Pretty Teriyaki Chicken Bowls
Written June 2007
As she sits across from her best friend she looks at him and says: “What’s the difference between cute and pretty?” He looks up at her and says, “See this morsel of rice? That’s cute. Now look at this bowl with rice and teriyaki chicken and that’s pretty.” She walks away not quite sure what this means but accepts it as truth. The only question that remains is, “If rice is cute and teriyaki bowls are pretty then what is beautiful?” Her thoughts wander as they usually do and in her mind she thinks, “Does adding vegetables make it beautiful or is the preparation and presentation of this entire teriyaki bowl what will make it beautiful.”
The question lives inside her for many years. She wonders what he truly meant to say and discovers that it isn’t his response that dumbfounded her but the situation that raised the question.
Two weeks before the teriyaki chicken bowl incident she is sitting at her boyfriends house. She looks at him and asks, “Why do you love me?” He responds, “Because of all that you are and all that you are going to become.” As he walks away he turns around and says, “Oh, and sometimes I think you’re cute and sometimes I think you’re pretty.” The first response brings a smile to her face and the second makes her laugh. She then continues typing away at her computer trying to write something that doesn’t quite flow through her as things normally do.
For most of this woman’s life her physical attributes have been compared to another person. Her identity has never been just her own. Bonita is a word she is quite used to hearing but it is always followed by bonita como (pretty like) so and so. She chooses to ignore the adjective and to be the personality that resides within. To her pretty and cute are not words she identifies with. She prefers smart and funny. Those words don’t arrive.
The boyfriend and best friend are no longer in her life. She still eats teriyaki chicken bowls but has never looked at them quite the same.
~Risa del Mar
Aug 21, 2012
Aug 20, 2012
Family Politics or On Being ‘Just A Niece’
Family Politics or On Being ‘Just A Niece’
Written June 2007
The last week has been especially trying and enlightening at the same time. My uncle that raised me became ill. He is one of the healthiest people I know even though he doesn’t really follow the rules of the game. The rules of the game as I’ve heard through the grapevine is that he should not drink, smoke, eat red meat and eggs because they all cause some type of illness or disease. My uncle drinks, smokes, eats meat and eggs every day and has a clean bill of health – no cholesterol, no high blood pressure, no lung cancer, no liver problems. You look at him and you would never think that he is 73 years old.
Last Sunday I walk into the house to say hello and I notice that my uncle is not doing any of the things he most enjoys. I also notice that he isn’t saying very much and he seems to be quite feverish. He’s not even paying attention to his soccer game which is the biggest indicator that something is wrong. My uncle never ignores a game.
I ask my aunt about it and she tells me he isn’t feeling well. I ask her if I should call his doctor and she says that he doesn’t want us to do anything. He gets upset that I am showing concern. Knowing my uncle and his machista ways I walk away but I still can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong with him.
On Monday morning I call my sister and tell her that I feel something is wrong. She then mentions that my aunt called her at 6 am to tell her he is shaking and can’t eat or drink anything. My sister asks at that time if we should call the doctor or paramedics and again my uncle says no. My sister then decides to get another opinion and has my brother go check on him. My brother says he is fine so she leaves it alone. By the time I call my sister it is 11 am. I ask her to please call again and check on him. The relationship that I have with my uncle is very different from the one she has with him so I know that he will not be upset with her for showing concern.
At 1 pm I receive a phone call to go home because they’ve called the paramedics and my uncle is in the hospital. I feel this large lump in my throat because I know that it took a lot for him to accept the help and if the help means paramedics this is not a good thing.
I arrive at the hospital after having been stuck in traffic for over an hour and my brother is outside. I ask if he’s been inside yet and he says no. My other brother traveled with them to the hospital but left when my cousin (their daughter) arrived.
I walk in the hospital with my brother to go and see him and am stopped by the front desk emergency room staff asking me who I am here to see. The woman asks what relation I am to the patient. At first I say I am his niece and then quickly follow it by ‘Well he’s pretty much my father because he raised me’. Then they let us in. I already know that if I say he is my uncle they will not let us in.
I get to his bedside and he has an IV and is receiving antibiotics. I’ve never seen my uncle in such a fragile state and it scares me to think that at some point of time this is going to be a regular thing.
My cousin (their daughter – technically her daughter only but who’s counting bloodline at this point) is sitting with my aunt at his bedside. One of the nursing staff comes by saying that only two visitors are allowed at a time. My aunt gets up and says that she’s been there a long time and I should sit with him. My cousin who had already been there for over an hour doesn’t budge so my brother goes outside with my Aunt. I ask him if he wants to stay before he walks out but he just looks at me and I know that I should sit down.
My sister arrives as well as his daughter-in-law and grandchild. We all want to see how he is doing. We worry more when we find out his fever is 103.7. We joke that it sounds like a radio station but nervous laughter isn’t the same as regular laughter.
… three hours later….
My uncle is admitted and moved to the third floor for observation. The nurse walks in and at this point it is my Aunt, my cousin (their daughter) and I in the room with my uncle. The nurse then proceeds to question who we are. My cousin promptly begins to answer saying, ‘This is his wife and I am his daughter’. The nurse looks at me and says, ‘Who are you?’. As I am about to respond, my cousin promptly responds, ‘Her? She’s just his niece.’ At that moment I just kind of swallowed and didn’t say a word. I am usually the girl that has witty or sarcastic comebacks but there is a time and place for everything. And right now my concern is that my Uncle get better.
The nurse then proceeds to ask about my uncle’s medical history. My cousin tries to answer about his drinking by saying he drinks 3 to 4 glasses of whiskey a day. The nurse seems really concerned so I clarify saying, ‘Actually it’s more like three to four two-ounce shots mixed with club soda and ice. The nurse then changes her demeanor and says, ‘Well that’s not too bad. Whiskey is good for you.’ Next question the nurse asks about his smoking habits and my cousin says that he smokes everyday. The nurse wants us to be more specific. My cousin stays silent so I say, ‘He smokes one cigarette with every drink so about three to four unfiltered cigarettes a day is what he smokes.’ The questioning continues on about his allergies, his eating habits, his general health and recent medical exams. These are all questions that I end up answering. By the end of the conversation the nurse is asking me questions directly and I answer without hesitation.
My cousin ends up leaving at about 7 pm indicating that she has a family to attend to. I end up staying with my Aunt and Uncle and leave about 9 pm once he is settled in for the night. I talk to the nurses about how long he is going to be there and they tell me to check tomorrow morning. They ask for my contact information in case there’s an emergency. I take my aunt to get some food and head home for the night.
For the next two days I end up having to work from home since my Aunt does not drive. I go in the morning to check on him and talk to the nurses. I end up taking him something to eat because he doesn’t like hospital food. Back and forth all day long. My routine has changed completely and I am going to sleep at 2 to 3 am each night so that I can both do my job and be there for my Aunt and Uncle when they need me.
By Wednesday evening my Uncle is going to be released. By now, my sister has noticed how much my Aunt relies on me and how much I am expected to do for them. It’s something I’ve always told my siblings but in a small way I feel redeemed that she finally understands. That it’s not just a figment of my imagination. Even though others offer to help my Aunt still expects me to do things for her.
I think about situations like this where I am ‘Just a Niece’. Never a daughter. That is my reality. I understand that and I know that my place in this home is not of a daughter but of a niece. I understand that that’s just the way it is and always going to be. They may love me in their own way but I will never be of pure enough blood to be their daughter. Their daughter (who again is technically only her daughter) will always be next of kin and will continue to point out that I am ‘Just a niece.’ That’s just in case I forget…
I write this story not to point fingers at anyone or to make anyone feel ill at ease. My hope is that others understand that situations of awkwardness like this can be avoided. It is not necessary to point out the obvious. Once you become an orphan you realize very quickly that you are no longer anyone’s child. The bloodlines have been broken and the cards have been dealt. It is something that you never forget. We know our place in this hierarchy deemed Family.
~Risa del Mar
Written June 2007
The last week has been especially trying and enlightening at the same time. My uncle that raised me became ill. He is one of the healthiest people I know even though he doesn’t really follow the rules of the game. The rules of the game as I’ve heard through the grapevine is that he should not drink, smoke, eat red meat and eggs because they all cause some type of illness or disease. My uncle drinks, smokes, eats meat and eggs every day and has a clean bill of health – no cholesterol, no high blood pressure, no lung cancer, no liver problems. You look at him and you would never think that he is 73 years old.
Last Sunday I walk into the house to say hello and I notice that my uncle is not doing any of the things he most enjoys. I also notice that he isn’t saying very much and he seems to be quite feverish. He’s not even paying attention to his soccer game which is the biggest indicator that something is wrong. My uncle never ignores a game.
I ask my aunt about it and she tells me he isn’t feeling well. I ask her if I should call his doctor and she says that he doesn’t want us to do anything. He gets upset that I am showing concern. Knowing my uncle and his machista ways I walk away but I still can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong with him.
On Monday morning I call my sister and tell her that I feel something is wrong. She then mentions that my aunt called her at 6 am to tell her he is shaking and can’t eat or drink anything. My sister asks at that time if we should call the doctor or paramedics and again my uncle says no. My sister then decides to get another opinion and has my brother go check on him. My brother says he is fine so she leaves it alone. By the time I call my sister it is 11 am. I ask her to please call again and check on him. The relationship that I have with my uncle is very different from the one she has with him so I know that he will not be upset with her for showing concern.
At 1 pm I receive a phone call to go home because they’ve called the paramedics and my uncle is in the hospital. I feel this large lump in my throat because I know that it took a lot for him to accept the help and if the help means paramedics this is not a good thing.
I arrive at the hospital after having been stuck in traffic for over an hour and my brother is outside. I ask if he’s been inside yet and he says no. My other brother traveled with them to the hospital but left when my cousin (their daughter) arrived.
I walk in the hospital with my brother to go and see him and am stopped by the front desk emergency room staff asking me who I am here to see. The woman asks what relation I am to the patient. At first I say I am his niece and then quickly follow it by ‘Well he’s pretty much my father because he raised me’. Then they let us in. I already know that if I say he is my uncle they will not let us in.
I get to his bedside and he has an IV and is receiving antibiotics. I’ve never seen my uncle in such a fragile state and it scares me to think that at some point of time this is going to be a regular thing.
My cousin (their daughter – technically her daughter only but who’s counting bloodline at this point) is sitting with my aunt at his bedside. One of the nursing staff comes by saying that only two visitors are allowed at a time. My aunt gets up and says that she’s been there a long time and I should sit with him. My cousin who had already been there for over an hour doesn’t budge so my brother goes outside with my Aunt. I ask him if he wants to stay before he walks out but he just looks at me and I know that I should sit down.
My sister arrives as well as his daughter-in-law and grandchild. We all want to see how he is doing. We worry more when we find out his fever is 103.7. We joke that it sounds like a radio station but nervous laughter isn’t the same as regular laughter.
… three hours later….
My uncle is admitted and moved to the third floor for observation. The nurse walks in and at this point it is my Aunt, my cousin (their daughter) and I in the room with my uncle. The nurse then proceeds to question who we are. My cousin promptly begins to answer saying, ‘This is his wife and I am his daughter’. The nurse looks at me and says, ‘Who are you?’. As I am about to respond, my cousin promptly responds, ‘Her? She’s just his niece.’ At that moment I just kind of swallowed and didn’t say a word. I am usually the girl that has witty or sarcastic comebacks but there is a time and place for everything. And right now my concern is that my Uncle get better.
The nurse then proceeds to ask about my uncle’s medical history. My cousin tries to answer about his drinking by saying he drinks 3 to 4 glasses of whiskey a day. The nurse seems really concerned so I clarify saying, ‘Actually it’s more like three to four two-ounce shots mixed with club soda and ice. The nurse then changes her demeanor and says, ‘Well that’s not too bad. Whiskey is good for you.’ Next question the nurse asks about his smoking habits and my cousin says that he smokes everyday. The nurse wants us to be more specific. My cousin stays silent so I say, ‘He smokes one cigarette with every drink so about three to four unfiltered cigarettes a day is what he smokes.’ The questioning continues on about his allergies, his eating habits, his general health and recent medical exams. These are all questions that I end up answering. By the end of the conversation the nurse is asking me questions directly and I answer without hesitation.
My cousin ends up leaving at about 7 pm indicating that she has a family to attend to. I end up staying with my Aunt and Uncle and leave about 9 pm once he is settled in for the night. I talk to the nurses about how long he is going to be there and they tell me to check tomorrow morning. They ask for my contact information in case there’s an emergency. I take my aunt to get some food and head home for the night.
For the next two days I end up having to work from home since my Aunt does not drive. I go in the morning to check on him and talk to the nurses. I end up taking him something to eat because he doesn’t like hospital food. Back and forth all day long. My routine has changed completely and I am going to sleep at 2 to 3 am each night so that I can both do my job and be there for my Aunt and Uncle when they need me.
By Wednesday evening my Uncle is going to be released. By now, my sister has noticed how much my Aunt relies on me and how much I am expected to do for them. It’s something I’ve always told my siblings but in a small way I feel redeemed that she finally understands. That it’s not just a figment of my imagination. Even though others offer to help my Aunt still expects me to do things for her.
I think about situations like this where I am ‘Just a Niece’. Never a daughter. That is my reality. I understand that and I know that my place in this home is not of a daughter but of a niece. I understand that that’s just the way it is and always going to be. They may love me in their own way but I will never be of pure enough blood to be their daughter. Their daughter (who again is technically only her daughter) will always be next of kin and will continue to point out that I am ‘Just a niece.’ That’s just in case I forget…
I write this story not to point fingers at anyone or to make anyone feel ill at ease. My hope is that others understand that situations of awkwardness like this can be avoided. It is not necessary to point out the obvious. Once you become an orphan you realize very quickly that you are no longer anyone’s child. The bloodlines have been broken and the cards have been dealt. It is something that you never forget. We know our place in this hierarchy deemed Family.
~Risa del Mar
Aug 19, 2012
Celebrating You
This one was about my mom. I wrote it 5 years ago. Every year my relationship with my mother changes and how I reflect on it changes as well...
Celebrating You
September 25, 2007 - Tuesday
It's 21 years today since you passed away. I spent the day at work busy just doing my thing. I thought of you this morning as I drove in to work and although the day was beautiful and productive there were moments when nostalgia crept in to visit.
The last few years have been different from the rest. Today especially I felt that in order to honor you and your life dear mother I needed to celebrate and be happy.
As I looked in the mirror this morning I saw your reflection in me. I laugh now at the thought of how many years I spent trying to not look like you. In your absence, you left an empty space with lots of questions and not enough answers. I admit that for years I didn't realize that I was trying to be different and as I ran across a photo of you in your youth the other day, it brought a smile to my face to see that for a brief moment I saw myself in you.
Many times people have looked at me and said, 'You look so much like your mother'. So many times I have felt my heart ache a little bit when those words spilled out of their mouths. I wonder if they know that everytime they say those words I am reminded of your absence. Of how short your life was and yet the imprints on my soul are permanent.
So I chose today to remember all my happy moments with you...
My happiest memory of you is you listening to your favorite music on the record player like 'El Puma' or 'Lola Beltran' and grabbing me by the arms and twirling me around the house.
I also remember the time that you were learning to drive and everyone was afraid to get in the van except my cousin Jessie and I. We drove around visiting family and sharing a good laugh at your driving skill or rather lack thereof. It was a project that was soon put to rest and many were happy that you decided not to pursue this endeavor.
I remember the times that you would bake cakes in the kitchen and all the hours that you spent carefully decorating and detailing them for friends weddings or quinceaneras. The smell of sweet vanilla would permeate the house for hours.
I also remember Christmas time and us making tamales. Sometimes you would make too much and would contemplate throwing the masa on the rooftop like my grandmother had done at one time when she was tired of cooking.
I remember you baking your famous sugar cookies during that time as well. They were so good that many family members still talk about them today.
I remember your laughter and how it echoed through the house bringing joy to all who heard it.
I remember the nickname that my uncle gave you, 'Doña Fierros' which meant 'Iron Lady'. He said that you were as strong as iron. It would make you laugh each time he said it.
So on this day I cherish the memories of your life. I appreciate the stories that I have learned about you since your passing. And as this day comes to a close I wanted to let you know that this day was spent laughing, recalling, dancing and smiling.
~Risa del Mar 9/2007
Celebrating You
September 25, 2007 - Tuesday
It's 21 years today since you passed away. I spent the day at work busy just doing my thing. I thought of you this morning as I drove in to work and although the day was beautiful and productive there were moments when nostalgia crept in to visit.
The last few years have been different from the rest. Today especially I felt that in order to honor you and your life dear mother I needed to celebrate and be happy.
As I looked in the mirror this morning I saw your reflection in me. I laugh now at the thought of how many years I spent trying to not look like you. In your absence, you left an empty space with lots of questions and not enough answers. I admit that for years I didn't realize that I was trying to be different and as I ran across a photo of you in your youth the other day, it brought a smile to my face to see that for a brief moment I saw myself in you.
Many times people have looked at me and said, 'You look so much like your mother'. So many times I have felt my heart ache a little bit when those words spilled out of their mouths. I wonder if they know that everytime they say those words I am reminded of your absence. Of how short your life was and yet the imprints on my soul are permanent.
So I chose today to remember all my happy moments with you...
My happiest memory of you is you listening to your favorite music on the record player like 'El Puma' or 'Lola Beltran' and grabbing me by the arms and twirling me around the house.
I also remember the time that you were learning to drive and everyone was afraid to get in the van except my cousin Jessie and I. We drove around visiting family and sharing a good laugh at your driving skill or rather lack thereof. It was a project that was soon put to rest and many were happy that you decided not to pursue this endeavor.
I remember the times that you would bake cakes in the kitchen and all the hours that you spent carefully decorating and detailing them for friends weddings or quinceaneras. The smell of sweet vanilla would permeate the house for hours.
I also remember Christmas time and us making tamales. Sometimes you would make too much and would contemplate throwing the masa on the rooftop like my grandmother had done at one time when she was tired of cooking.
I remember you baking your famous sugar cookies during that time as well. They were so good that many family members still talk about them today.
I remember your laughter and how it echoed through the house bringing joy to all who heard it.
I remember the nickname that my uncle gave you, 'Doña Fierros' which meant 'Iron Lady'. He said that you were as strong as iron. It would make you laugh each time he said it.
So on this day I cherish the memories of your life. I appreciate the stories that I have learned about you since your passing. And as this day comes to a close I wanted to let you know that this day was spent laughing, recalling, dancing and smiling.
~Risa del Mar 9/2007
Aug 17, 2012
Love & Disease - Taking Care of You
This post was originally written December 16, 2008. At the time I posted it on my other Space and once I deleted the account I saved a lot of my posts because in many ways they perfectly captured what I was experiencing at the time. Today, four years later I find myself re-reading a lot of my old posts and have decided to repost them as I start to put pen to paper with new points of view that have occurred since this time...
Date: December 16, 2008
Love and Disease
When my father passed away he was 46 years old. He died of a heart attack. This was after a triple bypass surgery that he had had not long before the heart failure. When you look at photos of my father he looked healthy, was not overweight and for all intents and purposes was fine. Reality is that he worked two jobs and would come home from one only to go to the next. He did this because he wanted to provide for his family and give them more than they could imagine. What he failed to recognize is that what we (his children) needed was more time with him. I was four years old when he passed away and my siblings were ten, eleven and twelve years of age.
My mother passed away when she was 44 years old. This came only six years after my fathers passing. She was diabetic and had liver problems. My mother never drank in her life but the diabetes had affected her entire system. I remember many times having to give her her pills and feeding her on her bad days. I remember catching her eating things she was not supposed to and asking her why she was killing herself deliberately. I remember being angry with her because I knew that she didn't have much time left. I could see her deteriorating before me. I was ten when she passed away and my siblings were 16, 17 and 18 years old.
Through the years I have found through books that I read and people that I meet in passing that the only guarantee we have in this life is death. As I get older I think about my age and how I get closer to the age my mother was when she was at her worst right before dying. I see my sister now 40 years old and how she worries about her kids and wants to make sure she is there for them. I talked to her the other day about how many things she is doing different. The main thing is that she is healthy and that times are different. Science and technology have made strides and improvements for both sets of diseases and although we are all at risk there are very real possibilities if we just take care of ourselves.
So on the other side of the token when I see people that have their whole lives ahead of them and deliberately throw it away by not taking care of themselves it makes me feel a bit resentful. I know I shouldn't feel that way but I do. I had gone out with someone not too long ago that shared with me as a right of passage I imagine that he was diabetic. As I looked at him he asked me if this was the part when I started to take care of him. I looked at him angry because I knew that for him he had a choice but he was choosing death every minute of every day that he would not eat the right foods or ingested the sugar that he ate daily. So I ended up walking away knowing in my heart what I wanted to say was No. This is the part where I walk away and you start loving yourself enough to take care of your own life. I've been down this path before and I refuse to go down that same path because someone doesn't care enough about themself to make the right choice.
So as the year comes to an end, nostalgia always sets in and my hope is that those of you out there love yourself enough to make the right choices if you have them to make. That you look at ailing parents with love and realize that there are many of us that would love to have just one more day with them. That if you have kids you choose to spend some time with them rather than putting in those extra hours at your job. That you take a moment to remember that every day you have is a gift and you get to choose what to do with this gift that you are given.
Date: December 16, 2008
Love and Disease
When my father passed away he was 46 years old. He died of a heart attack. This was after a triple bypass surgery that he had had not long before the heart failure. When you look at photos of my father he looked healthy, was not overweight and for all intents and purposes was fine. Reality is that he worked two jobs and would come home from one only to go to the next. He did this because he wanted to provide for his family and give them more than they could imagine. What he failed to recognize is that what we (his children) needed was more time with him. I was four years old when he passed away and my siblings were ten, eleven and twelve years of age.
My mother passed away when she was 44 years old. This came only six years after my fathers passing. She was diabetic and had liver problems. My mother never drank in her life but the diabetes had affected her entire system. I remember many times having to give her her pills and feeding her on her bad days. I remember catching her eating things she was not supposed to and asking her why she was killing herself deliberately. I remember being angry with her because I knew that she didn't have much time left. I could see her deteriorating before me. I was ten when she passed away and my siblings were 16, 17 and 18 years old.
Through the years I have found through books that I read and people that I meet in passing that the only guarantee we have in this life is death. As I get older I think about my age and how I get closer to the age my mother was when she was at her worst right before dying. I see my sister now 40 years old and how she worries about her kids and wants to make sure she is there for them. I talked to her the other day about how many things she is doing different. The main thing is that she is healthy and that times are different. Science and technology have made strides and improvements for both sets of diseases and although we are all at risk there are very real possibilities if we just take care of ourselves.
So on the other side of the token when I see people that have their whole lives ahead of them and deliberately throw it away by not taking care of themselves it makes me feel a bit resentful. I know I shouldn't feel that way but I do. I had gone out with someone not too long ago that shared with me as a right of passage I imagine that he was diabetic. As I looked at him he asked me if this was the part when I started to take care of him. I looked at him angry because I knew that for him he had a choice but he was choosing death every minute of every day that he would not eat the right foods or ingested the sugar that he ate daily. So I ended up walking away knowing in my heart what I wanted to say was No. This is the part where I walk away and you start loving yourself enough to take care of your own life. I've been down this path before and I refuse to go down that same path because someone doesn't care enough about themself to make the right choice.
So as the year comes to an end, nostalgia always sets in and my hope is that those of you out there love yourself enough to make the right choices if you have them to make. That you look at ailing parents with love and realize that there are many of us that would love to have just one more day with them. That if you have kids you choose to spend some time with them rather than putting in those extra hours at your job. That you take a moment to remember that every day you have is a gift and you get to choose what to do with this gift that you are given.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
