Mom, back in her prime.
Mom would have been 83 today. What has become most prominent about my sentiments on this particular milestone strangely has to do with the words on the upper left hand corner of this blog, under the title. “You won’t know, if you don’t go.”
See, before I posted that quote, I would change it from time to time, with various one-line musings and thoughts. Though they were all different from each other, they yet always gave a different variation or angle on the whole philosophy of “going”, reaching a destiny.
However, since I updated it to this one, it hasn’t changed. And I don’t see it changing anytime soon. Why? Since posting the story surrounding this quote last year on this day something strange has happened. I’ve received some very interesting, dare I say flattering and humbling feedback from multitudes of guests and readers of the blog. (more…)
Five years since the London bombings, and I remember being in London just before and after it happened as if it was yesterday.
Figured this was a good time to bring my post from that day out of the archives. Dedicated to all my London friends who deal with the memory every day.
Being in Europe while Pop’s birthday passes today, I couldn’t help but think about his last jaunt out here. It was courtesy of my ex-wife and me. The time I spent in Amsterdam during this jaunt particularly brought back memories. In the midst of it all, I’d find myself grinning or laughing out loud remembering his antics from those fateful weeks he spent with us road tripping from Holland to France. But I also had to shed a few tears. (more…)
Today marks the three-year anniversary since losing my mom. I’ve been trying to make sense of my thoughts about it over the past few days, and I find myself being confused about them. I think a it has a lot to do with the turbulent relationship I’d had with her over the course of my life. But in keeping in sync with funny thoughts and memories like I mostly have in regards to Pop, I find that there is still plenty to laugh about in regards to Mom. I’m focusing on that. Stay tuned.
Pop, a few months before his death...
Four years ago today, I lost my Pop. I guess I’m getting better at handling this particular date as each year passes. And this year, I even wondered if any prevailing thought or theme would enter my head enough to make me want to write about it. Yet again, here I am doing just that. And the prevailing theme for this year’s go-round, is that painful thing we can only call regret. (more…)
A recent picture of Pop
My father was born in Natal, Rio Grande do Norte, Brazil in 1925. He was one of 3 brothers, a half sister, and an adopted sister. His father was an officer in the Brazilian navy, and his mother was a seamstress. He did a stint in the Brazilian Army reserve right out of high school, but was never called to active duty during WWII (the Brazilian Army was part of the Allied Forces). He attended business school in Rio De Janeiro, and at the age of 22, he was appointed manager of a major bank in Rio.
He worked at the bank for several years, until he decided that he was being passed over for promotion too many times, and walked away from his career. He then put his savings together and bought a popular bar and restaurant in Rio. He was quite successful, and the place soon gained a solid reputation. He married relatively young and had 2 kids by the time he was 30, Gilda and Gustavo, both whom still live in Brazil.