfold. But nobody knows; History is fraught with remarkable, unforeseen events. I do know one thing: Next September will be a great month for sports!
Originally written 18 years ago, before I discovered BlogSpot and WordPress.
I have many Guardian Angels; I call them Framily! They have helped me in one way or another, especially after my spinal cord injury. But there is one woman in particular that is my main Guardian Angel and that’s my mom. She does all the things mothers do and then some; She helps me financially from her meager resources, whenever I need it. Ever since my skiing misfortune, she visits me for about a month every year. She has a heart condition for which she takes two pills everyday. She then proceeds to walk 5 kilometers to do food shopping and to cook up a storm —She’s Spanish; she uses the international metric system— All she asks in return is for good conversation, occasional technical support and that I pick a good movie or program to watch on TV.
The duty is reciprocal. A few years ago, I devised a game in order to remotely check on ourselves on a daily basis; we pick a phone wallpaper from APOD or Bing and then tell each other our choices for the day. I call her every Sunday like I will be doing in a few hours. And we use WhatsApp to communicate with each other.
So am I mama’s boy? Or are my mom and I each other’s best Guardian Angels? That’s like asking if today is April Fool’s Day or Easter Sunday!
