El Puro

Cubans call their fathers El Puro, the Pure One. I'm not really sure where the term came from or why it is used, but I've always thought it appropriate. There's a certain truth to it.

My Puro isn't a writer or an attorney. He's not a doctor or a businessman. He's not a scientist or journalist. He didn't invent the internet nor cure a disease. He is a welder. He is a man that coerces steel. He takes one of nature's hardest substances and through ingenuity, strength and determination convinces it to bend to his will. For the fifty or so years he's been a welder, iron has never beaten him.

Some men aren't content with their chosen paths. They complain about their jobs and their lot in life. And while you'll occassionaly hear a little cursing - Coño! Me cago en la mierda! - when some particular piece of hard metal refuses to cooperate, El Puro has never complained about the callouses on his hands or the sweat he's had to produce. He has always been thankful for his gift.

My old man was never much for words. He never gave me the birds and the bees speech. He never talked to me about alot of things. He taught by example. Still does.

I could never have asked for a better example of hard work and determination. I could never have asked for a better teacher of understanding and respect. Of duty and love for one's family. Of sheer strength and unbridled tenderness.

My father has worked a lifetime so his family would be comfortable. So his wife could have a humble home with a small patch of land for her garden. He swung sledge hammers and burned himself with acetylene torches so that I could have a better life than he did. He worked to buy me all the toys he never had when he was a child.

He's never actually told me he's proud of me but I know he is. I can tell by the way he introduces me to perfect strangers. Aqui lo tienes he always says (here he is). Este es mi hijo (this is my son). He's always puffed up when says that. As if of all the years of hard work, of the countless works of steel and iron he's produced throughout his life, I am his best piece of work. His obra de arte.

I've worried at times that I might not live to his expectations. That he wanted me to be more. But I've been wrong.

He didnt raise me to be a millionaire. He didnt raise me to be famous. He didnt raise me to change the world. He raised me to be a man. A man with dignity and honor. A man with respect and appreciation. A man with morals and values and convictions. A man with love for his family and fellow man.

I am but a slice of his purity and I will live my life proud to be just that. There is no higher achievement.

Felicidades Puro. Happy Father's Day Dad. Being a man like you is my goal in life. Thank you for molding my iron will. Thank you for shaping the ore of my person into this steel work of art in progress.

Posted by Val Prieto at June 20, 2004 08:32 AM

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