SHARING LUCK

In celebration of New Years, I'd like to start 2016 with a heartwarming story! It's a reprint of an article that I published in the Truckee/North Lake Tahoe Independent Newspaper, Moonshine Ink. Thanks to associate editor, Ally Gravina, for her support:

“So, why do you want to write about me?” my 80 year old father asked me ten years ago when I began to interview him for a novel based on his life.

Why indeed. My father’s humble response shows what kind of man he is.

In 1944, my father, Ramón León, was 19 and had a hunch, a premonition of a number to play in the Puerto Rican lottery. Spending all the money he saved since he was a boy, he bought a full sheet of tickets for six dollars, an exorbitant sum then. The amazing thing was he won the jackpot. What’s more remarkable is what happened after.

The money gave him the means to keep a promise he made years before to the people of his village of Maunabo: To become a dentist and establish their first clinic. At the time Puerto Rico had no dental school and very few dentists. Barely speaking English, Ramón left his family (he was the 15^th child) and traveled to the mainland United States to study dentistry. It was a tumultuous few years after winning $18,000.00, a fortune at that time; he bought a car that he nearly drove off the cliff (he didn’t have a license!), thwarted a few jealous people, and gave some money to his sister and each of his brothers, but he persevered and used his winnings to pay for most of his college and dental school. He earned a scholarship and briefly enrolled in the army to finance the remainder. 

My father had made his promise to an elderly healer whom everyone in the village called “humanitario.” This kind man, a dentist from the mainland, lived in a small shack or bohío and treated villagers for free; he cured my dad of a terrible toothache when he was only seven. So my dad made a promise to his mentor, the humanitario: When he came of age, he would do the same. Thus, my father, Ramón León’s dream was born, set in motion by winning the lottery years later.

After becoming a dentist, Ramón returned to Puerto Rico to work at a free dental clinic. Before I was born, he and my mother returned to her home state of Massachusetts. My father established a dental practice there for over thirty years.

And a wonderful coincidence: A month before my novel’s release, a story I wrote back in 2006, A Lucky Man, that was a precursor to my novel and named finalist in a contest for the Preservation Foundation, was rediscovered by a resident of our town. She posted in on the facebook page, “I grew up in Northboro, Massachusetts” and the outpouring of testimonials and memories from Dad’s former patients was overwhelming, 25 years after he retired.

Comments on the site were: “He was the best dentist I’ve ever been to,” “A wonderful tribute to a great man—I wish I had known his story!” and “A dentist like no other . . .” One patient shared how my dad sent his assistant to pick her up when she didn’t own a car and one man told how Dr. León bartered for landscaping in lieu of payment for his large family. Another heart warming story: My father saw a young man on a Sunday after he had a car accident and told his patient, “This is very serious, we need to get you to UMass Memorial Medical Center right away.” The man had a neck fracture that was treated immediately and saved from permanent disability. One thing all his patients had in common: They missed their favorite dentist. My father, Dr. León, watched generations of kids grow up, when he retired, many of his patients cried.

One of my favorite comments was: “I loved having my teeth fixed while getting all kinds of advice and hearing his stories.” So I suppose I inherited my love of story telling from my father. The best part of my job as a Physical Therapist here in Truckee is to hear others’ stories and I’ve been known to recount with a story or two. My novel, Luck is Just the Beginning, was released by Floricanto Press at Thanksgiving, strategically timed as my dad won the lottery on Thanksgiving Day of 1944.

Epilog: Ramón León just turned 90 and lives in Florida with my mom and his wife of 60 years. He often strolls down the street with a cane to join the local poker game at the Senior Center. He never bought another lottery ticket.

Ramón León in dental school, 1953

A HERO'S STORY

I heard a story on NPR’s All Things Considered while driving a couple days ago (12/2/15) that made me pull the car over and take a few notes while the details unfolded (I keep a pen and notepad handy in the glove box for such occasions!).

Hearing this story just a week after the release of my novel made it all the more bittersweet.

Robbie Edmonds, a World War II sergeant, was just named Righteous Among the Nations by the Israel’s Holocaust Remembrance Center for his valor 70 years ago. He is the first U.S. Soldier to be awarded this honor, given to non-Jews who saved Jews during the Holocaust. Edmonds was in a German POW camp and was ordered by a Nazi commander to turn in his fellow Jewish soldiers, presumably to be sent to death or labor camps.  "Have the Jewish men step forward or I will shoot you on the spot," the enraged commander screamed. 

With a gun to his head, Sergeant Edmonds refused to turn in his fellow soldiers, stating, “We are all Jews here.” The Nazi commander backed down and many men were saved, some still alive to share the story today.

The story may have died with Sergeant Edmonds twenty years ago until six years ago when his son, Chris Edmonds, came across a news article that mentioned his father. Chris then contacted POWS to confirm the details. Chris said that when he asked his dad about his time in WW II, his response was often, “Son, there are some things we just don’t need to talk about.”

Now Chris knows the extent of his dad's bravery and that he was a hero.

Call me a sentimental; my emotions are high with a book release after so many years of work and I sobbed hearing this story. I am truly blessed that I was able to find out the details of my father’s amazing life, as I consider him a hero too. And his story has been published for me to share. 

Thanks to NPR’s Emily Harris for providing the report.

Here's the full story: U.S. Soldier Honored Posthumously For Protecting Jewish POWs in 1945

To listen, download http://www.npr.org/player/v2/mediaPlayer.html?action=1&t=1&islist=false&id=458206427&m=458206431

AN UNEXPTECTED BLAST FROM THE PAST—COINCIDENCE OR MORE?

A couple weeks ago, I had a pleasant surprise, and a month before book release made it even more special. One of my father’s former patients from his dental practice of decades ago found and read a story I wrote in back in 2006, A Lucky Man, a precursor to my novel. The piece was awarded honorable mention for nonfiction in the annual contest for the Preservation Foundation.

This patient of my dad posted the story on a Facebook page, “I grew up in Northboro, Massachusetts.” Click on the highlighted link to view the post, which generated a storm of memories and testimonials from my dad’s patients, amazingly, 25 years after he retired! My family and I are touched over the praise and heartfelt thanks. And none of his patients knew of my dad’s journey from a village in Puerto Rico to his dental practice in Massachusetts. Every one of them was astounded to learn about his story and his struggles. One thing they shared: they all miss their favorite dentist.

I was his dental assistant during the summers of the latter part of high school and college in the late 70s and early 80s and the comments don’t surprise me. One patient wrote how he sent his assistant to pick her up for an appointment when she was in terrible pain and I remember Dad driving a patient to see a oral surgeon in Worcester, Mass, when the man didn’t own a car. My father did some revolutionary procedures in his practice. He made hypnosis tapes for people to listen to help them stop smoking. We plugged in a padded, heated massage pad for the back of the dental chair, and I brought in my turntable and played classical and folk music for patients to listen to with headphones. Pachelbel and Judy Collins were my favorites. Dad employed some eastern medicine: he placed a cotton ball on some patients’ earlobes with a close pin to stimulate the dental analgesia point. After working in Puerto Rico, he opened his practice in Northborough in 1959 and told patients, “You are now part of my family!”  He treated whole families, witnessing children grow up and treating their children. He made house calls and when someone couldn’t pay, he bartered for services, such as landscaping. When he retired in 1990, many of his patents cried. He was truly a “family dentist”.  

Thank you, Kathy Wallace Boyd, for sharing a wonderful tribute.

Ramón León in dental school, 1953.

CAN YOU JUDGE A BOOK BY ITS COVER?

I’d like to examine two figures of speech that personally have a great deal of meaning for me and tie in well together.

The first is: Don't judge a book by its cover. But do people? Yes! I am thrilled to post this beautiful still-life image that will be used for my book cover. Would it catch your eye?

Without giving away too much of my novel’s plot, all the elements are directly from the story: the “portions” of lottery tickets with the winning number, the old photo of my Abuela Chepa, the healer and curandera of the novel next to the photo of my father, the protagonist, and his sister, Lila, taken in 1928, the antique handkerchief with the letter “R” and even the seven wheat pennies, with the date of the inciting incident, 1944. On an almost eerie note, the pocket watch belonged to my maternal grandfather, and hasn’t worked in thirty years, until the day of the photo shoot. The hands started moving again. I’m not overly superstitious, but I swear it’s true.

And what else do I think of when I see this image? The traditional African proverb, “it takes a village to raise a child.” This book is my “baby” and I’d like to thank everyone who helped with the cover, which is in the design phase with Floricanto Press now! Many thanks to the talented photographer, Pete Rezac, for shooting the cover image and my head shots back in March. And to Gay Jardine, my beautiful friend and designer who helped arrange the images so artfully. A big thanks to Olga Colburn who provided props, the pennies, antique lace and handkerchief from Grandma Ruth. I’m hugely grateful for the incomparable Carol Purroy who is my “go to” person for editing and book design and was the force behind the cover. And who would see the cover without my website and the fantastic assistance of webdesigner Evelyn Fassett? Lastly, to my daughter Elena Friedman, who helped with just about everything!

And to the talented authors who wrote blurbs for the back of my book and whose work I admire: David Sundstrand, Désirée Zamorano, and Alex Espinoza, I am honored to have your praise and support!

Please weigh in and share your favorite books and favorite covers. It really does take a village to raise a child!

DOES LITERATURE IMPROVE EMPATHY?

I recently read an article in Scientific American and would like to share its findings. In 2013, social psychologists at the New School in New York City performed a study on literature and empathy. The study was also mentioned in one of the craft talks this summer at the Squaw Valley Community of Writers conference.

Study participants were divided into one of three groups. Each group read excerpts of either literary fiction, commercial fiction, such as a book by Danielle Steele, or serious nonfiction. Participants were then asked to describe their emotional states and look at photos of people to describe how the people in the photos were feeling.

What do you think the outcome was? Think about it for a minute.

Participants who read literary fiction tested markedly better on empathy and understanding; the test results for the two other groups were unimpressive. The author of the article summarizes: “Literary fiction, by contrast, focuses more on the psychology of characters and their relationships; the characters disrupt reader expectations, undermining prejudices and stereotypes. . . to teach us values about social behavior, such as the importance of understanding those who are different from ourselves.”

Yet today, I’m afraid the emphasis in our world is moving toward nonfiction and “practical” reading. Are we a society focusing on activities that get results versus spending time on idle pursuits such as reading serious fiction? Happily, the above study and more like it have challenged some of these barriers. To share two more statistics: last year, the Pew Research Center reported nearly one quarter of Americans did not read a book in 2013. On a better note, the National Endowment of the Arts reported over half of Americans read books for pleasure in 2012 (I prefer the latter!).

So does this mean I have to shelve my weekly New Yorker since I’m months behind anyway? Absolutely not! I find their nonfiction quite enlightening and moving. From now on, perhaps I’ll just first turn to fiction! And I wonder: does writing fiction help us to be more empathetic? I believe so. I can’t describe exactly how, but writing my novel for nearly ten years and immersing myself into my characters’ struggles have made me more in tune with the stories I hear in my work as a physical therapist. So, please read on!

Writing Prompt: Share a favorite novel or two. After reading, did you experience a change in your thinking? What characters stayed with you?

FINDING HOME

The following is an abbreviated version of a story I wrote a few years ago. In 2014, it was the recipient of First Place in the personal essay contest for High Sierra Writers  in Reno, Nevada. 

“There’s a legend I want to tell you about,” my father said. “A spring called El Chorrito is at the top of La Pica. The water is so pure people come from all over to get buckets full of it, for its healing properties.” His voice shook as he continued, “When we go home, I want to take you there.”

La Pica is the torturous road that traverses one of the highest peaks in Puerto Rico. For over a century, it was the only way into the village of Maunabo where Dad grew up. The road is so narrow and full of potholes the size of stray dogs and switchbacks that drivers honk their horns around each turn to warn unseen vehicles coming from the opposite direction.

Maunabo is still considered unspoiled. Due to the tall surrounding mountains, it has remained removed from the rest of the island. Many still consider it a colonial city.

In 2006, my husband Brad and I traveled to Maunabo with my father. It was Dad’s first trip “home” in over two decades.

For me, the purpose of the trip was to do research  for the book I had recently started writing about Dad’s life, and to meet Nitza, a cousin I had been corresponding with for two years to learn more about the León family. Nitza was an amateur genealogist.

When my father, Brad and I met Nitza and her husband Felix at their home for dinner, Dad raised his glass of wine and toasted, “I have taken you people completely into my heart and soul!” I have never seen my father, usually taciturn, so animated. It was a long journey for him at age 83, yet during this trip, I witnessed a new vitality in him.

Just like in the old days, we traversed the old road La Pica, even though today there is a new highway into Maunabo (Puerto Rico Highway 53). Nitza braved La Pica just for me, so I could experience it again. “I’m too scared to go up there by myself, but as long as Cousin Alberto drives-I'd only do it for you!” Nitza laughed as she embraced me.

And the old road was exactly as I imagined. Bungalows painted peach, green, or ochre, reminiscent of a Diego Rivera mural, dot the road. San Juan has its fine homes and sophistication, but out here in the country, there are signs of a land plagued by economic woes. Many of the houses are in states of squalid decay and the roadside is littered with rusted cars whose only occupants are lizards darting in and out of the broken windows and wild vines and thickets growing over the hoods. The vegetation is so lush it’s like driving thorough a canopy of leaves.

As we drove, a memory bubbled to the surface from when I was a child of six or seven: Dad honking the horn around each hairpin turn, Mom gasping in fright, my two sisters and I crammed in the back seat, wide-eyed at how primitive and wild everything looked.

The purpose of the 2006 trip was research, but I got so much more on my first time back to Puerto Rico since I was that little girl in the back seat. My family used to go to Puerto Rico every year at Christmas, to celebrate my grandmother’s birthday on Christmas Eve and Three Kings Day on January 6^th. What I remember most are the parties, the gathering of family, the camaraderie and love; my Tiá Lila making paella, and my Abuela (grandmother) Chepa pinching my cheek and crying, “Que linda!” 

Dad returned “home” after a long absence, and in many ways, so did I.

Writing prompt:

Have you traveled back to a home of the past, either physically or through photo albums or found objects? Write about your trip and a memory it triggers. Share your story and photo here.

A TRIBUTE TO MY DAUGHTER

A couple weeks ago, my daughter and I were having dinner, just the two of us. I asked her, “Elena, you know I wrote this book for you, right?”

“Yeah . . . I know,” she said, her voice tender, full of understanding.

Elena has witnessed my struggle over the years, my heartache at the dozens of rejections from agents and publishers, and my labor over countless rewrites. She has heard me cry that I wanted to give up. She knows how hard I worked yet all this time, I never shared the why.

After so many years—nearly ten—of writing my novel, the thought that it will be released within as little as three months is daunting: to come to end of the road of a long journey. Am I ready to switch gears to promote it, a journey of a whole other kind, from creative to sales? 

She saw my exuberant cheering when it was accepted for publication. Watched me jump up and down with joy.

I wanted to write a beautiful book. I wanted to share a story that is so inspirational and important to me to pass on this story to others. I wanted to give a gift to my father for all his patience, time and willingness to share the intimate details of his life with me so honestly.

But mostly I wrote my father’s story to share it with my daughter, so she may discover that rich and beautiful part of her heritage.

And all this time, Elena has understood the book project was in part for her. She also knows her mother is a little bit loca.

Writing Prompt:

Describe an event when a child or any other young person in your life got you, understood you in a way that surprised you.  Or: Write about your reasons for accomplishing something for others.