It’s been a while since I’ve written anything.
To an extent it’s because I’ve become trapped in my own thoughts, most not worth writing about.
Our world is in turmoil since November 4th and the easiest way out would be blaming Trump and moving on. However, if I’m going to honest it’s not about Trump or anybody else, it’s about me because I am part of a society that is liable for placing Trump where he is right now.
The funny part is that as an American citizen I can’t vote for president unless I’m living in one the continental states, however I am affected directly by the President’s policies.
Policies that will make the rich, richer and the poor, poorer.
Basically because we’ve forgotten to give each other hope in a recession because of our egocentricity, and have been held prisoners by a rhetoric delivered with a 5th grader’s vocabulary. And all of a sudden we think that we can make America great with hatred and escalated verbal and physical violence.
Not taking into notice that America can be built greater if we build communities where people can come together and find solutions to the problems we face together regardless of the differences we have.
Most of the time life is hard for so many reasons and we just forget to hope and believe. Which is by the way ironically is one of the things I think I am, a believer.
Life presents us with so many horrible situations where we have to make a stand or just simply walk away. The coward in us wants to walk away and be settled in a status quo that most of the time will lead us to live half alive and half dead. Probably the people who created The Walking Dead with its one line plot feed upon people like me or maybe you.
The dreamers in all of us wish that our problems would just melt away like lemon drops, but its not that simple. Caring for others is hard enough, imagine if we tried to be changers in a society that is more and more about the individual and less and less of our problems as a community or country.
Tonight as I searched for songs for a conversational English course that I’m teaching, I came across one of my favorite songs that transported me back to 6th grade and back to my dreams of finding a place of happiness somewhere over the rainbow.
I felt moved as I listened to Israel Kamakawiwo’ole sing about hope and happiness, and felt such a coward for not standing up to life’s endless situations.
My husband is about to loose his job because of a partial close of a pharmaceutical company, hence it’s no secret that we are all touched by the ups and downs of an uncertain economy. However, all of us need to hold on to believing that in someway or form are dreams may come true if we are brave enough to believe.
And that my dear readers may sound to many as something delusional to an extent, but nevertheless don’t underestimate the power of hope.
Hope is the engine of our lives, making us stand stronger in the face of adversity and when the day comes to an end and we welcome the night expecting something good to happen the next day with the rise of the sun.
May we all rest tonight expecting a brighter and better day tomorrow. Life is waiting for us whenever we’re ready to embrace it.
See you around the corner.
Sometimes we need to listen that things are going to be all right.
Phil Collins has just the right song for that.
I’m more than sure that we someone in our lives who make us feel that no matter what is going on in our lives, things will get better.
It can be our parents, our children, our significant other, or a friend.
“Come With Me” is a testament of that.
Have a great day, and never stop believing in yourself or the good of life.
Hasta la próxima.
Which takes me to being absolutely thrilled for him each time he get’s to live experiences that make him happy. So my dear friends, today I’m going to share his journey to Sin City to see the as he says, “One of the hottest bands in the world”.
…….by now you all know that I like to self-promote. It’s a characteristic developed to mask my low self-esteem and insecurities growing up and into my early adulthood.
None the less, self-promoting is something I can relate too when it comes to arguably the flashiest Rock and Roll band of over the past four decades.
Here is a group that back in 1973 needed a gimmick or something of sorts to set them apart.
Now even with distinctive make-up, high heels, leather all over the place and even monster explosions, they still weren’t doing anything original that couldn’t be compared to some other group by naysayers or haters as they are more commonly referred to today.
What made KISS what they are, is their innate ability to believe in what they’re doing and their at times delusional projection ability to make everyone who comes to see them believe they are the best.
If you’ve ever been to their show, they start it with the uniquely and classic introduction.
“Alright (insert town or country here)! You wanted the best! You got the best! The hottest band in the world…KISS!”
But this story is not about KISS as so much as it is about me.
This story is about how I got to go to Las Vegas, with my wife Awilda to see their residency at the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino on November 23, 2014.
I was in transition and busy with trying to adjust to my new situation as a civilian when KISS announced their Las Vegas residency. I was thrilled, but knew I couldn’t go. We were on a budget, I just couldn’t go. As a matter a fact, a friend, William Bosworth, a partner of a great Army buddy of mine, Chris Larsen, who I only knew through Facebook invited me to go to celebrate Chris’ birthday at the Hard Rock’s The Joint in November, but I declined for that reason.
By then life moved along, I was enrolled in college and going about my day-to-day business.
During early Fall a local radio station, KICT 95, was holding a contest to see KISS in Vegas. I thought,
“Cool, here’s another chance.”
I was mowing my lawn one day listening to T-95 KICT, the Rock Station of Wichita, when Hank the Mechanic came on and asked for listeners to call in. The lucky ninth caller would qualify to be a finalist. Yours truly pressed the contacts on my phone, brought up T-95 (yes it’s on speed dial) and I qualified.
In usual fashion, I immediately went crazy. I think Hank had to calm me down. He needed to do a recording and give me the instructions. In summary, I won a chance to be a one of ninety five finalists, $20 in Kansas Scratch Lottery tickets and got to be on the radio. I think being on the radio was the coolest. My son Jay recorded it and put it on his Facebook. Being the humble guy I am, that just power injected my ego.
The drawing was set for November 1st, it was to be held at the sponsor, E-Cig Smokeless Cigarette Shop.
On the day of the contest, I finished some school work, got in the car with my wife and off we went.
We arrived at the place in Northeast Wichita to find a bunch of contestants already there and lined up. We were to get in line, verify our identity, age and be assigned s ping-pong ball to be placed in a tumbler in the strip mall parking lot. I was given number 39 by Jen, the Station’s Promotions Manager. While going through the process, I made small talk with people in my usual fashion.
One of those folks was John Maze, the Station’s program director. He noted I had one of my KISS shirts which by the way, no one else present had on any KISS merchandise on. I spoke with him about the D.C. Show and some other things.
I was fired up, super nervous I spoke with people next to me in line and I know they were thinking I was some crazy Mexican, because you know all Latinos in Kansas are Mexicans even though I’m Puerto Rican.
While all this is going on, at some point instructions and contest rules are read and stressed by John and he also said that only seventy-something contestants out of the ninety-five who qualified showed up. I hand my ping-pong ball over to Hank, feeling my inside burning, he makes sure I see it go in and I step aside.
John keeps talking and he reiterates that whoever the winner is, must go as part of the contest agreement. The prize can’t be sold nor exchanged or even given away.
I remember thinking, “That shouldn’t be a problem, I’m retired and can work whatever school work I had for that week in but I wouldn’t probably win anyway.”
When everything is ready, they announce the drawing would be a reverse drawing. It was a last man standing type of deal! Wow!
Not to make this part too long, the drawing began, some suspense was involved, I kept on “wooing and yeahing” occasionally as Awilda watched with disbelief as contestant after contestant was eliminated.
In a haze I remember the first guy’s ping ping ball out the tumbler, I thought that must have totally sucked! In a regular drawing he would have been the winner. During the entire process I was getting ready to be just a loud when my number was pulled out, even thinking what I was going to say. I figured at this point I’d be just as obnoxious if I lost. The countdown continued, 50, 35, 25, 11, 6. Yes, I was still there. I was totally attention grabbing with 5 guys and this woman. I turned to one of the guys and told him, you’re next, and he was! At last it was down to three.
The ante-penultimate contestant (number 3) was gone! It’s only some other guy and me. When “BOOM”, this number came out before mine and I had won! Graciousness is not what I do best.
I took off my jacket exposing my KISS shirt again, pretended to pick up my air guitar and did my imaginary guitar slinging sweet victory dance, imaginary riffs and all. Everyone was cracking up and enjoyed every second of my “bad winner” a la Richard Sherman. I was so excited, I just could not believe it! I was going to see KISS in Vegas, by total chance.
In the end, my so called luck had prevailed.
Never in my wildest dream would I have imagined I’d win this contest. I didn’t believe I could, but never let anyone of my fellow contestants know that.
I was the champion that day. I was the “God of Thunder”, the “Strutter” the “Doctor Love” of the moment.
I heard in my head “God gave Rock and Roll to you, gave Rock and Roll to you. Put it in your soul for everyone”. I truly was grateful for the opportunity. Should I have been more humble? Probably. But then it would not have been that fun.
I’m positive T-95 wanted the best. Guess what? They got the best. The greatest “cobero” in the world, me. The legend of El Gran Tommy Martinez continues.