meaning-making practice
My grandmother, Brigida Adamas Rosas de Quintero, with Mom and Uncle Lucho. In mid-1930s Panama City, República de Panamá. The family lived for awhile on Avenida Central. Brigida was a matriarch, a strong-willed woman from Tolé - in Panama's highland province of Chiriquí (i.e., the boonies). She was from a poor peasant family. Her biological… Continue reading Brigida’s Love Story
How I found hope over lunch in Panama.
Tomorrow will be 14 years since Erin and I met on a first date. A kite flies best when someone keeps it anchored against the air currents. Let go of the tether, and a kite flutters away and drifts to the ground. I'm the kite dancing with wind, stretching high. Erin is the boy holding… Continue reading Kite Flying as Metaphor
Mom is in good shape! She's 83 now. And look at who is peeking out between us - the Virgin Mary. A couple days ago Mom sat at the dinner table with me, keeping me company while I ate a sandwich. She started crying. "Momi, why are you crying?" I asked. "I still remember you… Continue reading A Mom’s Love
Twelve years ago, Erin and I met and started a courtship. This photo is from our date # 4 adventure. We went to the Texas Renaissance Festival, perhaps the largest such faire in the country. Erin was eager to introduce me to his favorite high school hangout spot. I was flush with a heady mixture… Continue reading Renaissance Romance
We laid Dad to rest this afternoon at Fort Sam Houston National Cemetery in San Antonio. James Francis Minor was 82. Dad was a veteran of Korea and Vietnam wars. When he retired from the Air Force as a Master Sergeant, Dad followed up his military service with a career as a civil servant for… Continue reading Goodbye, Dad