It has been a mere 24 years, 3 months and 22 days. Nothing when compared to the amount of time that just passed in his mind. He had just finished checking his email, a routine he followed religiously since first learning about the internet 6 years ago as a freshman in college, when he realized that his life was not particularly unique. He leaned back in his reclining chair and started to think. All this time he felt like there was something special about him, something that made him stand out, but there was nothing. He was normal. Just like everyone else. Or was he? That, he decided, is what he would set out to discover! There has to be something that made his life unique. That something would turn out to be his family.
All families have certain aspects that make them unique, but most Hispanic families are the same. They all have a key ingredient: Drama. There is always this mode of tragedy that has to exist so that the Hispanic family can strive to rid itself of this tragedy, only to need it again. If there is any tranquility, it only lasts for a brief moment until drama comes back like a stealth commando and breaks its ease.
His family was no exception to the rule. His mother emigrated from the Dominican Republic, as did his father. But not before having three children. The oldest was a girl and was followed by two boys. Once his father set himself up in the “Promise Land,” otherwise known as New York City, his mother and three siblings were flown in to see the gold grow on sidewalks. Soon after arriving, his mother’s belly began to swell. It was him, blonde haired and milky-skinned.
That was the beginning of what he thought was a worthwhile life thus far. He was wrong.
Israel: The Book, first draft, 2005-04-22
*Note: Intro written 2005-04-22