Posted by Raul on August 16, 2010
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When I was about 16 years old I was living in a different city than my parents and used to go visit them on weekends.
One Saturday morning, when arriving at my parent’s house, I found my father ready to go hunting with a shotgun, he invited me to go with him and I accepted because, at the side of spending some time together, I was curious about the firearm.
After walking for a couple of minutes my father asked me if I wanted to give a try to the gun and I accepted; how tempting to hold the gun, aim at something and pull the trigger to see and feel it in action!
With the gun in my hands I looked around to find a target and saw a small bird standing in a high, wooden pole, so I aimed to the little bird and pulled the trigger.
The small bird didn’t fly with the sound of the firearm, didn’t even start to flap its wings, it simply fell off to the ground without any movement, lifeless, dead.
While falling, even before it hit the ground, I was already feeling remorse for killing it. It was doing nothing, just standing there, being, alive, but because I didn’t think ahead of the consequences, I just aimed and shot, the little creature ceased to exist.
I felt really bad!
I remember giving the gun back to my father and telling him that I would never hold a firearm in my hands again. We walked back to his house in complete silence and had never talked about that situation.
I don’t know what my father’s feelings were at that moment and I don’t know if he knew what my feeling were, but I believe it wasn’t important then and is not today; nothing changed between us.
I don’t know if he remembers that moment but I do, and decide to write about it here in my blog.
More than 30 years have gone by and I kept my word, I’ve never held another gun in my hands and I still don’t like them.
Because of that moment I had the opportunity to think about people and guns and come to the conclusion that, not only guns are for destruction, but also how fragile life can be and how important is to protect it.
I was a 16 years old kid, curious about how a firearm would feel when fired and by making a stupid mistake I learned to respect life, anticipate consequences and stay away from guns.
Raul
Posted by Raul on June 25, 2010
I used to have a little sister some 30 years ago, then life presented different paths to the members of the family and just a couple of days ago I found out that my little sister has become a “Conejito Asesino”
Even though she was the daughter of my sister, being I 15 years old by the time, that baby felt more like a little sister to me than a niece; a sweet child that I spent lots of time with playing and laughing and taught me the need of living creatures for connection with one another.
I used to have a little daughter some 25 year ago, then after following my path in life, after a moment to stop, rest and look around, I saw in the distance that my little daughter is no longer a child but a woman and now has her own daughter.
An “oops” from mother that gave birth to a child when I was 20 years old, so the little one felt more like a daughter to me than a sister, and with those big, curious eyes taught me about the fragility of a child and the need of an adult to protect them, not only about safety, feeding and love, but also about continuous observation for proper anticipation to create the guided path they need in those first years of life.
Now is about three strangers and only one with memories from the past.
It is so easy to remember the moments, the time spent with a loved child when he or she is just a couple of years old, when the little one is just a baby and look at one with those confused eyes of a creature just arrived to life.
At the other hand, who remember the experiences, the happenings when we are between zero and 5 years old? At most we have flashes of memories, loose images that come to us after some deep digging but bring us nothing more that a grainy, confused picture of a mostly confusing time.
So we, as adults, remember the moments but the child, being less than five years old will not, and the question that arises in my mind is what happens then when divorces occur and the couple splits when the children are below that tender age? Wouldn’t they forget the parent that walks away if they don’t spend time everyday with him/her?
It is so easy for adults to change paths while preserving the memories, yet children often time forget the previous memories to create new ones…without the adult that were a part of their life once and to become just a name from the past for them.
Then for adults is difficult to comprehend why the child seems to have forgotten all the beautiful memories from the past time together and the love given to them. The adult remembers, the child forgets.
I guess there should be more consideration for that element when adult mistakes from the past are corrected.
Just a thought
Raul
Posted by Raul on December 11, 2009
I love life!
When I was five years old I was really sick, had seizures that looked like epilepsy and had hallucinations produced by high fever. In one of those attacks I remember my mother seated in my bed holding my hand, worried. It was about two in the morning and after the seizures I felt really tired, needing some sleep, but I was afraid! I thought that if I went to sleep I’ll never wake up again; I thought I was going to die!
An adult would know that everything would be alright, but as a child I was afraid, I didn’t want to die! I remember thinking of all the things that I would loose to do and experience in life so wanted to stay awake to avoid dying that night. I was really tired, my eyes tended to close and I was fighting to keep them open, until finally lost the battle.
Next day I woke up feeling a lot better physically, no pain in my body, breathing easier and no fever. I remember the feeling of joy realizing I didn’t die the night before, knowing that I would remain alive for a longer time to enjoy so many things I thought I would loose. That was one of the happiest days in my life!
Now, while remembering I realize how silly it was, but also remember how traumatic that experience was at the age of five. Maybe that’s why I’ve always been thankful to be alive, to have the chance to experience so many things, good and bad, happy and sad, boring and scaring, that life has to offer everyday.
I won’t lie to you, many times throughout my life I’ve thought that life sucks, but also as many times I’ve remembered that day when I was five and felt thankful for just being alive, for always having another chance, another shot at getting things better in the future.
Some time ago I read somewhere that life is not about feeling safe and secured but to experience so many wonderful things that has to offer, so right before we die we can look back and say: “WHAT A RIDE!”
Raul
Posted by Raul on December 9, 2009
Charlie and I used to meet pretty often at Station 23; we had a couple of beers and tried to fix the world in our own way; nothing wrong with that, it was just our way to escape reality for a while.
It was in 1982, when I was 20 years old and had a job in what could be called “road maintenance” but in reality was a less than minimum legal wage job were I was to walk dirty roads carrying a shovel and filling pot holes with dirt from the sides. These kinds of jobs were created by the government at that time to reduce the statistics about unemployment.
Charlie; hired for simple tasks around the house of an unknown family, felt at his 27 years of age the pass of time, not because of being old but rather the insecurity of seeing years go by without getting anywhere. He always started by complaining about his employers and finished criticizing the country’s economy.
I remember him, thin, not too tall, dark skin and big brown eyes; always dressing a red, running suit, old tennis shoes and sun glasses that he used to hide behind of most of the times.
Beer was always warm, but Station 23 was the only place in that small town where you could have a place to talk in privacy surrounded by screaming kids. Beer was the only drink we had since we didn’t have much money, but still it gave us the satisfaction of feeling big!
Many times I asked myself why poor people drink their little money, and then I could understand something; I, in such low level employment felt like the smallest expression of a human being, while drinking beer I could feel like an executive talking about an important business.
Culture wasn’t a problem, talking with Charlie about politics, economy, history, science, etc. At that moment we had the power: we asked for a beer; we had the culture: we talk and give opinions about everything under the sun; we had unconditional friendship: Charlie and I; and a brilliant future ahead of us: we just needed to be discovered!
We never gain anything, never got any new conclusion to our conversations, we just got out all the frustrations of life. We used to laugh a lot making fun of everything and everyone around; their face, their clothing, or the way they walk, anything was good just to have a brief moment of relaxation. Now I understand how much insecurity we had about ourselves. How far away it seemed to have a decent life from the possibilities that our jobs used to offer.
Station 23, the only pub in that little town was our place of meeting, our reunion area, our escape from reality. Seated at a small table, surrounded by drunk, screaming kids and very loud music, Charlie and I found a place to revive the human spirit and find new forces to keep fighting for a better future. A place where together helped each other to cope with everyday problems and fight against the adversity to start feeling again as human beings instead of low cost cargo beasts.
Station 23 was the place where we met; we hated it, but never skipped a reunion, it would be impossible since at that time we almost didn’t have any other reason to live.
Raul
Posted by Raul on November 20, 2009
I remember when I was twelve years old; it was a Sunday afternoon, I was watching TV in the living room while my parents where in the backyard chatting with my uncle who was visiting us.
On TV there was an old black and white boring movie and I was watching it just because I was bored too, seating on the couch, fighting not to fall asleep.
My uncle came into the house to use the bathroom and after that stopped for a couple of seconds and watched the movie with me, then said a joke related to the scene at that moment on TV. I can’t remember what the joke was, but I do remember laughing like crazy, then my uncle, without a word, left to the backyard where my parents were waiting to resume the chat.
It was a stupid joke I know, nothing to remember, but that simple situation, that short joke for just a couple of seconds changed my day. I wasn’t bored anymore.
When my son was born fourteen years later I remembered that moment with my uncle and took a decision, I would try hard to create jokes everyday for my son to make him laugh while he was growing, so he could remember many good times in his childhood.
One single stupid joke one single boring day saved my day and made a memory for a lifetime for me. So I tried to make stupid jokes everyday for my son to make him laugh, hoping with that to contribute to many good memories in his childhood.
Today he is twenty one. I don’t know if those years of burning my brain to create stupid jokes everyday had made a difference, but I do know that he is very good doing imitations of people and animals, he is very quick to throw a joke at any time, and he is always laughing. Maybe is a genetic thing, maybe he learned at school, who knows, what I know is that he seems to be a happy kid, we had a wonderful time together while he was growing, we did laugh so much everyday and still we do today.
With all this I’ve learned something in my life.
Sometimes just a word, a stupid joke, a simple touch, can make a difference to someone in life, like my uncle did in mine some thirty years ago, and with that, contributed to a better relationship between my son and me, and maybe a happier childhood for my son.
We can make a difference for others, all that it takes is to stop thinking about our problems for a couple of seconds and see how we can help the other person to lift his/her mood.
We will never know how important that could be in the other person’s life.
Raul
