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The Door Closes

“Nobody ever gets married expecting to divorce.”

“Unless you’re Britney Spears.” I replied with a smile trying to break the awkwardness.

“The papers are in the car.” She said looking at me, trying to form a smile.

A few moments later, she returned, opening my apartment door for the last time.

“Everything should be there.” She said handing them over to me.

I opened up the manila folder and confirmed what she had told me.

Not really knowing what to say, I extended my hand and said, “Have a safe trip back.”

She grabbed my hand, but the handshake turned into a farewell hug that both of us didn’t want to end. But it did.

She walked out the door, the papers still in my hand.

The door closed. The car engine started up. And she was gone.

The High and Low Points of Learning a Foreign Language

It was July of ‘06 when my grandmother passed away. She was one of the last of the Huereca family who spoke Spanish as a first language. Times are indeed changing, but it is regrettable that so few of the Huereca clan can speak fluent Spanish. Thus, my goal is to learn Spanish to at least honor my Mexican heritage and where I came from.

In Huntsville, Alabama, there are a lot of Latino restaurants, but not so many places to fully immerse one’s self into the language. I had the privilege of actually visiting a tienda (store) where the lady who was helping me confessed she was still learning English and knew very little. I also confessed I knew very little of Spanish.

In all truth, I am less than a third done with my Rosetta Stone course in Latin America. I have immersed myself in Latino música (Spanish music) and have turned on Spanish subtitles for every single película (movie) I have watched. I even watched a movie called Freedom Writers, which ironically doesn’t have subtitles en Español.

I took Spanish in high school, but I paid little attention. It wasn’t until around October/November of 2006 that I decided that I wanted to try to learn the language. I enrolled in some online courses and started the slow journey.

Around March (2007) I quit. I was unmotivated and I had convinced myself that I couldn’t learn this language. Every time I went to a Mexican restaurant, I was pained because I couldn’t speak to the staff in a language I knew they were familiar with.

When I made the trip to Austin, Texas in June of 2007, a lady approached me in desperation asking if I spoke Spanish. I told her no. I was so disappointed in myself. I vowed to keep it up.

I asked a friend of mine if I could learn Spanish without actually having anyone around me speaking Spanish. She said no. So I thought to myself, “What is the best way to earn Spanish friends?” It is to learn their language, and slowly break into their inner-circle.

And I have been doing just that. I’ve been listening to nothing but Latino music, starting to read Spanish graphic novels, and renting Spanish movies. It is regrettable that the cable networks here do not carry Latino channels, but hopefully that’ll change soon.

Huntsville, unfortunately, is not too friendly to the Latino community. When I went to Austin, practically everywhere there were at least some Spanish speaking people. Here in Huntsville, it’s mostly English.

But it’s important to keep going, and to stay motivated. The trip today to a Mexican restaurant where I could talk to the staff in mostly Spanish was a great motivator. When I told the waitress I wanted some water without lemon (quiero agua sin limón), I enjoyed a small victory.

The waitress then asked me, “¿Te gusto español?”

I didn’t understand her at first because she spoke so fast, but then it clicked, “Yes, I do like Spanish.”

You Were Gay? No Christian Funeral For You.

There are a few things I despise about my religion that is Christianity. Wait, let me rephrase. There are a few things about people who call themselves Christians that I despise. One particular thing I don’t like is Christians who automatically are repulsed when they find out someone is a homosexual.

In Arlington, Texas, a megachurch called HighPoint was to conduct a funeral for a fallen veteran named Cecil Howard Sinclair.

The church new Sinclair was gay before agreeing to the funeral, but backed out after some questionable videos and photos depicted him as being openly gay. The Pastor (Reverend Gary Simons) claimed that nobody in the church knew he was gay until just before his funeral. My question is, so what?

I know there are some Christians out there who will argue that anybody who is gay cannot possibly be Christian. However, it is not for us to judge who is Christian and who is not. Granted, some people are obviously not Christians, but I don’t believe homosexuals fall into this category as an absolute.

Simons was quoted as saying:

We did decline to host the service — not based on hatred, not based on discrimination, but based on principle.

Which principle would that be? Because you won’t find it in the Bible. Do not give Christian funerals to homosexuals? Where is that written?

Simons was also quoted saying:

Even though we could not condone that lifestyle, we went above and beyond for the family through many acts of love and kindness.

Well, the church could have performed one more act of kindness and had a funeral regardless of sexual orientation. Granted, the church probably had to “protect” its Christian image or risk losing funds from the Sunday offering plate. However, the church, by reaching out to this guy and his family, would have shown immense love and appreciation towards all homosexuals and potential non-Christians.

Refusing this guy was beyond a bad move and I am disgusted.

Calling 1-800-ILLEGAL

Ok, there very likely isn’t a number for reporting illegal immigrants at 1-800-ILLEGAL. I don’t know because I’ve never called it. But what if the number mentioned was available so that anybody in the United States could report someone who was an “alleged” illegal immigrant?

One county — a county I used to live in — has set up a hotline where local residents can report illegal immigrants and businesses who hire illegals. Sheriff Joe Arpaio of Maricopa County has set up a hotline to report information on illegal immigrants.

The sheriff, under fire from many latino leaders, has pointed out that the U.S. Customs and Border Protection (1-800-BE-ALERT), and Immigration and Customs Enforcement (1-866-DHS-2-ICE) have similar hotlines.

When I lived in Phoenix (in Maricopa county) I worked at Walgreens. Spanish-speaking customers were very routine. Every now and then I’d have to call around several stores because a Spanish-speaking customer required a translator and my Spanish is rather limited. But it would be wrong to assume (even if the person couldn’t speak any English) that the Spanish-speaking person standing in front of me was an illegal immigrant.

According to an article written a week or so ago, there haven’t been any arrests made with the hotline. But the sheriff says that all tips are taken seriously and that no arrests will be made without probable cause. Which is encouraging.

Here’s why I don’t like the hotline. It encourages profiling. It also encourages the “bad neighbor” effect. If you’ve ever had the neighbors call the cops on you, you know what I mean. Is it wrong to assume that since ten or so Mexicans are living in a house that they are all illegals? Perhaps, but why not go talk to them instead of silently reporting them to the authorities based on your suspicions.

One of the reasons I am learning Spanish is so I don’t have to live in ignorance when it comes to the Spanish-speaking citizens of this country. I want to learn their world, their culture, and their language. And I’m also dropping a lot of the misconceptions and barriers I had.

If a citizen in Phoenix or neighboring cities has a legitimate suspicion, by all means call the hotline. However, one shouldn’t call the hotline based on the color of someone’s skin, a person’s occupation, or the language a person speaks.

Can You Park Closer Please?

There are few things worse than a backseat driver (or passenger-driver). Well, one of the things that could be worse is a lazy and naggy backseat driver.

There are some (and if you are one of them, I dare not apologize) that will circle a parking lot for ten or so minutes searching for that one parking spot that is close to the entrance. And if someone is walking to their car and has a prime spot, these same people will stalk the person all the way to their vehicle and wait for that one spot.

Why can’t people pull into a parking lot and just park? Parking isn’t a contest, and it’s not a case of, “Look, I parked close so I am cool.” Granted, there were times I got lucky and found a spot right up front and felt a nice feeling inside that might have been joy, but that is besides the point. On a busy day at the store, I park in the back. If someone is with me, then that person can either suck it up and walk, or take a nice long walk home. Either way, someone is walking.

With all of the weight problems in this country, it just seems that parking far away is good exercise. I don’t care if it’s raining, snowing, or raining down asteroids — I will still park wherever I find a parking spot, even if it’s in the back.

And some of these people don’t even bother to search for a parking spot. They just occupy a spot in the fire lane and expect all of the other vehicles to go around them. And then when I see that all the occupants are grossly overweight, I just shake my head and say, “It figures.”

My advice? Just park the damn car. If it’s raining, bring a raincoat or umbrella. If it’s snowing, bring a jacket. If the wife is pregnant, leave her at home so she can rest. If it is raining asteroids, it might be best to find some kind of bunker. Just park and get some exercise.

An exception to my above rant is for handicapped people and pregnant women. Hopefully the selfish parkers didn’t take your reserved spot at the front.