Cultural Heritage

I suppose many of us experience moments of nostalgia. Not to get confused with depression, but that sweet pause of recalling something dear and special and visiting that space long enough to boost the heart and remind oneself of this sweet thing called life.

George and I are a cultural blend, he was born in Czech Republic and I was born in the U.S.A. having parents native to the Dominican Republic (making me a first generation American), makes for interesting conversations ALL the time. I hold dearly to the culture of my mother and father.

George (has dual citizenship) he too maintains honor and respect for the country of his fathers. Europe is to me, the old world filled with castles throughout the land… I find something romantic about that.
I digress, this is not about an ancestral history of my family…. as it happened, I was cleaning out my closet I came across an LP (long play record album).

One thing I recall my dad loved doing on the weekends was going through his music albums and playing music. Our home was filled with music and love and those little things that fill our heart with comfort and safety when we think of family. So when he passed away I asked my mom if I could have some of my favorite LP’s – mind you, I didn’t have an LP record player – we are living in a “digital-world”, I know Madonna would say as she sung it… we live in a material world. For those that are “awakening” we’re living in the ethereal world where all you need to do is Believe and you can bring Heaven to Earth.

Having said that, an interesting event happened shortly after my father passed away (it’s been over 8 years since time of this writing). We received a package in the mail. The package was delivered to Geordan (our son) and it was from Ari (my father’s nickname) and it had no return address.

Imagine the air of mystery when we received the package. We opened it and lo and behold it was an LP record player… like what?! In dismay each one of us took turns looking over the package to see if there was some mistake with the address… none, and clearly the sender only had from: Ari.

Instead of pondering about the mystery, I decided to celebrate the blessing and grabbed my LP’s.

So here I am this day, missing my dad, yet grateful for the opportunity to remember him and celebrate him with music. And in this memory I honor my dad and my culture… thinking about the sounds, sights and smell of the beautiful island and our people. So I’m heading into the kitchen to connect with my heritage and cook some “platano fritos” to snack on. As they say in spanish: “Buen Aprovecho!”