In a 1,000 words

Two fire trucks and an ambulance? Maybe more? I can’t remember for sure. The response came within minutes

The moment I do recall is when the golf cart flipped over. Everything at that time seemed to freeze while the cart made its way to the left side. I remember my hand grabbing to the right on the passenger side, holding, hoping not to be tossed over. The blue, motionless sky with its white clouds met my gaze in the slow progression of the weight of the cart to the side. The inevitable fall probably took seconds but it seemed like an eternity until the sounds of the emergency vehicles came blaring in, along with the sound of people coming towards us. All, from a sudden pause in time, came rushing in. Colors, sounds, smells. 

“My foot. My foot” were the only words emitting from my mouth as I was writhing in pain on the pavement, moving side to side in full soccer player mode holding my left ankle. The driver, unscathed, was trying to talk to me, but I all I mustered in my anger towards him, “my fucking foot.”

My last day of what had been a carefree summer job, shared with a kid that lived up to his Italian last name, Pelusso, and another kid that looked like one of the Handson Brothers, culminated that morning with a ride to the hospital. Up to that moment, it had been a glorious summer.

Miles Davis, Ben Harper, Sugar Ray’s “Fly,” broken golf-carts thanks to our shenanigans, summer crushes, BBQ’s at a friend’s off-campus house, copious amount of wine and coffee that we smuggled out from the campus dining center, and careless times shared with people that came and went out of my life marked that summer.

Becky, Sonia, Val, Pelusso, Ben (aka Hanson), Brenda, David Muso, Sky; all now ghosts in the cemetery of buried memories. And then there was John, the kid responsible for flipping the cart. Pelusso and Handson had long been gone, having had gone for the summer weeks prior. John, the rookie, who was our replacement to work on the grounds of the campus, never made it past that first day of his job. His nagging convinced me to let him drive as we were heading back to the greenhouse after the morning gardening routine.

Months prior to that summer, nothing seemed to be carefree. No Miles Davis or other music to distract me. No girls sending me love letters. No long conversations with friends under the endless night sky. Just heavyweight of loss, thousands of miles away from life as I knew it, as imperfect as it was.

A call set all in motion, leading me to borrow $700 for the flight, scrape whatever monies I could gather, and leave everything behind –mostly, a challenging college semester with a thesis that was going nowhere. Making the decision to leave came after searching and struggling for an answer. “I don’t hold office hours today, but what can I do for you,” were the words that met me from my thesis counselor, not even before approaching her office doorway. “Nothing,” I said and I went to search for my tutor/mentor. “All should be fine. Stay the course” was his advice.

I don’t recall what time the phone rang following the next or the following days within that week as sleepless nights and the stress merged time all into endless hours of agitation and uncertainty. “How is the situation” was the question I asked my older sister’s husband. After hanging up, I set my travel arrangements back to New York City from Poughkeepsie. Two days later I was sitting on a plane heading to Quito, Ecuador.

The local population I found to be hostile. Their local transportation, inadequate and uncomfortable. The food? All I can tell is that the local cuisine sent me to the crapper for the whole week that I was there with my stomach twisting, and churning in painful cramps.

Home for that week narrowed to trips back and forth from my stepfather’s house to the hospital. My two sisters and I gathered in the waiting area sleep-deprived and hanging to hope. The comings and goings of those days have faded into threads of memory that I can’t completely untangle.

Aside from the times,I shared with my sisters talking and laughing at each other during those long days, what I remember clearly is that when I first arrived on a Sunday to the hospital, I got to see my mother for the first time in almost three-years. Did we share hours together? Or just moments? I can’t say for sure. All I know is that was the last time I saw her alive. I remember her laughter and love. The next time I got to see her was her lifeless body.

The whole night before that morning I didn’t want to move from the waiting area. I held my desire to go to the bathroom, even as my stomach was killing me. Finally, sometime around the morning hours, I gave in and decided I could not hold it anymore. The bathroom I remember being one level down from where we were. Of course, minutes after I had sat down on the toilet, I began hearing my sister knocking on the door.

I knew what that meant. Whatever hopes I had for my mother’s situation to turn had disappeared as the days in the hospital prolonged. I remember praying, something I had not done in years, with a plea to God or the Universe to perform a miracle. As no news came with each passing hour, evening turning to morning, I remember just pleading for her suffering to end.

 I walked out of the hospital with crutches in-hand. Luckily, the golf cart misadventure ended only with a sprained ankle, my foot the size of a football, and a scar as a reminder of an unforgettable summer sprung by loss.

The Birds are singing- silence

The birds are calling

Bright golden hair illuminating against a gray sky

Cold rushing and penetrating

Sudden silence wrapping the seconds in a moment of reverie

Music emanating from a car breaking the spell

Broken spell

Passion igniting

Meditative trance of passion ensuing the night

Birds are calling

Silence again

Foreboding of unspoken truths

Silence wrapping reality

Birds are calling, carrying memories

The unspoken remains in silence

TINDER BOX: Letting GO – NOT An Easy task

Did I love her?

I did care for her and, to use a phrase she introduced to me to, I adored her.

Did I see a long-term future/relationship with her? If being honest, I didn’t for a variety of reasons.

She came to my life unexpectedly. We shared a great three/four month romance/relationship.

All came crashing without any warning, at least that I saw. One day, I went from being “her favorite person in the world” to an abrupt text, “I’ll always appreciate knowing you and for the time we have spent together!”

No explanations beyond that the relationship or whatever we had was too much to balance with everything else, etc.

Anger and hurt fueled me for while as I could not let go of how she ended things over a text — I had expected at least a phone call after the times we shared.

But anger moved to trying to understand her situation as a single mother of two with a full time job. In my mind, I have come to somewhat of an understanding, if indeed she was truthful.

Regardless, all I can do is truly wish her happiness. She brought light and joy into my life. I wish things had ended differently and that we had shared more adventures together. I am grateful for the experiences, memories and lessons we did share. I will carry those in my skin, heart and mind. Those will live in me. Yet, I am letting go of what I cannot control or understand.

I am letting go of my hurt, anger and wounded ego. I am letting go of my of attachment. I am letting go of my desire for her smell, touch and passion. I am letting go of trying to understand her reasons. I am letting go of a hope for some type of reconciliation. I am letting go.

As she looks into the horizon, I wish her only the best with many blessings for a bright and happy life and future. I wish for her to find the balance she needs. I wish for her to find someone that will treat her and her children well and give them unconditional love. I wish for her to heal from the wounds she carries from her divorce. I am imagining her laughing and enjoying a happy life, filled with love, joy, and free of suffering. Sweet thoughts and blessings of love for you, my dear, dear friend.

I will end my rambling with a David Whyte poem that captures my sentiments better than I can ever express them:


A blessing on the eyes that do not see me as I wish.

A blessing to the ears that can never hear the far inward footfall of my own shy heart. Blessings to the life

in you that will live without me, to the open door

that now and forever takes you away from me,

blessings to the path that you follow alone and blessings

to the path that awaits you, joining with another.

A blessing for the way you will not know me in the years to come, and with it, a blind outstretched

blessing of my hands on anything or anyone that cannot ever come to know me fully as I am,

and therefore, a blessing even, for the way I will

never fully know myself, above all, the deepest, kindest

wishes of my own hidden and untrammeled heart

for what you had to hide from me in you.

Let me be generous enough and large enough and brave enough to say goodbye to you without understanding,

to let you go into your own understanding. May you always be in the sweet central, hidden shadow of my memory without needing to know who you were

when you first came, who you were when you stayed

and who you will become in your freedom now that

you are passed through my life and gone.

With that, my sweet friend, I say goodbye.

47 years – A Privilege

Today, I officially turn 47.

George Floyd (46) never got the privilege. Nor did:

Ahmaud Marquez Arbery (25)

Eric Garner (43)

Ezell Ford (25)

Trayvon Martin (17)

Tanisha Anderson (37)

Tamir Rice (12)

Natasha McKenna (37)

Baton Rouge, (37)

Philando Castile (32)

Botham Jean (26)

Atatiana Jefferson (28)

Dominique Clayton (32)

Breonna Taylor (26)

Those are only a handful of men, women and children whose lives and light were unjustly cut short, all because of their color of their skin.

My heart aches for the experiences and lives they never got a chance to live.

My heart aches for their families and friends who will never hear their voices and laughter again.

My heart aches for my son’s best friends, all of whom are Black. I love those kids; my heart aches hearing their despair, sadness and fear they feel.

I am blessed to live another day. I am blessed to experience and celebrate a joint birthday with my son on this day. I am blessed and grateful for my family, friends and wonderful network. Yet, my heart aches.

On this birthday of mine, I wish for peace, healing, and change. As a country, a nation, and as individuals we have much work to do to change the current narrative.

The Night Ends, New Beginings Emerge

22,000+ people in the U.S. have died as a result of COVID-19! Worldwide, as of April 13, 114,00+.

Those number keeps growing.

That should be sobering for all of us.

We are all being affected by this, one way or another. My thoughts go to all of us.

I hope we come out of this stronger and better beings with a better world to live in, more connected to each other, less self-centered, less fearful of each other, more compassionate and better grounded in what truly matters to us.

From me to you, I send you love and positive vibes.
Pink Moon6

Today is the Day, It Might be Gone Tomorrow

All is Topsy-turvy.

The world as we know it has drastically changed. For many of us, all is shaky with uncertainty looming over our shoulders.

Will I have a job when this is over? How long will I have a job? Where will the next paycheck come from? Will my loved ones, who might be sick, make it through? How can I help my kids deal with the new circumstances? When can I return back to my old life? Will there be a normal old life to return?

And a thousand other questions keeping us up at night and testing our core. For now, I am grateful that I still have a job. I am grateful that I have my son and sister, who is stuck here from Colombia, with me at the house for us to get us through this ordeal together. I am grateful that I am not dealing with any health issues. I am grateful that my loved ones all across are healthy. I am grateful to have food, a roof over my head, and, yes, toilet paper.

I know many do not have those luxuries. If you do and you have the time, I hope you take this as an opportunity to grow, tackle those home projects you have wanted to do, take that online class you always wonder about, and reach out to people you never had the time to before because you were too busy.

In many ways — again if you have the luxury — we are experiencing a time of a great opportunity for personal growth. You can get to know your loved ones better and have more time for yourself.

My goals for the next few weeks include:

• Create a better relationship with myself (and, ultimately, with
• Learn to ride the unicycle
• Paint my kitchen cabinets with chalk paint
• Keep active every day with a series of exercises including
running, bodyweight training, yoga
• Continue to mediate
• Give my best to work
• Not into podcasts but I will listen to personal development (relationship related) ones – as I am starting to date, I realize I need to work better on certain areas of my interactions.
• Continue to reach out and make myself available to friends, if needed
• Enjoy my kid now that he is home finishing his second semester of college online
• Build an ax-throwing target
• Hold virtual coffees for my Coffee with John project – yes, I still have that going.

That’s it for now. If you have a list of your own and if you don’t mind sharing it, please do. You can either share it privately with me or just post under.

Hold your loved ones close and give them all your love. Enjoy today because you never know what tomorrow will bring. Be well and be safe. Have a great weekend

Sunrise over charlotte coming back from Canada.jpg

The Last Time

Lately, (actually, for a while now), I have thought of the endless last times of life. 
We go through life without realizing that today might be the last time we get to do something, for whatever reasons.
I can’t remember the last time I went mountain biking. When I last did, did I think that was going to be my last time? Not really. Did I think that when I spoke to a friend back in 2001, it was going to be our last time? No. I don’t know whatever became of him. I moved out of NYC and our lives drifted apart. When she kissed me, did I think that was the last time I was ever going to taste her lips? I certainly did not.
Our lives are filled with numerous last times, some are more profound and have a deeper impact on us than others. The point is that today is today and tomorrow might not bring the same experiences.
So, if today was my last day on this planet, know I appreciate and have appreciated you for the light you have brought to my life.
I hope to have many more opportunities to share many more experiences with you. I look forward to many more conversations. I look forward to many more laughter and many more shared moments with you.

Sunday Vibes

Our eyes met as she was leaving the cafe. She, a young attractive blond in her late twenties or early thirties smiled and I smiled back.

“Hi. How are you?” she offered.

At that moment I had a flashback to a time when I was in my early twenties or younger:

Laughing and hanging out with two of my close friends at the time in the wee hours of the morning at a diner in Queens NYC after a night out, somewhere in the back we could hear a group of young women laughing and ending their own night adventure. I don’t remember if we had a view of their table or not. All I remember is that as they were ending their night and heading out, a beautiful brunette with porcelain, flawless skin in the group stopped by our table. She leaned close to me and dropped a napkin on the table in front of me with her name and phone number written on it. She smiled at me and walked out. Mesmerized and filled with both joy and jealousy, my friends could only pat me on the shoulder and offer, “you lucky, dog.”

“Johnny, boy! You old-dog, you might still have it,” I thought as I smiled and answered a “very well” to the blond now directly in front of me.

She took a few steps forward. “I am Alicia,” she uttered as she extended her soft, delicate hand to me. Then she asked the question.

“Do you know Jesus?”

For a brief second, I thought of giving her a snipe reply. Does he work here? Is he the barista? Or some other childish variation but why be an asshole on a Sunday afternoon to a beautiful young woman offering and wanting to share her beliefs?

I just smiled and said, “no.” Jesus loves you was her reply. She also offered to pray for me to find Jesus and asked if there was anything that she could pray for me on my behalf. “Everyone’s health,” I said.

She promised to do so and walked out, turning back once more in my direction as she headed out.

sunday Vibes


Mango-y Songs

Ladies and gentlemen,

I give you Mango Records:

That’s my kid’s record label, recruiting one artist at a time with a handshake.

Listen to his first two original tracks –

1) The Official Theme of Mango Records
2) DEDOS DE LA PATA feat. Asha, JOHN, Cristian, Carmen, & K.J.

I encourage you to listen, share and, if you have a Sound Cloud account, please follow.

Thank you. Enjoy the mango-y songs.

This and That