Touched by an Angel


Had I specifically requested a stressful and sad time, I would not have gotten anything near what I had last week.  

With my first deadline approaching October 14th, I found myself tense, stressed and distracted as the week began.

There were many checkmarks on my “to do list”:  the English edit was completed, and the Spanish was about to be completed, despite all the hurdles we had to overcome:  no internet, therefore no Skype, bad phone communications, and time differences. My editor in Cordoba, a busy mother with young children and a business and home to run, made the time to finish the work. We ended up communicating through What’s App in half words, but got it done.

The cover was well under way.

The week looked like it was having an auspicious beginning as I went to sleep on Tuesday thinking all was well with the world, although I have to admit that some ghosts of the past had been chasing me, as if to warn me of some impending tragedy.

On Wednesday morning, the world turned upside down.  Nothing mattered, as I received the sad news from Argentina, about the death of a young nephew, 39, who left behind a beautiful wife and two young boys, six and 18 months.

As I was falling asleep thinking “all was well with the world”, a young family was losing their dad, their partner, their soul mate — their umbrella of protection.  

I did not want to make this about me or my own tragedy 23 years ago, when my young husband also left us unexpectedly. But I could not help it.  I thought about my young niece Lucila in the same circumstances as I was, the silence of the home, the surreality of the moment, the waking up in the middle of the night looking for him, the explanation to a too young boy, the regrets, the words we said and the words we failed to say.  

In the blink of an eye lives changed forever.  

I cannot say I knew Esteban Kuten well.  We met at family parties, I saw him at family events.  I do know that he had an impact on my life, as little as I knew him, and I surmise that he has left, in those that loved him and knew him well, a hole as large as the wound left by the World Trade Center in New York City after September 11.  

When I reached out to Esteban, he gave me his full attention. A busy doctor, he made me believe I was the only person in the world that mattered to him at that moment.   I called a few times worried about my mom, and each time, he gave me his undivided attention.  I am told he was the same with everyone he met, including one of my daughters in Buenos Aires who often saw him in the neighborhood.  


We were all touched, touched by an angel.

This last week, after the news, I decided to try to be like that, to give my undivided attention to those who needed my help.  Let me tell you, it is not easy to be like Esteban!

I lit a candle near a vase of roses from my garden to remind me to be like that angel that I now regret not getting to know better.  Giving someone your attention in this world full of phones, gadgets and doorbells is almost impossible.  But i gave it a good try, in honor of Esteban.  In some cases, I hope I was able to bring a ray of sunshine into someone’s life.

It has led me to wonder how a 39 year old doctor in the prime of his life with his own practice, two young kids whom he adored, a young partner, also a doctor, a big family and a ton of good friends — I do wonder through what magic he was able to make us all feel like we were the only person that mattered at that moment, the only star in his universe.  And indeed I know for a fact that I was touched by an angel.  

In his honor, in a world sorely needing more angels, today we all need to take some time to practice some of that kutenmagic.

Tocada por un Angel


La semana pasada comenzó muy estresante, y terminó muy triste para mi.


Me llegaba mi primer vencimiento para publicar, el 14 de octubre,y me sentía tensa, estresada y distraída cuando llegó el lunes.

Ya había cumplido con muchas metas: la sección en ingles ya estaba editada, y la de español casi a pesar de los muchos problemas que tuvimos con mi editora en cordoba:  no internet, no teléfono, no Skype, y las diferencias de horario.  Mi editora, una mama con responsabilidades de dos hijos, una editorial y una casa, se preocupó por terminar el trabajo. Hasta tuvimos que usar What's App para concluir, pero lo logramos!


La portada estaba bien encaminada.

Parecía que la semana empezaría bien, y me fui a dormir el martes a la noche pensando que todo estaba bien con el mundo. Aunque tengo que admitir que algunos fantasmas del pasado me perseguían, como para adelantarme que llegaba alguna tragedia.

El miércoles, se dio vuelta el mundo.  Nada parecía importar cuando recibí la triste noticia de la muerte de un joven sobrino, 39, que estaba dejando una hermosa mujer y dos pequeños hijos de 6 años y 18 meses.


Mientras el martes yo me dormía pensando en que todo iba bien con el mundo, una joven familia perdía su papá, su pareja, su alma gemela -- el paraguas de protección.

No era mi intención que esto se tratara de mi, o el momento similar hace 23 años, cuando murió mi joven marido repentinamente. Pero no lo pude evitar. Pensé en mi sobrina Lucila pasando por lo que yo pasé: el silencio de la casa, el surrealismo del momento, el despertar en el medio de la noche buscándolo, las explicaciones a un niño de 6 años, las palabras que dijimos y las que no llegamos a decir.
En un parpadeo, vidas cambiadas para siempre.

No puedo decir que lo conocí bien a Esteban Kuten. Nos veiamos en reuniones de familia. Pero si sé que tuvo un impacto en mi vida. Esto me lleva a pensar que Esteban ha dejado, entre la gente que lo amaba y lo conocia, un hoyo tan grande y tan triste como la herida de las Torres Gemelas en NYC después del 11 de septiembre.

Las pocas veces que hablé con Esteban, me dio su completa atención.  Un médico ocupado, me hizo creer que yo era la única persona el el mundo en ese momento. cada vez que hablamos,  me atendió como si no existiera otra persona. Me han dicho que Esteban trataba a todo el mundo de esta manera, incluyendo a una de mis hijas en Buenos Aires, que lo veía a menudo por el barrio.


Todos fuimos tocados, tocados por un ángel.

Esta semana, después de la triste noticia, decidí tratar de ser así, de prestar atención a la gente que lo necesitaba.  Me di cuenta que no es fácil ser como Esteban.

Prendí una velita cerca de un ramo de rosas blancas de mi jardín para recordarme de ser como ese ángel, que ahora me arrepiento de no haber conocido mejor. Prestar atención a otro ser humano en este mundo lleno de teléfonos, electrónicas y timbres es casi imposible. Pero me parece que en algunos casos, pude traer un rayo de sol en la vida de alguien.

Todo esto me hizo pensar en como un hombre de 39 años, en lo mejor (y lo mas ocupado) de su vida, con hijos que adoraba, una joven mujer, también medica, una gran familia y un montón de amigos -- me qué magia existía en Esteban que siempre nos hizo sentir como si fuéramos la única estrella en su universo.  Y creo firmemente que yo fui tocada por un ángel.


En su honor, en un mundo que desesperadamente necesita mas ángeles, todos tendríamos que practicar un poco de esa magiakuten. 

The fall equinox in the Northern Hemisphere brings me happiness because I remember Argentina, where the Dia de la Primavera is celebrated with great joy!

If it falls on a weekday, students get a holiday because it is also El Dia de los Estudiantes, and school kids of all ages take the day off.  Teenagers take to the streets and especially to all the plazas around the city, where they picnic, play ball, run around and run amock till all hours.

It is usually a perfect spring day in the city of my birth, as if the term "spring has sprung" had been invented for Buenos Aires. To me it seems it becomes spring overnight, the blue skies bluer than ever, many trees and flowers already in bloom, others about to explode.
Runners all don their new Nikes and perfectly matched outfits and everyone seems to have a spring to their step - pun intended. People actually wish you a Happy Spring!  you gotta love that.
Here in Colorado, USA, the aspen is in full bloom. I call it bloom because there may be no prettier site than the side of a mountain, the dark green of its pines covered with blotches of the most incredible yellows you have ever seen. The aspen in its full glory before dying for the season. 
We took a ride through the Rocky Mountain National Park yesterday and we had the range of Colorado experience: temperature ranges from the 40's to the 70's, altitude from 5600 feet to 13,000, wind, sleet, rain, snow, sunshine and a couple of rainbows. As my daughter Patti was saying she had never seen a moose in Colorado, lo and behold! one appeared and posed for us. All this with the background of the incredible Rocky Mountains and the golden aspen, shaking its tiny leaves like gold coins in the wind.
Standing in front of one of the rainbows, I had a "lili moment", a phrase coined by my friend Lisa during a Patagonian adventure. I usually have those moments when I feel overwhelmed by the beauty of God's creation.

In the car with my two youngest children, no longer children, and Gisela, hearing their delight at the rainbows, the snow, the sleet, the rain and Mr. Moose, I had flashbacks to years gone by, two baby seats in the back of my car, giggling as I told stories, repeating Japanese words from my learning tape better than I ever could, or laughing out loud as I purposely took a wide turn.

Yesterday, it was I sitting in the back and they who did the driving.  They are still little kids to me, giggling in the front seat.  But I suspect this time it was they who laughed at their momma.

Aunque sea el primer dia de otoño en el norte, me trae alegría porque me recuerda mi nińez en Argentina, donde el Dia de la Primavera se celebra con mucho placer.

Si cae en dia de semana, los estudiantes tienen el día libre, porque también es el Dia de los Estudiantes.  Chicos de todas edades se toman el dia. Sobre todo los adolescentes salen a las calles y especialmente a las plazas, a hacer picnics, tomar mate, correr y hacer lio hasta muy tarde.

Normalmente es un dia perfecto en la cuidad donde nací, como si la primavera se hubiese creado para Buenos Aires. Siento que allí, la primavera nace de un día para el otro, el cielo mas celeste que nunca, muchos arboles y flores ya en flor, muchos otros por explotar. Los joggers corren por el Rosedal con conjuntos nuevos, y todo el mundo tiene cara de felicidad.  La gente nos desea "Feliz Primavera", algo que me encanta.

Acá en Colorado, USA, el aspen esta en flor.  Digo en flor porque no creo que haya algo tan magnifico como la ladera de la montaña, los pinos verdes oscuros manchados por el amarillo increíble de las hojas del aspen.  El aspen en plena gloria antes de morir.

Paseamos por el Rocky Mountain National Park ayer, y tuvimos la verdadera experiencia de Colorado:  temperaturas entre siete y veintitrés grados, alturas entre 1800 metros y 4000, viento, granizo, nieve, lluvia, sol, y un par de arco iris. Hasta apareció un alce en el momento que mi hija Patti lo deseaba. Todo esto con el fondo de las Montañas Rocosas y el aspen dorado, con sus hojitas sacudidas por el viento que parecen monedas de oro. 

Parada frente a uno de los arco irises, tuve un "momento lili", una frase inventada por mi amiga Lisa durante un viaje a la Patagonia. Son esos momentos cuando me saltan las lagrimas por la belleza de la creación. 

En el auto con mis hijos mas jóvenes, que ya de niños no tienen nada, y con Gisela, escuchando su alegría al ver nieve, granizo, arco irises y al señor Alce, recordé los días hace tanto tiempo, cuando, con dos chiquitos en el asiento de atrás, manejaba yo mientras les contaba cuentos, o los escuchaba repetir palabras en japonés de mi cinta de idiomas.  A veces, cuando yo, a propósito, hacia una vuelta fuerte, se morían de risa a carcajadas.
Ayer, fui yo la que me senté atrás mientras ellos manejaban.  Se reían en el asiento delantero, pero esta vez sospecho que eran ellos los que se reían de mi.

If you think my latest silence means I have been making fast progress, you are...wrong!  Feeling frustrated and lazy, I decided to take some time off in New York.  It did me a lot of good, but it has taken me a full week to get back to my work.
  
Speaking to others about my book, many ask the same question:  "what are your stories about?".  The truth is, they are about everything, but I can give you an idea.

Many stories are about moments in my life which I have chosen to "novelize."  A trip to Africa and a chance meeting with a nine-year old who was the head of his family led me to a story of a young boy's conversation with his grandmother.  Floods in Buenos Aires prompted me to write about a gunshot heard in the middle of a storm on Olazabal Street.  There is a story about a young couple facing death in a Caribbean Island called Poitou, actually the name of a street in Paris.

Death visits again in a fancy psychiatrist's office in Manhattan.  One of my favorites is a story about a relationship between a married man and a young woman with the backdrop of the beautiful Teatro Colón and Bach's Mass in G.  There is a girl in Nazareth who gives birth to a daughter, yes!  why not? who comes to save the world.

Inspired by JP Garnier's theory of the doubling of time, there is a successful female writer who is a control freak and refuses to accept the counsel of her double.  There is a woman with special powers who tries to save the world from itself, and a middle aged man who gets out of jail after twenty-three years.

Some stories reflect class differences in Buenos Aires, such as the story of a "plumerero" who looks back at what could have been, and a young homeless man living in the best part of town.  


Sadness envelops a young girl at the death of her grandfather, nono. There is a story with a magic well owned by a very old woman who on her dying breath transmits her special powers to her youngest niece.  Another favorite of mine is about a writer who wakes up from a coma thinking she is a character in a novel.

The stories have common threads: my passion for the oppressed, my love of Mother Earth, and my belief that there is someone out there watching out for all of us.  A bit of my sense of humor is reflected in the story of Nazareth.  

For the rest, my friends, you will have to wait til November 14th! - God willing.

Si creen que el silencio es evidencia de que he progresado mucho, están...equivocados!  Me sentía frustrada y perezosa, y decidí pasar unas semanas en New York. Me hizo mucho bien, pero ha pasado una semana desde mi retorno y todavía estoy tratando de aterrizar.

Mucha gente me pregunta de qué se tratan mis cuentos.  La verdad es que se tratan de todo, pero les daré una idea. 

Muchos de los cuentos reflejan momentos en mi vida que estoy "novelando." Durante un viaje al Africa conocí a un niño de nueve años encargado de sus hermanitos, y me llevó a imaginar una conversación con su abuela.  Inundaciones en Buenos Aires resultaron en un cuento sobre un tiro que se oyó en el medio de la tormenta. Hay un cuento sobre una joven pareja que enfrenta a la muerte en la isla de Poitou, que es el nombre de una calle en Paris.  

La muerte llega de nuevo a una oficina muy fina de un psiquiatra en New York.  Uno de mis cuentos favoritos se trate de una relación entre un hombre casado y una chica, con el Teatro Colon y La Misa en G de Bach de fondo. Hay una adolescente de Nazareth que da a luz a una niña, Si!  por que no?  que viene a salvar al mundo.

Inspirada por la teoria del desdoblamiento del tiempo de JP Garnier, creé una escritora exitosa pero muy controladora que no tiene tiempo para su "doble." Hay una mujer con poderes especiales que trata de salvar al mundo de si mismo, y un hombre de edad media que sale de la prisión después de veintitrés años.

Hay cuentos que reflejan las diferencias sociales en Buenos Aires, como el del  plumerero que se imagina como hubiera sido su vida, y un joven que vive en la calle en el mejor barrio de la cuidad.

Pueden leer sobre la tristeza de una niña cuando muere su nono.  Un aljibe mágico y una vieja que le pasa sus poderes a su sobrina menor.  Otro de mis favoritos es el cuento de una autora que se despierta de un estado de coma pensando que es un personaje en una novela.


Los cuentos tienen un hilo común: mi pasión por la gente oprimida, mi amor por la pachamama, y mi creencia que todo ser humano tiene una compañera que los esta vigilando.  Un poco de mi sentido del humor se ve reflejado en el cuento de Nazareth.  

Para el resto, amigas y amigos, tendrán que esperar hasta el 14 de noviembre, si Dios quiere.  

I am not feeling it this week, although I have started a new story or a novel, in English.  The road to publishing is full of obstacles.  A painful road, as if I were walking on a path full of twists and turns, not knowing what I will find around the next one.  




For anyone who thinks that self-publishing is simple, you’ve got another thing coming!  I have carefully gone through my check list and at the very least I can say I have made progress with that.  I now know:

1. what I want the front cover, the spine and the back cover to look like
1. but not what the back cover should say.  It will either be a recap of the stories, or an “About the Author”. Not only is there little room for either, but since I am writing in two languages, the need to be brief is essential, as all spaces are divided in two!
2. I wrote the dedication, surprising myself
3. I prepared the “half title page”, the “title page” and the “copyright page”
4. I have a blank page for the preface but have yet to decide if ti will be written “famous person” write it or someone who knows me from the heart?  
5. My introduction is written in two languages although it needs some edits
6. I have decided to add an “Epigraph page”, a quote from Charlemagne, or from St. Exupery.  Right now, I am sticking with Charlemagne, believe it or not.
7. I have formatted a Table of Contents..
8. ... and the actual body of the book
9. I have a blank “Acknowledgement Page” since I have the universe to acknowledge!
10. I have obtained the help from my daughter Patti for some of the designs and fonts
11. I have yet to decide if a book of stories written in two languages needs a glossary at the back for untranslatable words and expression
12. I still have a list of Amazon “to do’s” 
13. I am working hard on the last review of the Spanish stories, and looking at some of the English 

The list goes on!  The main thing here is to get over the nervousness that I am beginning to feel regarding my stories.  Having set as a goal to sell just one book to someone I have never met seems fairly easy but I am having second thoughts about the stories being worth reading.  And even though I have always considered English my best language, I am beginning to think that they read better in Spanish, or that my English audience just won’t get it.  




I am calling it stage fright.  And I am letting God take care of the rest.