I met Antawn at Fordham through United Christian Fellowship. He was a very funny and clean person.

One night he invited everyone to his place for a meal he cooked. He spoke about where his family was from and there was a big funny argument about who cooked better- men or women.

When it was time to clean up, he went on and on about how clean his place had to be at all times…which lead to an even funnier argument about what would happen if he had a disorganized wife.

I remember that night because Antwan had a cute roommate who gave me his number. I can’t remember that guy’s name. I don’t even remember how he looks. I do remember laughing later with the girls about taking his number.

For the most part, I remember laughing a lot in Antwan’s presence. We laughed in the Christian meetings and at the cafe and in the Ram Van on the way to Tarry Town for the retreats.

We laughed because we could. We had our troubles but we also had our youth and constant motivation from adults in our lives who helped to keep us grounded. It was the last time in our lives to be this free. It was the time when adults would remind us that high school that was over and we are grown. So, act like it.  

College ended and we all went different ways. Making promises to meet up again.

In January, Josh sent me a message telling me that Antwan passed and I texted Tasha and asked her if she knew and she said Facebook told her. Cause Facebook tells everyone, everything. And that’s why we don’t need to meet… or don’t meet. Because we got facebook. We kinda went silent after that.

Our conversation ended the same way, we should keep in contact more often. But what does keeping in contact even mean these days?



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I love the mutual admiration and synergy between Tima and her husband. This is the first photo I took of them before they got ‘ready’ to take the picture. I wasn’t going to use it for my blog because it looks fuzzy but their facial expressions are so lovely. It looks like they are little kids in love. 

Feeding the Iguana

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This was taken at Seminario Park in Guayaquil, Ecuador.

We had a lot of fun chasing the Iguana’s and demanding them to eat OUR lettuce.

There were a lot of people there so the Iguana’s stop eating the food after awhile. If you found one that was hungry it was like finding a needle in a haystack. As you can see, all four of us have a piece of lettuce in our hands to feed him. Even this one was a bit fed-up (pun intended)!

If they did not eat it, then we placed the lettuce on their backs hoping they would change their minds. Usually the food would fall to the ground and be placed in the basura by the park worker.


Uncle’s Birthday Party


In January I blogged about Stacy’s 99 year old Grandma, Mi Abuela Ana. Stacy and I thought about actives we could do with Abuela Ana to keep her mind busy. Most of them revolved around Stacy’s family. Her grandma’s children.

When her uncle’s birthday came around, Stacy invited me over.

Abuela Ana was sitting on the couch. Above her on the wall, there was a vintage photo. It was a picture of her and her late husband taken at photography studio. It seemed to be their wedding photo. The picture was striking because of her dress. It was long and modest. She saw me looking at it and through translation told me that it was a pink dress. But I don’t remember her saying anything else about the picture. As a matter of fact, I don’t remember her showing much emotion about the photo.




Waiting for the Bus in Memphis

I woke up on Tuesday and decided I would take the bus across town. I had to plan carefully because my friend who drives everywhere was totally against my idea.

This is not New York. You don’t need to take the bus, I will drive you.

I know, but when you take the bus, you see a different side of the city!

We went back and forth and then I stopped talking about it.

I left her place to take the bus after she had went to work.

The bus stop did not have bus numbers so I  had to plan my trip to a tee: the time, the address and which stop to get off at. However, it did not work out as planned and in the end, I did not really know what bus I was waiting for. The only source of information that was found at the stop was the phone number to call the base, MATA, 910-523-8134, which I did call. But only got a recording.

Needless to say, the bus never came. NEVER. And, it started raining. I was standing at a bus stop without an umbrella nor a shelter.

What came were suspicious looking men driving their vehicles who offered to drive me. I had to say no or just act like I didn’t see them. And if they didn’t offer me a ride, they stared at me too long. While standing there I felt a feeling of embarrassment, like I was suppose to own a car. I felt really bad. A feeling I never feel in New York. I notice no one else was waiting for the bus. As a matter of fact, I looked around and saw very few people on the street (maybe because of the rain).

I made sure to make eye contact with very few people because every time I did, I felt humiliated. I wonder if people who can’t afford cars feel this way in Memphis? Yet, no one made fun of me or berated me. They just looked at me.

So, I started walking. I walked to the next stop and the next stop until I gave in and called my friend. I got to see another side of Memphis but I still want to take the city bus.