A (Baby) Prodigy is Born

On Saturday, we had our hands full with Jude. We were hosting a multi-family yard sale with four other families at our house and temptations were everywhere.

There were tons of toys, children’s books, clothing and pots and pans. For a 16-month-old baby, it was heaven. For my boyfriend Ed and I, it was a full-time job.

During a brief lull in sales while I was in charge of watching him, we went into the garage and I sat him down on the stool in front of his older brother’s drum kit. It was his first time, I think, even seeing the drum set, much less sitting in front of it. I then handed him two drumsticks.

I thought if he was able to sit still on the stool and not fall off, I could get a few quick shots of him. Little did I know this baby boy would start banging away – like a pro.

What he lacked in technique, he more than made up with passion and enthusiasm. On the sidelines, with my camera in hand, I was the psycho cheerleader on speed clicking away from every angle and shrieking out every few minutes, “Go,go,go!” And “Hit it, hit it, hit it!”

Yes, I can be just as obnoxious as the next parent (maybe even more).

My boyfriend, Ed, heard the ruckus and came over to check it out. In just a few seconds our son convinced his dad he is a prodigy. He excitedly went to find his camera to capture the session on video.

I’ll never forget the look of utter confidence Jude had as he banged on the cymbals, snare and high-hat drums. At times, he even held both drumsticks in one hand as if to say, “this is how real drummers do it.”

To our friends, it probably sounded like noise but to us, it was harmonic convergence. Sure, we’re his parents. He makes funny faces taking a dump and we think it’s adorable. But despite our bias, we know what we know. Jude’s a natural.

Part 2 - The Sister I've Never Met...and Facebook

Part 1 of The Sister I've Never Met...and Facebook is here.

Today, I decided to give in and “friend” the sister I’ve never met and may never meet.

I couldn’t resist. Yeah, I know. Curiosity killed the cat but seriously, I was looking for the inside scoop, some insight to her life.

After clicking on the “confirm” tab, I waited in anticipation for Dora Patricia Ayala Alcarez’s profile to appear. I wanted to see pictures of my nieces (it’s weird saying that) and updated photos of my sister. What does her husband look like? Is he good-looking, homely, old, young? And their home in Spain – is it a nice crib I’d like to visit or a tiny apartment in the ‘hood with no room for guests except the couch?

This part is important because I was already imagining a future vacation in Europe, despite the fact I’m currently unemployed, we don’t even have money to repair my car and my boyfriend is taking public transportation to work.

Who wouldn’t mind spending some time basking in the Spanish sun? I was only 20 years old when I lugged a backpack through the Costa del Sol. Maybe this time I could head north and see Madrid and then skip over to Lisbon in Portugal.

But alas, my sister is not a long-winded, verbose individual like me. In fact, she demonstrated she could be quite economical with words and details. There was hardly anything on her Facebook page!

Not fair!

She now has access to my personal information and photos of my kids and family but she only has one stale, dated photograph. Granted, I’m not the best at keeping up with Facebook on a daily basis but in comparison, my life is an open book.

There were no photos, no job description, interests, silly groups she belonged to or quizzes she took. At least she has 25 friends and I discovered her birth date. I think she’s a Cancer, good news for a Scorpio like me.

I also learned she is quite fond of invoking Jehovah.

I will not lie. That scares the crap out of me. Jehovah this, Jehovah that, she responded in posts to some of her friends.

Oh Lordy!

Notwithstanding our astrological signs, that could mean we are completely incompatible. After all, when Jehovah’s Witnesses show up on our doorstep, we don’t hesitate to quickly shoo them away.

And what if she tried to, heaven forbid, save me from everlasting hell like some kids in high school would try to do? That would be futile! And what is the word for secular humanist in Spanish? How would I break it to her that we just don’t do church?

Despite my disappointment, I decided to sound upbeat when I wrote on her wall and asked her to post some photos of herself and her family. I figure I’ll give her some time to get more personal with her Facebook profile. And if she doesn’t…

Does anyone know if that deal with getting a free Whopper at Burger King is still on if you “unfriend” someone on Facebook? Just wondering…

Jude at Seal Beach Pier

This is the photo I've been trying to use as a background for my Twitter page. You can find me @anaperiodista. Anyway, I pasted it onto a Word doc & duplicated it nine times. It looks really cool but the file is too large. If I had more time (and if I were smarter), I would have figured out how to use Microsoft Photo Editor by now. Oh well. For now, use your imagination...

The Sister I've Never Met...and Facebook

Several months ago, I received a Facebook request from someone I did not know. The photo of this young woman seemed slightly dated and she was standing next to another woman who looked vaguely familiar. Since I only use Facebook for people I have met or with whom I have mutual friends, I ignored the request and forgot about it.

A few days ago, this same woman sent me a message in Spanish basically wanting to know who I was. She inquired about my last name, Cholo. The name Dora Patricia Ayala Alcarez did not immediately ring a bell.

The way she asked the question was odd. Could Dora Patricia Ayala Alcarez be the sister I’ve never met?

I awkwardly responded in Spanish and told her my father’s name.

She appeared ecstatic over the news.

“Me siento muy contenta de que podamos comunicarnos ya que tu eres la unica hermana que tengo. Tambien tienes dos sobrinas…”

Translation: “I feel very happy that I could communicate with you, especially since you are the only sister I have. You also have two nieces…”

Rewind to 1998

I remember visiting my parent’s house. I went into the garage and grabbed a Guarana from my mom’s stash in the refrigerator. My father suddenly appeared and handed me a photograph. It appeared to be a picture of him as a very young man squatting next to a little girl at a park.

“That’s your sister,” he said abruptly. “You’re actually not the oldest daughter in the family.”

I was dumbfounded.

It would be an understatement to say he’s even remotely touchy-feely but, sheesh! The delivery of this news lacked in all sensitivity.

“Does mom know?” “How old is she?” “What is her name?” “Why are you telling me now?”

He gave me the bare minimum in details.

He left Colombia when my sister Patricia was about four years old. He never married her mother. She is seven years older than me. He hadn’t seen her since 1965, the year he emigrated to the United States. Oh yeah, and he just told my mother about her too.

As for what he knew of his oldest daughter? She has two daughters, was living in the city of Medellin and is a member of Jehovah’s Witness. She came into contact with my father through my paternal grandfather who had been living in Bogota with his young mistress and small child. My grandfather gave her my father’s address and she began writing him.

I asked my father if he had a photo of her. He rifled through some of her letters and found one that she had recently sent. I carefully studied the smiling dark-haired woman with the dark eyes and found what I was looking for.

Her face, from the tip of her nose up to her forehead, looked a lot like mine.

There was no doubt. We were sisters.

My father had obviously abandoned his daughter and her mother. My sister grew up without a father. Mother and daughter had little money and he never sent them any financial support. I felt sorry for her.

But in some ways, I grew up without a father myself. Even though he was physically present, he was never there emotionally. Now, they were corresponding through letters and email. I wonder if she was jealous of me? Or the other way around – was I jealous of her?

Besides our blood ties, what in the world would we have in common and how would we communicate? I know she grew up in Medellin, Colombia’s drug-cartel heaven, but has since moved to Barcelona, Spain. My Spanish could be better and she doesn’t know any English.

On top of everything, she’s a Jehovah’s Witness. Despite being brought up Catholic, I’m not religious and from what I understand, that’s not even a religion. It’s a cult. Aren’t they against dancing and any and all types of fun? If that's the case, she would definitely not like me and I would probably find her incredibly dull.

And how “close” has she become to my father? I have not seen him in almost a year and we don’t speak anymore (his choice). It’s likely she may be “closer” to him than I am.

I have to admit, however, that the one thing that intrigues me about all of this is I love the idea of being an aunt. I love kids.

My younger sister, not related by blood, was adopted as a baby from Colombia. Sadly, we are not close and she has no intentions of ever having children.

When I confronted my mother about this newfound sibling more than 10 years ago, she was understandably shaken. Her husband had kept this secret from her for more than 35 years. It was just another betrayal she had to process.

“Who knows?” she asked me in Portuguese. “He probably has other kids too.”

When I mentioned to her the other day that Patricia had contacted me, she shrugged. She knows my father still is in contact with her but she doesn’t know any details. They only met once and that was back in 1998.

There is no question my loyalties lie with my mother, especially now that my father and I are estranged. Over the years, I tried to forget about my sister – until now. Until she came looking for me on Facebook.

I have not yet “friended” Patricia or even responded to her since her last message. I might but I’m hesitant. So many unanswered questions. After all, I sometimes divulge personal details of my life on Facebook. Do I really want her to be privy to all of that?

Ahh…Facebook. See what you’ve done now?