Reflection Numero Uno... Family Matters

So my Aussie buddy Andy told me time and time again, “Tom, you’re thinkin’ too much, mate.” And he was right. I think. A lot. However, somehow, against all odds, Andy’s persistence must’ve paid off. I find myself very able to get lost and immersed in whatever I’m doing here. Whether I’m trying to have a conversation in Spanish, teaching and playing with the kids, and even just lugging dirt and rocks around the construction site, it doesn’t matter. My mind, for the most part, has kept to the task at hand and stayed out of the sky, philosophizing to itself.

In the mornings, however, when I wake up is when I find my mind racing to put together the pieces of the big puzzle of life. I’ve resisted the urge to share any of these internal reflections thus far, but right now, however, I’m going to indulge myself.

So by being here, I can’t help but realize how ridiculously lucky I’ve been in this crapshoot called life. I was born into a loving family that was able to put me through great schools all the way through college. We live beyond our means a bit, but we’ve always had enough money to live comfortably. For most of my friends and I at home, our privilege is something we take for granted.

Here, however, on a daily basis I see things that we’d be baffled to see in the States. Of course, there are the more quirky things like the Mayan women balancing a huge basket on her head or the overloaded – with both people and products – beds of pickups, but here I’m talking about the more disturbing things. If I walk through the city on any given day, I’ll pass by at least a half dozen kids, no older than eight or nine, shining shoes. I’ll pass many more kids carrying trays loaded with candy, gum, and cigarettes, trying to sell them. I think back to my childhood, when I wore my yellow and navy blue colored SJV uniform, when I played Little League baseball, basketball and football, and when my parents would sure as hell never ever send me out to shine shoes. It’s overwhelming. You know the parents want better for the kids – after all what parents wouldn’t? Many people here, however, haven’t learned the value of education, or don’t believe in its value. Many times, it just makes more economic sense to have your kids be another source of income.

At El Nahual and La Cuchilla, when I’m teaching, I forgot all about these kids backgrounds. After all, they’re just kids. They love running around, screaming without purpose, fooling around in class, learning in class… kids are the same everywhere. But every now and then, I’ll be reminded how marginalized they are. For instance, yesterday one little guy ran up to me and gave me a huge waist level hug. He looked up at me smiling, and I noticed his front two teeth. They weren’t just a little yellower than usual; they were rotted black almost to the gum. Nevertheless, he kept on smiling. Other times, kids just can’t make it to school – either because of the rain, because their parents are sick, or – what we fear most – that their parents don’t want them to go to school.

I think about how I got to where I am today, a legitimately happy college graduate who has the chance to travel and learn about other parts of the world. Through school, of course. Through my own hard work and soul searching as well. But without my family, neither of those would have been possible.

So realization #1 on this trip: family is indescribably important. I just wrote about my host-mom Paty. She works her ass off, almost at all waking hours, to support her family, but she is not alone. Her mother lives here, as well, and a couple times a day I’ll find her jogging by my room in her old-lady slippers to her next task in the day-to-day chores of this house. Even more, Paty’s siblings and their families are constantly popping in and out, helping with cooking or with the kids. I still believe Paty is Superwoman, but I couldn’t possibly see how this family would still be afloat without some outside help.

I’ll think of my family sometimes and their stories. My Aunt Evey will tell me stories about how they lived in the projects – her, her sister, and my great-grandmother – together. Or she’ll tell me about the house those three plus my mom , my Aunt Dawn, and Aunt Gina lived in together… the one with the skunks living in the walls and the chickens in the backyard. Through abusive husbands and divorces, struggles to make ends meet, and raising kids, somehow my family stayed afloat and they did it together.

I realize, however, that many people have domestic family situations that aren’t the best of situations. I don’t believe, however, that a family is defined solely by blood. I believe a family is what you make it as well. I believe a family is that group of people who support you – through good times and bad – and believe that you always have it in you to be better, that you can always grow, mature, learn, and find satisfaction in life. Deep down, I think that it’s ultimately up to each of us to be our best selves, but we also need people that can see this person even when we ourselves cannot. Without these people, this life can be a very dark, hopeless, and lonely place.

So let me be cheesy for a moment, loved ones. I love and miss you all more than you can know. Thank you for… well, for everything.