I always did like that Latin American beat!

Meeting my two brothers for the first time - especially these guys who grew up in another country, in a different culture, speaking a different language - was, for me, a crash course in diversity. Although my brothers' names - Mark and Matthew Burwick - are as Anglo-Saxon as they come, they are Latinos from the word "Go." Although we share the same father, with a Scottish-Irish-English-Dutch-Polish-French-Swiss background, their dark skin, dark brown eyes and black hair testify to a Spanish-Native American mix common to South American citizens. Watching them converse in their native tongue, of which I know "poco" (very little) was fascinating. Their mother, Laura, who accompanied them on their trip to New York in May, speaks a little more English than they do, so she was able to translate for me when needed... which was quite often, unless I was just chilling out, enjoying their rapid-fire exchange. Once in a while, a word or phrase would have a familiar ring to me with my limited Spanish vocabulary.

Steve Burwick, Mark Burwick, Ivonne Reyes, and Matthew Burwick 

Mark and Matthew are now dual citizens, thanks to years of patiently petitioning the U.S. Embassy, along with the efforts of our sister Ivonne and myself in locating and sending our father's school records and other materials to Venezuela. They both plan to move to the U.S. in the next year or so.
Mark has a son who attended high school in Houston, just graduated college in Rhode Island this spring, and will be studying for a Master's in filmmaking in Los Angeles beginning in the fall. Mark works in a bank and I am sure that he can find suitable employment in the financial industry here in the states, while continuing his musical pursuits. He currently plays lead guitar in a pop-rock band in his home town of Caracas, and is recording some original music.

Mark, in "guitar heaven"
 at Sam Ash Music Store in NY City

Matthew, who is an industrial designer and photographer, plays classical piano and guitar. Matthew hopes to exhibit his fine art photography in museums. Our sister, Monica, whom Ivonne and I both met two years ago, is moving from Venezuela to South Florida at the end of this month. She has a degree in highway engineering, and her husband, Luis Carlos, is a commercial pilot.

Matthew, playing one of his
 original compositions

Matthew and Monica have now met all but Cliff and Kyle, the two brothers I grew up with, and I have yet to meet Sister Lorena, who serves as a nun in Venezuela. Matthew met both Ivonne and Lloyd, as well as myself, in May. Mark, who returned from New York to Venezuela early, didn't get a chance to meet Lloyd, who lives in New Jersey along with Ivonne. All of them have met Monica, and Cliff and Kyle have only met Lloyd, when he was a baby.
We are hoping to get a few of us together in one place next year, perhaps in Florida.

The saga will continue in later posts...

High voltage adventure

Driving into Charlotte, NC on a beautiful day last month, I had a major scare. No, it wasn't anxiety at the thought of flying in a big jet for the first time since the age of 10. I was positively excited about that. I was headed for New York City to meet my brothers, Mark and Matthew, for the first time. But as I neared the airport, my wife Debbie at my side and our friend Brenda in the back seat, I suddenly experienced a wave of nerve activity in the right side of my face. It felt like an electrical charge zipping back and forth across my upper and lower lip. It just kept on buzzing, and then the tip of my right index finger began to feel numb. I thought, "I'm having a stroke!" As I prepared to pull off the interstate and tell Debbie what was happening, it occurred to me that I had a bad tooth on that side. It could be an abscess, and that was why the nerves were going haywire. That was bad enough, but not quite as high on the panic scale as a stroke!
Well, the strange feeling dissipated, and I was relieved that my much-anticipated journey would not be cancelled due to an emergency hospital visit. I boarded the plane, and the actual flight took only an hour and a half. I landed at JFK Airport before Debbie and Brenda were halfway back home.
I met Mark, Matthew, and their mother, Laura, and we spent a few hours in the early morning getting to know each other. My Latino brothers speak more English than I speak Spanish, but there were times when Laura was called upon to translate a word or phrase.
As we headed north and then east to Providence, where Mark's son was set to graduate from Brown University on Saturday, we searched for a place to eat in the Bronx. Matthew was driving the rental car which, by the way, had a North Carolina license plate. Looking around, driving through an unfamiliar city, we got lost for a short time and were even pulled over by one of "New York's Finest." Although the officer was stern and said something about the need for using "common sense" as he informed Matthew that he had just driven through a red light, my brother was able to squirm his way out of a costly ticket.
My electrical charge soon returned, not quite as high a voltage as when it first hit me, but after we found a place that offered sub sandwiches at about 3 a.m., I had a difficult time eating due to the buzzing sensation and bit my lip a time or two. Other than that, though, I never experienced any pain. Matthew graciously offered to take me to a hospital if the need ever arose, but it didn't. So we continued our early morning adventure and finally made it to the hotel outside of Providence. It was about 8:00 in the morning when we all went to bed...

(To be continued in a later post)

Brothers of a different mother... are still brothers.

New York! The Big Apple! Where people come from all over the world to take a bite of what the United States of America has to offer. Of course, this is merely one (however huge and diverse) example of what may be discovered in this widespread land of the free, but it is definitely an experience that is well worth the effort, no matter where you are from.
I recently had the opportunity to visit this fascinating city, thanks to my brother, Matthew, who provided round-trip airfare, hotel, and meals. Matthew came from Venezuela along with brother Mark and their mother, Laura. We met at JFK Airport and drove to Providence, R.I. to attend the graduation of Mark Jr. ("Marcolito") at Brown University. The 200-plus year old campus was an experience in itself, with its ivy-adorned buildings, ancient trees and brick walkways. The pomp and celebration of the three-day event was enhanced with music and dance, inspiring speeches, prayers of different faiths, laughter and the smiling faces of the graduates and their familes who came from China, Ecuador, Ireland, Japan, India, Jordan, and places in between.

Then there was the WaterFire event, with gondolas imported from Venice, expertly paddled along the winding river by their stripe-shirted pilots. Meanwhile, 100 fire bowls on floating pedestals anchored at regular intervals offered bright waymarks with the smell of burning wood, as people watched from the riverbanks and listened to a variety of music, including Armenian folk melodies and Tibetan chants, blaring from strategically placed speakers. WaterFire Providence is a summer-long feast for the senses, provided each year by an independent non-profit arts organization.

After spending three nights in the beautiful city of Providence - saying goodbye to Marcolito, his mother, stepfather, grandmother and two sisters - my brothers and I, along with their mother Laura, then drove the four hours back to New York.
I first met Laura when I lived with my father in Caracas, Venezuela, in the mid-1960s. In the mind of a quiet 10-year-old, she was the nice young lady who picked me up from school while my father worked. Only much later did I discover that she had two sons with my father. Over the years, the mild fascination with having "other" siblings living in another country became a burning desire to meet and share our lives. Especially when I found that there were two Venezuelan sisters as well. In addition, I learned (in November 2006) that my father had died in October 2002. Although he was not a true father to any of his nine children, some of us felt a special connection drawing us together, perhaps hastened in some way by our father's death.

Spending time in Manhattan, shopping at Macy's, experiencing the bright lights of Times Square at night, visiting the Museum of Natural History and the NY Botanical Gardens, and seeing the jungle of skyscrapers from the 86th floor observation deck of the Empire State Building, we were in awe of the things that can be built by human hands. Yet just a few steps from the crowds, the traffic and noise, Central Park reminded me of the natural beauty found off the beaten path in places like East Tennessee and Western North Carolina. The biggest thrill for me, though, was just being with my brothers and sharing our lives, laughing at our individual quirks and telling stories from "back home."

(More about the New York trip later)

Big Apple Adventure

Two more days remain before my departure for the Big Apple. I will be visiting four states that I have never been to before - NY, NJ, Connecticut and Rhode Island - and possibly five if we venture into Massachusetts. I look forward to seeing the NY Harbor, the Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island where so many of our ancestors entered this awesome land of freedom, the Manhattan skyline, the busy downtown streets, the art museums, and so on. But more than that, to meet my brothers, Mark and Matthew, for the first time, and spend a week with them. I will also meet my nephew, Mark Jr., a talented student of the arts at Brown University, who is graduating this month and moving on to graduate studies in film at the University of Southern California. And then there is Laura, the mother of my brothers, who I first met when I lived with my father in Caracas in the 60s. She would pick me up from school while my father worked and I would stay with her until he picked me up. I didn't know then that my father's "friend" was pregnant with my brother Mark when I returned to the U.S. Quite a few years have passed, so we have a lot of catching up to do.

Sensory Overload Just Ahead

If stress is a legitimate reason for not blogging, then you all understand why this blog has been vacant for a while. Meanwhile, I'm BAAACK! (for the moment)
I will be flying to NY City next week, if nothing major interferes. Going to this huge city full of people and other distractions for the first time ever, flying on a big jet for the first time in more than 40 years, and meeting my two brothers and a nephew for the first time ever. They are Hispanic and speak just a little English. This weeklong adventure promises to bombard me with lots of intense stimulation, to be processed by a brain that is already on overload. But I will have my Latin American Spanish phrase book, my camera, my hackysack, and my sense of humor ready.