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    • Sep 12, 2021
    • 7 min read

IN HONOR OF GRANDPARENTS ~ I REMEMBER THEM

You are a product of all who came before you. The light and the dark. The legacy of your family. ~ Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings

Grandparents day is every first Sunday after Labor Day. This year it is today, on September 12th.Grandparents Day is a day we celebrate with our grandparents if they are still living. We spend quality time with them, have family meals and gatherings. If they are no longer with us, we remember them and celebrate the life they lived and what was passed on to us from them. Click here to learn more https://nationaltoday.com/grandparents-day/


Today... I honor my grandparents who are no longer with me, by telling a bit of their story. Like an introduction, because there will be more shared in future posts about their lives, our family and history.


Where do I begin?


MY PATERNAL SIDE


PHOTO ON RIGHT: GRANDPARENTS RAFAEL & JUANA

COURTESY OF: JAIME BAEZ

My father's parents were Rafael ,"Feye," Baez and Juana "Juanita," Gomez. They were from the Dominican Republic (an island in the Caribbean) and immigrated to the United States in 1972; is what I was told. They came with the help of one of my elder uncles named Jaime, who was at one time in the Spanish military; involved in the Civil War that took place in the late 1960s. Perhaps this was the reason he was motivated to move our family out of the country. Once in the States, they settled in Manhattan, New York City... on 203 West 108th St.


2 years later... on Thursday, October 10, 1974... my grandmother Juana died in her sleep. My father Miguel, came home from school excited to share with her about his day when he found her. He was only twelve years old. My youngest son today is the same age. I can't imagine the devastation of this great loss to our family.


My grandmother was a pillar. She held the family together. I was not fortunate to meet her. To ever know her. I have heard bits and pieces about her in family conversations. My father hasn't shared with me any memories of her. He is the youngest of eleven.


From the photos we do have of her, you can tell she was tall, thin and had long, beautiful dark hair. Family debates whether she was of Native American, "Taino," ancestry or Spanish (from Spain). I believe she was both rather then one or the other. Just from her features alone. DNA will confirm or disprove facts (an ongoing project).


My grandmother Juana loved to sing and care for her family; her home, her children and cook! She also loved God; to serve in the community an the church, attend services and worship. She would wake in the very early morning hours and get the kids ready to go with her. My grandfather wasn't as religious. He rarely participated. These are at least from what my aunts have shared with me.


I long to learn more about her. She is a missing part of my life. I know her presence was profound; left a mark on me even before my birth.


My grandfather Rafael, I did get to meet but...never truly knew. I have no real, tangible memories of us every speaking to eachother. From a young age, anytime I saw him...he didn't remember who I was. This of course was a result of his disease. He was suffering from Alzheimer's. He lived from house to house; with each of my aunts in rotation. But he never did come stay with us. When I would visit them, I sometimes would see his room. It was always a mystery to me. I felt intrigued and desired to go in and explore. I think maybe... once, I did get a chance to go inside, but for some reason the memory is vague. I think I do recall, he had treasures of our culture and history. How I would have loved so much to be able to sit down with him now and ask him questions about his heritage, his parents and grandparents. This family line is a mystery, just like my grandfather's room.


Here is what I DO KNOW about Rafael and his family. He came from a wealthy family; in the Dominican Republic they owned rice farms. He was given an inheritance and unfortunately he lost it all to gambling and partying. They were of Spaniard blood...however DNA points to other possibilities, which interestingly include Irish ancestry. He was from a very large family; 20 siblings is what I have heard. So why on earth is it next to impossible for me to find any of them? Or any of their descendants?


MY MATERNAL SIDE


PHOTO: MY GRANDPARENTS VIDAL & LYDIA

COURTESY OF: EVELYN LOPEZ

My mother's parents... on the other hand, I did get to meet and know. Her parents were Juan Vidal Lopez and Lydia Horacio. We honestly do not know where the name Juan came from because his birth name was actually Vidal. Not one record has been found with the name Juan. Different then my father's parents, they were from Puerto Rico. Came to the States around the same time, yet separately, arrived in New York 1946. It is very likely they knew eachother before they moved here. Perhaps in passing, small conversation or they had a relationship. Possibly it was because of their relationship they ended up coming to the states one after the other and settling down very close by eachother, just streets away!


My grandfather Vidal, I did not get to know him for long. He passed when I was young... I was also 12 years old (like my dad when he found his mom) but I do remember him. His hair was like wool; a pure white. His skin dark. Eyes light colored. He had a quiet, gentle, sweet essence coming from him. Very kind. Caring. And this I know for certain, not just from my memories of him but what my family recalls; he loved me very very much.


He also was a protector of our family. Strong. Supportive. In fact, I am told he carried on him a machete!


Vidal was born in 1909 in Vieques, of African ancestry. His family suffered in the island. Poor. Hardworking. Sometimes working long, hot days out in the sugar cane and coffee fields. 12, 14, 16 hour days working the lands. But they kept on... never gave up...never lost hope...remained faithful.


Without me knowing about it, I developed a practice just like my grandfather. Get up in the morning, first thing...brew a cup of coffee and sit down with my bible. My grandfather's legacy. Author's Note: Today his bible is in the hands of his oldest daughter, my aunt Evelyn.


Here is something he would say often that stays with me even now and I pass on to you, the reader, but especially my own children; his great grandchildren:


"Don't leave for tomorrow what you can do today."

He understood the value in life, in living. Tomorrow isn't promised. But today is what we have. This is wisdom.


There's so much I can share...from what I have been told.


When I was born, Vidal and my grandmother took me. They kept me for my first years. They did not trust my parents to care for me, because of how young they were. Of course I have no memory of this time. My aunt Virginia (the youngest of the daughters) does. She says she remembers hearing my cry at night for a bottle and her parents, my grandparents, waking up to take care of me.


Lydia... I knew. She was more a part of my life then any of my grandparents. Even though we'd only see her if once a year or twice (growing up I lived in New Jersey. She was in the South Bronx). These were rare visits but since they were so rare I remember them a bit more.


How we hated walking up those long steps to reach her apartment at the very top. She had a small dog. I could hear his bark as we approached the floor. It was a small space. She lived there with 2 of my uncles; Carmelo (the oldest) and Sammy (youngest of he boys).


My grandmother always looked for something, anything she can give to her guests as a gift. She would never let you leave without giving you something no matter how small it was. She reminds me of my own mother. She is a lot like her in some ways. And even though she was not such a good cook (from what family tells me) I didn't noticed. I looked forward to her corn beef or cod fitter patties. And for some odd reason almost on every visit, the Ewoks was playing! We loved watching this! Do you remember the Ewoks??? The 1980's...


Lydia... what a woman. She has such a rich history. It would take many posts to share about not only her life but her ancestry. Her bloodline I was able to trace back to the 1600s. The only way to describe it, is...being dipped in culture. A beautiful masterpiece. I am privileged to be called the family historian and genealogist of the family. A gift I believe she gave me. I was called into this. And it has been an incredible journey of discovery.


My best memories spent with my grandmother are actually memories I don't even understand what she was sharing with me. But I remember the impression she left me. What she shared was like a goldmine. Rich in every way possible. Language separated us. She spoke fluent Spanish and I, well...only spoke English. She was full of stories. Marvelous histories. In part, could be all lost...but she was clever. Even in her passing...she left me a gift. Found within the folds of her bible...a funeral card she left of her father who I never knew...never heard his name before. But there it was in my hands... an open door to an adventure I will never forget and am still on... tracing our roots. This I thank my grandmother for. Many secrets have been unveiled from our family history. Meant to be buried kept hidden. But...


…there is a Puerto Rican saying that goes like this:


“...la sangre llama.” (your ancestry is calling).

I know without any doubt this is true for me...my ancestors have called and are calling. I invite you to follow the call for your own family. If you have the chance to sit down with your grandparents and share with them...do it! You will regret it if you let this time pass you. Whether you realize it or not, understand it or not... they are your key to the past and your future. They hold information you are missing and need to become whole.


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