November 1, 1981

All Saints Day, 1981

 

I was 15 years old, it was November, and there I was still “on vacation” in the Azores.  My summer vacation was extended because my sister did a silly thing and met a guy there (who I could not stand—this is another story in itself), and became engaged!  My father had flown back to the states because he had to go back to work, and my mom did not want to leave her oldest daughter behind engaged, and I like any 15 year old, decided to stay with my mom and silly love struck sister.  I was taking classes in Portuguese with Senhora Carolina de Terra—(translated, her name was: Mrs. Carolina Dirt, lovely, huh?) hoping to get some kind of credit for school when I returned in January.  The “wedding” was going to be in January, (and no, it never happened, thank God) but of course, my schooling took the back burner, but I wasn’t at all too upset.  (I ended up going to summer school for a month-it was a piece of cake.) 

                                          

 

I had spent many a summer in the Azores growing up, but never a fall or winter.  I was truly enjoying the experience.  I was born in a small beach town in California where were really didn’t experience of a fall/winter season.  Sure, we had more rain in the winter months, but the weather was pretty much the same all year long.  I never really had to go through windy and stormy nights, where the car doors would fly open, water shortages, or nights when the electricity would go out for hours at a time.  There were nights where I would be content just sitting there in my mother’s kitchen, practicing the Portuguese lessons that Carolina de Terra would assign to me by candlelight. The thought of just being there, in a place so far away, in the house my grandfather had built, and imagining him, a man whom I had never met, writing by candlelight like I was intrigued me.  There are often days today, where I find myself laying in my bed, and closing my eyes only to imagine myself in that very kitchen.  I can sometimes even hear the crickets outside the window, and the smell of the candle or kerosene lamp.  It is hard to explain, but a very cherished memory. 

 

   

1981 wasan interesting year.  It was the year after the big earthquake on the islands.  We had spent summer of 1979 there on the island (Terceira), and it was a happy time.  Everyone was soyoung back then.  The summer was full of many a family gathering, picnics, beach outings, bullfights in the streets; which included a lot of “boy watching”.  I had almost hit the age, where the opposite sex became very interesting.  I spent a lot of my time hanging out with my older sister and my cousin Adelaide, and on many occasion we would tag along with my mother’s cousin’s daughter, Maria Natal.  Translated, Maria of course means “Mary”, and Natal, in Portuguese means, “Christmas”.  Yes, she was born on Christmas day.  She and her husband were in their early 20’s, and they had a cute little boy named Rodrigo.  They were expecting another child that January.  They were the young and happy couple, and Natal was the older sister that Adelaide never had. 

On New Years Day, 1980, it all changed; Maria Natal and her unborn child were victims of the 1980 earthquake that claimed 32 lives. 

        

1981, was a somber year, nevertheless.  The island was rebuilding its city, but evidence of the earthquake lay everywhere.  There was still the tent town set up, and the city still had a stale stench of dirt and dust.  The earthquake had left its mark it left on our lives and hearts of my family and which really never healed completely.  We would go downtown on many occasions because it was where my Portuguese classes were held (at Carolina Dirt’s house), and it was also where my sister’s boyfriend family lived—(she really owes me big time for going through that mess—long story), and I had to accompany her almost every day after lesson’s to his mother’s house for lunch.  Yum—not really.  I was however able to accompany my cousin Adelaide to her high school, (Liceu) which I really enjoyed doing, mostly because she had a classmate that I had a big crush on. 

                               

On one particular day, my mom agreed to buy me some winter boots.  I had only brought sandals that summer, because we had no idea that my sister would get herself engaged and pre-long our stay through the winter months.  Is there anything better than going into a shoe store where all you can smell is REAL leather?  I found a beautiful pair of light brown suede high heeled boots.  I fell in love with them, but I was warned over and over again by my cousin Adelaide not to let them get wet.  I guess buying suede wasn’t a very smart idea, considering that it was rainy season, but I fell in love with these boots.  I liked the way they looked, and I liked the way they sounded when I walked on the cobblestone streets of the city.  I also liked the way they made boys look up at me, as I walked through town, especially that guy I had met that October at the dance, Luis was his name. 

November was coming, school had started for my cousin Adelaide, and she included me with all her outside school activities, with the dances to attend..etc...  She was a link to my “normal” life, but sometimes it only made me yearn for MY own high school life.  I was still struggling with my Portuguese, and although my cousin spoke perfect English (she lived in the states for 7 years), I still felt a little out of place, and not really fitting in with her Euro, expresso drinking, cigarette smoking, friends.  I drank the expresso (with at least 4 bags of sugar—yes my hands would begin to shake after a few expressos) with them in the smoky cafes of town, and pretended not to be annoyed by their constant smoking.  I let my cousin hide her cigarettes in my purse, and basically for the most part, nodded a lot, smiled, and only spoke when I really knew the correct pronunciation of what I wanted to say…(which wasn’t very often..) 

Halloween wasn’t really celebrated back then on the islands—only on the American Air Force base.  A few children came to our door however, not in costume for candy, but rather collecting money for the baby Jesus.  It was also a timefor boyfriends and girlfriends to exchange gifts-kind of like our Valentines Day.  My sister got a hair styler/curler set from her boyfriend—it didn’t work.  It was also a time where we went to church and visited our family dead at the cemetery.  Adelaide was not looking forward to this day.  It mean’t she would have to visit Natal’s grave, and she had never had enough courage to do before.  I went with her in my new suede boots.  And, they got wet, but not by the rain.  It was heartbreaking seeing her grave.  Her picture was on her gravestone.  So young at 26 to be gone.  The tears came, and the seemed as though that they would never stop.

  The rest of the day, we sat mostly at my aunt’s home—(which is right next door to the cemetery-depressing, huh?).  My cousin Adelaide and I sat in the living room, peeling the chestnuts (castanhas) her father had roasted earlier for us.  The rain came down, the steam was spookily rising from street, and then the wind turned furious.  Despite the gloom of the day, we managed to have a few laughs as I tried peeling chestnuts as Adelaide corrected my Portuguese as I read the poem Mrs. Dirt assigned to me the day before…  “Olha vao as andorinhas……