The Jeweler’s Daughter

There once was a newcomer that needed to make a living and provide for his family, his culture as do many dictate this responsibility to the male.  The jeweler began waiting tables in an Asian restaurant back in the 1960s making ends meet for his young family while exploring creative ways to sustain in a new land.  Later on moving to another part of the promise land and working in assembly lines while availing himself into small business opportunities due to diligence and determination beginning as a door-to-door jeweler  on his journey to La Llave de Oro. More

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Everyday New


New year of resolutions, beginnings, changes; it is all good.   I am an advocate on changing things that do not fit, do not work, are not growing, and are not compatible and so on.  A pair of jeans or shoes that you shimmy into but make you feel less than fabulous must go; the iron or toaster that that does not heat up must be recycled or replaced.  A garden filled with weeds must be tilled so that blossoms will appear.  An automobile that does not switch gears with ease may not to be worth a new clutch.  And a friend or mate that takes the life force out of you needs to be reassessed or possibly removed. Seems easy enough right? Well why does change seem to come with resistance for so many of us?

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Feeling at Home

My idea of home is a feeling for the most part. How I feel in my skin, even in the most uncomfortable situations, is what weighs in as priority in daily living.  Knowing that the reality of not having another day like the one we are living currently allows us to dream or maybe even truly appreciate the present.  Spending time with an individual that has somehow understood your essence may be the last moment of its kind and in expressing this sentiment, you remind yourself of the precious life before you.

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Giving Back

Ordinary moments are extraordinary opportunities for random acts of kindness.

The art of giving back is a natural reflex for me.  My first photographic memory of the act took place at Logan International Airport in Boston back in the seventies.  My father was involved in many organizations at the time and, as a small business owner himself, was quite involved in various civic engagements.  The fit was inevitably soothing to him and truly a calling, for he was loved and well received by an abundant populace.  And so, on that spring day in Boston, my father drove me into the airport with hundreds of Hershey bars.  We were welcoming Vietnamese immigrants, and I had the privilege of handing each child a chocolate bar.  I remember the honor, feeling that this was a job I could take on that made me feel great, welcoming others to a new space.  At the time, my eight-year young self was so happy to be a part of my father’s magnificence in taking on such a task.  Little did I know the unfolding that would take place as decades rolled on. More

De todo un poco …

As a young girl loving dance and performance, I danced through much of my free time back then with my Sony Walkman or the jukebox style stereo I had in my room with a disco ball listening to songs mi mama thought to be inappropriate and, in retrospect, the lyrics were so loving and uplifting in comparison to some of what our current generation is exposed to, but I am not going there today. Like many other girls, I had an aspiration to dance and move my body healthily, representing a message of some compelling music.

While enrolled in classical ballet, I imagined combining salsa, mambo y rumba with my plies and tandus, however that was not what I was there for.  I was there to learn a technique and I loved to go every Sunday like clockwork.  My teacher was beautiful and I admired her grace, strength, and dedication.

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