Bigote

 

 

It is December 12th here in Illimo, Peru.  It is baking hot and 1pm.  As my part of the United States faces  the beginning of a cold Winter I face a daily dance on the Sun.  One and a half hours removed from the coast and sitting hours from the equator my town begins to bake about 9:30 AM.  A breeze comes in around 3:30 and cools things down, it is still pleasant at night…ideal sleeping conditions with a full open window and fan. 

In my off time I have been reading a book titled Guns, Germs, and Steel-the fates of human societies.  Which is a historical break down of how our world ended up as it did why certain countries conquered others, where food production developed, and how our society is as it is presently.  It was a grand book, in my other free time I have been watching Trueblood the HBO vampire series.  This is my last week of classes before the youth encounter their vacation so things have slowed down a bit for me…..and after this week I face two weeks of not much which could be treacherous as the holidays approach.  I miss my family already and the idea of Christmas away from them..I am sure it will only intensify as time moves towards Christmas Eve.

  For the last week-4 out of 7 nights I have had dreams that involved me having a thick brown mustache (bigote in Spanish). Even during the dreams I can see it as absurd but have almost gotten to the point where I look forward to going to sleep to see if it is going to make a showing.  I do not know where it stems from (I think it is because bigote is my favorite known Spanish word to this point and my friend in town sports a monster one) but it is a mustache that any person would be proud of…..it makes no sense on my pale bald headed body but it is a banner stash none the less.  One evening I fought vampires bigote in tow…..another night I was playing soccer with the previously mentioned mustache, and last night my Grandpa Moses was in my dream. 

My grandfather on my dads side was an epic character-He had a gizzard on his neck that would have had the pilgrims in a tizzy before the first thanksgiving (that is before they gave the small box infected blankets to the Native Americans).  His gizzard was such that after he finished rattling off his dialect it would continue to sway seconds after as if mimicking his own words.  For a short time in my mid twenties I feared this gizzard would for sure find its way to me and I was as paranoid as someone could be continuously checking for changes in my neck flesh.  I will probably have it after gaining significant weight for about 3 years and loosing it….my neck is  ripe for a gizzard invasion later in life.  Alas at that point it will not matter or I will do as any logical person would and get it zapped off.  I had a good relationship with my grandfather. As I got older he depended on my father and I more and more for company and for assistance with daily tasks.  At an age when I was irresponsible I managed to stay the course with helping him and years later I am always glad that I did.  He was an eternal pessimist, and doubter of people who did it in such an unintentionally funny way that he became a hysterical walking myth.  He was raised near Cleveland in a time when our country was less “advanced” in regards to race relations and every thing else and he carried that with him in his twisted mindset.  I know for a fact my grandfather did not believe half of what he said related to negative things or those beliefs were bore out of ignorance to a time before. One of his most used and lovable lines was to yelp and shake his head while crowing “why would you want to go and do that for”  I heard this line on a number of occasions during my life.  When I returned home from my Junior year in college Spring Break with an eye brow ring- he let out a howl and made a half hearted go at getting his hands on the eye brow ring.After high school when I needed time away and told him I was going to Japan I received a very animated “why would you want and go and do that for” this phrase is repeated to this day by myself, my father, my sister, and my dads long time girlfriend in remembrance of him.  There is a 100 things unique about my grandfather that can be recalled….the way he could literally take a 30 minute drive and turn it into two hours and receive the middle finger at least 30 times during the process for slowing down traffic to a crawl, the way he would yell and scream at any umpire or ref during any sporting event I had, or the way he would sit so slumped in his chair that it appeared his backbone had disappeared all together, anyone in his neighborhood that had a garage and used it was dealing drugs in his eyes, how he would let any vehicle that had wronged him know that if he had any sort of right mind he would use his car as a battering ram, or that if he had a baseball bat in his trunk he would break it out against said vehicle….he was a comedy of lovable errors but also would engage any person he got the chance to…in restaurants, in line at the grocery store…anywhere.  You turned your head and he was telling of his Cleveland lineage….he was one of the most snarly and friendly people rolled into one.  In a world full of utterly unique individuals he was an utterly unique one.  One of my favorite things in life is to sit and listen to my father retell stories about “the old man” granted they are the same ten stories every time but they are top notch and they always send my father and those around him into a strong laugh.   Last night in my dream my grandfather grabbed a hold of my mustache and asked me “what would you want to go and do that for” and it felt fantastic. If my grandfather was still alive I probably not be here in Peru as he would have been historically old and I most likely would not have left but if I told him I was his gizzard would have danced a wild one.  I miss my grandfather-I miss his larger than life absurdities and the softness that could at times lie underneath.  I also wish I had the capability to grow this mustache of which I have spoken.

Three of my best friends last Christmas