June: A Month of Remembrance
As we all know, the third Sunday of June is Father’s Day, a time to remember and honor all the fathers of the world. June is also a special month for me and my family; because it was in June that two significant events took place in our lives.
First, it was on Father’s Day of 2003 that Andina opened its doors. Presenting Peru’s culture and cuisine, Andina has found a home in Portland, honored by our guests who come to enjoy our Peruvian food and our hospitality! My family feels blessed by such appreciation and we will, as always, strive to offer excellence in the quality of our food and service.
It was also in this month, on the 4th of June of 2004, that my father passed away. He was 92 years old, and left for us - his children, and grandchildren - a legacy often hard to find in the world today. He left a great treasure of qualities and virtues: the examples from his everyday life. For me and for my family, he was the most honest, loyal, and perseverant human being we ever knew. He treated all the people around him - poor or wealthy, young or old - with respect, dignity, and kindness. He was a tireless worker who believed that anything you do with joy, pride, and your best effort, will bear its own fruits of happiness and meaning. I hope that the best way to honor him is to follow his example, to be as good a human being as he was.
To let you know a little bit about who he was, and how much his life influenced me, I would like to share something that I wrote in Spanish, 12 years ago, when we celebrated the first Anniversary of his death.
“My Father’s Eyes.”
There is a saying in Spanish that says: The eyes are the mirror of the soul. When I think about the eyes of my father and all that they revealed to me, I can affirm, without any doubt, that the saying is true.
When I was a child, his eyes became my conscience. They read and knew all that happened in my soul. When my father discovered that I was giving him false excuses or lying (for him, the worst act that anybody could commit), his gaze of disapproval was intense and penetrated to the depths of me. I felt ashamed and keen never to behave in that way again, never to see the eyes of my father judging me again. To this day, his judging gaze accompanies me, and helps me to judge my own actions; but also it reveals to me what my father wanted to tell us - to be honest, to tell the truth, and to be brave enough to admit when you are wrong.
During my youth, and as an adult, I discovered in my father another kind of gaze; a gaze that even now moves me and that somehow I too have always wanted to have: the gaze of a child! This joy and curiosity never abandoned him, even when he became blind. I remember very clearly how his eyes shined with joy and pleasure when he looked at something - or learned of something - simple, new, unexpected and beautiful.
When he visited us in Oregon he never tired of appreciating its natural beauty. He always told me: you live in a paradise, everything is green, clean, and beautiful! See how tall and green the pine trees are! How deep and beautiful the forests are! How extended and fertile the fields are! All that is around you is wonderful! How many times I found him in the backyard of our home in Corvallis, bending as a child does to see what an ant was carrying and following patiently where she was going; how many other times I caught him studying with concentrated happiness the cobwebs that after the rain revealed the beautiful architectural work of the spiders, and marveling at their knowledge.
On one of my father’s last visits to Oregon, after a failed retina operation on one of his eyes, we learned that because of his diabetes, his eyes were suffering, and that sooner or later he would go blind. We were deeply shocked; but not my father. Despite the worsening condition of his eyes, my father’s curiosity and sense of wonder never diminished. Nor did his ability to observe joy throughout the world. He showed me this gift when, before his trip back to Peru, we took him to Mount Hood, and he loved every moment of our visit. I again saw in his eyes the wonder of a child. In particular, I remember a moment during a walk beneath the timberline, when I realized he was somehow no longer with us. Looking around, I saw him seated on a tree trunk, observing carefully all the movements of a mischievous chipmunk. When I called to him, he signaled in silence for me to join him, and whispering, he said to me: ~ Look at what this little creature is doing. See how active he is, and how quickly he moves from one place to another, always looking for something to take and stash away. Does he/she know why? Who taught him/her to save food for winter? Don’t you see that this creature and others all around tell us how wonderful nature is? We must pay more attention to what we see around us. Nature is teaching through animals and plants how to live, how to be! ~ These and other similar moments with my father, I treasure forever in my heart and in my memory!
Another of my father’s qualities that remains fresh in my memory is his internal gaze. He always closed his eyes to listen, and I could see how intensely his gaze focused on the matter at hand. I first saw him doing this in his office as a lawyer, with his clients; and also at home with us, and in gatherings with his friends. His eyes would remain closed for the duration of the entire conversation: even when he asked questions, or when we worked a problem over, or when he gave advice or a final answer. This was his way of focusing, of concentrating. He was making each problem, each case, each question his own. As his child, I remember thinking that his internal gaze reached our soul, and that he was trying to understand us, to encourage us through his questions and advice to find our own solutions. He opened his eyes only when his questions and answers were complete, and when he and we knew that the case was finished and our problem had a solution. His power of insight, reaching to the heart of so many questions and many lives, helped all of us grow.
Often during my youth, I would find my father sitting in our dining room before or after meals, with our radio close at hand. With closed eyes he was listening to a political speech, a lecture, or poems by his favorite poets. He liked José Santos Chocano for the beauty of his expression; Cesar Vallejo for his remarkable imagery and thought; and Ricardo Palma for his craft and humor as a storyteller. My father loved the sounds of the words, and admired poets and orators who were able to use the beauty of words and their sounds to express universal, if difficult, ideals, dreams, and realities. Even when he was very old and blind, he opened the eyes of his soul to enjoy what he heard in a poem and or a book that one of us read to him.
I also saw my father with his eyes closed whenever he was worried or facing a problem of his own. I was never able to guess what was happening inside of him. Maybe he was looking for inner strength, or asking God to help him again to see that all in life has a solution. I never knew knew what he thought or how he came to be able to manage difficult situations. But what I remember is the image he projected: it was the image of a man serene, calm and secure in himself. It was this image of my father that gave us such confidence - confidence in his strength and, in turn, in the strength of the world around and within us. And indeed, he never failed us!
Now that I have lived and seen the currents in my own life, I see more clearly how my father confronted all manner of problems throughout his own - problems related to his legal clients; to his health; to our finances; and to our family relationships. These problems seriously affected him emotionally and physically but he never revealed to us any distress, He faced and endured them in silence, with calm and serenity, and without showing disappointment or despair. I pay tribute to the nobility of his soul and the greatness of his spirit. He was patient with all of us. He listened to and understood our selfishness, our jealousies, our misunderstandings, and was able to forgive us, and continued showing his care. By his words and actions, we knew how much he loved to live in peace, and how much he sacrificed to bring peace to all to whom he loved. With his silence, patience and serenity he showed us the fortress of his spirit, his true love for us, and helped us to feel the presence of greatness in front of our pettiness.
My father's gaze continues to nourish my memory, and even to this day, continues to scrutinize my soul. I hope he sees in me the respect, admiration, and veneration I have for him. My deep desire is to perpetuate in myself and in my family the wise ways in which he saw the world: he saw it with the eyes of a fair judge; of a child able to enjoy the simple and unexpected wonders of any given day; of a patient listener, who is able to hear and consider, give advice, and convey trust and care; of a thinker who enjoys the rhythm and musicality of words. Above all, I seek to cultivate and share my father’s magnanimous gaze - his ability to see with understanding and tolerant eyes my own weakness and that of others.To be able to forgive myself and forgive the faults of others. I am convinced that only by looking at myself and the world with similar eyes, will I feel his gaze of approval and satisfaction. If that is so, I will be at peace with myself and I will be able to impart that peace to others.
In honor of all fathers of the world - Happy Father’s Day! - ¡Felíz Día del Padre!
Mama Doris