Everybody
else has uncomplicated relationships with everything—or at least so I imagine.
How would I know?
They live
in normal houses and have normal wives and sure, the kids are probably smoking
dope, but kids do, don’t they? I did. Still would if I could.
Auden wrote
about it: “When there was peace, he was for peace. When there was war, he
went.” That’s a rough quote—the damn Internet is still down. Can’t google it.
They drive
their lives by me, standing at the bus stop, waiting for the achingly late
yellow bus from Caguas. That’s fine. I’ve nothing else to do, and it gives me
time to think. Anyway, I don’t have enough money for a car (not true, I have
the money—I’d rather go to London….)
So I don’t
have a normal relationship with anything. But today’s the Fourth of
July—Independence Day! Should be able to get this right, right?
Well, I
could do a rough approximation. There’s a Walgreens up the street—they’d
probably have the sparklers. Supermax certainly sells wieners. But Mr.
Fernandez—would he eat them?
Yeah, with
hollandaise sauce.
Well, I’d
scarf them down, of course. But that’s only because of the drug I’m
taking—Remeron. Two hours after I take it, I descend to the level of a seven
year old demanding his Lucky Charms. There’s nothing I don’t eat—or crave.
But it does
seem that the day warrants a serious piece. Think of it—a gringo living in OurIslands and Their People. Yup, I’m serious. That’s the name of the
book—actually, it’s two books—that came out in the first decade of the 20th
century. (Hey, the 20th century—remember that! Sorry, digressive here….). Cuba, the
Philippines, Puerto Rico, the Virgin Islands—all those lovely little gems that
were gonna get stuck on the crown of American imperialism. It was meant to be
instructive about their islands and our people, although that doesn’t seem
quite right.
I’ve lived
almost more time in Puerto Rico than in gringolandia. Shouldn’t it be Their
Islands and Us?
Well,
well—it makes for jarring reading. Puerto Ricans are a friendly people, we are
told.
True.
We / they
are also…um….
Lazy.
Well, it
doesn’t quite get put like that. I mean, post-Victorian manners dictate a
gentler approach. But read between the lines. It’s right there.
I thought
about this this morning, as I was annoyed by the construction / reconstruction
/ demolition / remodeling of the building across the street—nobody quite knows
what’s going on there….
Point is—something
was going on. And it wasn’t Puerto Ricans, but Dominicans. Working on…
…yup, the
Fourth of July.
Not
surprising—a decade ago, we had Dominicans working in the apartment above us on
Christmas Day.
And the
Dominicans lack the post-Victorian genteel manners of Our Islands / our
islands. They have a word for us boricuas.
Los mantenidos.
Literally,
the kept. As in a kept woman.
Well, why
not?
It was a
frequent theme in classes—those days gone by when I had a job. What in god’s
name were we doing to ourselves? Getting up at five in the morning and taking
the sleeping baby to mamita’s and coping with the corporate craziness and going home and
studying with the oldest kid while cooking dinner—ok, cancel, we stopped at KFC
or ate at mamita’s house—and putting our tired carcasses in bed at midnight and
God it’s only Tuesday and…
…driving
twice a day past the caserío.
…which had
cars newer than mine in the parking and satellite dishes and they only pay 5
dollars for electricity and do you know what my last light bill was?
Right. Once
you got on this bus, you stayed until the school bell rang.
Many times,
past….
Sin
vergüenza, raved the
students—no shame.
Well, we
were paying a high price for our vergüenza—that was for sure. Because however
much the Puerto Ricans—those people in our islands—didn’t work in the first
decade of the 20th century, we were busting ass in in the first
decade of the 21st.
Well, a
third of us.
Other third
works—here a good Puerto Rican throws up his hands and paints invisible
quotation marks—for the government.
Hah!
And the
other third lives in those caseríos….
Being kept.
And quite
well.
It was a
paradox as curious as a gringo living in their island.
