José da Lua

Growing up there were individuals who with mean spiritedness

referred to my father, as José da Lua. 

The term was derogatory, intended to sting with shame. 

Joe of the Moon. I don't know how us kids became aware

of it, but I was never, not for a moment, ashamed of my father.

While he had his feet firmly planted on each day, he had

his notions and day dreams to keep him moving in the 

rut of laborers' work days.  An intuitive trapped as

a laborer. 

My father was hard working, I never heard him complain 

about work although he must have been tormented by the

bullies.  Individuals who needed to draw attention

to themselves by making others feel like less. 

Father was a simple man. an animal whisperer, 

and a day dreamer.  He couldn't be bothered by participating

in the rat race or the superficial snobs who labored with him

but thought themselves superior. 

He was honest and a true blue friend.  

In times of lack and in times of sorrow he stood 

strong.  He walked with dignity; his head held high.

Father was handy, he knew how to clean fish, 

had a mighty green thumb and was born with a

natural talent to care for animals.  He was completely

intuitive with animals. 

He wanted for nothing more than to care for farm

animals.  Like the venture he had possessed but 

relinquished to immigrate to America. I can not 

imagine how heavy his heart must have been to

leave his passion.

So many of us, me included, never recognize 

our calling.  My father had his calling 

held tightly in the palm of his hand.

Traveling to the moon must have been a way to shut out 

the futileness of his reality.  To have willingly abandoned

all he held dear came at a grave price.  

Surrounded by village idiots, in the workplace, 

with only disparaging sentiments, my father held his silence.

His talents may not have had apparent market value but 

as a human he had plenty of value.  He was not a womanizer, abuser,

or a drunk.  I can not recall him speaking ill of anyone.

From him, I learned about what matters most.

The past two weeks have allowed for comtemplation

of my own spirit. I am richly blessed by deep roots because

I model his behavior.  

The best and most beautiful things

in world can not be seen or

even touched - they must be 

felt with the heart. 

                                 Helen Keller