LIFE IN THE WAR ZONE: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CUCKOO WISE MAN

Today would have been my father's 95th birthday. He died a young man, no thanks to F---ING cancer, another scourge I would like to see trampled, squashed, obliterated along with F---ING Covid 19.

My father, named Dario, was an engineer by trade, studied subjects like electricity and mechanics during his days at the University of Havana. He was an incredibly intelligent man, and I'm not bragging here. If he got it into his head to do something, he would do it, and involved everyone else. 

His family called him "El Sabio Cucu" - translated to English, the Cuckoo Wise Man. (I was born into a very funny and creative family. )

The Cuckoo Wise Man decided that he wanted to make a man's shirt -- one of the hardest items any tailor could tackle. Papi and my uncle Manuel (an equally Cuckoo Wise Man)  bought patterns, thick woolen fabric and commandeered the sewing machine. They cut, they sewed, they drank a couple of beers. Two days later they showed off the immaculately made shirts. 

My brother and I wanted a hamster and so the little fellow ended up living in the basement. One night the squeaks from the hamster wheel were getting on Papi's nerves. He scurried to his workbench and stayed there for hours. Finally, he yelled "EUREKA!" and we all ran downstairs. The Cuckoo Wise Man had put ball bearings on the hamster wheel. Now it was silent and the poor hamster was whipping around at a thousand miles an hour. 

It would be remiss to forget when he took all of our winter blankets and stapled them to the living room walls. He had just bought a new stereo system and was trying to improve the acoustics. I ran into him with a blanket forming a half shell over his head, listening to Beethoven's Ninth full tilt. To her credit, my mother said nothing. (She had some Cuckoo action going on too but that's another story.) The blankets stayed on the wall for nearly a week until it was time to move onto another experiment. 

And let me divulge about how he used to dig traps on the sands of Miami Beach, waiting for some unfortunate to fall into them. My brother and I were conscripted into these shenanigans and were sworn to secrecy.

Papi's cancer ended his life in his early 60s, leaving his family feeling gypped of more years with this insane, smart and lovable person. But instead today I will focus on the things he did and then some, grateful that I was fortunate enough to be the daughter of the Cuckoo Wise Man.

Incidentally, Cuckoo Wise Man would have told you to wear the masks, people, wear the damn masks.