Alaska Later This Week!

Ever since I was a child, I have always had a fascination with Alaska.  I vividly remember grabbing a hold of whatever maps I could find of that state (these were the times before the Internet and computers, mind you), and poring over them, covering every single centimeter of that huge state with my mental magnifying glass.  I think my fascination lay in large part due to the remoteness of Alaska.  How could anyone possibly live so far away from where I lived?  What was it like up there?  Were people different?  What kind of lives did they have?  

As a child, I was forever questioning everything (sorry Mom & Dad!).  I wondered exactly just who was responsible for deciding who would grow up and live where, and why I didn't have much choice in the matter initially.  Eventually, I progressed from simply looking at maps to actually checking out books on the different states and geographical areas of the world from our local public library in the small town in which I grew up - spending hours and hours just fascinated with how very different certain regions of our country and world were as compared to where I lived in at the time (which was very boring and not newsworthy in any redeeming way).

I remember seeing images of the vast, open, majestic, and serene wilderness that is Alaska.  Images of jagged, enormous, snow-capped mountains, endless tall pine trees, gigantic elk and moose grazing on green hilly pastures, and rivers and streams full of big, healthy salmon trying to find their way upstream while avoiding the curious gazes of very interested brown, hungry bears.

Deep inside, I always wanted to be a part of that, even if only for a few moments; I wanted to experience the unparalleled beauty of that great state of Alaska.  I developed a yearning to visit that state, a yearning that would soon subside and stay buried in the deep recesses of my soul - until many, many years later. 

I sit here today, writing from the terminal of the tiny Shenandoah Valley Regional Airport in Weyer's Cave, Virginia, on my way from here to Houston for a Thanksgiving holiday visit with family and friends.  I'm incredibly, incredibly fortunate that the company I work for, Rosetta Stone, will be sending me this coming Sunday on an adventure to that elusive state in the far North that been so out of reach until now - Alaska. 

Mom & Our Family

I haven't shown my blog much love in a while now.  In fact, it has been a little over two years since I last made an entry.  I'm deciding today that I'm absolutely going to do a better job of updating it more frequently - not daily or anything, but definitely more often than once every two years.

On that note, today is Mother's Day here in these United States.  I just got off the phone with my sister (who has been like a second mom to me, in many ways), as well as with my own mom.  I'm not only eternally grateful, but also exceedingly lucky to have the honor of having these two amazing women in my life.  

Since I was a child, my mother has played a very important role in my life and has always taken a keen interest in it.  As a child, I always - for whatever reason - expected my mom (as well as my dad) to be like superheroes.  In many ways, they were that and more, but in some others, they didn't come close.  These moments led to some childhood disappointments, but when I grew up and got past this, I actually learned to see my parents as human beings who tried their best to make life good for my older sister, older brother, and me, given the circumstances they found themselves in at the time.  

My mom is the third of six children (five girls, one boy).  Born in northeast Mexico in 1938, she went to elementary school, as she tells me, in a school that had broken windows and worn desks.  As one can imagine, things would get pretty chilly in the winter, but they were happy.  Every morning, she would stand outside in formation along with the other schoolchildren and salute the Mexican flag as it was raised on the flagpole while the national anthem of Mexico played through the school's loudspeakers.  She then went on to complete middle school and high school, and afterwards went on to a school to learn secretarial skills - back in the day when old-style typewriters, carbon papers, and shorthand were the methods of communication (not the e-mail, blogs, and Facebook that we have today).  

She met my dad in her early 20s after going to a local nightclub to see my dad's band perform - the Johnny Jets (later Los Aztecas de Matamoros).  The story goes that while admiring my dad's music that night as the band played on (with him as the lead guitar and lead singer), my dad sort of just glanced her over and paid no attention to this beautiful girl in the audience.  Perplexed as to why exactly it was that this musician would just ignore her like that, my mom made it a point to make his acquaintance after the show.  They started talking over drinks, and the rest, as they say, is history. 

My mom married my dad in 1962 in Mexico at the tender young age of 24, and in 1963, my oldest sister, Diana Elsa, was born.  My dad, fairly dark-skinned as he is, has told us stories of how he would walk around the town square with my newborn sister, who was very fair-skinned with green eyes, and people would give him looks as if he had kidnapped her from some American family!  Four years later, in 1967, my older brother, Pablo Jesús, was born.  After having my sister, my mother had hoped for a boy, and her wish was granted.  I was born in 1973, and while I was only eight months old (in April of 1974), my family emigrated from Mexico and came to the United States, as my parents dreamed of the proverbial better life for their children.  They felt that the limited opportunities in Mexico at the time would be too stifling for what they had in mind for us as parents.  

My mom, along with my dad, has always cared deeply about my education, and their biggest desire for us as their children has always been for the three of us to live happy, fulfilling lives.  For me, personally, I have to say that the greatest gift that she and my dad have given me has been absolute freedom.  Growing up, my parents never placed any restrictions or limitations on any aspect of my life.  They let me formulate my own opinions on important matters like religion and politics - never imposing their own personal views on me - and allowed me full reign to individually shape my own perspective of life in a way that worked best for me as an independent human being.  For this great gift, I will be eternally grateful to my parents.
 

Today, my mom is 73 and living happily with my dad in a small retirement community in Houston, Texas.  I make it a point to call my parents at least three times a week - almost always including every Sunday.  I continue to cherish the conversations I have with my parents, because I know that, sadly, they will not be around forever.  Time is precious, and way too short...

Mom, thank you for being such an inspiration to me throughout my life, and thank you for everything you have ever done for me.  I love you.