Pumpkin Cottage

Pumpkin Cottage
sit and visit a spell

Monday, November 9, 2015

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

1 comment:

  1. Now I know why I love you so much...
    I love your father :-)))
    It's as if you are describing my Mother's Father.
    Simple ...also an animal whisperer... and the kindest and best of men... like your dear father.
    So happy to see you up to being here My Dear :-)))
    Love you!


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