Dis-Information: Saga of the Cluess Mind

It is beyond comprehension - once upon a time we did some crazy-ass stuff. Well, some of it was "crazy"; most of it was just weird.  FUN as all hell, but truly weird and uniquely ours.  Yep, you should recognize the posessive there...

Some of this weird-stuff we got on film.  It was cool and special and meaningful and super, super-secret from friends & family - no, they couldn't know or else it would be none of those things, right?  "Our dirty, little secrets" - locked in a padded box; protected with a password; tied with a bow  - all excitement and edge-of-our-seats, when-can-we-do-it-again!? anticipation with teasing, buzzy invitations by silent emails and leading winks. A regular covert operation.

It was truly all fun-and-games until both of us came up with the same idea while browsing the ever-captive interNET - we could make a website!! Post some pics & video to create a subscription-site or charge a pay-per-view fee for each download.  Cool, right?  Have fun AND put some money in the bank!  It was an AWESOME IDEA! All we needed was good video-camera, website-building software and an endless bank of "Awesome Ideas" to use.

Things were "Just AWESOME"... Well, it was truly awesome until it was suggested that people might get bored seeing the same, significant other in these videos and pics all the time.  MODELS could be substituted for the "same 'ol" BORING ball-and-chain. Just rent a hotel-room, pay them a small fee to video-tape them for an hour and out they go...

Seriously, now - can I get a "Rejected!"? Can someone else go BUY a CLUE for Cripe's sake!??

So back to the drawing-board we go without too much hullaballoo.  Things returned to calm quite swiftly. That is, until it was discovered that somebody went ahead and did it anyway.  Behind someone's back. There were lies and there was hurt and then there were tears and, finally, discussion.  Mend, mend, mend. 

So time passes and things are smoother again as honesty does have an ability to cure and create new understanding.  There are new secret discussions about new, more exciting "covert weirdness" and there is renewed anticipation.

It is then mentioned that the most unique, secret, weird thing we'd ever shared just "has to be captured on film".  Minds are abuzz and cheeks are flushing in a display of replenished exhilaration!  Wow - he wants to preserve our all-time, favorite "weird-thing" forever! And then there was sweetness and smiles...

I say you can just go get as many of those <<secrety-things you used last time>> and just <<secret thing you did with aforementioned secrety-things>> as much as you WANT!     :D

"Um, I meant with models..."            >: {

What Am I?

Once upon a time, around the 6th or 7th grades, the answer to the above question sort of eluded me.  I was not even aware that this information was lacking as my mother always told me that I was Jewish and her close friends & family agreed that "You are what your mother is".  I don't think any of them took into consideration that there was this whole other language, culture and set of traditions (not to mention religion) originating from a pretty little island about 3 hours from NYC by plane.

There was actually a time, much to a certain Tio's chagrin, when I would pick the gandules OUT of the rice; a time when I had to be coerced or outright bribed into speaking any words of Spanish.  It probably felt to my father's side of the family like my Puerto-Rican heritage was being erased or denied. 

My mother's family wanted me to be that "nice little Jewish girl" who wore prairie skirts and recited the Prayer for the Bread over holiday dinners.  I was actually taught some of the simple, Hebrew prayers early on while attending a Jewish-religion camp on Ocean Parkway. 

Here, the girls were separated from the boys in their own groups.  We didn't swim together or even do any of the activities together save lunch.  We couldn't remove our shirts when overheated (sorry, I was only 4 at the time!); we couldn't buy what we wanted from the vending machines at the Bronx Zoo since we were expected to be strictly kosher.  This did not sit well with me; young, stubborn and a free-thinker; and I simply did not fit what they expected. 

Eventually, I took up my parents' hippie-style of protest and made picket signs to object my return to the Jewish camp in favor of more integrated activities with a more diverse population.   So they decided to send me to Puerto Rico for the summer to my Grandmother's house where I was able to experience the roots of my father's family-heritage.

It wasn't like I never had exposure to Dad's family - they were a huge part of my life and I loved them. I got to spend many a holiday with them as well.  My Grandmother and Aunt would take me to church in secret and they even made me feel special by letting me eat those wafers and drink the thimbles full of "wine"!  I was not supposed to tell my mother or her family about this and that was really not a problem for me.

So when I entered Junior High, someone in the lunchroom came and asked me "So, what ARE you, anyway?”  Of course, I gave my stock answer "I'm Jewish".  She was like, "Um, what's your mother? What's your father? What countries are your parents from?”  I was stymied so I told her that my father is Puerto Rican and my mother is Jewish.  She furthered my frustration by saying "Um, 'Jewish' is not a nationality.  So you're half-Puerto Rican. Where is your mother's family from?"  I was mortified as I honestly did not know the answer to her question. 

All these years of living (all almost-13 of them!) and I could not tell people my mother’s national origin!  The only things I knew for sure were: they were Jewish and my mother's parents spoke a little bit of Yiddish.  But I was sure they weren't from anywhere in Germany which is what Yiddish sounded like to me. 

I couldn't really figure out why they left me so clueless!  I could only deduce from some stories my Dad had told me that maybe my Mom's family was of some kind of Slavic descent.  Maybe Polish? 

So it turns out that my mother's family is a mixture of Polish, Romanian, Russian and Austrian.   My Great-Grandmother took her friend's boat ticket as she had second thoughts about going all the way to America.  My grandfather's parents were Russian.  At least I'm pretty sure they were...

Although I truly love both sides of my family, I wound up identifying more with my Puerto Rican family.  They were always very accepting and never asked me to deny any part of my identity.  Although I was carried for nine months by my mother, there is genetic input from 2 sets of DNA - NOT just the Jewish one.