Icy Day in the Big D

Bad Ice!Good Ice!

All I see around me is ice, ice and more ice. How do I long for my tropical paradise in the Caribbean. I'm trapped in my little apartment for fear I will slip and fall out there. So what is a pink cowboy to do under these dire circumstances? Break into song, of course!!!

It's...Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!
Even though the sound of it
Is something quite atrocious
If you say it loud enough
You'll always sound precocious,
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!

I can listen to the birds chirping right now. It's one of those days at the Old Pink Rancho. Permanent residents, Miss Fanny Louette refuses to sing a long, and Father Mackenzie is drunk as a skunk. The coyotes are bored and taciturn Sheriff Lubbock is on his way to bed.

But tomorrow, as well put by Miss O'Hara, is another day.

Epiphany Day

Today is Epiphany Day in Latin America and Spain also known as Three Kings Day. As a little child in Puerto Rico it was of the most memorable occasions to go out and cut a bunch of grass to be placed in a shoebox. The idea being that the hungry camels carrying the Three Wise Men were tired and needed to be fed. At night we would place the grass underneath our beds and wait for new gifts the morning after. I chose King Gaspar to be me my personal king, I would always ask him for impossible gifts: A marimba, a cellar, a real airplane and an elephant. Instead I got a reel to reel tape recorder. It was a strange gift. It was not meant for 5 year's old. When I opened the gift my Mom gave a "I do not believe you bought that for your son" . My dad taught me to use the tape recorder. I used this gift for exactly 3 minutes. I never ever touched it again.

So today saw me looking for the Three Kings. I found a queen instead. In North Park Mall to be precise. There I was minding my window shopping business and I saw a big poster of Dame Edna advertising for a new line of cosmetics at Dillard's. I laughed all the way back to the car.

New Year's Transformation 2009

I am always transforming myself. So each New Year's Eve I think about different personas I would like to embrace for the new year. I am fascinated by the diversity of thought and levels of self realization of my fellow humans. I like to believe that each person I meet has something that I can incorporate in my life. Layer upon layer I have built what I am today. I am of a distinctive style and appearance when looked from the outside but once you get near, really close, you will see my composite picture. I am my beloved mother who passed away in March; I am the taciturn lover who believed in astrological signs; I am the perceived enemy at work that turned out to be my friend; I am the frightened child that found solace and comfort in the unseen forces of love; and also the petulant university student that thought it was chic to wear black all the time. I will name the past and present avatars I wish to emulate for the next year:

1. Maya Angelou- She is poetry and courage.

2. Harvey Milk- He represented audacity in the face of persecution.

3. Cyndi Lauper- A rare combination of compassionate soul and wild woman.

4. SARK- We are all innocent deep down inside.

5. Louise Hay- Promoter of the most profound "affirmative action".

6. Grandpa Walton- Oh come on, where is your sense of humor?

I wish all my fellow bloggers and visitors an enchanted New Year full of possibilities and opportunities to do your thing in the most peaceful and exciting athsmosphere.

Happy Christmas 2008

Since I was a kid I always loved saying Merry Christmas!!! To everybody, specially on Christmas eve. I felt like emulating old pictures like It’s A Wonderful Life and A Christmas Carol. I must admit I always loved “Nochebuena” or Christmas Eve best because I could sense the magical tone everyone acquired during the festivities. My paternal grandmother, whose family hailed from Catalonia in Spain, always prepared a gigantic nativity scene she brought from Tarragona. It included over one hundred porcelain figurines. She decorated a corner of her living room with corrugated brown paper painted with metallic tones of green, blue and red. There was a shining star, as big as an apple on the top of a blue wallpaper filled with stars. It also included the tall figures of the three Persian Kings on camels. Each king had its own entourage of servants and a squire. There was the donkey and the ox resting peacefully. Baby Jesus had a beautiful and delicate countenance. I stood there in awe of all the details in the scene. Somehow I understood the sacredness of the occasion. It was not the kind of mirth or joy that you felt during your birthday or when summer vacation started. It was a different kind of joy altogether. It was a joy veiled in deep mystery. Christmas was shimmering lights against a background of shadows, a flickering candle too fragile to handle yet so warm and welcoming. It has been said that Christmas, like the ancient celebration of the winter solstice, is the triumph of light over darkness. I do believe we humans, regardless of faith, come from a great energy source that manifest itself fully in our experience of love. We are a community of lovers so to speak. The birth of Jesus is an offering of love and hope. The season, the human season, call for community and connection with each other. Love is the most wonderful mystery there is. It dissolves the pain and the suffering that comes from the toil and hardness of life in this planet. To love is to heal, to be set anew by the great Spirit, to have a second chance, to give a second chance to others. This Christmas I will dare myself to stop being cynical about the state of affairs in the world. I have a world inside me that need healing and nourishing. It is time to shine our little light and rekindle the human heart. I wish you all a beautiful Christmas filled with mystery and love.

Harvey Milk: a true hero in my heart

Imagine having to live a life where the very essence of your identity and whole being has to be defended publicly and reassured constantly. Imagine a life where more than often you have to hide how and who you love. Imagine for a second that kind of life. I am gay, I know. I went to see Milk the movie yesterday in downtown Dallas. Sean Penn was remarkable in his portrayal of slain gay rights activist Harvey Milk. The movie, a biopic, was intense and committed to tell the truth pertaining this hero of the gay community. Having suffered a great deal throughout my life for both concealing the fact and revealing the fact of being gay really makes me wish nobody has to go through this ordeal. It has been a life struggle having to deal with homophobia. Homophobia is so pervasive in our society. Many times it is not that obvious, it takes rare forms, it camouflages itself. It feed on fear and ignorance. Harvey Milk reminded us gay humans to fight for our rights, our human right to be free and live a good life. Above all, I think his most important legacy was his courage, his daring outcry against an unjust society. The struggle continues today when in the vast majority of states in America a gay citizen cannot marry or be protected against job discrimination. In many nations around the world people are killed for being gay. I often become indignant and emotional when someone expresses their hatred or intolerance towards gay people. Ignorance and disinformation are usually the culprits of homophobia. Harvey demonstrated with his life that you have to stand up for what you believe is right. He also believed that gay people must come out of the closet so their family, their friend, their neighbors and co-workers stopped making false asumptions about the "gay lifestyle" . When I came out to my parents I was 32 years old they immediately embraced me and assured me of their love. My two sisters do not wish to acknowledge me being gay. My brother fully accepts who I am (He went with me to see the movie). Many old friends stopped talking to me many years ago. The majority of my extended family pretends I am not gay and that I am some kind of a loner for not having a wife. I still do not understand why people react differently being given the same facts and information about being gay. I do know that those who have decided not to accept me fully for who I am simply put do not know me. I will not share the gift of my intense, vivid, adventurous, blessed life with them. Harvey Milk makes me proud to be gay, a gay human who lives and loves in this world. I am grateful for being gay, it has been one of the most important aspects of my life. The gift of being gay has opened doors to self exploring and realization, it has made me more human than anything else in my life. I honor the memory of a human being named Harvey Milk, an inspiration, a hope, a committed citizen, a brother in arms.

Elm Street Incident

So thrilling to visit the eternal site of conspiracy

theories. So shocking to relive the event. The Pink Cowboy has turned sad and pensive. The whole scenario seems smaller than previously thought. The Grassy Knoll is uneventful these days. People pass by slightly amused. Two crosses in the street mark the first and seciond impact of the bullet. Ever the polite person, The Pink Cowboy took a photo of two rather bubbly young women that wished to prove their Dallas trip by being photographed with the Reunion Tower as landscape. The have heard of JFK. They were dressed like Hooters babes giggling

and puffing smoke. Hey!, it could be a lot of fun for bimbos of every kind to laugh it up at this historical site. The Pink Cowboy felt displaced. Here I was, finally seen it with my own bluesy eyes. This anthological piece of history. I was 1 year old when Kennedy was slained. He was revered by my family. The Camelot couple were of my parents age, so they saw an example of the accomplishments of a new generation. I remember all the Look and Life magazines, newspaper clippings and memorial booklets kept in a small traveling trunk at my grandmother's house. Being a Pink Cowboy, I was fascinated by the advertisements featuring beautiful women with red hot lipstick and gorgeous cropped hair guys in their cabana suits gently walking the beach of the Bahamas.

Lee Harvey Oswald was 24 years of age when he shot the President. At 24, I was working in the Front Desk of a Caribbean hotel. Desperately wishing for fellow pink cowboys to appear in my life. The Pink Cowboy thought on his way home, the Grassy Knoll desperately needs good landscaping.