Hasta Siempre, Lisandro

It's Memorial Day, the traditional start of summer.

I celebrated by mowing grass, cleaning my patio and clipping hedges. Yesterday, I bought hamburgers, chips, buns and Lawson's chip dip (it's an Ohio thing.) But my heart isn't really into it.

As readers of this blog already know from my post two weeks ago, I bid farewell to my Argentine "brother" this week. At the beginning of June, he and his family are moving to Delaware. Perhaps we will stay in touch; perhaps we won't. Sometimes people come into your life for a finite period, enriching it immensely in the process, and then move on.

The song "For Good" from the musical "Wicked" starts with a verse sung by the "good" witch Glinda to her friend, Elphaba, the "wicked" witch that goes like this:

"I've heard it said that people come into our lives
for a reason, bringing something we must learn
and we are led to those who help us most grow
if we let them and we help them in return..."

I guess that captures my mood, in a way. Lisandro brought such joy, spontaneity and intelligence to my life. I couldn't let that contribution pass un documented, so I pulled together a scrapbook of the last five years and presented it to him as a parting gift.

(An aside: creating the scrapbook definitely taught me that I don't need another hobby. It's expensive and time-consuming. I have to admit, I was really proud of the result, though. I literally finished it at 2:30 a.m. the day I gave it to him. Later, as we sat at the bar having our last beer together with other friends, he sat hugging the book. That imagine alone was worth the effort that went into creating the book.)

Lisandro taught me a Spanish phrase that is stuck in my head, "hasta siempre." It doesn't translate very well into English, but it basically means "until always." That's how long my life will be enriched by knowing Lisandro.

Here's the photo I put in the little window on the front cover of the scrapbook:

Un Día Muy Triste

Today I found out that my brother from Argentina is moving to Delaware. It was a very sad day.

Lisandro is one of those rare people I felt an immediate connection to the very first time I met him. I couldn't figure out what that connection was -- didn't really identify those feelings for several years after our first meeting.

We were at Bacchanalia in 2003. The music was good, the beer was flowing and everyone was having fun. Lisandro, sweaty and shirtless, hugged me and said, "Tim, I think of you as my American brother. Ever since the day you went with me for my naturalization ceremony when no one else did, you have been my brother."

It was then that I was able to identify those errant feelings that manifest the first time I met him. Without ever having seen the man before, I immediately felt protective of him. The feelings were fraternal. Time and familiarity only increased those feelings. I grew to dearly love my brother from Argentina.

(I can't say I completely believe in reincarnation, but if it exists, surely we were related in a past life. I have no other explanation for the depth of my feelings.)

There are many Lisandro stories and perhaps I will document some of them here. But today, I am just so sad to be losing the light of his intelligence and the sparkle of his wit that I can barely type. He and his family will be moving to Delaware at the end of the month.

So I can enjoy him for a few more weeks. Damn.

A Busy Week & Crowded Weekend

Last week was crazy-busy. I started the week watching a Cleveland Indians game from a corporate loge, courtesy of one of our suppliers. Ah... That's how the other half lives. Very cool. The Tribe lost against Boston, but the loge experience was worth the spent evening, even if it meant getting home close to midnight, knowing I had an early start the next day.

Wednesday started Hell Week. Well, not so much "hell" as heck. At work, we hosted a dozen visitors from Russia, Bulgaria, Turkey and Romania for a training program/dog-and-pony show. Each day I awoke before dawn, put on my nice, corporate suit and went in early to make sure everything was arranged. Then, I drove the van to fetch the visitors. Then I delivered training, which was maddening with translation lags. (Talk three minutes, wait for translation, participants discuss/argue in Russian for 20 minutes, then tell me to continue. Where the hell was I? Repeat.) Then I took the entire crew out for dinner, got home around 11:00, hit the sack for a few hours and started all over again. Sheesh. I put Jake in the kennel all week in anticipation of not having much "free" time. It was the right thing to do.

On Thursday, my best friend Jim called to let me know his grandmother died. Calling hours were Friday afternoon/evening and the funeral was Saturday. I went to calling hours and paid my respects. Seeing Jim so touched by his grandmother's passing endeared him to me more than ever.

I couldn't make it to the funeral Saturday as I was already committed to being a judge for the HWBTA International Amateur Wine Competition, held at the Grape and Granary here in Akron. I judged last year's competition and had a blast. This year I judged both the morning and afternoon flights -- both dry red vinciferous wines. By the time my friends Lisandro and Lubo arrived to judge the afternoon flight, my teeth were stained purple!

(If interested, you can read the results of the competition here.)

I went straight from the competition to my nephew Patrick's birthday party. My brother and nephews have a "thing" for this restaurant called The Barn in Smithville, almost an hour's drive. The thing is, the food isn't all that much different from anything found within 5 minutes drive. Whatever. My oldest nephew, Josh, used the occasion to announce his intention to join the Jehovah's Witnesses. *Sigh.* I guess that's one less Christmas gift to buy.

My friend Nick's band was playing that night, and I fully intended to catch the show. But after getting home from the restaurant with a full belly and a head still woozy from wine, I crashed and didn't arise until the next morning.

Then, Sunday I met Jim and his wife, Marlo for lunch. I felt bad for not making it to Jim's grandmother's funeral, so this was my way of making sure all was well. It was. Jim invited me and the mutt to his cabin in Southern Ohio this weekend. Since I'm back to my "usual" routine, that sounds like a good plan. I always enjoy time with Jim. Always.

I've been thinking a lot lately about my perpetual bachelorhood; my inability to establish and maintain a lasting relationship. I'll write those musings later. Enough for tonight.

Peace.