Bumpy ride to August 1980
In which Teófilo reminisces about the spring of 1980 before the greatest encounter with the love of his life took place.
Science Fair Nerd
The year 1980 dawned upon me as all these graces continued to shower. In the spring I submitted a science fair project that earned me a second-place award in the regional fair. As I remember it, the project was a series of inferences about the size and shape of the universe. I also took shots at the role of gravity in affecting this size and shape. The whole thing was an exercise of my imagination. It was my reaction to the vertigo caused by the size of the universe as I'd begun to understand it. The picture of the universe I'd painted resembled a bit the one we're aware of today. Yet, my picture was weak on empirical proofs but heavy on thought experiments.
I did type-write every single display and prepared all my panels and headings. Mom would borrow her heavy electric typewriter from her office and I would spend an entire weekend typing away. A typing course I took in 1978 along with my friend Angelito’s sister paid enormous dividends ever since.
Moving the displays was heavy and laborious but I did it with joy. Other classmates progressed to the national science fair because they actually did empirical science. I was operating on a flawed understanding of what science was. It took me years to correct my misunderstanding.
Titi Annie Died; First Heavy Religious Question Dodged
It was about this time that Titi Annie underwent a brain operation. She had a cancerous tumor. I elevated her illness as a prayer intention during a charismatic prayer meeting.
Afterwards, the adults told me the operation had been a success. The mysterious they had found nothing in Titi Annie's brain. I was joyous and reported the "miracle" to the prayer meeting. They were joyous too.
But that wasn't the truth. As the year progressed her situation deteriorated until she passed away that summer.
They buried her by Mamá Ana in the family gravesite. We returned home. I remember Cousin Peter crying in silence, big, dense tears flowing down from his eyes. The stages of grief have fallen over him; he was angry and sad at the same time.
Yet, I then stood at a quandary of cognitive dissonance. My report on the "miracle" was wrong. Do I tell the prayer meeting attendants? I chose not to, as explanations would only complicate the matter. Yet, people had undergone a religious experience upon my initial report, a report that was untrue. I wondered how many religious experiences were due to flawed reporting throughout history. It didn't take much imagination to think some people could lie about such events. I could think of bad people with interests vested on certain outcomes, lying to believers. I knew there would be profit in it.
That was a dark, cynical thought.
Following this incident, I began looking at the Middle Ages in a different light. I became resistant to outright "miracle" reports. Not that I denied that God could heal. But I came to believe many of those healings misperceptions.
That was a harsh conclusion for me to reach at a time of spiritual growth. I was ill-equipped to tackle the question at an intellectual level. I hadn't learned how grace elevates nature. I hadn't accrued the appropriate forensic apparatus needed to examine miracle claims. I hadn’t learned yet how to use healthy doubting as a tool of inquiry.
I buried the questions inside my head. They'll return to haunt me much later.
As for Tío Pin, he would soon remarry. He and my new Aunt Glisén would have three children of their own. I didn’t develop the same ties with them as I did with the first four cousins, Teresita, Peter, Kenneth, and Marie. The difference in ages and outlooks did the rest.
In the meantime, elsewhere in Ponce, a young girl had celebrated her 15th birthday. In August she would move into my 10th grade class at la Academia from a feeder school. All who knew her, loved her. Soon, I would love her too.