Back in Business

So, after a week of no camera, as it was also in the shop, and no computer, I am back in business. It has been a good week back in the states. I am so thankful for being able to just lay low for a while and get back to living normal, American life at my own pace.

Leaving Puerto Rico was incredibly hard. Everyone I met, the teachers and staff, the kids, the people on that island, they have stolen my heart. I actually gave it some serious thought when Betsy Hoke, director of ESD, kiddingly asked me to stay, take pictures, and teach math. Who knows, maybe I'll end up back there someday. However, until then, I have many, many hours of editing to do, an apartment to find, and a business to run. Stay tuned for more images and stories from my month in Puerto Rico. :-)

Technical Difficulties

So, while in Puerto Rico, my laptop screen decided to bite the dust. We arrived safely back in the states late Wednesday night. I should be back in business the beginning of next week with images to show and stories to tell. Thanks for your patience!

My Name is Emilio Molina

A dollar here, a dollar there. Often times it's our way of saying, "I wish I could do more, hope this helps," or "I see you and want to help, but don't have much of anything to give." I've been so many places where poverty runs rampant; every time I round a corner there's a hand reaching out for my pocket change. It's so easy to look away, so easy to grow calloused. It was Emilio Molina that opened my eyes, refreshing a love and compassion for people that somewhere along the way I lost.


I'm not sure what it was that persuaded 88-year-old Emilio Molina to casually follow us up the countless, steep, cobblestoned, city blocks of Old San Juan to take shelter under those familiar golden arches. Perhaps he too needed an escape from the oppressive midday heat or maybe *probably* it was someone greater that had prearranged our meeting. Nonetheless, while chomping on my potato-less French fries, I found myself thoroughly engrossed in a conversation I could hardly understand. Puerto Rican Spanish poured from Emilio Molina's lips like the rains from cloudless skies that wake me up morning after morning here. He spoke so quickly; his speech seamless, endless.

It was a good twenty-five minutes that I sat watching Nicole's face twist and contort, eyes squinting while her brain worked overtime to decipher the man's words. Taking advantage of Mr. Molina's breaths, though few and far between, Nicole would translate bits of his monologue for me. Countless pieces and parts of his story were thrown our way, unprovoked and honest. Kind, content, and joyful for the life he lives and the music he is able to give, Emilio painted a perfect self-portrait for us to see, totally overcoming all language and cultural barriers. Finally, something I understood.

I left that frigid air conditioned restaurant stunned at how a man with so little, could give me so much. Emilio Molina may not have many earthly possessions, but he most certainly has the gift of music. It is with this one gift that he offers thanks to his creator day-in and day-out, wandering the streets of Old San Juan for all to hear his beautiful song. Never asking for anything in return, he finds his joy and fulfillment in giving thanks, in sharing his music with those who will listen.