Not sure how to start this one, maybe because I’m a bit confused with the meaning behind its contemplation. Life is not led by destiny, its choosing to live instead of dream. However, I can’t help but repeatedly hear the question proposed by a friend last month.

“So Sarah, you published your book last year and you are in Australia, those were the two biggest dreams in your life, what now?” Alex asked.

What now? Well, not sure. I feel very complete at the moment. Throughout the confusing years some of my goals were more like motivational dreams than actual tangible outcomes. I can honestly say that I have obtained my life long ambitions, some of which I never thought would actually happen and others that have developed into a driven passion. So now, here I am.

I’m grinning with amusement, my road to OZ started in fourth grade, all I wanted was to swim with the turtles, well that’s what interested me the most when I wrote my country report. Now many years later I’m traveling through OZ on my own. I passed a sign that read, “Swim with the Turtles Today!” in Byron Bay. I stopped, read it out loud, smiled to myself and began to hum in bliss. While walking away, I realized that I didn’t need to swim with the turtles anymore, I was just happy to have the opportunity.

I’m sitting in Australia meeting more people with similar dreams. They are of all ages, backgrounds and different points in life. I can’t help but think, “Why did it take me so long to find this moment? Who would I have become if I had started this journey at the age of twenty instead of thirty? Would I have actually completed my goals earlier or would I have set higher expectations and still be reaching out to obtain more?”

Upon sharing my overwhelming thoughts with a younger writer and life enthusiast, I was provided with a grandeur perspective. Paul immediately responded, “Man, if my goals are to go to New Zealand and publish a book, I really have a lot to do since you already did what you wanted.”

I instantly replied, “No, don’t rush it. You are starting nine years before I began, so you have plenty of time. Every moment leads you down the path; it’s just a matter of recognizing the experiences and using them towards your passion.”

And that’s when it hit me. Neither the beginning nor end matter, it is more important that we make the journey to reflect and feel complete. Not necessarily accomplished but just satisfied with every moment that has led to this point.

It’s almost as my life is maturing in reverse. Instead of obtaining more material items, I’m actually letting go of the few I have left. I am acknowledging the important pieces of my life that have always been there along the way and letting go of those that I have tried to force into the puzzle.

It is not the final outcome that you end up treasuring. It’s the path and people that influence your life. Each encounter has served a purpose, ultimately helping me accept myself, my true, simple, complicated self.

(Author's Disclaimer: All characters depicted are fictional and not related to any real events...or are they?)

Twist of Fate
Contributed by a 35 year old romantic woman contemplating serendipity

As life would have it, I broke up with yet another man, coincidently it was my decision but it just seemed out of my hands at the time and well it felt like it was the right thing to do…although my heart ached, it also seemed to be healed, is that possible?

Weeks later I found myself contemplating what I was missing in my life, not the man from before but the man I had not found.  And that’s when the series of events started.

It’s like this weird phenomenom we seek in love. You know the ideal person you have in your head, the one that you swear is out there but only because you are scared they don’t exist and have possibly passed up the almost perfect person.

In the midst of my remorse and doubt I called my Mami. I spilled my guts, tears and all.  Then I held my breath, cringed in fear and waited for her response.  For the first time in my life I didn’t get the words I dreaded hearing after past heartbreaks.  It wasn’t the usual “I told you so,” it was “Well, sometimes we all have to go through that to open ourselves up to the real thing.”

I was surprised and at peace - all at the same time.  My mom assisted my internal healing; it was like each experience was piecing together the broken parts that make my heart whole again.

Eventually, I went on a date, not really knowing it was a date.  And that was the next coincidence.  He sat in front of me sharing my ambitions, stories and passion in life.  But at that particular moment I didn’t acknowledge it.  I just simply dismissed the event and accepted the earrings he gave me as a nice gesture, earrings that he explained were custom made especially for me.

Next date, he shows up with the perfect floral bouquet.  Not the roses I usually criticize.  Nope, it was my ideal arrangement.  I raised an eyebrow and found myself staring at the flowers over coffee in the days to come, this time mulling over if I should even read into the symbolism.

Well, following dates opened my heart once more but my rationality wondered if I was being blinded by love again.  So I called my mother, just to have her set me straight. She of course was thrilled to hear I was dating again, if anything just for the simple reason that I was her eldest Mexican daughter and still not married at the age of 35.

Before I could even get my question out, she insisted in telling me that she was concerned about my love life so she resorted to her superstitious habits and prayed to the “Virgen de Guadalupe” to bring me a man that shared my dreams in life.  She said the last time she prayed like that was when she was pregnant with me and wanted me to be healthy and have straight hair, both requests were answered according to her.

“Alguien que la conoce y respeta, pero sobre todo que la ame con todo su corazón,” she repeated her prayer to me. This time she was praying for the same thing I was asking for. I want someone that seems to know me and respects my life but knows how to love me with all his heart unconditionally.  I know sounds too perfect, but that is the next event that leads to my final piece.  You see this man gave me custom made earrings, remember the ones I mentioned from the first date?  These earrings jingle medallions of the “Virgen of Guadalupe” in my ears; you know the one that answers my mother’s prayers and he hand picked with me in mind.  So you tell me, is it a romantic coincidence or series of events that lead to a purpose in life, you know like serendipity? Huh? Never mind, I’ll just ask Mami, she seems to know.

What is OUR future?

Some say that inspiration and enlightenment come from a higher being or in some cases from a moment of pure relaxation that you may encounter during meditation or taking in nature. Most recently, my moment of enlightenment or should I say my wake up call happened in the midst of chaos.

Since my return from China I have been focused on promoting my book and have found myself inching towards the complex and stressed individual that I was prior to my departure from corporate America. Now mind you, I am no where near those realms but I have created my own entrapment.

I have over committed myself to an abundance of emotionally gratifying projects.  I currently tutor reading and Language Arts for the “No Child Left Behind” program, collaborate with Authors Den who has launched a writing program for high school students, work for a non-profit in Compton, established by a humble but yet strong Latina woman and assist in event planning for Libreria Martinez in Santa Ana in order to promote a barber who strives to empower our community. Yes that is a lot, but I can not find it within myself to give up any of them. However, two days ago in the midst of running late to a presentation at a local junior high, I was contemplating leaving to another country again just to get some decent sleep and have a justifiable reason to flee from the chaos I have created for myself.

Upon entering the busy halls of the local middle school - I glanced at the books enclosed in display cabinets, smiled at the works of Dr. Seuss being featured on the walls just in time for his birthday and watched students scurry through doors while teachers nudged them to stay focused - somehow the scene made me forget that another world existed outside of these walls.

I had picked out my chapter I was going to share and felt confident that all would go well. But as the students entered the small but efficient library, I noticed that many of them were being defiant while others arrived at their seats with desolate eyes staring in mid air. Again, my confidence got the best of me, because all I could think of was how I would make an impression on these kids that reminded me of my own childhood and junior high experience.

I was finally introduced to the students; all eyes were on me, as I began to speak, snickers and comments were being made in both, English and Spanish.  I started to hear teachers firmly redirect students with the words “pay attention”, “sit still”, “Luis, sshh!” who had slicked hair, baggy jeans and graffiti marks on his hand and “Maria, pon atención!” who was wearing a white t-shirt with her name airbrushed on its backside, worn out jeans, black Vans and more make up then me.

I continued with my set presentation but found myself looking around to see who was causing the continuous interruptions.  Apparently, it was the majority of the crowd. Among the audience of Hispanic children I spotted a few that seemed frustrated and expressed it by rolling their eyes towards their rebellious peers. In midst sentence I caught myself pausing to state, “I will not continue until everyone is quiet, I am also a teacher and I am sure I can find a way to use a time out if it’s needed!” I could not believe the words came out. I startled myself and made the teachers smile. It worked, well only for awhile but long enough for me to have my moment of enlightenment.

I felt disheartened that I was compelled to threaten a group of children and empathetic towards the teachers who felt they needed to apologize to me, when really society should be thanking them for being there and making it through each day. Additionally, I believe that we owe something to the students who seemed intimidated and perhaps cheated by their peers. What is their future? How will they know to stay focused and not to give up in school?

Then as my mind began to race, it came to me. We, we being me, you and the rest of society have to continue to support our teachers and elevate the children that do want to learn while find alternative ways to grasp the attention from those using their own ways of expression to be noticed.  If we do not take action now, what will become of our frustrated children and tired teachers? We must simply ask ourselves, what is OUR future?

So I immediately contacted my barber friend in Santa Ana, who has also been given the accreditation of having a PhD in Life, we proposed to form a reading and writing program for adolescents, it will be a common ground for our students, teachers and community to express themselves without limitations and promote education, we simply must empower our future to have one...

Returning to Brownsville...

While driving down highway 77, I pass the familiar sign that reads "Robstown". I check my speed gauge automatically. I grin and think "I guess some habits are hard to break." It reminded me of one of my drives in which I received a speeding ticket near Robstown on my way to Brownsville, Texas while on Spring Break from Southwest Texas State University.

Ten years later, I am returning to Brownsville to conclude my Texas book tour for Las Niñas. It is my final stop before I return to California. After Robstown, I notice all the recognizable cities that notify me of a shorter distance ahead. I pass Sarita, a city I can't miss since it's also my nickname. I drive over a bridge that announces Harlingen ahead of me. Brownsville is only exits away.

Brownsville is more than a border town and the southernmost tip of Texas; it is my place of origin. I spent the first four years of my life learning Spanish from my grandparents and eating homemade flour tortillas con frijoles made with manteca. I always refer to being born in Brownsville as receiving the best of both worlds – all the Mexican heritage with the U.S. citizenship.

As soon as I get out of the car, I take a deep breath to inhale all that the humid air has to offer. The aroma of mesquite trees, hot sun and fresh cut grass linger at the back of my throat. Visions of South Padre Island, homemade tortillas and bottled flavored soda from Matamoros flash in my mind as I wipe the sweat from my forehead.

Next I look around to see if anything has changed. The fence around my grandparent's house seems to be worn out; I have to jiggle the latch just to get in. I question if I'm at the right house. I look around again and think to myself, "Wasn't this fence new the last time I came to visit?" I enter the path that is marked by milk jugs storing the last rain and ivy leaves creating a garden façade on the walls of the house. I swat the spider webs from my face and fix my hair before I knock.

I wait a few seconds with my finger on the doorbell, thinking "Maybe they can't hear the knocking? After all, they are older now." Dressed in her usual oversized floral night gown, Abuelita opens the door stating, "Ay Sarita! Mira Javier, ya llego Sarita."

She looks older. Her hair is gray and each step is slower. But her smile still conveys that love I remember as a child. The same smile from years ago that never gives away her age. She grins from ear to ear as her aged hands clasp mine and she reaches for a hug. I embrace her, trying not to let her see the tears in my eyes. She really seems a lot older this time. We kiss each other on the cheek, a greeting tradition that was taught to me by my grandmothers.

I walk over to my grandparent's bedroom and try not to stare at my grandfather's aged face as he lies in his bed. I notice nothing has changed in the room, except for them. Abuelito is very fragile now; surviving Parkinson's has humbled his machismo pride that every Mexican man is taught to display. He hesitates to take my hand as he stands up to greet me. When he stumbles, he reaches for me to help him from falling. I sit on their bed, to keep him comfortable.  My grandmother continues to tell her story as if nothing has occurred, saving the last of his pride.

I can't help but wonder how my grandmother came to be such a woman. As she turns the pages of the family photo album that she has shared with me many times before, I wonder what makes her so patient, submissive and above all maintain such an endurance to live.

Here I am defying all laws of our culture, single at the age of thirty-four and travelling throughout the world without a male companion to protect me or should I say guide me? I have sipped on plenty of drinks, at times over indulged, while Abuelita's lips have never touched alcohol and she has been married to the same man for over fifty years, even though she has countless stories about his infidelity.  The only analogy I can draw from my life is that when a Mexican gentleman accompanies me and insists on walking along the street side to protect me out of respect for our culture, I smirk and think about diverting my walk to his opposite side just to prove that I don't need him. In the end, I just keep walking as we are just to respect his intent, as Abuelita would.

All I can assume is that somewhere beneath the floral nightdress and gray hair there lived a spirited woman who gave me the opportunity to live my life in the United States as an independent soul and the liberty to choose the parts of my Mexican culture that I will maintain and pass on to the next generation. But I can't keep from thinking if those were her true intentions or could she just be living in the simple pride we have lost through the years.

I am eager to hear her stories that I will soon share with the rest of the world, she is the reason I will be returning to Brownsville for my next book. María Luisa Castillo existed before Abuelita María Luisa García; I can only hope that I will be able to find myself in her.

I think I already have in many ways. Returning to Brownsville made me realize what I'm missing in my life and more importantly what I want to remain the same in order to share it with the next generation.

Necesito mi cultura y familia para existir. I need my culture and family to exist. Therefore, I will return to Brownsville to acknowledge my culture and family, volverá a Brownsville para reconocer mi cultura y familia.

(Author's Disclaimer: All characters depicted are fictional and not related to any real events...or are they?)

How do you know you are a single woman in your 30's?
Contributed by a single woman who was doing her laundry on a Friday night

It's easy, do you contemplate shaving your legs or wearing a thong?  Those chores simply become a clue that you are considering having sex or you purposely don't do them to stop you from jumping the guy you shouldn't sleep with. Never works.

You end up like Bridget Jones or a Sex in the City episode by either rushing into the bathroom to "slip into something more comfortable (aka quick shave, change underwear)" or use the excuse to your spontaneous sex partner that you had no intentions in having sex therefore you don't have a maintained bikini line. Kind of makes it seem like you're not, as mom would say, a "floozy".

Hey in some occasions, I have gone as far as running into the restroom to remove my granny panties, just to seem a bit sexier when the time came for him to go up my skirt since I knew I was going to let him anyways.  Being thirty, is not like when you're twenty and wonder if the guy likes you and jump to his beckon call for attention. At our age, we find that we have a choice and sometimes it just comes down to, "Do I like him enough?" and "How long has it been?"

Additionally, you can go months without having sex but can't fathom the idea of deserting ice cream or chocolate for a week.  At other moments, you wonder why you even wait for the right guy to satisfy your sexual peak and kill your craving for a wet, sweaty night in bed with a tall, dark and handsome distraction! So you take what you can get, regardless if he's 23 or not as good looking as you like them.

Meanwhile, you spend your "regular" days at work and family encounters responding to dreading statements such as, "So is there a special man in your life, YET?" or "You know if you want to have kids, you should hurry up and get married."  Mom has even said, "You know you're in your 30's now, so if you get pregnant without being married, it's ok."

So are you a single woman in your 30's? If you are not sure, check your panties and ask yourself, "Would I rather have a naked guy in bed with me tonight or some decadent chocolate?"  And if you are debating whether you really want to have lustful sex or just spend some extra time at the gym to make up for the indulgence, then you must be thirty-something. Because there's no doubt that I am...

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

A father's quest: All for the family

Rafael Castillo García's path took him from the Rio Grande Valley to Orange County.

Rafael Castillo García, also remembered as Rafa, was born on a ranch near Matamoros, Tamaulipas, Mexico on Oct. 26, 1951 as the oldest son of six children.

His father was a migrant worker with the Bracero program of the 1940's and '50's that allowed Mexicans to work legally in America while Rafa's mother stood with the firm role as the "Madre Mexicana".

Rafael moved with his parents to Brownsville, Texas in his early teens as a documented resident. Being that Spanish was his only language at the time, he was placed at a lower grade and struggled with the language barrier even though he eventually made the Honor's Society.

Not too long after his arrival, he fell in love with another new immigrant, Sara Elba Bustamante. They were married in 1972 at the age of twenty-one and seventeen. Their three daughters were born in Brownsville, Texas but eventually Rafa relocated his new family to Santa Ana, California in 1978.

Prior to his arrival, his work experience was limited to labor work, such as landscaping and construction. In pursuit of establishing job security and a better opportunity, he attempted to join the Navy but was denied and notified of his heart condition during his physical examination.

Upon his arrival to Southern California, Rafa obtained a position with the Orange County Register which started him out as a custodial assistant and feeding paper to the machines in the print room. While struggling to support a family of five, he was determined to improve his life. He found resources through a local church that he attended with his family, St. Joseph's Catholic Church, and focused on alternative ways to learn more English.

Through the years of building great friendships at work and in the community, he acquired the title "Compadre Rafa." He kept seeking for a better opportunity by demonstrating perseverance at work and never missing a day, he was even rewarded for it. Additionally, he entered various amateur photo competitions that were recognized by the Orange County Register. He made it known that he strived to have his name in the paper one day.

Meanwhile, he worked various shifts, sacrificing his time with his family during holidays and strived to maintain a balanced culture at home for his three Mexican-American daughters. His girls are the first generation of his family to be born and raised in America.

He reinforced their equality by reminding his daughters that not only were they Mexican by culture, but most importantly they were American, therefore they had an array of resources to create a different opportunity than just working long hours.

At times, Rafa expressed his passion for life by writing poems to his wife and giving his daughters positive thoughts to succeed in his new country. He would read the OC Register during his breaks at work in order to develop a higher level of English proficiency and be able to share new ideas with his family.

Occasionally, poems were written on a copy of the paper and left on the refrigerator for his wife, just so she could know that she was in his thoughts during his long hours at work. Once he even prepared "Frog Legs" for his daughters, simply because he read about the cuisine in the Food Section and explained it was part of French culture.

Through his ten years of employment at the OC Register, Rafa never allowed his family to really know the labors of his work. He would leave to work wearing pressed slacks and a button down, collared shirt. The only traces of his hard labor were the calluses on his hands and the ink in his nails.

When relatives from Texas came to visit, he would take pride and give them a tour of the print room and treat them to discounted Disneyland tickets that he obtained through his job. With these actions, he instilled pride in his daughters even though they never suspected the hard work he faced when he left early in the mornings or worked the long, night shifts.

He made sure to teach his girls to celebrate life by surprising them at lunch time with their favorite Happy Meal or giving his wife a new ring at Christmas.

Rafa's devotion to achieve a better life for his children allowed him to enroll his daughters at St. Joseph's Catholic School. He embedded the importance of education and assertiveness in life by asking his daughters to help him improve his English upon being considered for a promotion.

He reached out to Santa Ana's diverse community by playing softball with colleagues, providing youth group counseling through the church, supporting friends in times of need and offering a "carne asada" in times of celebration.

With great pride, Rafa obtained his U.S. citizenship in May of 1987 and also attended classes at the local community college in order to pursue a higher position with the Orange County Register. His motivation was to see his name on the paper instead of pushing it through the machine and hopefully offer a different future for his family.

Rafael Castillo García died unexpectedly on February 27, 1988 at the age of 36, leaving behind his three daughters, his wife, countless compadres y comadres in Santa Ana and a memorable story of his life in his new country.

Symbols of his priorities in life were collected from his locker at work; they consisted of pictures of his girls and adored wife, a book he was reading in English and a uniform his daughters had never seen.

Upon losing her husband and the head of the household, Rafael's wife, Sara, was forced to venture into the workforce.

Fortunately, Rafael had prepared for the inevitable and with his passing Sara was given the financial opportunity to relocate her girls to a new environment. She moved to Rancho Santa Margarita in 1988 and obtained her medical assistance certification around the same time her first daughter graduated from Trabuco Hills High School in 1992.

Since then, the family has also lived in Texas, in which the two eldest daughters obtained their bachelor's degrees and traveled to foreign lands. After raising her daughters as a single mother, celebrating two weddings and her first grandchild's birth, Sara passes her time residing in Miami, Florida.

Twenty years later, Rafa is still greatly missed by all and his passion to live life to the fullest is visible through his family. His second daughter, Suzanne is pursuing a doctorate degree in education at the University of Texas in Austin while the youngest daughter is raising her new family in Orange, California.

As the eldest daughter I have made it my goal to see his name on paper too. My name is Sarah Rafael García, author of "Las Niñas: A Collection of Childhood Memories." The stories I wrote are all prior to my father's passing.

I took my father's name as my pen name in order to live his ultimate dream. I share my father's name with the next generation of the family; Rafael Castellanos is the first grandchild and was named in remembrance of his grandfather's legacy and dedication to provide a better future para la familia– for the family.

Nature keeps me grounded...

As I walked through Mariposa Grove, I clicked my shutter towards scenes of greenery, enormous sequoias and lightly scorched branches that once stood in the way of a spit of energy sent from our heavens.  Through the lens, I captured small square shots in close proximity and off far away.  Endless rays of light filtered down from the sky, splitting each sequoia into individual souls towering over me, leading down to my feet, and freeing me to seek my potential.  I stared through the lens with great perception not realizing that the true meaning lied in what I saw when I viewed its presence with my naked eye.

The small square no longer existed; the realm of nature was extended with each turn of my head.  Nature's towers leaned over me like a father leaning in for a kiss to his daughter's forehead.  The whispering breeze embraced me in its arms, encouraging me to walk ahead. With each step, new images arose, the root that makes man seem small as an ant, exposing its foundation and explaining its extinction which could take longer than my life to gradually disintegrate.

So as abundant as life expectations can be, nature keeps me grounded… I have to take time to inhale what's around me in order to exhale what's within me.  I hiked up five miles to Chilnualna Falls, mostly by myself, and yet with all my surroundings.  As the trail steepened I doubted myself.  There had to be something at the top to set this path in front of me. I found brief moments to catch my breath and ponder the reasons I find myself here.  One moment led to my last trip to Yosemite; I recall my father waving from the waterfall when he was the exact age I am now. Instantly, I found my inner motivation.  As I neared the top, the trees seemed shorter and the surrounding mountains were at eye level. The path was filled with rocks and boulders; I searched for the perfect keepsake to add to my pieces of earth that I collect as a reminder of nature's existence.

I climbed over the last set of boulders to find waterfalls and pools filled with enticing smiles.  I had made it to the top.  The view was mesmerizing; it was as if I was standing at the end of the earth and watching life pass.  I was simply happy to be there.  I stood on the edge, inhaled deeply, took in the magnificent view and waved from the waterfall.  At that moment, the feeling in my toes led me to my inner self.