Villa Luna Rica, June 2007I started a new blog a few weeks ago. I know that I rarely post to this one as it is, but I wanted something separate and new to chronicle the life of our home, which is rather special. You can read about it here.
June 15, 2008
villa luna rica
Villa Luna Rica, June 2007I started a new blog a few weeks ago. I know that I rarely post to this one as it is, but I wanted something separate and new to chronicle the life of our home, which is rather special. You can read about it here.
my two fathers
Papi & Sam at happy hourHere are my two fathers, enjoying a ritual happy hour together which entails sitting outside at dusk with a stiff drink in one hand and a Cuban cigar in the other and watching the world quiet down as the sun sinks below the horizon.
These two men have next to nothing in common, aside from my mother (the fiery Colombian woman who ensnared both their hearts for different reasons), their shared role of father to my sister and me, and their daily anticipation of happy hour.
My biological father is Paul, aka Papi or Pito. I inherited from him certain verbal mannerisms, a love of photography and the night sky, the way I walk, and an anxiety about money that tranlates into stinginess. As a child, I dreaded asking him questions because I would either get: A) a bewildering far-fetched answer that was made up on the spot or B) some long-winded explanation which included an unrelated history of something else and only confused me more. He is also something of a McGyver, always able to think of a solution outside the box. He carries with him at all times about a half a pound of keys and tools on his keychain. I think he took the Boy Scout motto "Be Prepared" to heart, because he's pretty much prepared for anything at all times. I remember him pulling a mini can opener out of his pocket once at a school event, when my teacher realized there was no way to open the cans of juice one of the parents had brought. I was proud then of my father's foresight.
My stepfather is Sam. I inherited from him a love of books and good food, my liberal politics, a passion for travel, and a lack of desire to work very hard which translates into an appreciation for loafing. We had many fierce arguments at the dinner table about world events and he frequently prodded me to learn more about the topic at hand before opening my mouth. He made a pittance working for the city government but he made sure that his family never felt the pinch. I marvel now that we went so many places and experienced so many things on his shoestring budget. He would never skimp on good food and one of the pleasures of my childhood was being treated to a fine meal at the restaurant of my choice, whether to celebrate my birthday or a good report card.
There is so much more I can say about these two men who shaped who I am by their example. I suppose the only thing more I can say today is this: Happy Father's Day, Papi and Sam. I love you both.
These two men have next to nothing in common, aside from my mother (the fiery Colombian woman who ensnared both their hearts for different reasons), their shared role of father to my sister and me, and their daily anticipation of happy hour.
My biological father is Paul, aka Papi or Pito. I inherited from him certain verbal mannerisms, a love of photography and the night sky, the way I walk, and an anxiety about money that tranlates into stinginess. As a child, I dreaded asking him questions because I would either get: A) a bewildering far-fetched answer that was made up on the spot or B) some long-winded explanation which included an unrelated history of something else and only confused me more. He is also something of a McGyver, always able to think of a solution outside the box. He carries with him at all times about a half a pound of keys and tools on his keychain. I think he took the Boy Scout motto "Be Prepared" to heart, because he's pretty much prepared for anything at all times. I remember him pulling a mini can opener out of his pocket once at a school event, when my teacher realized there was no way to open the cans of juice one of the parents had brought. I was proud then of my father's foresight.
My stepfather is Sam. I inherited from him a love of books and good food, my liberal politics, a passion for travel, and a lack of desire to work very hard which translates into an appreciation for loafing. We had many fierce arguments at the dinner table about world events and he frequently prodded me to learn more about the topic at hand before opening my mouth. He made a pittance working for the city government but he made sure that his family never felt the pinch. I marvel now that we went so many places and experienced so many things on his shoestring budget. He would never skimp on good food and one of the pleasures of my childhood was being treated to a fine meal at the restaurant of my choice, whether to celebrate my birthday or a good report card.
There is so much more I can say about these two men who shaped who I am by their example. I suppose the only thing more I can say today is this: Happy Father's Day, Papi and Sam. I love you both.
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