43 years. That is a long time.

We have gone through 8 presidents, Five popes and between 6 and 8 wars depending on we define them.  

Remember when US troops would never be sent into action.  It is different now.  We would then be afraid to be drafted.

We have invented new languages.  Phrases such as “email me the answers’, “I am going to buy a new mac, my old one has no memory”, “text me your phone number”, “all I have is three and a half inch floppy” (speaking about computers of course); changes that would make Aldous Huxley pause. 

Languages have come and gone (remember beeper codes?)  143 very different from 43.  I got in trouble with that one.

Remember dialing the phone.  You hate calling people with 0, 8 and 9’s in their phone numbers. Finger got tired.    Remember no area codes.  There was only one phone per household; when your sister had a new boyfriend, the whole house could not communicate with the outside world.  Remember when you got a call from a land line and you would answer it?

We could go to college and not owe the cost of the house. We could send our kids to school and not worry about whether they will be safe; bullying stopped once your child arrived home.  College afforded you a decent salary.

Although one would sometimes not trust politicians, now it is uncommon to trust one.

We would carry out research in the library; we would use the card catalogue; perhaps meet someone.

That is how I met my wife ;-) we would have wondered why the semicolon followed by dash followed by closed parentheses.

 

Now we go to the library online and google everything; our concentration being challenged by every possible popup.

Things just go too fast. 

To quote something Nestor posted on facebook; My mind is like my internet browser…  I have 19 windows open, four of them are frozen and I do not know where the music is coming from.  Can you imagine hearing that phrase 43 years ago? 

You had to cheat in person.  Now you can cheat  via email or dropbox.

We used to hand in our homework, now we upload via turnitin. 

Phrases like you’ve got mail became movie titles. Our kids would wonder “what a strange title for a movie”

Now we talk to our computers.  Can you imagine getting one of those gadgets and your wife’s name is Alexa or Siri?

Remember buying records?  There were no music videos.

In the old days sometimes we would want to be with our friends rather than our parents, it was cool.

I would give anything to be with mom and dad again. 

Some things are still the same.

We all still love our children; we all still love our parents.  We still love our friends.

We all know what is right and what is wrong, although sometimes we need a small reminder. 

I know that will never change.

 

God bless all of you, proud to call you friends.  

 

Happy Anniversary!

 

Moose.

Ramon Lopez de la Vega

Associate Professor and Associate Chair

Department of Chemistry and Biochemistry

CP 329

305-348-3086 - office

I did not mind taking the bus

 I did not mind taking the bus.  

I first remember taking the bus, “la gua gua”, when I was maybe 6 in Cuba, and we were going to my grandmother’s house in bus number 32 from El Nautico to El Vedado.  I was enthralled by the system where one would pull the cord on the side so the bus driver would know to stop on the next stop.  I thought it was ingenious. Who would have thought of that?   

In the old country, the bus had two attendants.  There was the driver, “chofer”, and the conductor.  The conductor was the person who would collect the fare or the transfer, “transferencia”.  He would also give advice on how to get to a certain place using the bus system.  I was always worried that when the conductor asked, we would not find the money or transferencia.  What would they do?  Kick you out?  Shoot you?  Luckily, I never found out.  Remember I was six. I was surprised that in the US there was no conductor.  Who could you ask about the connecting bus?  I kept thinking, when would it be the best time to pull the cord?  Right before the stop, or right after the previous stop? I could not reach it anyway.  But, in a bus we always had time to think about such things.  It is not like we were going to go anywhere fast.   

What I liked about riding the bus was that I had time to listen; I could observe, strike up a friendship, or just think about anything.  Or I could read a book, which I did often.  These were usually books about sports or something my sister recommended.  Nowadays, people seldom exercise the art of doing nothing. 

Late on a Sunday afternoon, I was going home from the Montmartre Hotel in Miami Beach.  I had worked three shifts in a row with my dad and I was tired.  This was in 11^th grade; it must have been in the Spring.  I had to transfer from the T bus to one of the Flagler buses, then to the 27 bus at 12^th avenue.  We went westbound on the south side of the Omni Mall.  And, as the driver took a left onto Biscayne BLVD, an old Cuban guy commented to his friend beside him: “La mujer Cubana.  Ha sido comprobado que son las más bonitas del mundo”.  (The Cuban woman.  It has been proven that the Cuban woman is the most beautiful woman in the world).  I found this statement amusing, did not really disagree with it and did what any other young Cuban man would do.  I switched to the other side of the bus to get a better view. I almost laughed out loud since the lady we were looking at was a classmate, someone I knew well both from Saints Peter and Paul and ILS. She was walking north on Biscayne Blvd in front of the old Jefferson Store with presumably a family member.   I thought to myself “that is not the most beautiful woman, that is just __________”.  I have known her for years.  Then I thought, “esperate … esperate. (wait..  wait)……”   I kept looking at her.  She looked different.  She was wearing high waisted blue jeans and a blouse tied in such a way as to show a bare midriff.  The blue jeans were not tight yet nice fitting enough to delineate her Cuban attributes.  Either she had changed, or I had.  As the bus drove away from the Jefferson Store, I could see her and her Cuban attributes and just thought: Old Cuban Guy was right.   

Experiences like that you miss when driving.  Of course, this was in 1974.  The buses were air conditioned then.  There was no smell of gasoline or diesel.  I was not in a hurry.  Although bad for one’s health, I kind of like the smell of gasoline. 

Just random thoughts, since right now I am on vacation practicing the art of doing nothing.   

Be well my friends. 

Moose 

The day it snowed in Miami, January 19, 1977

I remember it being cold.  I lived in an old house on 12^th avenue and bordering the roads.  It had been built in 1926.  My bedroom was the old Florida room in the back of the house which had been converted to concrete and walls were added but it was covered with windows and had no insulation.  It had four windows in a very small room. This was before Rocky, I and a couple of other friends but mainly Rocky built a wall to separate it from the kitchen.  That day, the day it snowed in Miami,  I awoke and went outside in a hurry since I was customarily almost late for my 8am class at the University of Miami.  The class was taught by Professor Harry Schultz in SA 126 in the Cox Richter Science Building.  It was a difficult class.  I remember that room very well since in 2014 I was asked to teach in that same room at UM.  And it is also where I met my wife and her fiancée.   

The previous night I heard that it may snow in the morning and I kind of was looking forward to it.  When I went to the car, I did not see much difference.  I bundled the best I could and was surprised when all the windows and the windshield of the car were covered in ice. I was driving a 1965 Volkswagen which I had inherited from my brother Robert.  He had used while he was in Gainesville at UF.  I had an emotional attachment to it. It had no heating, no air conditioning. The little side window could not be opened, which was a problem since it did not have a defogger either.   It had an am radio, so I could listen to WQAM or WFUN or WTMI.  The speaker was blown so the sound was not the best.  The front windshield was already cracked and although it did have a sunroof, it could not be fully closed.  It could be opened but I was afraid to open it since it may not close again.  When it rained it would also rain inside.  I once went out with a lady friend, and she asked me why I had an umbrella in the front seat.  I only went out with her once.  I am not sure why.  I had to leave the driver side and passenger side windows slightly opened.  Also, since at one time the battery acid had spilled, a lot of the floor was missing.  The battery was tied to the bottom of the back seat with very strong rope.  I could see the road asphalt from inside the car, kind of like Fred’s car from the Flintstones.  You could see if the road was flooded from the inside.   The car had other issues.  It had a short circuit. I could not listen to the radio, turn on the lights, put on the turning signal, or the brake lights and honk the horn at the same time.  I could only do some of those.  When I honked the horn the lights would dim. I had to rely on arm signals to let people know which way I was turning and when I was stopping. It was a great little car.  Probably my favorite car, ever.  At night, making a left turn while listening to the radio and braking was a real challenge.   

So I went in my great little car to my Organic Chemistry II class at the University of Miami in Coral Gables.  As I drove south on South Dixie the water vapor coming out as I exhaled was remarkable.    There was what seemed to be white fumes coming out of every possible place in the car.  Some was coming out the windows, some from the sunroof, even the floor and the exhaust pipe.  It was so cold I had to think about it when I had to shift gears. I just kept thinking, laughing at myself.  I must be doing something wrong.   

It seemed to take a long time but finally I arrived at the intersection of Granada and US1.  There was late model Volvo on my left and I heard subtle honking. The lady in the car to my left needed to make a right turn and with hand signals, asked for me to allow her in in front of me. I could not see her well since there was so much water vapor.   I was grateful since now I could keep my hands warm a little longer until I had to shift into first.  As we looked at each other we both began laughing. She with her hands resting on the steering wheel of her comfortable Volvo which was at just the right temperature and I emanating white water vapor and rubbing my hands trying to keep warm and trying to make this turn without having to shift into second gear and trying to see through the white smoke.  She was a nice lady, one of my classmates. She was an excellent student.     

I do not really know what she was thinking nor what I was thinking but that image remains with me to this day.  I am not even sure why we both laughed simulaneously except that possibly right at the last minute after we had a full blown conversation with hand signals, we recognized each other. 

I remember that scene very vividly.  I am not really sure why.   

Just remembering my youth! 

Be well my friends.   

 Ramón López de la Vega

Associate Chair

Department of Chemistry and Biochemistry,  CP 323A

305-348-3086 - office/786-897-3206 - cell

Freshman day 1971

Those of us who had older siblings at ILS, actually got a preview of what high school would be like from our older family members.  My brother Robert always looked forward to new experiences in high school.  He would always tell me about these experiences. He had a very positive outlook on life.   He told me in high school they had real laboratories.  He later became a chemist.  I am assuming he also told my other siblings but I do not know that.  I seem to remember a lot more than the rest in that regard.  He told me about his professors, one of which was Brother Ramon.  I had two other siblings in LaSalle before I went but, I mostly remember what he told me. Now I look back and feel quite fortunate about him telling me these things.  Every day I appreciate and miss him more. 

One time, he was telling me about this thing called freshman day.  I asked  him what it was.    He told me that on this day the seniors could tell the freshmen what to do.  I thought to myself, No jod…. (translation: surely, you are kidding).  I asked what if you did not want to do it?  He said you had to.  After he went through freshman day I asked him how it went. I was expecting something like: It went horrible.  He just told me he had a lot of fun.  He told me I would not understand. He was right.  I did not. He started LaSalle in 1966.  I had just joined Sts Peter and Paul in fifth grade.  I still spoke mostly Spanish.  I dreaded ever going to high school in part because of this thing called Freshman Day. 

It was 1971, and it was our turn for Freshman day.  I was frankly terrified.  I had homeroom with Mrs. Lopez-Oña in room 706. I think all of us were nervous to an extent. The whole class seemed to be on edge, but in a good giggly type of way.  Fabio and I would discuss the best way to get to the next class without being spotted.  I kept thinking how do I go from Mrs Lopez-Oña’s class to Sister Anthony’s class without running into Seniors.  Fabio and I discussed the specifics, at length.  Luckily, homeroom was in the same building as Algebra 1.  All I had to do is go downstairs and past a few classrooms and I was in the classroom, safe.  Once we were in the room, I knew she would make sure the seniors could not bother us.  She gave us good advice.  When the bell rings, wait as long as possible, then make a dash to the next classroom.  They cannot enter the classroom, at least they were not supposed to.  And, if you were a little late, that faculty member would understand.  She let us know she was not crazy about Freshman day either.  She was a very nice lady.  Next class, Room 502, Brother Ramon Gonzalez (aka platanito).  This was my favorite class.  Also my favorite lab partner was part of the class.  I waited until the bell had rung.  Waited a few minutes and made a mad dash to the lab.  I felt safe there, Seniors were not going to mess around with Brother Ramon.  No one messes around with Brother Ramón.  Next class was easy.  Phys Ed with Coach Grosso. The boys field house was right next to the lab.  He made it clear to the Seniors that they were not welcome there.   Then Sister Mary Therese Huber’s class for Social Studies followed by lunch.  I think we were studying the Two Chinas.  I did not have any problems getting from one class to another.  With Sister Anthony’s advice, I would always get to the next class just in time.  The cafetorium was a problem.  It was a real problem.  I arrived and was about to get my lunch when immediately one of the seniors singled me and Rocky out.  The senior’s name was Rick de la Vega.  He told us to give him our hands.  He took handcuffs and made sure Rocky and I were handcuffed together for the duration of lunch.  I was getting worried since I had to go to the boy’s room.  Getting the tray of food was interesting.  Rocky was handcuffed to my right hand.  We positioned ourselves so we were comfortable getting our food.  We ate lunch fine.  When it comes to food, I can usually figure it out.  I had to eat with my left hand.  Then they began painting our faces.  Then they told us to get on top of the table and to dance.  We did.  Then Rocky and I had to leap from the top of the rectangular table to the floor.  There is a picture of that in the yearbook for the class of 1972.  I am impressed that I was able to do that.  These days I am impressed easily. I show the yearbook picture below. 

 

Rocky cannot be seen but I seem to be overcropped so as to not show the handcuff.  You can still see it above my right wrist.  All of the sudden, the guy who handcuffed us told us to stretch out our hands.  I was worried about doing this but he took out the key and just unlocked it.  He said okay, you guys can go.  He seemed to be happy we were good sports.  Someone asked him why he stopped and he said:  I have to go, someone jumped into the bay.  Only through our writing via the Elvis email threads did I realize who that was.   Thanks.   I was relieved and then relieved some more when I was finally able to go to the bathroom. 

Nothing happened after that.  I had to go to religion class with Brother William, followed by English with Sister Agnes Rita Huber.  It was as if all the seniors were told to cease. I do not know this for a fact but I have always wondered why after lunch there did not seem to be a problem. 

I always wondered why Rocky and I were singled out for that.  I kept thinking that the senior who did it did knew my brother Robert.  They were friends but I do not think he knew we were related.  I found this out after I asked Robert.   Robert and I had different last names (long story) and it Is not like we were ever together in the same school.  Then I thought Teresa (my sister) might have something to do with it.  She was a senior at the time in LaSalle.  But that is not possible.  Teresa, my sister, is way too nice.  She would never do that.  I did not know the reason why we were singled out.   Frankly I am not worried about it.  I was kind of glad we were.

That day, looking back on it, I had a lot of fun.  I guess the running around trying not to be found was almost like a little game with some consequence.  I finally understood why Robert told me that I would not really understand why it was fun.  Even after going through it, I am still not completely sure.  I have never understood the purpose of Freshman day in a preparatory catholic high school.  My understanding is that once a group faces adversity they get closer to one another.  In any case it really was fun.     

Part of the reason that I write all this stuff is that I like to remember.  I started thinking about it today when I read Kathy’s entry about Eva Porter.  I took out my sister’s yearbook which was when we were freshmen and I came across the picture which I included.  I also kept reading these hearfelt dedications from people I did not remember.  I became worried.  We are at an age were I do worry about those things.  Of course all the dedications were to my sister, not me. That is why I did not remember any of them.  Phew!

Fight on LaSalle 

Happy Birthday Victor Hugo Padron

 

April 1st would have been Victor Hugo Padron’s birthday!

I have been reading some of the emails back and forth among my classmates. I was gratified by Elvis’s finding of an email message from Mario to a group of friends. It seemed that Mario was writing to us.  Actually, he was, but at an earlier time.  Then we remembered John Ibarra’s birthday via our email group. Both are remembered via their families. I immediately sought some type of old correspondence with my good friend, Victor Hugo Padron; I found none. He did not have children, no surviving family members that I know of.

As young men: we spent so much time together. We worked selling records at Variety Records at the Omni mall, parking cars at the Montmartre Hotel, playing football with my family in the front yard. On his own, he actually took my younger brothers and sisters to Disneyworld. Mom always admired him for doing that. There are so many memories. Since he passed before the internet fully developed, and before the times of “You’ve got mail” and there were no Elvis communications, nothing googable is available. I would like our good friend to be remembered.

I first met Victor in LaSalle in Sister Anthony’s class, first period; we were taking Algebra 1. He sat in the third or fourth row next to the wall. I sat two desks behind him. He was quiet but would speak up when he had to. He may have also been in my Phys Ed class in third period with Coach Grosso. I know he was in English class with Sister Agnes Rita Huber, eight period.  Later in life, we would reminisce about making our classmates laugh as they were presenting in front of class. Victor and I would become very good friends. 

I played Junior Varsity Football as a sophomore. People may not realize that Victor was in our JV team. He was number 80 and played defensive end. The reason I say that you may not realize it is that in the JV picture on the yearbook (1973) many of the names are wrong, including his. He is right next Carlos Fernandez and Rocky. He was actually a pretty good player.

In, or around the year 1973, he got a quadraphonic stereo. I remember going to his house to see and hear it. More importantly, that day I met his mom (Rosalia or Chalía), dad (Victor Hugo Senior) and Aunt Hilda.  Beautiful family. They were playing dominoes in the dining room. I noticed his dad was in a wheelchair. I joined in the game. Having come from a family of avid players, I felt right at home. I sat across from the younger Victor, so we were on the same team.  As we played, Victor Senior ran me through an interview. I guess he wanted to get to know his son’s friends. He would quiz me about certain things. He would ask me stuff, he just wanted to get to know me. Chalia was one of those ladies who just tried to make life better for everyone. Wonderful conversationalist. She would pay attention to both Victors; They were both loved. Later on, as Victor drove me home, he half apologized for his father.  I had found the father’s questions to be endearing and actually, I looked forward to playing Dominoes with them.  Later, going to his house became a ritual and we would finish studying and end up at Victor’s eating Churros con chocolate that Chalia would make.

In junior year, our group decided to celebrate Victor’s Birthday. It was a surprise party. We developed this convoluted story where I and Victor would go somewhere. When we returned everyone would be at the house. That day, I remember going to the house early. Several of our classmates were already there. I do not know where Victor was. Someone taught me how to make onion dip. I had never done that before or tasted onion dip. Trouble is, I ate a lot of it. I left to bring Victor back and everyone continued the preparations. Somehow, Victor realized what was going on yet, pretended he was not aware. We returned to his house. Victor came in the house. All the lights were off. I stayed outside; I am not sure why. I believe in our convoluted story; he was only returning to pick up something.  I just heard “Surprise” and music started playing. Everyone seemed happy. I guess Victor realized I was not in the house, and he came out of the house and brought me a drink.  I asked, what is in the drink? He said “no te preocupes” (do not worry about it) we always said that. I drank it and went inside the house. As I entered, the whole house started spinning. On the right side of the door in the porch, Maria Rivas was sitting, talking to someone. It was either Georgina Tercilla or Graciela Balanzategui. I came in and just said “Why is everybody moving so much? Why is everyone spinning around?”  Maria realized I was not well. I just remember Maria signaling to the person next to her, and that person getting up from her seat and walked towards the dining room. Maria said “Ven Ramon sientate aqui, al ladito mio” (Come here Ramon and sit here right next to me). I was very happy to sit right next to Maria.  Later I realized she was making sure I was okay. Maria, if you are reading this, I really appreciated it. I sat there for a while. I remember getting up a bit later, probably searching for onion dip.  I guess I was better. 

Later in the evening, we ended up at The Machine Shop on Coral Way across from the Sears Store and next to Stern Brothers Plumbing. It was one of our favorite hangouts. For those of you who may not be familiar with the place, the machine shop had air hockey tables, pinball machines etc… There were no electronic games except possibly pong. Space Invaders and Pacman were not out yet. There were two parking lots for the shop. One was on the left of the store and the other behind the shop. We parked on the side parking lot. You could drive from one of the lots to the other, but the passageway was kind of narrow.  A car could fit comfortably through it, but a larger car and a person walking right next to it would just barely fit. At the Machine Shop, I was pleasantly surprised that some of the ladies had gone with us. We kind of separated into small groups and played pinball.  It was then time to go, and I exited via the back door of the establishment and Victor, Fabio and I (just saying that makes me sad) were walking towards the car on the side parking lot. We were going to go into the side parking lot when I heard a screeching sound and Victor and Fabio yelled, Watch out Moose! I did not understand what was happening. Victor and Fabio looked scared. One of the cars sped through the passageway and to quote Agent 86, “Missed me by that much”. Seriously, it was really close. Fabio and Victor, both told me that there were guys who were trying to “talk” to the ILS ladies who were with us.  I did notice that the ladies had been kind of gathering around us at the time and all these guys we did not know were around.  Both Victor and Fabio said that they were trying to run me over. I did not really think so. I just thought they were trying to scare me. They succeeded. That day Victor and Fabio may have saved my life.

Victor and I would spend a lot of time together. In school I remember one instance, I believe in PreCal, when the whole class was getting out of control and Mr. Thomas said, “That is so funny that I can’t see straight”.  Victor did not realize that Mr. Thomas was very upset and just started laughing hysterically.  Mr. Thomas had a lazy eye and Victor thought he was making fun of his own issues.

When Victor’s mom passes, he and the rest of the family moved to a house which was parallel to Coral Way, one block north of the Ibarra’s but 5 blocks west. He was always welcome at my house. Actually, he was welcome at the houses of several friends.  He became part of my family and theirs.

At the time, I felt we were being kind to him, he seemed to be so alone.  Only now do I realize he was being so kind to me. After my brother Robert passed, he would always insist that I go out with him and other friends to do stuff. We would end up catching a movie, going to the machine shop, the student union at UM, and play ping pong or playing pool. It was during that time when several expressions came to be. If the group had absolutely nothing to do: “We can go to Fabio’s house and stare at Fabio’s mom.”  No one really knew why we said that. She was a very nice lady.  And, “Portate bien o te vas a la casa con Fabio.”  (Behave or you are leaving with Fabio). We were horrible to Fabio, another great guy. We would reminisce about ILS. I usually did not feel like going out.  Now I think I was going through an understandable depression.  None said anything about it, I did not even realize it until another friend said something to me. That friend just said “Estas hecho una plasta.”  (that one is hard to translate but he meant you are being a real down).  I realized he was right.

Seven of us: Rocky, Ricky, Charlie, Giz, Fabio, Victor and I went on a one-week cruise in the Caribbean.  Spending seven days with seven guys and meeting seven girls from Tarboro NC, was indeed memorable. We also met a guy named Fred. He was the second violinist with the Cleveland Orchestra. He must have been around 70 years old. He was having a great time. He would sit at our table. I spoke to him numerous time and what I remember the most about him was how much he missed his wife. His wife was at home. I guessed he traveled separately from her.  He also taught me tablature notation for guitar. Fred came by to visit in Miami a few years later. I remember Victor, on the first day of the cruise, sitting, drinking a beer. He was sad because the trip would be over in six days. All through the trip, Victor was having a good time. I still remember him laughing at some of Giz’s jokes and the jumping frog which landed in strategic places. And Fred would pick it up.  There are so many memories. One of these days I would like to arrange a get together for the five that are left and tell the stories, again. Never gets old.

Sometime later I told him I wanted to ask Lourdes out on a date. I was always a coward about those things. He totally encouraged it, almost made it possible. He arranged for dancing lessons from friends. He even planned the trip. The couples double and triple dated many times. Later, Victor was the best man at my wedding. I always thought he would be a part of my family as Lourdes, and I had children.  Sadly, Victor and I did not see each other too often after I was married. I was not sure why.  Partly it was because when you are married and have children your life is completely changed. I did miss him. Cristina was born and I wanted him to meet her. I invited him over to our apartment at the University of Miami. It was in the morning. He brought a gift; I think a dress for Cristina. She may have been maybe a couple of months old.  We talked about stuff for a little while, just reminiscing. When he left that day, I never saw him again. Many years later, I was practicing with Cristina for the father daughter dance at her wedding. We choreographed exactly the way Maria and Victor taught me how to dance. In that way, he was part of the ceremony, although no one else realized it.

I am so grateful to Victor. He really was there when I needed him. I am thanking him now.

I always wanted to ask him a question:

Just what was in that drink?

Happy Birthday my friend. Fight on LaSalle.

Moose

I agree about the alcohol.

 I agree about the alcohol. 

On September 17, 2012, I was teaching the late general chemistry class and I received a phone call from Paula's best friend letting me know Paula had been in a bad accident.  I, my wife and my three other children rushed to St Mary’s Hospital in Palm Beach to be with her.   

My beautiful daughter was in a coma, hit by a drunk driver. 

In a true testament to  her resilience, with a lot of work and help from God, excellent medical intervention and two firefighters/paramedics who happened to be on the scene coming back from a hunting trip when the accident occurred, she survived.  

She went on to obtain her doctorate in pharmacy in 2017. She currently works at CVS Pharmacy and teaches part time at FIU.   She is okay.  She is more than okay.  She is my beautiful daughter.  I have learned a lot from her.  

Although I may enjoy a drink every now and then, I have no time for irresponsible drinking.

One day I will tell you the whole story of her recovery.  It is inspiring, but it is painful for me to experience it again.  Her story appeared on the front page of the Palm Beach Post.  The link is below.  

https://www.palmbeachpost.com/story/news/local/2017/05/20/woman-graduates-college-years-after/7899304007/

Woman graduates college years after awful wreck caused by drunk driver Paula Lopez-Trigo had just started her second year of pharmacy school and was cruising down Interstate 95 near the Blue Heron Boulevard exit when a Jeep Cherokee driven by a woman with an empty bottl… www.palmbeachpost.com

Be well; take care of yourselves and fight on!

Written 4/29/22

 Around two years ago, in early October, I received a phone call from Giz. He told me Nestor was in town. Giz wanted to arrange a visit with Mr. Mederos, Nestor’s dad, and our math teacher. I loved the idea and we arranged to meet at Mr. Mederos’s house at a certain time. Fabio, Rocky, Giz, and Moose were going to say hello to two old friends: Nestor Mederos and Nestor Mederos.  

 

I began thinking about our days in LaSalle. I also wanted to ask Mr. Mederos a question. It had been bothering me for a long time.

 

The day arrived and Fabio called. He was not going to be able to go due to health issues.  Little did I know that would be the last time I would speak to Fabio.  Then Gizmo called. He had another commitment. He could not go. Both of them were disappointed. I know they both wanted to go spend some time with both Nestors.  

 

Rocky and I met outside the house. Then we called Nestor and he came out to greet us. We both went inside the house and Mr. Mederos was there. He was looking amazing! It was a real pleasure seeing an old friend.  

 

The house was a nice house, very comfortable. We sat in the living room. Someone commented about the artwork. I had been to Mr. Mederos’s homes, both in the Roads and in Coral Gables and did not remember that much artwork. They looked like Lladrós, lots of Lladrós. Lourdes and I had recently purchased one and they were pricey. Mr. Mederos said they may look like Lladrós, but they are not. They are actually Mederós. He and Nestor said that since he had retired, he had to find something to do so he took up art. I was impressed. Nestor was proud of his dad. They showed me some of the sculptures. I am not an art critic, but I thought they were really good. Nestor then said that he also has paintings. We went to another room, a studio, and he showed notebooks full of watercolor paintings. Some were works in progress. There was one I particularly liked of two young girls, I guess around six years old each, they looked like sisters. They may have been the same girls but with different expressions. I liked the expressions on their faces. We then sat down in the living room. We continued talking. We each spoke a little bit about ourselves and our families. Nestor talked about the time that his mom discovered he was the opening act for Julio Iglesias. Mr. Mederos smiled as they were reminiscing. I was most curious about Mr. Mederos. After he left LaSalle, he went to teach in a school in Miami Lakes. He really liked to teach those kids because he was serving a good purpose. Those children really needed him. He felt like he made a real difference in that school. We kept talking about other interesting things. I told him that when I teach my classes about anything involving the Pythagorean Theorem, I remember him fondly. I also pronounce it as the Peetagorean Theorem. My students usually laugh at the way I say it. I tell them because that is the way I learned it. That is the way it should be pronounced. They usually do not realize I am just messing with them. They think I learned that in the old country. We then spoke about the treasured reward for an educator; to be a positive influence in someone’s life. A couple of times Mr. Mederos told Nestor “Mira a ver si hay algo para servirle a los muchachos” (Check to see what we can serve the boys). That really reminded me of the days when a group of us were studying at his house. He would say that to Nestor and Ms. Mederos. Brought back good memories. Also do you know how long it has been that someone refers to me as a “muchacho”?  

 

I had heard of Mr. Mederos long before I had met him. He was my brother’s and sister’s math teacher in ILS. He remembered my sister, Teresa even now. His family lived on 26^th road, right next to Sts Peter and Paul. I used to deliver newspapers and would pass by his house in my bicycle every day to go to my paper route. I of course knew Nestor very well. I met Mr. Mederos in Geometry Class in the seven hundred building. He was a nice man, more comfortable speaking in Spanish, but fluent in English. He was easy to listen to. He had studied law in the old country. At times he had a certain way of saying things with a certain smile and I did not know whether he was being serious or just messing with you. He made geometry fun. Well at least I know I had a blast. I am being serious about that. Occasionally, he would assign a problem for us to solve. Usually, it was some kind of proof. Then he would say Extra Points! I remember me, Rocky, Gizmo and Fabio frantically trying to work it out. The first couple of students who would get the answer would get a + 2 in red in their notebook. Sometimes he would give you three points. One time I got five points. I never did get seven. It would have had to be a difficult problem. At the end of the grading period, he would tally the extra points and he would add it to your grades. For proud nerds like me that was important. It made the class fun. I looked forward to going to his class. The extra points helped. I try to emulate that in the introductory Chemistry Classes in College. More important than the extra points were that we did not want to disappoint him. We wanted to impress him. Subsequently I also took Algebra 2 with him, I was happy to be in his class.  

 

I wanted to ask Mr. Mederos a question. It had been bothering me for a long time. I was finally going to get the chance. I did so when we were walking back from the studio to the living room. It was in 1974; I was taking Algebra 2. We were taking the final exam. I completed the exam early. And, to help a friend who, I shall not name, I passed my scrap paper with my notes from the exam back to my friend. He was struggling to finish the exam. I went to the front and handed in my exam. A few minutes later Mr. Mederos asked me: “Ramon where is your scrap paper.”  I did not know what to do. So, I said something very loudly like: “So you are asking for my scrap paper; kind of imitating Agent 86” I said it again and my friend who had the scrap paper slipped the paper into the crevice between his desk and the back of my chair. Somehow the air currents played tricks on us, and the paper very slowly, ever so slowly floated down, swinging back and forth, between the two rows of desks. I snatched it while it was still in midair. The paper was floating right in front of Mr. Mederos. I then gave the paper to Mr. Mederos. There is no way Mr. Mederos could have missed that. He knew what was happening but purposely ignored it. After all these years I finally was going to ask him the question. Did he know I helped someone cheat? I asked him if he remembered that. I asked him if he knew that I had given the student behind me paper so he could copy it. Mr. Mederos said no he did not remember. I dropped the topic. I did not want to remind him. Did not want to disappoint him.

 

We continued talking for a couple of hours. I and Mr. Mederos talked about teaching and the “new methods of teaching.”  After a little while, Rocky and I decided to bid our farewells; it was getting late. Just before we got up and took a picture of the group, Mr. Mederos said to me quietly so only I could hear him: “Estoy muy orgulloso de ti”    

  

That must be worth at least seventy times seven extra points.  

 

Thank you, Mr. Mederos. Thank you for all you did for us and being a wonderful example to all of us. 

 

A couple of weeks ago I called Nestor to see how they were. They are fine. Mr. Mederos now lives in California, with Nestor and Nestor’s wife, Inga. And they are doing fine. 

Fight on! 

-Moose