"Confesions in a Breakup. She said enough was enough

Every relationship comes with risks and benefits. With this Valentine's Day coming up. I wanted to Confess.

I have to confess that I have taken her for granted. I always expected her to be there to fill my needs. It didn't matter what time of day or night, if I needed her I expected her to deliver, and she did.

 I would be with her at home. making sure she was well seasoned and appetizing. She has been with me a very long time.

Other times I would go out and visit her at the WaWa or my favorite Chinese /Thai place. She would always be ready for me. Piping hot and ready for me.

I had used and abused her willingness to please me. I never, in my wildest dreams, ever thought that she would deny me, and this time she said an emphatic, "NO!" .

Last June I began having health problems . I went to doctors for all kinds of pain and digestive distress.  Originally, I was diagnosed with diverticulitis, a gastrointestinal disorder that caused a lot of pain and discomfort. The symptoms subsided , but never went away.

In October I started experiencing a resurgence of pain and discomfort. I was without medical insurance at the time and was trying to self heal.

She was giving me all of the signals that she was not happy. She told me that I had better start paying attention to her.  She also informed me that if I didn't listen there would be consequences. I ignore her and started to avoid her.

I didn't listen. My symptoms gradually worsened. By December I was desperate .

I had to go to the emergency room without any medical insurance and was worried about the cost of it all. The pain that she inflicted on me was so much that I had to go to the emergency room, cost be dammed .

I  was sent home on antibiotics.  She didn't even come near me . By the next week my symptoms had worsened  and  I returned to the hospital where they kept me for the weekend .

I asked her  "What have I done to you". She said that I took advantage of her. Forcing myself on her whenever I wanted and that these are the consequences. I had to leave her and break up. She no longer was the person that I knew. I avoided her,  even if we were in the same place.

A week later I was again in the hospital for almost a week. She never visited me . I was devastated without her . I began to loose weight. I had lost over 25 lbs over the breakup. I continued to loose weight. Is addition to the diverticulitis I also had Gastritis, that's when the stomach lining is inflamed due to the stomach acid thinning the stomach walls. For the next coming weeks I wondered if I would ever see her again.

After several weeks of pain I  started to feel better . I wanted to see her more and more of her. 

She started to visit me again in the last couple of weeks in small doses and told me that she was willing to reconcile if I met certain conditions.

The Conditions were:

1. Not taking her for granted and expecting her to see me more that 3 times daily.
2. I should not want more than I can have. 
3. Appreciate her more with less.
4. Don't expect her to be too spicy.
5. I have to take better care with my health.
6. Include little roughage every now and then.
7. A little exercise wouldn't hurt.   

Her name is Comida Buena  and we are back together .

Overall I lost 32 lbs and have started back at the gym. Most of the weight loss was due to the illness and not having an appetite. For a Foodie like me it was a tough hit. I just did not want to eat because the pain I was having.  I was thinking that I would have to find a way to live without food. I was missing simple things like morning coffee and eating for pleasure.

The weight loss is the silver lining in a long and arduous Illness that basically wiped me out for at least 4 months. I am just now getting my strength back.

My Love of Food has not diminished. 

I now take more time to plan and eat my meals. I just try to appreciate it more with less.  If dine out with my daughter, another foodie,  I usually split an item.

I plan on taking more care of myself and continue loosing weight. 

Happy Valentine's

Unemployment, Jobs , and Purpose

I would not be able to talk about being unemployed without first talking about employment.  
                 

Since 1982 I have been working in many different occupations. I originally was going corporate with a background in advertising sales. I was a pretty good advertising salesman. I was not from the "Madmen" time, but more of the Charlie Sheen, "Wall Street" era. My partner and me were out in the field selling advertising space to local businesses for a local Free TV Guide magazine.

We had a mentor, Candido, who we looked up to because he was the only Latino with a six-figure income that we knew of. He worked for AT&T before the breakup. He was responsible for negotiating major technology and corporate deals. He worked his way up from an encyclopedia salesman to an executive account representative. He was responsible for the original ATM machines, called MAC (money access center). These machines appeared all of the sudden throughout the city.

I was doing everything to make it.  Both my partner and me who would later become my brother -in-Law, Roberto were trying to break out of our lower social environment.
I felt that my future was set. I asked my girlfriend, Roberto’s sister, to marry me on New Years Eve in 1984, even though I was broke. All of the my sales profits went back into the business. I was on my way to corporate bliss. I had become a confidant sales account representative. I was bringing in real money for the ground floor enterprise. I had negotiated thousands of dollars in advertising contracts. If I hadn’t invested my commissions I would have been earning about a thousand dollars a week in 1983.

I was married at City Hall in April of 1985 and celebrated with a humble gathering of friends and family at the house I grew up in. My father cooked up a feast and I was happy to be married. I had all of the confidence in the world and a real faith in my abilities and my future, when my whole plan fell through.

The Monday after, I found out our partner, Randy Williams, a squirrely looking man who looked liked like an African American version of Paulie from the Godfather, stole all of our liquid assets and disappeared. Roberto had his safety net. He had applied for a civil service job and was hired some time before. I, on the other hand was fully physically and emotionally invested into the business and had no such net. 

I was devastated and experienced my first bout with depression. For those that don’t know, depression is not the normal feeling down or sad. It’s usually the overwhelming inability to deal or bounce back from a crisis. This was my first crisis. This was supposed to be my path to financial success and freedom from my humble beginnings. It was not the future that my wife and I had counted on. This wrecked my confidence and forever affected my relationship with my wife. It probably affected all of my subsequent relationships since.

After loosing my chosen path and falling without a net I had to find more earthbound work. I eventually after some time started delivering pizza while my then wife was delivering my son Charles (Bobby) Robert, then eventually finding a retail sales job at Buster Brown Franchise store.  I worked my way to assistant manager and became a Mallrat. The funny thing about working retail  in a Mall is that you get to know what’s going to be on sale at the other stores before the public does. All of your friend start asking about getting a discount. Fortunately for the discount, I was able to shoe both Bobby and Sarah, My daughter. I was also able to maintain a new wife, property and a living, even though it was not to last.

In 1993 was laid off due to the store that I worked from was closing and went back to school for some time. I was separated and divorcing at the time and put all of my angry energy to school. After that I ended up doing and AmeriCorps Term of service. That was 1995. I became more interested in making a difference in children and their families’ lives. I had found my next purpose.  I have worked the next 17 years in non-profit in children, teens and family programs for community centers. I had always felt that I needed to have a purpose. Being unemployed had made it challenging to say the least to continue with a purpose.

I felt that the good that I did would come back to me somehow.  I have gained a lot of experience and consider myself very capable of doing many different things. I have been a supervisor, interviewer and workshop facilitator and yet I still feel unprepared for the job seeking experience that I am currently doing.

I was completely caught off guard with my being laid off of my last job. I had been told the whole summer that things were rough. I was given extra responsibilities because I had the right "Skills-Set" and facilitated some life skills training at the high school level. This made me think that I was a vital part of the organization. The fact that I could be in different positions within the organization made me realize that I do have certain skill sets that were vital to the organization. Even when I was told that I would be let go, I thought that at the last minute things would turn around. They didn’t.

I was devastated. I did not tell any of my co-workers until the last day. I was angry that I worked so hard for the summer. I had been working sick. I didn’t know that I had diverticulitis and was in constant abdominal pain.  I continued to work the summer subconsciously trying to prove my worth to the organization. My sacrifice for the job made the realization even more devastating. I usually have a comedian’s sense of humor. If something happened bad to me I would find someway to make a story out of it. I would tell my coworkers these stories. I would say things like, " You know Marriage is temporary, Divorce is forever!” I had nothing to say that day. I worked as if everything was normal. I told a few coworkers and left. I had been thoroughly embarrassed.

Being unemployed as a young man is different from being unemployed at near 50 years old. It doesn’t matter that the economy is bad. It’s a blow to my abilities that I was not able to be smart enough to avoid it at my age. I just couldn’t move back with my parents and pick myself up. This is my third crisis I will talk about the second one later. I tackled the crisis like the others. I try to get busy in order to get my mind off the crisis.

I applied for unemployment and signed up for job search through the state. The state’s sight is not the place to look for work. I know from my experience as a recruitment representative. The State’s career site posts jobs that are rarely looked at by the employers. When I was on the other end looking for applicants I would have to physically logon to the site. The candidates that were being recommended had no experience in the positions that I was filling. The other job sites aren’t that much better.

I do the usual applying to jobs via the Internet and wait for calls that do not come. Sometimes I don’t even get a confirmation. I used to look in the newspaper for the job listings and send resumes or show up to advertised hiring events. Those days are gone. I am constantly looking at my resume to make sure its different and that that might be why I am not getting any calls. Sometimes I get sick of looking at it.

I was telling my students during the summer when facilitating work readiness training that the job applications process is actually designed to reject applicants out of the process. In this economy with so many people applying for so few positions hiring managers design the process to go through many applications. There are even companies that have set up apps just to process applications without any human review at all.

Having that knowledge doesn’t make my job search easier. The hardest thing about applying online and never knowing how you are doing. You never get a call and you cannot call anyone to check on the status of your application. The government site is not worth it at all. There is no guarantee that your application is even getting looked at.

I recently went to a career fair in which the venders did not have many jobs. They were offering trade careers in bar-tending, cosmetology along with for profit colleges. I felt that I was being taken advantage of. It was a real waste of my time.

I try to remain hopeful and am continuing my job search. I am old school.

Job means purpose.

Elvis, Moms and Simply chicken

 

When I was in 7th grade I became an Elvis Fan. I had always been aware of the great legend. When Elvis died August 16^th, 1977, I was bombarded with Elvis movies, music and documentaries. My first Convention was an Elvis one, not Star Trek, as most of my friends believe. I bought memorabilia and album after album. I met some of his back up singers and was thrilled to be there. I was trying to get all of his work. 

I had seen all of Elvis' movies and liked them. I started to dress like him. I started to play guitar and sing his songs. I eventually gave up singing (I couldn't sing) and took up drums. I eventually became a professional drummer for a while as a young adult. I had Elvis posters along with now lesser-known the Beautiful Jayne Kennedy , who according to her was too black to be an actress on Charlie’s Angels. I also had, of course the black velvet zodiac signs in my room. Elvis' image had the wholesomness of being a good guy, but could also be attractive to women. Since I was a goodie-goodie I waned to be more like Elvis. 

I felt a common bond with Elvis because of his legendary closeness with his mother and his love of music.

I would hear stories about Elvis and the special relationship he had with his mom. I also knew that Elvis had a twin that didn't survive birth. I had brothers that didn't survive. My would be little brother, lived for 6 hours and was even named Mitchel. I sometime wonder what my life would have been like with a younger brother. Like Elvis, I  was the only male that survived.  

I began to alter my clothing to look like his Las Vegas Jump suit, Wide legging my pants, I bought large collar leisure jackets and walked around the house saying “Ugh,ugh, That's alright momma", and "Thank you very much !" in my best Memphis Elvis accent.

My parents have been together for more than 65 years. I have always considered myself lucky to still have them. The same is true today as it was back then with most young struggling parents; the further along the family ages the further in fortune and prosperity. Since I was the last-born, I didn’t have to experience the struggles that my sisters might have had growing up. Although we were far from financial security, we were comfortable. Through my father's work ethic and my mothers rearing I was always clothed, fed, and at 6 years old had my own room in a house that my parents purchased in 1970. A 3-story brick row-house in Nicetown Philadelphia. 

I remembered my mother would sing as she cooked diner. I could tell by the smell of sofrito. The aroma of garlic, peppers onions and cilantro sauteing permeated the whole house. She would be listening to my cousin Alberto Martino's afternoon radio show.  He was pioneering Latin Disc Jokey in the city at WTEL, the local AM Spanish station. She never liked cooking. She was just taking care of her family. She would pass the time singing along to the songs that came over the radio into the house. I would be watching Gilligan’s' Island or The Monkees, until dinnertime, after I did my catholic school homework of course.

My mother has a combination of strong-mindedness demeanor with a compassionate nature. She never liked hearing bad news. She was so empathetic feeling others pain, that she that she would get sick. I get the feeling that she had some kind of clairvoyance or empathic ability. 

Now it’s a  real possibility that she may go to a nursing facility against my wishes.

 I was a momma's boy and now proud to be, but wasn’t always. There was no way of getting out of that role. I was the 4th child and as mentioned earlier, the only boy that survived. My mother had seven miscarriages in her life. They were all males. From the 50's to the late 60s she would have incomplete pregnancies. 

I was also in danger. I was born 2 months premature. I was placed in and incubator, an isolation chamber in which I could mature until I reached 9 months. It was thought that the incubation would help with the development of a premature baby in those days. My mother was not able to touch or hold me when I was an infant. Preemies are very sensitive to touch. This is probably why I have issues with close contact. A hug for more than 3 seconds and I am uncomfortable.  She always made me feel special. 

My mother cooked the usual Puerto Rican dishes. I never knew the following dishes were poor food, like: Plain Rice and Beans, Potatoes and Bacalao with Olive Oil, Rice and Eggs and even Rice with canned Corned beef. Once in a while my mother would cook something that no one else cooks. 

Whether it was necessity, ingenuity or both, my mother did make a stewed chicken that was very good and simple, even without sofrito.

Recipe as follows

Ingredients

• Whole fryer Chicken cut up in pieces
• 2 cups diced Onions or 2 large onions
• Water, enough to cover chicken and then some
• 1/3 cup White Vinegar
• Salt &Pepper to taste
• Half teaspoon garlic powder

Place chicken in boiling water.

Dice onions and add to the stewing chicken, add rest of ingredients and stew at medium heat for about 45 minutes. The chicken will be tender and you can serve it over rice or vegetables.

My mom was and still is a native New Yorker; she had an adventurous spirit and always liked to go out. When I was younger she would just pack herself and me with some clothes,  get on the train and end up in either Brooklyn or the Bronx with relatives. She didn't worry about planning too much or even when she was lost. She always eventually got there. 

I believe I have adopted this philosophy of not planning vacations too much. I usually just plan a destination and go. Mom is about to go to a nursing home now. She wishes to see her great grandchildren and is not able to. She wants to visit Puerto Rico and cannot go. She never learned to swim, but loves the ocean and is not able to feel sand or the water. She is limited physically and has been confined to a wheel chair since 2006. She makes her wishes known and I have tried to accommodate them. Whenever I visit them in another state. I make sure we are going out somewhere. 

Her spirit is still there but her body has been betrayed by the one impulse that her and millions like her cannot resist. The desire for sweets and the slow degeneration of the body due to diabetes. It is my hope that she finds comfort soon.

I love you Mom

I feel sometimes that I have failed because I haven’t been able to be successful enough, prosperous enough to make her life more comfortable.

In choosing to help others with all of the Youth Work that I have done in the last 20 years. I have failed to help my own. It is a regret that I will have to deal with. 

Life sometimes gives you second chances. I have a grandson.

Becomming Puerto Rican, Annie, Serrano Ham, Chicken Fricassee and Nicknames

The Nicetown neighborhood had no other Hispanics so it never dawned on me that I was of Puerto Rican heritage, because it really didn’t matter. All I wanted to do was play with my friends. I knew that when my uncles would come over for the weekends and play instruments that this was a Puerto Rican thing. I just didn't know that I was part of it.

My friends and I would go to Germantown Avenue to buy Earth Wind and Fire and The Commodores singles from the record store. We would hide in parent's basements and listen to Richard Pryor and Red Fox records, snickering at all of the curse words. I joke about it now, saying that I grew up Black. I watched Soul Train because American Bandstand was too bland. I went to the GQ shop on Germantown Ave to get stylish clothes. There was also on our block, the Reverend's family that sold fish and chicken dinners to raise funds for his church.  I would get the fish and grits.Truly, most of my socialization was with African American culture. The socialization process has been a such a part of me that to this day I am really comfortable with African Americans.

Even when I would go to Puerto Rico for the summer I always came back to North Philly. To this day being fair skinned usually gives others a perceived freedom to say what they think about people of color. Most people assume that I am full Italian, so their assumptions give them these freedoms.

I have been in situations that people talk around me about Hispanics and African Americans in derogatory terms and it always made me uncomfortable. Sometimes I would take offense and other times would keep quiet. African Americans always made me feel accepted, more than any other group. There were times that I was uncomfortable being around Philly Puerto Ricans because they didn't have the same experiences that I did.

There was the one summer when I was about ten that I went to Puerto Rico and stayed with my eldest sister Anne, She was born in New York and ended up in Puerto Rico, She has a very tan completion and lived a socialite's life. Her husband, Fernando, was a Spaniard who left the Catholic Seminary to marry my sister. She stole her husband from a life in the priesthood. He had several businesses. He imported products from Spain and other countries. He had a Garage and Tire Shop in Caguas Puerto Rico.  The Shop was above an egg hatchery where every morning I would be greeted by dozens of chirping chicks. My sister was and is beautiful, smart, and tall for a Puerto Rican women, about 5'9. She is considered the family matriarch. What she says goes, even to this day. Fernando was slightly shorter. He was bilingual speaking both Castilian Spanish with the lisp and English. My sister had two daughters. I was an uncle when I was just a year old. My sister would do something that I have never seen in other families. Whatever my sister was doing during the day didn't matter, about 4:00 every afternoon she would drop whatever she was doing and go to her room and get made up. She would put on makeup (and in the 60's and 70s it was no small thing). She put on a girdle, false eyelashes, make up, hairspray and a fresh  dress or an outfit. She would be ready before her husband came in the house. I believe that is something that he appreciated. She would serve him dinner (me and my nieces had already eaten by then), and they would have conversations over dinner and later he would watch the horse races. He was also a owner of a Thoroughbred. Later on Fernando would offer me some Iberico or Serrano ham. The Ham had its own stand or rack and he would cut thin slices and offer me some. It was a thinly slice of salty pork that would just melt in your mouth. The ham was totally cured so it could sit out at room temperature. Later when I went to Spain I saw for myself the fascination for the black footed iberico ham raised and fed acorns.

File Copy: Isla Verde Beach

File Copy : El Yunque Rain For

My sister and her husband had two condominiums, one in Luquillo and the other in Isla Verde near the International airport. Both condos overlooked the beautiful beaches. Since my brother-in -law was so successful; my sister had plenty of time to be a socialite. She met with social clubs, taught exercise classes before they called them aerobics and always had time to serve as tour guide to my mom and me. We saw many of the tourist sites from the EL Yunque rain Forest to the Castillo.

Most children that go to Puerto Rico do not have a good experience, greatly due to family members that don't have time to show young people around. These children stay in their relatives houses dying of boredom then when asked about Puerto Rico, they usually say that there was nothing there.

I came back that summer talking Spanish and with a great tan. I once was scolded by an older man for throwing a chewing gum wrapper on the ground. He shocked me into picking it up by saying Look ! in Spanish and “Pick it up!” It startled me into realizing that what I had been doing in North Philly was not to be done in Puerto Rico.

It wore off eventually and I got back to being from Nicetown eventually loosing my Spanish. But in the back on my head I always though that I was special because I would spend summers in such a beautiful place . Some of my neighbors didn’t go anywhere. There were other times that I stayed home for the summers. I never threw a piece f trash on the ground again.

Playing in the street didn’t take much. We all had great imagination. Chuck, Vincent, Maryann, Bryant, and Kim were all friends that lived on the block. Vincent was African American but was an albino. Somewhere he got the nickname, Cheesy, because he was like the color of white cheese. I never knew if he liked his nickname, but as in Puerto Rican children you don’t have a choice. At least it wasn’t as harsh as some Puerto Rican nicknames like sin zapato( without shoes) or Coco Duro, as in coconut head ( meaning that your thick sculled or hard headed). I always wanted a nickname but never got one. That is probably I am always nicknaming others.

When My father wasn't working, he would be fixing something electronic or cooking. I watched him cook because that was the only thing that I was really interested in ... Eating. 

He took me to the garage once to see if I would follow in his footsteps. I must have been a little disappointing because I didn't have the Grease-monkey gene. I would help my father by bringing him tools and then I would disappear. My father would scream out, "Where are you!?" and I would say  I'm in the bathroom washing my hands. That's when both me and my father knew that this wasn't for me. My father knew that I liked his other passion, cooking. He would call me into the kitchen to help cook, by peeling  potatoes or adding some ingredient to a stew.

My father would sometimes make a his Chicken Fricassee, which is another, break the rules, family recipe just like the Spaghetti with Garlic.

He would cut up chicken or sometimes goat pieces and fricassee, or slowly braise them, in Welch's Grape Juice instead of wine( the rule breaker). He would of course add the usually Puerto Rican Sofrito (See Daisy Martinez's Recipe for Sofrito, its close to mine). He would add raisins, a bay leaf, some cut up potatoes and braise the poultry or meat  in the juice until it was tender and serve it over white rice. If you want the quantity of ingredients just let me know.

I didn't know it then, but those summers gave me the back-story of my life, surrounding me with memories like a warm blanket in. I love Puerto Rico and go there every chance I get. I love taking groups of friends to the island as well. I give them the tours like my sister used to. It later inspired me to find out why my family left such a beautiful place, but I will save that story for another time .

File Copy : Serrano Ham

File Copy: El Moro, Old San Juan Puerto Rico

How to make Puerto Rican Coffee, and The Spanish American War

José Luis Hernández Castillo

Puerto Rican children are too often introduced to coffee at an early age. Coffee is very much a cultural tradition. During the Colonial period, Puerto Rico used to be a large coffee producer. Now Coffee is less produced but there are more gourmet versions of the famous Youco Coffee  that is really "mountain" grown. The mountainous climate make great conditions for coffee.
My father would tell stories of his Grandfather Nicolas, the Italian, who ended up in Puerto Rico and started the whole thing. He would tell me that my Great Grandfather Nicolas who arrived in Puerto Rico from Italy in 1890 and loved his ranch and horse so much that he wouldn't get off of his horse to drink his morning coffee. He would ride his horse into the house and his wife would hand him his coffee. Nicolas arrived in Puerto Rico just 8 years before the Spanish American War in 1898.

The result of this short war that Puerto Rico became a territory of the US along with the Philippines and Guam. Cuba had been promised and eventually gained their independence. Before the War, Cuba and Puerto Rico were known as two wings of the same bird, both seeking Independence from Spain. Puerto Rico was never to see Independance from either Spain or the US. Both of these islands have more in common that any other island or all of Latin American. The food is similar, The evolution of music, and customs and especially the coffee.

The US granted Cuba its Independence, but their influence on the island never wavered. Corruption and American greed influenced a young aspiring baseball player to create true independence for Cuba. In what some might say a double-cross; The US was expecting a new democratic republic, instead Castro gained power and instituted Cuba as a socialist country.

File Copy: Che and  Fidel

Whatever side you are on regarding the Cuban issue;  that fact is the long standing embargo and the fall of the USSR has negatively affected Cuba and elevated Puerto Rico's status as the main Caribbean destination for millions of American and International tourists each year. 

The Spanish American War made the US a world power. Spain eventually lost its empire. Who knows, perhaps if the War didn't happen, I might have been born in Italy. My genealogy research indicated that Nicolas was from Italy. My family tells me that they were from Sicily. Perhaps the 1910 Census didn't differentiate between Italians and Sicilians.

If a man would ride his horse indoors to get coffee it must have been some damn good coffee.

My Mother used to make Puerto Rican Coffee. She would use a Colador, which was a cloth coffee filter used after she boiled the coffee in water. She would wait until the boiling mixture would rise at least twice, both times removing from the fire and then returning it to the fire until the boiling mixture would rise.

In a separate pot she would boil the milk. She would filter the coffee through the coladora and then pour the concentrated coffee extract into the milk and then add sugar. She would use Bustelo or Pilon Coffee Just as in the Puerto Rican Rice pot, the cloth filter got better with time. The color of the filter would eventually turn a dark brown from the Coffee. My mother would have coffee with milk and sometimes fill the coffee cup with crackers or toasted bread and consume the coffee and bread mixture with the spoon. We often had coffee and bread this way. My Dad would have his coffee black with sugar. My dad had a peculiar way of sitting. He would sit in a kitchen chair with one foot on the seat. His elbow resting on his elevated knee where he would sip his coffee.  To this day he can drink black coffee day and night and even go to sleep afterwards. That's why I assumed that black coffee was for strong men like Clark Kent ,who wore glasses like my father.

My friend Donny's mom used to make us coffee as well. I met Donny in fifth grade. He had just come recently from Puerto Rico and had been in Mr. Fairchild's ESL (English as a Second language Class). I would hang out on his house on Percy street. His step father was a big hard working man like my father. He had a Great genuine smile and would show it every time he would enter his house. He seemed genuinely happy to be home. He was a burly man with curly greying hair. To me, he resembled Tito Puente.  Donny's mom was a sweet short women who also reminded my of my mom. She was short but fierce. There seems to be a correlation with Short Puerto Rican women and strong personalities. My Daughter would definitely be included in that club. Donny's mom when making coffee used the same Puerto Rican method my mom did, but used very little coffee and added lots of sugar. It was more like coffee flavored milk and sugar than coffee. I never complained. It was cultural taboo to complain to an adult that offered you food or drink . As a matter of fact it was considered impolite to accept the offer of food the first time and polite to say no thank you when offered food. Even if I was starving I would say no thank you. Most Puerto Rican Hosts would still serve you. This only became confusing when I would go to house of other culture. I would say no thank you and the adult would say "okay," and walk away, leaving me famished.

"Buen Provecho", is a custom that if often confusing to others . It is customary to say "Buen Provecho" upon entering an area where people are already eating, as to say Bon Apetito in Italian. I really never understood wishing someone well if they are already eating. Being from Philadelphia , people that don't know us would consider us rude. Philadelphia custom dictate that you shouldn't say anything as to disturb the person eating. This has caused me problems in the past. If you didn't say Buen Provecho" everyone's eyes would come off their food and towards you. 

My favorite coffee is Pilon.  Its a dark roast coffee with surprisingly nuttier than bitter taste. Its still espresso roasted. I get the whole bean coffee online direct.  I like to grind the coffee myself. I use a home Italian Coffee maker the water steams up the bottom reservoir and filters up through the coffee grounds. This makes  for better coffee since American Drip Coffee makers do not heat up to the right temperature due to regulations that are designed to prevent scalding and the lawsuits that can follow.  

Disclaimer if you try this method, beware, its very hot.

I have reduced my coffee consumption to one cup a day. That is enough to kick start my day. At the time of this entry since I was romanticizing Coffee , I had two cups while dreaming of visiting Cuba.

Becomming a Nerd, Ms Bertha, Geramantown Ave, Slices of Pizza, and Charlotte's Web

File Photo

I am a Youth Worker that have made a career working with Young people. I ran supporting programs for children and teens in schools and currently run after school enrichment for High School Students. I often struggle with delivering the outcomes of the programs and my desire for youth to learn the experience of discovery that I did as a child.

The Time was the early 70s. There were no real after school programs. There was the PAL centers for athletes and the Boys Clubs for the more needy kids. Me, I used to go to the Nicetown Library after school after obtaining my Library card. Once I learned I could take books out for free. I thought it was great .

I was a skimmer with books. I would never read them through. I used to skim the encyclopedia, that we had, that must have cost my parents a fortune, reading for hours but never read a full article.

Ms Bertha was the little grey haired sweet low voiced authoritative African American librarian, She was small, and moved in small purposeful gestures. She was most geisha like in her movement. Just reaching for a pencil seemed like a ballet. She could get us to quiet down without screaming of talking down to us. Only with a smile that seem both serious and sincere. A much different approach than the nuns at the elementary school.

Amongst the posters of the Apollo Astronauts, John F Kennedy and Martin Luther King Jr. she asked gently about my interest. She would recommend books. I would read through the 5 Chinese Brothers, Paul Bunyon and Dr Seusse.
She asked me to do the Read-athon where you had to read a number of books get rewards.

File Copy

I used to never read the books. I would just skim over them, answer a couple of questions and get stars towards my reading goal. I really though I was getting over. Ms Bertha continued giving me stars. She then recommended a book that I was interested in. I loved animals and had all kinds of pets at home like gerbils, frogs, dogs cats and white mice.

 Lesson : never have a cat and mice in the same house at the same time. 

After a while my conscience started to bother me. She handed me Charlotte's Web and I read the first page. I just kept reading page after page. I identified with "Fern" in the story because I was always trying to save animals.
The book showed me that I could read a chapter book cover to cover. I still struggled through books still skimming first. I did get the courage to read them after all.

The children's Libray sometimes had events arranged by Ms Bertha. Sometimes she would show a film, I mean with a film projector. I saw movies like the original King Kong and Bugs Bunny. This was a time before VCRs and DVDs. After spending time at the library and before going home I would go to Germantown Ave for some Pizza. 

Pizza Quality has really suffered more than any other food. A lot of entrepreneurs think they can turn the combination of simple cheap ingredients: flour, sauce and cheese into a cash cow. They are right! Pizza chops are all over and do great business. There are only a few that do it well.
I would sometimes head out to the King of Pizza parlor on Germantown ave .

This is where I came to love Pizza. It's owned by two brothers that have been and are still there to this day. They are known as one of the treasure spots in that area, They outlived Moma Rosa's Souls food restaurant , Medow Lanes Rotisserie chicken( currently not the original owners ) , Head off and Split fish shop, Vincent's barber shop where my dad and I  used to go and most of the shops on the Ave.

File Photo

King of Pizza's approach is simple. Just 3 varieties of pizza, plain, peperoni and beef sausage and fountain drinks. They never made Cheesesteakes(Philadelphia Cheesesteaks for you outsiders, we just call them Cheesesteaks),  or other sandwiches or delivered and closed when the avenue closed.
The exception was that their three simple choices was done better than anyone else could.
I cant help wondering how many of their children they put through college with this simple approach.
They are still there today

I didn't know what a nerd was until I watched Happy Days. I wanted to be the Fonz. I was always more like Richie , shy, smart, awkward and hesitant to take risks . I was a nerd! So I became a Jr. library aid.

Martin Luther King Jr. Girard College and cousin Chino

Before moving to Nicetown, we lived in a third floor apartment overlooking Girard College at 22nd and West college.

Girard College was and still is an independent boarding school for orphaned or fatherless children. It used to be only for white male children.

It has evolved, since then to include all children, both boys and girls, and children of all colors. It wasn't always so.

During the Civil Rights movement Girard College was at the center of Philadelphia's struggles for social justice. My parents were directly involved in one of the city's historical events.

 File Photo:Trolley Car

 The apartment that we lived in was a third floor apartment that overlooked the Stone walls that surround the college (see photo below). I remember looking over the wall as a child but was always  more interested with watching for and listening to the PTC Trolley(before Septa it was the Philadelphia Transportation Company), that would screech as it hit the curve right outside my door. I was told that my parents were asked by several news teams if they could take film and photographs from the apartment, since the apartment had the vantage point that they wanted. They agreed of course.

Cecil B Moore was leading the local N.A.A.C.P. and along with A. Phillip Randolf who both were holding civil rights demonstrations at the school.  MLK also visited the twice, the first time was in 1965 when I was just over a year old.

Historical Excerpts below are from
http://northerncity.library.temple.edu/content/timeline

1965: 
February 6: Cecil B. Moore is re-elected President of local NAACP.  Moore sees his re-election as a mandate to make the desegregation of Girard College a top policy priority.

May 1: Led Cecil B. Moore, the NAACP begins picketing at Girard College.

August 3: On a visit to Philadelphia, the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., addresses demonstrators at Girard College.

December 16: A suit challenging Girard College’s admissions policy is filed in U.S. District Court by city and state officials, as well as the mothers of seven African-American boys seeking admission to the school.  The next day, picketing ends at Girard College after seven months of protests.

Temple U archive Photo

September 2 1966:  U.S. District Court Judge Joseph S. Lord rules that, under Pennsylvania law, African-Americans cannot be excluded from Girard College on the basis of race.  In October, picketing resumes at Girard College after the trustees vote to appeal Judge Lord’s decision to the school.  The next day, picketing ends at Girard College after seven months of protests.




It wasn't until 1968 that the whole situation was resolved. I never knew that these things ever happened. I learned about these events while I was studying at Temple U. I asked my parents and they told me the reporters story.

File Copy MLK Speech in PR. Feb,1962

I remember reading about MLK's visit to Puerto Rico. and I am paraphrasing, but I remember him mentioning that Puerto Rico was better at race relations than the US.  He was referring to Puerto Ricans calling themselves Puerto Ricans first, not black Puerto Ricans, white Puerto Ricans or Indian Puerto Ricans, just Puerto Ricans . I think that if he had stood longer than four days, he would have seen some of the racial struggles on the island.
If you compared Puerto Rico with the US at the time, you would also say that they were ahead of the curve.

Martin's speech in Puerto Rico. Feb 1962

Growing up in a mixed neighborhood where my friends were from all backgrounds and colors I never had and other perspective than it was all beautiful.  I could eat Turkish, Irish-American, Soul food and my Puerto Rican food at home. I was more concerned with playing with my friends, not where they came from.

More than that was the fact that there are members of my own family are of different colors. Puerto Ricans have a shared history with African Americans, Europeans and Native Americans. 

My cousin Raymond, we called him "Chino" because he had more Native American or Asian features. He had high cheekbones, jet black hair and shinny olive skin.  He was also almost six feet tall and had a strong lean look. He was one of the first Puerto Rican men to go through the Philadelphia Police academy in the 60s. I remember him visiting my family in his tan academy uniform and tossing me up in the air as an older cousin would. He later became a detective in the 25th district at Front and Venango streets in the 70s and  80s. Very little is documented about my cousin. The memories of him along with my other cousin Alberto(the city's pioneering Puerto Rican DJ), have faded. I want to bring light into our family's pride in remembering them.

I am also grateful for having grown up with both parents. Now knowing first hand from both of my cousins too early deaths featured in the blog. Loosing them both too early has affected our family, especially their children.

I would honor them to make sure that their memories survive.