Author: Elizabeth di Grazia

  • Juan Jose and a Guatemalan Revolution

    Juan Jose and a Guatemalan Revolution

    FullSizeRender (5)In Guatemala today, there is an uprising.

    “We don’t have medicine in the hospitals. The children don’t have books in their schools. And throughout society there aren’t any jobs and the president hasn’t done anything to help. They’ve just stolen from the people,” said Maria Elena Aquino Gomez, 38, as she sold flags in the plaza. “Guatemala is alive. We’re not dead. And we’ll continue fighting for our liberty.”

    The parents of many of the organizers warned them not to get involved. “They grew up in the ’80s in Guatemala, when going out to protest meant death,” said Gabriel Wer, a 33-year-old organizer.

    They hoped a few people would show up. Thirty thousand came.

    I watch safely from afar, read bits and pieces, and know enough to know that I don’t understand.

    Juan Jose had a history before he met Jody and me.

    Antonio (9), Rosa, and his sister, Ani.
    Antonio (9), Rosa, and his sister, Ani.

    His grandfather died in 1982 during the civil war and his grandmother was left to raise seven children on her own. She couldn’t provide for all, so when his mother was five years old, she was given to an aunt. The aunt treated his mother very badly so she ran back to her mother’s house. The economic situation hadn’t changed, so his mother had to get a job cleaning houses in Rabinal at age 9.

    Antonio was 9 when he met his mother, Rosa, for the first time.

    “Did you name Antonio,” was one of my first questions. I so much wanted to show her that we honored her by keeping his name.

    “No. The adoption people named him Antonio. I wanted to name him Juan Jose. Juan to honor my father and Jose to honor my grandfather.”

    Ever since then when Antonio and I meet someone whose name is Juan or Juan Jose we look at each other knowingly.

    During our first meeting with Rosa, Jody and I asked her if we could help her with monthly groceries. She said, “No. I don’t want Antonio to think I sold him.”

     

    Antonio (11) and Rosa
    Antonio (11) and Rosa

    It was then that I knew the strength and heart of Guatemalans.

    Rosa is indigenous and belongs to the Mayan Achi ethnia. She is from Aldea Concul, approximately 10 miles southwest from Rabinal on the Sierra de Chuacus, 5,500 feet above sea level.

    Today, she lives in the poorest section of Guatemala City. Taxis won’t drive there. Still, she didn’t want to receive help. More than anything, she wanted Juan Jose’s forgiveness for letting him go.

    The Guatemalan uprising resulted in Pérez Molina no longer being President of Guatemala. Perez Molina was a former general who led the most feared branch of a military that routinely massacred citizens during nearly four decades of Civil War. About 200,000 civilians died, one of them being Juan Jose’s grandfather.

    I can picture Juan Jose a.k.a. Antonio running the mountain trails in Guatemala. He has the heart of Rosa.

    We will be visiting Rosa next year. She’ll be able to see for herself the man Juan Jose is becoming.

  • Do-Overs

    September 9th 477Picking up flowers for Crystel’s 13th birthday I realized how true it is for me that I live my past through my kids.

    I don’t remember my 13th birthday.

    I don’t remember my mother ever buying me flowers.

    Of course, she had 12 children and buying flowers wasn’t on the top of her grocery list. Even remembering all of the birthdays was challenging for her.

    That’s why Antonio and Crystel get a birthday week with a gift each day. It’s my do-over.

    Two years ago, Crystel traded in her birthday week for an Amazing Race birthday party complete with clues, drivers, and unknown destinations.

    All of us had so much fun that I didn’t even wait for her to ask this year.

    I started planning an Amazing Race birthday weekend nine months ahead of time at Briggs Farm in Winona for both Antonio and Crystel. Their birthdays are only six weeks apart. The surprise Mankato Mud Run the next day was declared the highlight of the race by the participants.

    Mankato Mud Run
    Mankato Mud Run

    This upping the ante started when their first tooth came out. It wasn’t a quarter under a pillow. It was a treasure hunt with clues written by the tooth fairy that led to a final gift. Some people warned Jody and I that once you start big you have to keep it going. That never bothered me. I didn’t want to stop. Perhaps I was doing a do-over for the tooth I lost on Christmas Eve one year. I figured that the stuff under my pillow was the same stuff that was in the other kids Christmas sock.

    Not to say my mom didn’t try she did.

    My favorite birthday was when I was 4 and I got a gun. It wasn’t a real gun but still my four older brothers wanted it and took turns shooting at the target across the room. Finally when they went to school I got to use it. Probably good it wasn’t real because when I did get my hands on a BB gun I shot one of my brothers just above the eye. Later when I was 12 and received a 20 gauge shotgun, I shot the pickup two brothers were sitting in. Accidentally, of course.

    As I carry the flower bouquet to the car I think of how some things don’t require a do-over. Guns, for example. I’ll take them to a shooting range for that.

  • A 12-Year-Old Girl Following Her Dreams

    At the Wedding. Touching a Cello for the first time.
    At the Wedding. Touching a Cello for the first time.

    She says she’s going to Juilliard. Who am I to say she isn’t? Right now she’s in her bedroom playing cello for the second time in her life. The first time was last night at a wedding. She approached the cello player, who then invited her to sit down, and showed Crystel how to hold the stringed instrument. Within minutes she had Crystel strumming, Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.

    Today, within an hour of bringing home the cello from Schmitt’s, I recognize Amazing Grace coming from her bedroom.

    Crystel has wanted to play the cello for eight months. She’s played piano for five years and flute for one. Sometimes, I’m not sure how serious she is about an endeavor or if she is just trying to be the only one doing something. There is no cello player at Richfield Middle School. Her mother (me) doesn’t even know how to pronounce the instrument correctly.

    To gauge her seriousness Crystel had to do at least three things. Stop wearing her socks outside without shoes. Figure out the cost of renting a cello and taking lessons. Decide where that money was going to come from.

    Being sized at Schmitt's.
    Being sized at Schmitt’s.

    “You know what I see, Crystel?” I’d say, when I’d see her outside, once again, wearing only her socks.

    “What?” She’d respond with a blank look.

    I’d nod at her feet. “A nice looking sello.”

    “Chel-oh, Mom, chel-oh. Not sello.”

    I explained to her that it wasn’t about the socks. It’s that her parents told her time and time again that shoes outside was important to them and that she continued to disregard our request. “How can we know that you can take care of a sello …. ah … I mean, chello, if you can’t follow a simple request?”

    After learning the cost for renting a cello and getting lessons, it didn’t bother me about the socks. I’d think, “That’s right, just keep wearing them outside, girlfriend.”

    All the while, Crystel has continued to play piano and take lessons. National Piano Playing Auditions gave her a superior rating. Her distinction was Top-Talent Circle rating which means that she could appear before any audience anywhere. Right now, she plays once a month at a soup kitchen.

    ah, my cello
    ah, my cello

    I know she is passionate about piano because Jody and I never have to ask her to practice. On many occasions, the piano is the last thing she touches before leaving the house. We can hear her rushing out a melody while we are waiting for her in the car. It’s like she has to have a tune in her head to carry her to her next activity.

    A few months ago, I started noticing that she was putting shoes on before going outside. They were MY shoes but they were shoes nevertheless.

    Is she going to go to Julliard? I don’t know. But, one thing I learned about my daughter, is that when she’s decided that she’s going to do something, she does it. At 3-years-old she couldn’t speak intelligibly. Only Antonio knew what she was saying. She went on to become fluent in several languages: English, Spanish, and music.