My last, happy and sad months in Puerto Rico
In which Teófilo reminisces about the last few months before USAF Basic Training.
My last full four months in Puerto Rico flew by. Once Mercie and I set into our minds the goal of marrying and moving on things began to happen fast. Mercie and I agreed we would finish that last semester in college. I would return to the UPRM and she'll finish her second year of nursing sciences. She would be much more prepared than me if one of the two had to supplement our future household income.
I don't recall what my accomplishments were during those four months. I returned to the USAF ROTC program and continued wearing the blues that soon I would wear full time. My Mercie continued excelling at UCPR back in Ponce. The clock was ticking down.
Marriage Engagement
I told Dad about my plans and asked for some financial help. He did so and we used the money to buy our wedding rings set. Once in hand, on February 14, 1983, I dressed up a bit and asked Doña Elba for her blessing to our marriage plans. Crying, she consented. I then drove Mercie's car to her father's place and made the same plea. That's the only time I've seen him with tears in his eyes. He too assented.
Finally, I drove Mercie to one of the hills overlooking Ponce, right by the Serrallés Castle mansion. I parked, dropped to my knees, and carried out the long expected proposal ritual. The fact that I already knew her answer didn't dampen the moment. I placed the engagement ring on her finger. We pledged our love and promised sacramental marriage to each other.
We visited Maritza who took some pictures to remember the occasion. We went to the movies afterwards and watched 2010 Space Odyssey II. How very romantic I was back then...
I also told Papi and Titi Gloria about my plans. Mom and I weren't on speaking terms, so I told her nothing, nor to my little brother.
My Last Encounter with a Puerto Rican Celebrity
Back at the UPRM I continued plodding along. I found myself excelling in the humanities and not-so-much in my core math and physics courses. I was a mess in those. I even found myself exploring options in the Philosophy Department. I’m glad nothing moved in that direction from my initial “what-ifs.”
One Thursday we had Bishop Antulio Parrilla Bonilla, SJ, a Catholic “bishop-without-portfolio” in Puerto Rico, as a guest Mass celebrant. He was a pioneer in the cooperative movement in Puerto Rico and a social justice warrior. Incidentally, Bishop Parrilla served in Panamá during World War II, manning air defense gunnery platforms at the same time Dad was there. I don’t think they ever met.
Bishop Parrilla was also a staunch defender of Puerto Rico’s independence from the US and was arrested once for protesting the presence of the US Navy in Puerto Rico’s Island-Municipality of Vieques. He was “outspoken in his opposition to military conscription because of its possibly forcing Puerto Ricans to fight in ‘Yankee’ wars against their Latin American or Caribbean sisters and brothers, or to defend the interests of multinational corporations” (Source).
That Thursday the good bishop needed a ride to the nearby town of Aguadilla and the Catholic Youth Group Leader volunteered for it. The leader invited me for the ride and I sat on the back seat with Bishop Parrilla.
I started a conversation about various ancillary issues regarding the Church, history, and society. I’d wanted to sound smart but I fear the good bishop only found me a well-intentioned dilettante. Then, our leader - who was also the driver - smiled maliciously and told the Bishop something I hadn’t chosen to tell him at that time: that I would soon be joining the U.S. Air Force (USAF). Bishop Parrilla looked at me, gave me a sad smile, and said nothing. Yet, I had the impression I’d shrank before him, diminished, humiliated. The conversation changed and I didn’t participate in any more. I don’t recall what we talked about during the return trip. I said nothing about how the disruption in our conversation had made me feel.
Was I being a traitor to Puerto Rico?
Was I betraying Puerto Rico by enlisting in the USAF? That’s the implied question my peers had to my intended military enlistment. In this, Puerto Rico pro-Independence partisans asked the same question American Patriots asked of Americans during the Revolutionary War: where does your loyalty lie? Answer it one way and you’ll be a traitor to America. Or to Britain.
The question and the ensuing judgments are inherently unfair, because the questioner already prejudges a person’s character based upon the answer. The questioner also assumes that one must feel ill-will towards Puerto Rico, its history, culture, and people if one opts to serve in the US military. The question is a lot like Have you stopped beating your spouse, yes, or no? No matter how one answers it, one is at an disadvantage.
The whole question is insulting and those who ask it must rethink it. Just because I then, as I do now, think that Puerto Rico’s future lies in an eventual admission to the United States as a state should not construe any Puerto Rican as “traitor.” Who gave them that power anyway?
I happened to have a political opinion about Puerto Rico’s future destiny. In a free society I’m entitled to have an opinion, to advocate it, and to work for it. I’m no less of a Puerto Rican for believing and acting thusly.
Many examples of political independence in Latin America proposed by Puerto Rican independentistas fall short from bringing their populations to a decent standard of living. At that time Puerto Rico’s standard of living was by far the highest in Latin America. We only had to travel to our surrounding sister countries to see for ourselves. It doesn’t take a deep political and economic analysis to understand that Puerto Rico’s connection to the US had been key to maintaining the standard of living in Puerto Rico.
The migration arrow is also an indicator of this fact. No one is leaving any country for Cuba - the independentistas’ favorite example of what they called “true” freedom. Nowadays no one is leaving for either Nicaragua or Venezuela to attain the same. The migration arrows point starkly the other way: toward the US borders that include Puerto Rico. Even Puerto Rico as a US "colony” is preferable to these migrants who prefer food, clothing, and shelter over what their leaders define as dignity. The aforementioned workers’ paradises are dismal failures mired in despotic misery.
Others equate dignity with independence, regardless of the people going hungry or falling prey to utopic regimes whose solutions to end social inequality is destroying the people’s civil rights and private initiatives. Poverty flows from this destruction of civil rights and private initiatives. The rule of law is the ground from which these freedoms grow, absent in the proposed examples. The manifold exchanges of goods, services, ideas, and people are the engine of economic growth and of increasing human flourishing. That was my implied thought back then and my mature thought right now.
Political rant follows.
Now, is this system of economic and personal freedom under law ever perfect? No, it isn’t. Nothing human is. We must protect those who can’t participate in these exchanges - the elderly, infirm, orphans, widows, migrants escaping war or abject poverty, etc. As a society we must do something to care for these and help them attain their own human flourishing. This we can do best when the state steps away and let the people do it, not a political party, not a partisan vanguard, none of these things.
In the end, I’d decided to join the USAF for personal reasons: to achieve my personal independence and to exercise it in a context where I could have a family, and also develop in body, mind, and spirit. As I saw it, pursuing my independence took priority over any other quest for Puerto Rico’s political independence. No independentista program in Puerto Rico had ever offered me such an opportunity. I saw no contradiction between seeking my human flourishing and seeking Puerto Rico’s own flourishing at the same time, in the way I saw fit.
I felt no compunction or crisis of conscience after my encounter with Bishop Parrilla. Despite our dismal meeting, I consider Bishop Parrilla a saint alongside the Venerable Dorothy Day. He’s gone to Our Father’s House since. He now has the full picture and understands everything.
In the late spring of 1985, I went to the San Juan Military Entrance Processing Station (MEPS), underwent a humiliating medical exam, and prepared to sign my enlistment contract. I’d chosen to wear the uniform of the United States’ military with no compunction. I would report to Lackland Air Force Base (AFB) near San Antonio, Texas, in mid-May 1985.
Bye Bye, Physics
My last day at UPRM happened to be a Thursday. Mercie accompanied me to Mass and then to what I’d expected to be a sent-away gathering by my colleagues at the Society of Physics Students’ meeting room. When we walked in at 11 AM on the dot, the time I was told to be in, no one but the Society’s President was there. He was in a foul mood. We waited for about 5 minutes and no one came. Perhaps I’d misunderstood the friendly summons to be there at that date and time. The President revealed nothing. No matter. I bid adieu to the President and left to return to no more. I’ve forgotten all their names ever since.
I also didn’t know I was also abandoning physics as a profession, forever.
Excelente!! Me encantan tus escritos y con la firmeza y seguridad que los escribes.. 🙏🏻bella historia de amor y superación.. Adelante Siempre♥️🙋🏻♀️