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71 · Dec 2019
On Success
Victor D López Dec 2019
I have a ten-page curriculum vitae,
And a one-page life,
Footnote my regret.
Victor D López Feb 2019
Why are you so cool, dark mistress?
Why live half your life in shadow,
Throwing off my light to an ungrateful companion?
You can be so much more than a pale beacon for the unworthy.

Do not reject my caresses,
Embrace them, and I promise they will
Slowly stir your dormant core,
Back to a long-forgotten fiery life.

Let my solar winds blow off your dusty shell,
Into a glorious trail of sparkling fairy dust,
Revealing your hidden, thinly-veiled, true self,
To a universe that will only then come to know true beauty.

Let my embrace melt the precious water at your poles,
That it may seep down to find the dormant seeds,
Of your once-verdant valleys and once more bring life,
In tenderest green shoots of hope to an awakening world.

You are not the cold, chaste Diana of legend thirsty for the hunt,
You are not a barren rock pounded throughout eons into dust,
You are not dead, but only sleeping, awaiting a primordial kiss,
From your true love who has loved you from afar for far too long.

Oh let me love you and thereby end your needless solitude,
We are forever bound by forces we cannot control and must obey,
But our hearts are our own and can beat as one, If you but let them,
Love, the strongest force in the universe, makes all things possible.
70 · Mar 2019
Life
Victor D López Mar 2019
Life is an hourglass,
Sands fall to oblivion,
Leave something behind.
70 · Dec 2021
Lighthouse in Spain
Victor D López Dec 2021
Briny ocean breeze,
Fishing boats shepherded home,
By your guiding light.
Victor D López Feb 2020
Five years since we last spoke.
Five years since I last hugged you.
Five years since hearing you say good night on the phone.
Five years since our last dinner together.
Five years since our last daily talk on my long commute.

The time has passed so swiftly.
And so slowly.
The pain has abated to a constant hurt.
I need you dad.
I always knew I would.

I took you for granted too often.
I said I love you often, meant it always.
But I did not feel it as strongly as I should have--
Did not appreciate how very precious every moment was--
Did not comprehend how truly blessed I was to have you in my life.

Mom is now gone too.
The years after you passed were profoundly painful.
She did not realize you were gone--a blessing.
Eventually she forgot me too.
But I so miss our weekly visits too.

I always kissed her for you.
Three times on the forehead before leaving.
You always kissed her three times.
I hope you were there sometimes.
And I hope you were not.

You are both together now.
Resting side by side.
I will join you both when God calls me home.
And will miss you both every day meanwhile.
Until we meet again.
68 · Dec 2021
Earth Mother
Victor D López Dec 2021
Alien's promise,
Rare gifts for two weeks' service,
Too good to resist?
This haiku is a teaser for my short story of the same title. You can listen to my reading of a preview at https://open.spotify.com/episode/5HZ6EJsVj9vQJm9slgqn6H?si=nKEw-SddQ9WbFfooWpycpw
67 · Jul 30
Small Acts of Kindness
Some say dark matter,
Holds galaxies together,
In the endless void.

In smallest doses,
Kindness keeps humanity,
From drifting apart.

Its powerful force,
Our shield in darkest of times,
Against entropy.

Out of many one,
Held together by selfless,
Small acts of kindness.
Victor D López May 2020
I've lived in 1987 for the past two months
Every waking moment and in my every dream
When sleep would finally come called by exhaustion
As is still the case although the work is now done.

Idealistic young lawyer,
In his first posting as a dean,
In a for-profit business school,
Naive voice crying in the wilderness.

Worked very long hours,
To change what was wrong,
Achieved great success,
Which all came to naught.

Made friends while tilting at windmills,
Stubbornly refusing to accept,
That which could be changed through simple hard work
That I believed would make real difference in others' lives.

A classic clash of missions and visions:
Provides the factual drama--theirs, to maximize profits,
And deliver an education at the lowest possible cost,
Mine to be in the business of changing lives for the better.

I implemented meaningful changes,
That brought unintended consequences
I found unacceptable, and personal conflicts
That caused me to resign while still on good terms.

And I learned critical lessons,
Not just about an industry I did not know,
But about myself, my strengths and my weaknesses,
And about love that brought joy and pain that I can still feel.

As I wrote my novel, composing at the keyboard,
I wrote through the night, sleeping only when my vision blurred,
And I could not focus around 8:00, 9:00, 10:00 a.m.
For a few hours, then back to my keyboard and my previous life.

Ghosts long thought buried rose in warm flesh and blood,
Old battles fought anew, old brown paths grew verdant,
Cold cinders rekindled, closed doors opened wide,
Beckoned me to live for a time in what might have been.

Scars long ago faded opened up anew,
The heart cried tears of blood as fiction
Too close to truth flowed onto the page,
Chasing sleep away long after the writing was done.

After two decades of gestation,
I've now given birth to my first child,
The afterbirth has been cleaned,
She is all pink, warm, and oh so cuddly.

I fell in love with her the moment,
I stared into her huge, bright, old-soul eyes,
Her strong, tiny hand is now wrapped,
Around all of my heart strings and will be for life.

Now I'm searching for a literary agent,
Sending tiny snapshots of my little girl,
Hoping they will love her too,
But knowing they may not.

If I can't send her off to finishing school,
I will home school her, teach her all I know,
And ready her as best I can to be seen by the world,
Where she may not thrive but will always have my love.

If all goes well, I will give her a sister to play with,
In a year or so if life will allow it,
My heart is large and still has room,
For more wounds to open that only they can heal.

Hear me read this poem here: https://youtu.be/iOJt4ySlhXQ
67 · Jul 29
The Door to Myself
The door to myself,
Intricately gilded steel,
Rusted shut by tears.

Beyond it dead dreams,
Endless verdant sylvan paths,
Better lives unlived.

What use my regret?
Precious treasure left there,
Cannot be retrieved.
66 · Jul 2020
Priceless Legacy
Victor D López Jul 2020
Leave to all your heirs,
The one priceless legacy,
They can't buy: Honor.
66 · Mar 2019
Hope
Victor D López Mar 2019
When all hope is gone,
Despair not--pick up the pen,
Give it birth anew.
Victor D López Dec 2021
Scientists' hubris,
Terrorists' evil cunning,
End our universe.

Black holes and Big Bangs,
New theory will reveal,
their close interplay.

Dark vision of truth,
The end of the world revealed,
Already begun.


You can hear me read about half of my short story by the same name in my podcast at https://open.spotify.com/episode/2UaNRr1aRdran3DEcidYu9?si=S1Gy0KlISFyRzTUxnj5KtA
This is a teaser for my short story End of days from my Echoes of the Mind's Eye collection. It is by far the darkest, most disturbing and most plausible scenario for events that will soon lead to not just the end of the world, but the eventual end of our corner of the multiverse. This story posits a novel theory of cosmology and offers a warning about the dangers of providing extremely expensive, dangerous toys to individuals who for all of their collective intelligence are little more than the brightest amoebas attempting to understand the complexities of the multiverse by examining in minutest detail the fetid drop of pond water they inhabit atop a leaf drifting in a stagnant pond.
Victor D López Mar 2019
A grasshopper once came upon a colony of ants seeing to the fall harvest.
“Give me some grain. I’m hungry” he said.
“Where is your winter store?” they asked.
“Don’t have one. Too busy singing all summer” he replied.
“Well, if you sang all summer instead of working, you may as well
Dance all winter,” they replied smiling and returning to work.

The grasshopper turned from green to red, fuming.
“The harvest is not yours! You did not build it!
You did not make it rain.
You did not cause the sun to shine.
You just reaped the bounty of mother earth.
That belongs to us all. Now give me my fair share!”

The ants kept working, smiled and shook their heads.
The grasshopper cursed and stomped away.
But he returned an hour later with many kindred spirits.
They beat the ants silly while stealing their grain.
And as they beat them they chanted catchy slogans
While pumping firsts in the air:

No justice no peace!
Power to the people!
It takes a village!
Yes we can!
Soak the rich!
Property is theft!

Then they took away all the grain they could carry,
And burned the rest to teach the unconscious ants a lesson.
Back at their village, the grasshoppers had a wondrous feast.
It lasted three full days until the food ran out.
When winter came, they begged nearby villages for food.
But they were also populated by singers, dancers and actors who’d likewise
Spend the summer singing, dancing and making love, not war.

So having no food, they held hands, hugged a tree and
Sang Cumba Ya while lamenting the tragedy that had befallen them.
“All their fault. All their fault” they whined in unison.
“Those stupid, egotistical, greedy, inhumane, hoarding, hate-filled
Worthless bugs. Why could they not have been as enlightened as we?”
This is a takeoff on my update to Aesop's classic fable of a few years ago. It seems ever more relevant to me these days. :)
65 · Nov 2020
Echoes of Dawn at Dusk
Victor D López Nov 2020
Second book of poems
On sale January 1
Pre-sale out today


Hear me read selections from this book and from my earlier Of Pain and Ecstasy collection in my podcasts at https://open.spotify.com/show/1zgnkuAIVJaQ0Gb6pOfQOH
Victor D López Dec 2021
Success obsessed man,
Beautiful apparition,
A life turned around?
Hear me read a preview of my short story by the same name at https://open.spotify.com/episode/5JMPqo2zjpjeQNdykL7920?si=_UfXMsjfTKyROXQhw9MNjA

A young executive on the wrong track meets a beautiful apparition at a friend's party that has him take an unvarnished look at his life. Will he change his ways?
Victor D López Dec 2021
Like my poetry?
Would you read my first novel?
Download it for free.

Only on 12/5
The Kindle version is free
At the link below

A protagonist
Who needs to make a difference
Swims against the tide

Love found and love lost,
Triumph through simple hard work,
Great personal loss

Lessons learned too late
Agony of revealed truth
That can't be unlearned
You can download a copy of my novel, Hire Lernin': An Idealist's Quest Through the Realm of for-Profit Education from Amazon free of charge on Sunday, December 5 at https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08XPTYDPD/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i0
64 · Jun 2020
On Regret
Victor D López Jun 2020
Its five a.m. and still I cannot sleep,
My world’s been shattered and peace will not come,
Turning a light on shadows buried deep,
Awoke the past and now I am undone.

Scars once thought healed have opened up anew,
Pain thought forgotten rises to the fore,
Lies I believed wanting them to be true,
Are now the cause for me of endless war.

What would I give if I could change the past?
Avoid mistakes fatal not just to me,
But to those I love best from first to last,
No price too high for redemption would be.

I’ve done grievous wrong trying to do right,
And now there’s no solution to my plight.
Hear me read this poem in my podcast at https://open.spotify.com/episode/6UL0AatS3JDxzqTybKKEtj?si=3eUXbABlTi6anNSyq1NeKQ
Victor D López Jan 2022
Whom does the law serve?
Society and justice?
Or is it lawyers?
As I hope is true of all of my fiction, my novel has many layers and subtexts that are intended to both entertain and expose the reader to ideas and concepts that I hope will leave her/him thinking after they put down the book. Like my favorite contemporary novelist, Dean Koontz, there are threads of social commentary throughout my modest published fiction. In this novel, beyond the obvious criticism leveled at for-profit education, I touch on a variety of other serious issues in both direct and subtle ways. In Chapter 2, for example, I briefly explore the theme of this short poem using humor to temper what is deadly serious criticism some aspects of my profession. You can hear my reading of chapter two through one of my podcasts at https://open.spotify.com/episode/1NeYlH158LslBXOwQa0Ikz?si=80biKWFUSjaIxRdYPuidbg
Victor D López Dec 2021
Listen to me read,
Full chapters from my novel,
At the links below.

Young, naïve lawyer,
For-profit business school dean,
A Quixotic quest.

Idealism,
Despite the odds,
May yet win the day.

Or will it be crushed?
Humor, angst, triumph, heartbreak,
All par for the course.

Love found and love lost,
Trial by fire tempers or breaks,
Steel in life's hot forge.

You will find free podcast links to full-chapter readings from my novel at
https://victordlopez.wordpress.com/sample-chapter-readings-from-my-new-novel/
Victor D López May 2020
Spent three nights this week
Living in 1987
Immersed in both joy and sorrow
Long suppressed

Writing a novel
Of fact made fiction
Relived a critical year
Writing of my former self

Three nights spent towards the end
At my keyboard
Not my bed
Until 8:00 a.m. and 10:00 a.m.

Then two or three hours of sleep
And back to weaving again
A renewed tapestry
From frayed and broken threads

The heart remembers
What the mind would hide
Old wounds thought healed
Begin to bleed again

What is broken Is yet mended
Forged in the white-hot fire
Of sweet remembrance
Tempered by tears that can still flow

The novel's done
Reopened cuts begin to heal
And scabs reform anew
Leaving new scars to fade in time

The editing process begins
The mind takes over from the heart
The ghosts return to their cold graves
Their temporary lives expired

Closed doors pried open
Now shut once more
And green paths not taken
Once again turn brown

But oh the sweet ephemeral joy
And deepest sorrow
Of the dead past come alive again
If only for a time to ponder what might have been
61 · Apr 2020
Tinnitus
Victor D López Apr 2020
An endless screeching tone, now in both ears,
You cannot know the solace of silence,
Until it is taken away from you.

A billion cicadas that will not die,
Along with high-pitched sirens ever near,
Symphonies translated by a kazoo.

Inoperable tumor in my ear,
Genetic hearing loss on my dad's side,
The joy of music fading, singing too.

Like the vibrant colors of a rainbow,
Stretching over all the oceans on Earth,
Fading to gray, dissolving into black.

My world is dissolving to a shrill hum,
The babbling of a brook, a child's sweet laugh,
A canary's joyful song of courtship.

A gentle autumn breeze rustling dry leaves,
A clock ticking away remaining time,
All but drowned out save for their memory.
Victor D López Jan 2020
I hereby resolve,
To make no resolution,
For the coming year.

Take days as they come,
Embrace opportunities,
Brighten other lives.

Make no promises,
But do what you can each day,
To walk in the light.

Shine the light of truth,
Where darkness slithers freely,
That all may see clear.

See things as they are,
Not as sophists would paint them,
Give help when you can.

Let your purpose be,
Leaving something of value,
When your journey's done.
linked haikus
Victor D López Apr 2020
Free but ends today,
My fiction and poetry,
But only at Smashwords.

See my author's page,
Scroll down to find books you want,
And download today.

https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/VictorDLopez
[Ends April 20--My gift to readers on lockdown]
60 · Dec 2021
On Poetry Readings
Victor D López Dec 2021
reading poetry
and hearing poetry read
are two worlds apart

the mind processes
words differently when read
than when they are heard

just as with a song
each reader transforms a poem
reading it out loud

texture, color, voice
cadence, evoke emotion
through another's voice
Although public speaking is central to my professional life, reading my own poetry and fiction can be challenging. But it is also very rewarding. If you'd like to hear samples of my poetry (as well as short stories and novel) you can find ample examples of it through my podcasts at https://open.spotify.com/show/1zgnkuAIVJaQ0Gb6pOfQOH
60 · Dec 2021
Modern Art
Victor D López Dec 2021
What is modern art?
Meaning contrived by critics?
Empty subterfuge?
I tried to summarize my recent novel in teaser linked haikus. I had fun doing so and now will turn to summarizing some (and I hope all 13) of my published short stories from my latest collection one at a time. This one is from "Modern Art and the Critics". You can hear me read a preview of this short story at https://open.spotify.com/episode/7z0iqf1wUL5SR3Ej30EmUP?si=eVDyDPM5RayqTN8V2priqg
57 · May 2020
Mother's Day
Victor D López May 2020
Cherish today the woman you call mom,
Who sacrificed her body and herself for you,
Your fearless champion your entire life,
Her pure love always unconditional.

She who first taught you what it means to love,
And also to distinguish right from wrong,
Taught you to care for other than yourself,
By her example always, not her words.

Your joy her joy for triumphs great and small,
Her anguish hidden for your every fall,
Your first and your most ardent fan in life,
In times you walked in darkness and in light.

Make sure you tell her what she longs to hear,
As often as you can while she still lives,
Not just on Mother's day, but every day,
Some day it will be your only comfort.

There's none so lucky as one whose mom lives,
Love her with all your heart for all she gives.
57 · Mar 2020
The Harshest of Times
Victor D López Mar 2020
The harshest of times,
Truly test our character,
Let us hope we pass.

When our trial is done,
Will we remember with pride,
Or heads hung in shame?

How we act today,
Will define our future lives,
Let's avoid regret.
linked haikus
56 · Jan 2020
Requiem for Ethics
Victor D López Jan 2020
Deontology was the canary in the coal mine,
Whose death and replacement by teleology,
Opened the gates,
To the four horsemen of the apocalypse.
56 · Apr 2020
On Writing My First Novel
Victor D López Apr 2020
Started writing it two decades ago,
Using a pseudonym for first/last time,
To protect the guilty and innocent,
In this autobiographical work.

Life got in the way of reliving it,
Work, wife, parents with health issues, now gone,
Back burners full of overflowing pots,
The sands of time quickly sifting through my fingers.

Serious writing projects completed,
A dozen plus books published,
Others yet to come, new lectures to plan,
New courses to develop and to teach.

My story untold, lessons learned unfurled,
But not not written down to pass down my truth,
About things I know much more than I'd like,
And others should learn, in old age and youth.

Place bound for now on an imposed lockdown,
Chained to my desk like galley slaves to oars,
Taping lectures, attending Zoom meetings,
Depression abounds, if not joy or sleep.

So I'm back again, reliving the past,
In memory still green, though browning in parts,
Taking poetic license where I must,
But gently as a child's butterfly kiss.

Nearly nine thousand words today for just,
One day's events that sowed a thousand seeds,
That sprouted, flourished and died or were pecked,
By hungry vultures out of existence.

Remembering a day in my career,
When I still viewed the world with bright, clear eyes,
And had not opened doors I could not close,
Or walked by closed doors I should have opened.

My world and heart were then innocent, pure,
Full of good intentions waiting to burst,
From a chest that could hardly hold them back,
Foolishly thinking they could change the world.

The painful memories I now drown in,
I will not disclose. The pain I've given,
The pain I've received, I'll whitewash away,
To protect myself and those I have loved.

I'll limit my journey to work alone,
Describe what I've learned that others should know,
Weave the personal with transparent thread,
The professional with thickest red yarn.

I'll search for an agent when it is done,
As I'd like it read, unlike indie books,
And I believe it will find a market,
For it will reveal some essential truths.

It will teach much more that all need to know,
Than my life's work: Lectures, books, articles,
Poetry, fiction, blogs, presentations,
Hope I can write it before my life ends.

My sand's running out, tick tock cries the clock,
Hope lockdown provides, end to writer's block.
Victor D López Dec 2021
Free short story book,
December 24-25,
At the link below

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1056565
My book of SF and speculative fiction short stories is available for free download in any eBook format through midnight, December 25. It ius my Christmas gift to my readers.
Victor D López Dec 2021
Extinction event,
Two years to prepare to save,
Seed of humankind.
This is a teaser for my short story heralding the end of the world due to an asteroid strike and humanity's efforts to ensure survival for some. You can hear me read a free preview of about half of this novelette-length short story from my Echoes of the Mind's Eye short story collection at https://open.spotify.com/episode/2K6dDI5bOek1dokvEiw5BR?si=FvHwcHYXQhGRDnGBGaHFJQ
55 · Apr 2020
On Holy Saturday
Victor D López Apr 2020
The crucifix in my Church is draped or removed,
Since Holy Friday in remembrance of Your death,
As always in these solemn Holiday.

This year You are not only metaphorically absent for three days,
In remembrance of Your laying in your tomb 2020 years ago,
But Your Churches are empty--no vigils, no light, no life in them.

We, Your children, cannot even visit Your home,
Even those who like me don't do it as often as we know we should,
But feel the need to share our grief and our joy on sacred ground.

We will remain in our homes turned temporary prisons,
We will watch Mass tomorrow on our televisions,
We will share our signs of peace and joy at a distance.

These are hard times for us, Your children,
But nothing compared with Your suffering for us,
And we know that this too shall pass.

You have not forsaken us.We will be tested,
But we will not be broken, for we know,
You have died. You have risen. You will come again.
54 · Apr 2020
Easter Sunday
Victor D López Apr 2020
No joy shared today on hallowed ground,
Just quiet reflection and humble gratitude,
For the greatest of gifts most dearly bought.

I am unworthy, Lord, of your sacrifice,
I am unworthy, Lord of your love,
But through You I am made whole.

My faith in You sustains me in the most difficult of times,
You are the light that shines in the darkest corners of my soul,
You have died. You have risen. Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!
Victor D López Dec 2021
God made flesh is born,
Innocent, pure lamb of God,
To die for our sins.

There's no greater love,
Nor is there a greater hope,
For all who believe.

Unwortrhy am I
And yet He still died for me,
Forgives me my sins.

Believers rejoice,
But let us all remember,
He loves ALL of us.

Believers and non,
All humans are our brothers,
And our sisters too.

Let us not forget,
God made man came to teach us,
To love, not to hate.

Whether you believe,
That He is the Son of God,
Or you believe not.

Believe in His message,
Love your neighbor as yourself,
Regardless of faith.

People of good will,
Embrace at least the message,
Of the messenger.

May you each know peace,
Health and joy throughout your lives,
This my Christmas wish.
49 · May 2020
I Love Sonnets Best
Victor D López May 2020
I love sonnets best,
The ones I've written contain,
Pieces of my soul.

NOTE: If you'd like to hear me read samples of my poetry (sonnets included), you can check my YouTube channel https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCBa7s2xkrUrn-
47 · Dec 2021
Madness
Victor D López Dec 2021
Why do we explore,
All dark, pothole-riddled streets,
Not bright open roads?

Why do we stumble,
On the same obvious rock,
Time and time again?

Why is it we vote,
For mendacious fools each year,
Hoping for a change?

Are we that obtuse?
Do we thrive with pain, failure?
Or are we insane?
You were brought to the U.S. at eight years of age,
By hard-working parents seeking a better life,
Especially for you and your sister, Carmen,
Than was available in your native Galicia of the time.

Both of your parents, Carmen and Manuel, had strong work ethics,
That allowed them to pull themselves up by their bootstraps,
Through hard, honest work in very hard times,
Guided by a strong moral compass they passed on to their two children.

You and your parents lived for many years in Downtown Manhattan,
In a tenement on Cherry Street where Spaniards gathered amongst their own.
You began working at a very young age unloading and delivering newspapers,
And in other jobs that included working as a soda **** in a drugstore.

The Lower East Side was your cradle and your domain in which,
You made life-long friends, including your best friend, Larry Morell.
You learned responsibility there, and a yearning to succeed,
Never letting humble beginnings serve as an excuse for failure.

You were frugal then of necessity, but also generous to a fault with those less fortunate,
And even when working in an office job, you’d walk miles every day,
To save the five-cent subway fare that would leave you a quarter,
For your favorite Saturday activity—the movies.

Every Saturday you would spend that hard-saved quarter only after walking
To every local theater to determine which offered the best movies,
Before spending your quarter in a temporary palace offering two films and a newsreel,
Your silver-screen gateway to excitement, travel, and your window to the world.

You were a gifted athlete in track and field, successfully competing in meets
And earning numerous medals. Your son, Bob, surpassed you in his athletic
Prowess and earned so many medals and trophies even before and during high school
That his mom quipped he must be buying them at a local store.

Good genes and hard work propelled Bob to excellence in track and field, soccer, rugby,
Basketball and only he knows what else since childhood through his years at the
Air Force Academy and beyond. He retired as a Lt. Colonel, special forces para-jumper, and Held multiple levels of command with numerous combat tours he never talks about.

Your daughter, Alice, also inherited your athleticism and was accomplished in fencing and Gymnastics in high school. And she is also an excellent writer with outstanding Organization skills—it took three people ((one full-time, and two part-time) to replace her in The Publications Department when we married, and she left her job for our move upstate.  
You Volunteered to serve in the Korean War and attained the rank of Corporal.
The touch-typing skill you learned in a Manhattan business school served you well,
And you became your company’s clerk, serving by the border with North Korea,
In a more serious version of the beloved character of Radar O’Reilly of MASH fame.

You almost never spoke about your service. But on two occasions during our long talks,
You mentioned that only once during your tour of duty did you actually hold a gun,
When ordered to escort a prisoner further South on a long Jeep ride while another
Trooper drove. Though always in danger very close to the hostilities, you never saw combat.

Your second war story told through tears more recently, but before the dementia
That plagued you for the past years of your life robbed you of your memory,
Included your efforts to quietly help North Korean families fleeing South who
Sometimes wandered through or near your camp in the middle of the night.

When you returned home from your tour of duty, you took advantage of the GI Bill,
To earn a college degree at night as you worked in an office clerical position,
And you continued your graduate studies when you became a high school teacher,
Earning at least one master’s degree over an extended period of time.

After your service in Korea, you traveled to Spain, fell in love, and married
Your wife in your native Galicia, a beautiful, loquacious woman, Marisa, who helped
To soften your serious, no-nonsense persona and draw out your social nature
While giving you a daughter and then a son and supporting your long years of study.

She joined you in Lower Manhattan when her visa was granted. And a two years later,
After your daughter Alice was born, you both bought your forever home in Queens.
It was a very old, two-family home that needed a lot of work which you undertook,
While working and still studying for your first college degree.

Your daughter was 25 months old and your son three months when you moved,
Leaving your young wife to raise two young, active, energetic children as you worked and Studied, with very little support, working tirelessly with limited funds and patiently
Waiting for you to complete your studies which took more than a decade.

You got your teaching certificate and began teaching at Bryant High School
Within a short walking distance from your home. You taught Spanish to native speakers,
And continued your studies for your master’s degree also at night, traveling for years to
NYU, St. John’s University, and Hunter College for courses.

After five years of night classes, your wife gently began to ask you “When will you finish?”
You told her seven more years. Even after the 12-year ordeal, you remained busy with
Grading, lesson plans, and the unseen work all teachers knows only too well.
But your wife and children finally got to see you at the dinner table nightly.


You loved the freedom of summers off, and traveled most summers to Spain,
With your wife and children for two months from 1964 on,
Living there with your parents and finally having your wife able to spend time
With her own parents, a short ride by car or bus from your parents’ home.

During those summers, you came across widows struggling whose husbands
Had worked for many years in the U.S. but had died in relative poverty.
You took on the role of advocate for them, getting for many Social Security
Survivor’s pensions for husbands who died without filing for benefits themselves.

You took this on without being asked as a charitable act that during hard times
Brought desperately needed relief to some living in abject poverty.
It was one of many acts of charity, of kindness, that you extended to others
Throughout your life—known only if beneficiaries gratefully acknowledged it.

You loved music, especially classical music, opera, and crooners like Frank Sinatra
And Perry Como. You often retired to your study to listen to music as you worked.
Just days before passing away when you no longer communicated or recognized
Loved ones, your son noted how you tapped your fingers on your table listening to opera.

The last year of work before you took early retirement, you gave up your
Teaching and advisement duties at Bryant High School and accepted a
Promotion to the Board of Education to work on creating new standards for
Bilingual education and help in their implementation.

Rather than a short walk to work, you now had to drive during rush hour to and from
The Board of Education near the Brooklyn Heights area. It was not a pleasant commute.
Moreover, you were tasked once the plan was in place with traveling to high schools
All around NYC to help implement and assess the program.

Despite your commitment to a program you believed would help thousands of students,
You were miserable with your administrative duties and constant driving to schools
In Manhattan and in the outer boroughs. After about a year, you’d had enough,
And you took early retirement to travel with your wife and enjoy life.

Before and after retirement, you were an avid writer. You leave behind hundreds of poems,
An unpublished historical novel, and goodness knows what else locked away in your
Computer’s hard drive. You loved history, especially the history of Spain generally and Especially Galicia, as well as U.S. and world history. You were also a talented painter.

You enjoyed speculative documentaries on the possible interaction between alien visitors And early humans along the lines of Erich von Däniken’s Chariots of the Gods.
You knew my interest in science fiction and loved to pose “what if” scenarios on
The possibility of our civilization having cyclically destroyed itself and risen from the ashes.


You and I shared a love for writing fiction, poetry, and non-fiction and had countless Discussions on these topics, and music, teaching, art,  politics, and so much more.
When I bought my first computer, you were fascinated and asked me to order you one.
I did. In the days before the Internet or books on the subject, you were willing to learn.

I taught you the basics of the DOS operating system, and WordStar, and then WordPerfect.
You were a good student, though the new technology was a challenge for you.
Nevertheless, as a touch-typist you were happy to abandon your manual typewriter
For the wonderful flexibility of a full-featured word processor.

We spent many, many hours on your new computer—and the many others you later
Asked me to order, but you never looked back and in your late 50s became a convert.
When my dad retired, I did the same for him in his 60s, and he took to it like the proverbial
Duck to water, though my dad was far more interested in and experienced with technology.

You were much more than my father-in-law, family, and a trusted colleague and friend.
I loved you dearly, as I did my mother-in-law, and was blessed to have a special Relationship with you both and to have spent so many years in your company.
I will miss you forever, as will the thousands of people whose lives you’ve touched.

The world is diminished by your passing.
But in the end, it has been enriched by your journey in it.
Your bright candle burned weakly in recent years and has finally sputtered out.
It’s smoke now swirls slowly towards the heavens where loved ones await you.

Rest in peace.

— The End —