WordSisters

Tag: wordsisters

  • Cat on a Walk

    Cat on a Walk

    Silver, getting suited up for his walk.
    Silver

    Antonio stood at the door, a clipboard in his hand. “Would you like to buy a wreath from Boy Scouts?”

    The man holding the door abruptly stepped outside and side-stepped around Antonio.

    “Ssssh. Quiet. Stay still.” He crouched into a linebacker pose.

    I watched from where I stood a few feet away.

    The man was advancing slowly forward. He looked as if he was going to make a move.

    I glanced to the side of his house. Suddenly, I understood. “That’s our cat,” I said.

    “Really?” His body taut, still ready to pounce. He clearly didn’t believe me.

    “Yes. He’s on a walk with us.”

    “Really?” He wasn’t yet ready to give up snaring the cat.

    “Yes. We live a few blocks over.”

    Resigned, he stood up straight. “Someone said they were missing a cat that looks just like that.”

    Rosie, Silver, and Oreo
    Rosie, Silver, and Oreo in Donaldson Park

    “No, that’s our cat,” I repeated.

    Antonio came down the steps and turned to walk towards the next house. “Here, Silver. Here, boy.”

    I caught up to him.

    “Did you see that?” Antonio whispered. “He was going to take our cat.”

    “Yeah, I did.” I looked at Silver a few respectful paces away. I studied him. “He looks homeless,” I said. “He doesn’t have a collar.”

    Jody, Antonio, Crystel, and I are responsible cat owners. We take our cats in for their checkups. They have all their shots. They are also outdoor cats. We put collars on them when they were kittens. That didn’t go so well.

    Oreo waiting for us.
    Oreo waiting for us.

    For the past six months Silver and/or Oreo have gone on walks with us. I first noticed it on a May morning when I was walking the dogs. Silver followed us up Morgan Avenue, down 73rd, all around Donaldson Park and back down 73rd and then Morgan Avenue to our home.

    What to do? I gave him a treat just like I gave the dogs.

    One of Antonio and Crystel’s chores this summer was to walk the dogs each day. More often than not, Silver and Oreo – his sister, accompanied them.

    Sometimes, cars will stop and ask us if that’s our cat(s) following us. “Yes, we’re on a walk,” we’ll reply.

    Adults with children will stop to pet the cats and/or dogs.

    But, until now, we weren’t worried about the cats appearing to be homeless.

    Orea and Buddy in-between walks
    Oreo and Buddy in-between walks

    Antonio and I continued knocking on doors. The further we went from our street the more Silver meowed. I understood. We were going further and further from his territory. His territory was east of Morgan not west where we were.This was confirmed when a woman said, “I haven’t seen that cat around here before.”

    “No, that’s our cat. He’s on a walk with us,” I replied.

    “That explains it,” she said.

    I can’t say that we sold more wreaths by having Silver with us.

    The next day all three outdoor cats had collars on whether they wanted them or not.

    They’re our cats. They have a home.

     

     

  • 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.