An American Wake (w/ apologies)
08.27.2003I'm no good at goodbyes. Or goodbye parties. I'm really sorry. I'm just not.
I was happy to see so many of my friends come out to see me off on me not-so-last night in Kalamazoo. Sure, I'll be back for the Moped Army BBQ. But I know it won't quite be the same. I'm no longer a Kalamazoo resident.
So why am I so horrible w/ goodbyes? I can give you an answer. I never really learned about goodbyes. There's a story there, and it's not really as sad as it sounds ...
I grew up in Bolivia. I was a little 9-year-old boy who never even considered The Future. I was happy, I was young, I lived in Bolivia. I went to school, I had friends, I had a dog named Tony. It was a good life.
Sure, I never really knew about the world around me. As I grew up, I learned more. I learned why the TV often had a new president, hiding his face behind dark sunglasses and surrounded by men w/ guns. But I lived in Santa Cruz, not the capital. I lived in "el interior" (the interior, the frontier, BFE). Problems only existed in The Capital, in La Paz. I never understood what 25,000 percent inflation meant until years later.
But in December 1984, my family flew to the US. We were visiting my mom's family in Saginaw. We often visited them. But this was our first time in winter. Oh! I'd never seen snow before. It was so much fun. Sledding, ice skating, snow angels. The coldest it ever got in Santa Cruz was maybe 55. Fahrenheit. And that was a cold cold snap where everyone ran home to their sweater closets and huddled together under all the blankets we could muster.
The night before we'd fly back home, to Bolivia, my parents decided to stay in the US. Things were better here. No hyper-inflation, political stability, a future. So we stayed. Well, Sam (my younger brother) and I stayed. My parents and Andy went back. To sell the house, our belongings, and then come back. What they couldn't carry in their alloted luggage, stayed, given away and just left behind (another tradition I learned about moving). And Sam & I stayed (and he didn't even speak English!).
I've often wondered what my dear abuelita's face looked like when she saw my parents at the airport. How did they explain why two of her grandsons weren't coming back. How her son was leaving to a new country (my dad didn't speak English either) far, far away. I wonder how long she cried.
So. I never said goodbye to my school friends. I never said goodbye to my relatives. I never said goodbye to my dog. I came back to Bolivia for the first time four years later. I heard my best friend (Tadashi Nakama) had moved to Japan. I never saw another of my friends, save one. I saw her every time I went back and we wrote letters back and forth for years.
But I never learned to say goodbye. I always just go to airports, bag in hand. And I start walking. I don't turn around. I just walk straight to the plane. The people I leave behind, I'll see them soon. If not, what difference will a goodbye make? I'll see my parents soon. I'll see my brothers soon. I'll see my friends soon. Or my pane might crash into the ocean. In which case, what difference would another goodbye make?
For most of my life, my dream was to go back to Bolivia. To live. Get married, raise kids, start a life. That dream no longer exists. Perhaps it was just a foolish dream. But she's right, I'm too American now.
So. In two weeks I go back to Boliva, but not forever. It's true what they say. "You can always go home, you just can't stay."
The Irish had a tradition. Actually, I'm sure lots of people had this tradition. It's called an American Wake. It was for when family or friends left the Old Country and moved to America. They'd probably never return, they were gone over the sundering seas. So they got together and said their last goodbyes.
One of my favorite songs by Black 47 is called "American Wake" (listen to it on mp3). It's about an Irish man who goes back home after years in America. He finds it both changed and the same. And it's true what they say. "You can always go home, you just can't stay."
To all my friends, wherever you are: I'll see you soon.
Posted by Miguel at 12:23 AM
Comments
so true. it was hard for a long time for me never having said goodbye. i was barely old enough to remember. old enought to miss Tony. good blog. it makes me mad to see how American I am sometimes, then glad mom and dad made that hard choice. i would not of been strong enough i fear to have made the wiser choice.
i am sure this next year will be some of the best times of your life. no doubt.
Posted by: sam at August 27, 2003 10:51 AM
Hey Miguel just wanted to wish you good luck in Bolivia. I hope you have fun while you're down there too and not study and work too hard. But I was wondering, will the have LOTR 3 in Bolivia when it comes out? Take care.
Posted by: Kara at August 27, 2003 01:55 PM
goodbyes started in my life when i was in 5th grade. still happens and sometimes i start believing that my life is just 'destined' to be full of it.
i think one never learns how to say goodbye. even how many times you get to say it (to several different people nonetheless), it would seem like it is the first time that you're being left or that you are leaving. you never really get used to it even if you convince yourself that you are.
Posted by: jo anne at August 28, 2003 04:30 AM