Rafe has sixteen brothers and sisters. His father’s first wife died; and his mother raised them all. Most are interesting, accomplished and fun. Then there’s Alberto who lives in New York also. An older brother came to visit several years ago; Claudio, a retired Colombian Supreme Court Justice, who in a weird twist of fate was home sick the day the rest of the Colombian Justices were killed.
What’s weird about this is that Little Luce’s dad, George, is a cameraman who managed to film the whole canarage. I have seen the video; it’s not for the light hearted.
He came to New York with a friend, in 1988. Rafe mentioned to me that his cousin, the friend, and George were looking for work. Lucia was looking for a laborer at the architectual plaster shop she managed, and I told Rafe to contact her.
Yes, dear reader, Lucia and George, fell in love. Rafe and I will forever be responsible for Little Luce’s being on this earth. Little Luce is perhaps my proudest accomplishment, though of course I had nothing to do with the actual….yick…but,I was there when the stick turned pink!
Last year, George won an Edward R Murrow award; but he lives far from New York and it is Lucia who has raised this magnificent teenager.
That’s all for background. When Claudio came to visit, Rafe decided to show him DC. Naturally they invited Alberto who was to be the navigator. Now any idiot knows that to get from New York to DC, it’s basically a straight ride down I-95. I wasn’t there so I don’t know how Alberto kept insisting that they take this highway then that highway. Rafe kept asking if he was sure. He was.
Somehow they ended up in the Pennsylvania Amish country. That’s not even close to DC which is due south from New York; the Amish country is west. Alberto tried explaining this to me. He insisted that it was an honest mistake that anybody would make. Sure.
This year Rafe and Alberto were driving to some city near Atlanta that begins with a “B.” He couldn’t remember the name, but I thought of it; forget it now. I wouldn’t let Rafe leave on his trip until I used Google’s new map service which gave incredible directions and they didn’t get lost once. Though Rafe insisted that the drive would take ten hours. Told him no, it had to be much longer. We fought about this for at least five minutes. Rafe’s a macho Colombian, and I’m always right. I was. Took seventeen hours.
Though why they had to drive when flying would have been so much easier, and maybe even equal in price….I love my friends. They provide such good material, and they don’t even try.