your great grandfather Bolivar

Dear Chicken Nugget,

It's been a while since I wrote a letter, but it's been a busy couple of weeks.  Don't worry, I won't neglect you the way I neglect my writing.  In fact, my writing production will decrease when you arrive because I'll want to spend as much time as I can with you.

I wanted to share with you that today would have been your great grandfather Bolivar's birthday.  Had he been alive today he would have been 96 or 98, depending on who you asked.  According to his paperwork, he was 96, but according to him he was two years older.  He always told us that they made a mistake when they registered his birth back in 1913.  Back then, chicky, they used pens and paper for all their record keeping and sometimes made mistakes.  Crazy!

Anyway, Bolivar Santiago Escudero Cascante (yes, you'll learn that our people like to use all their names) was born in Ecuador where he lived a life full of excitement and wonder.  He was an altar boy as a child, a boxer as a young man, a telegraph worker and salesman as an adult, a father of eight children, husband to your great grandmother Maria, grandfather to 17, and great grandfather to a yet incomplete number of children (as of this writing, 10.5 <- you're the .5).  He came to the United States in the early 1980s and became a citizen in 1999, one of the proudest days of his life. 

When I was little, around 4 or 5, he would tell me these grand stories of his boxing matches or of him fighting off tigers.  He would sing me tango songs of love and deception.  And, he would drink the awful "yogurt" mixes I made from random materials I could get my hands on.

But, I also remember him for what he taught me.  He taught me to always listen to my mother.  He taught me to always help a lady with carrying heavy bags.  He taught me to walk behind a lady so I could make sure she was safe from danger.  My grandfather taught me wrestling moves when I was home sick with the chickenpox.  He taught me to always try a food at least once.  He taught me to always have a snack before going to a party because you never know if they'll serve a meal.  And, more importantly, he taught me to enjoy life.  I don't think I can recall a time when my grandfather wasn't singing or playing the harmonica or telling a joke or flirting with the ladies.

He was quite a guy and I'm sorry you missed him in this life.  He passed away just last summer after a long battle with congestive heart failure.  Even in his last days he kept fighting back like a champ.  He was a great example of living every minute to the fullest.

I hope I can pass on some of his wisdom to you.

Wishing my grandpa a happy birthday up there and
Eternally yours,

Your papa