Spiffers is gone

Sometime ago I imagined my father in heaven minding his own business when all of the sudden spiffers came along side my father. In my thoughts, I envisioned my father scooping up the doggy into his arms and holding him tight. I see the dog happy, with his mouth open and his tongue partially hanging out. The dog is happy. My father is happy.

In honor of spiffer ... an ode I give:

You came to us unwanted, you had no where to live
Your previous owners abandoned you, we took you in

From day one you took ownership of the house, peeing was your game
The corners of the carpet were no longer the same

You pranced and strutted around, strutting your youthful appearance
Jinglin', jinglin' from both the collar in the front and your manhood in the back

You were an aggressive teen, one who loved the ladies and disliked the men
The day came when you bit your owner in the face and so that became your demise

A few days latter you encountered your new self

A jinglin', jinglin' was now merely from the front, your manhood became a memory, a story of disgrace

You have departed from our presence, hopefully to soon be seen again
Your death was not natural, we submitted your forcefully into the bitter end

We dug a hole in that back yard deep enough to keep you from becoming food
we stood around your grave thinking of you

We search for a box but none could be found
we settle for a plastic bin which keeps you in the ground

We said a prayer of thankfulness and hope
that one day soon we should soon hear you again

But until that day, we will for now just think of you, our dear ol' sweet, crotchety friend

Life in the past month

So much has happened...that seems to be an understatement.

It's 7:40 p.m., it's a Friday and I am at work. This has been typical...the scenario has been the same over the last week and will only become a permanent facect for a while.

My Father died 38 days ago. I long for him. In my head, I vividly remember seeing him on his death bed. He looked peaceful -- full of life and completely devoid of life. I remember patting him on the check with my hand in hopes of waking him up. "Dad, dad, dad, wake up" I passed to him. His check absorbed the patting of my hand. His head moved slightly. "He gone, Ramon, he's gone" my mother said. I miss him.

What I get and what I don't get: my father is heaven...and I believe that. He's happy, but we hurt. We're supposed to be happy because he is in heaven, but we are supposed to be sad because he is not here. These are things that I get and don't get.

I identify with the woman who cried at Jesus' feet...why did my brother have to go...but I understand he will be resurrected. Jesus responds, "he will be resurrected." And so it was, Lazarus was resurrected.

During my father's funeral I intimately wished that God would raise my dad from the dead. The events ran through my mind: God could raise my father from the dead. My father would sit up in his casket. People all around would gasp. People would cry. We all would cry. I would cry. Utter amazement would over come us all. Some how news crews would get wind of the mighty resurrection and pounce onto scence at the funeral. Local anchormen and woman would interview my family and me. But, for my father's safety, we would prohibit interviews with my father. 3 days after my father had been resurrected, we would be on Larry King live. He would ask us, "why do you not allow people to interview your father, the resurrected one?" We/I would respond, it is best for him that way. A day later, the tabloids, in huge letters would print: "Resurrected man dies." And the circus would all be over.

On another note: I now have a girlfriend...what a weird but delightful thing.

Dear Family and Friends:

I write to inform you of my father's passing. On June 15, 2004, at 4 a.m.,
with my mother at his side, he took his last breath.

Funeral arrangements are:

The Viewing
June 21, 2004 (Monday)
Family hours: Noon - 1 p.m.
General hours: 1 p.m. - 7 p.m.

The Funeral (Tuesday)
June 22, 2004
Service: 1 p.m.
Grave-side service: 2:30 p.m.

Both the viewing and the funeral will be held at Bunkers Mortuary, 925 Las
Vegas Blvd. N. (across the street from Cashman field). In lieu of flowers,
my family would appreciate donations to off-set funeral costs.

For individuals needing a place to stay, my place of employment (VEGAS.com)
has been kind enough to provide people with great rates for Sunday, Monday
and Tuesday. The hotel is called Emerald Quarter Suites (4777 Cameron Dr.)
Please call 888-719-4040 and tell the travel service agent that you are with
Felix Avendano's funeral. The discount rate is $29.95 per night per room.

Phone calls and visits are welcomed. Phone calls can be made directly to my
cell at 580-6919. Visits are welcomed at my parent's home, 6222 Foothill
Blvd., Las Vegas, NV 89118. However, with that said, please call first :-)

We thank you all for you care, affection, thoughts and prayers.

With Love,

Ramon (on behalf of the Avendano Family)

Roommate wanted immediately -- can you help out a brutha'

We have an availability at my rental home. The roommates who currently live
there are looking for a roommate to fill the vacant room.

Specs on the room we are renting:

* Room size: 10 ft. X 11
* Close proximity to the hall bathroom
* Wall color of the room is a light gray (incoming person can paint it if
they'd like)
* Nice size closet


Some info about the house:

* 1650 sq. ft. 3 bedrooms, 2 bath.
* 2 living rooms
* 2 car garage
* Front yard
* Backyard has a Huge pool and decent size grass area
* Approximately 2 miles from UNLV
* The home address is 3077 Aldon Ave., Las Vegas, NV 89121


There are a few things we're looking for in a roommate:

* Preferably a guy, but a girl roommate may be considered.
* Has a legal source of income
* Should be able to get along with other people
* Pet's may be welcomed -- all depends on the pet

Rent:

* $275 + utilities (we may be able to work with the person on the rent cost
if need be)


Please call Ramon at 580-6919 or the house at 433-9952 if interested. If you
ain't interested but know someone, please tell them about this availability.

Thanks!

Ramon

FYI: I own the home and rent it out my friends, so I don't actually live
there.

Ineffective: Where's the local NAACP chapter, black?

I was watching a VH1 program on the band OUTKAST. After some airtime past, the program cut away to commercials.

Suddenly, a "black" guy appears on my screen. He's decked out in an "urban" ensemble - baggy white t-shirt, baggy blue jeans, a pair of name brand sneakers, a turned-sideways hat and next to his pearly whites he dawned a gold tooth.

Him being "black" and wearing his "urban" ensemble bothered me greatly...

...appearntly, VH1's advertising department found it okay for a Bails bond company to hype and glamourize their "product" via this "black" guy and his "urban-ness".

As this "black" guy touted the services of this bail bond company, I thought "how ineffective, how stupid and how sad." But the really cool thing that soothed my soul and made things better was the closing line ... "Se habla espanol".

Here's to companies that make money off stereo types and diversity!

Sounds. Memories.

I started listening to Sigur Ros again -- Agaetis Byrjun. The song after the intro is called Svefn g englar.

As I listened to this song today while at work it conjured up the idea of sirens (yes, like TI sirens -- without all the sexual crap). The next thought that came was me standing at the top of a huge cliff in Mexico. Looking down toward the ocean, I saw rocks, water and sea lions.

The memory was of a family trip I took with my mom and dad a long time ago.

Both the memory and the song are beautifully sad. It reminds me of my father because he was there on the trip, he took us there. How I miss the way my father was. How I will miss him when he is no longer in this world. I miss him already. I miss him and I love him. With all his faults he was and is and will always be a good man.

I cry for him. I cry for me.

See Tommy

I saw Tommy Peterson Today. Seeing him made my day. It was good to see you, man.

Thank you, Father.

Ramon

Perfect English

There came a time in my life where I began to resent my parents for not speaking "perfect english". Along with that, I realized that the real problem layed with me. My lack of pactience was the true culprit.

The Palmers

I'm indebted to the Palmer's. What Father provided them with (close knit community, love, suffering) he too has provided for us. I'm thankful, Mark never seemed to hold back the reality of their situation.

Community

Last week Father brought together our community at my parent's home. We first met up at the Stoddards and then headed over to my parents for time of loving each other and praying for one another.

Indebted

There are SO MANY PEOPLE who need to be thanked individually and as a whole. My family and I are indebted to all of our brothers and sisters who continue to stand with us, and bear through this time of pain and transition. You all deserve to mentioned by name, but I'm sure many of you rather me keep your names silent. May you all be honored for your love. May His Kingdom come.

Instead of mentioning your names, I will mention your beautiful deeds (in no particular order):

Monday night Dinners

Wednesday night Dinners

Prayers and Afirmation

Home retrofitting

Being showered with spontaneous groceries

Assitance in filling out medicaid application

Picking up and dropping off prescriptions

Hanging out with my Dad

Offers of money

Helping my mom take my dad to doctors appoinments

Running errands

Offering a place to stay for visiting family to stay in

Mouring with my family

Rejoicing with my family

The list goes on ... I know I am forgetting somethings.

Happy

I'm filled with tears because there's help. I'm happy.

The state of an offering

Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane poured out his heart to Father.

Paul in Philippians writes that he himself is being poured out as a fragrant offering.

My dad has entered his Garden of Gethsemane. He is being poured out like a fragrant offering.

5:30 in the morn'

I was supposed to be at work at 4:30 a.m., but at 4:23 my boss calls and says "the network guys are delayed, so just come in about 5 am."

Since I had a few minutes to spare I talked to my parents for a little and then sat in the recliner with a cup of coffee, closed my eyes and meditated for a while. Re-read some of Paul's stuff. I really appreciate his "no confidence in the flesh" memorandum. And furthermore, I appreciate the depth that he delves into in regards to "wanting to know Christ and the POWER of his resurrection." But he doesn't stop there. He continues with wanting, hoping, desiring to "share with Christ in his suffering" to the point of becoming like Christ in his death. Paul has the idea that all of what he wants from Christ in not vain, but rather, there is a major purpose. He sees all of this to his benefit, providing him with the ability to "attain to the resurrection from the dead." That's some really cool and powerful stuff.

Co-workers

My co-worker Jason just peeked his head out of his cube and says "Erik reports that you farted yesterday." I replied with "you missed the show, man." Wow! What a show it was. For most guys and a few girls, there is just something really funny about farts. Especially the ones that clear house!

Yesterday, I cleared house.

As I sat in my cube, the arby's lunch I had was -- let's just say -- it was having a gaseous affect on me. So, discreetly and not thinking much about it, I farted. A few seconds later I smell the most hideous smell. The smell was funky!

I wasn't sure what to do...I mean, I was a little embarrassed. So, my bright idea was if I walk away, the fart will follow and hopefully not bother my co-workers. I was wrong. After I came back to my cube, and a few minutes had passed, my boss (Erik) says in a inquisitive manner, "hey, um...Ramon, did you uhm....do something?" Looking at him with a raised eyebrow, I examined his face and realized I had been caught. The look on his face was priceless.

No longer able to contain myself, I burst out in laughter. But not just any old laughter. I'm talking about the gut wrenching laughter that leaves you deliriously giggly.

My poor boss. Ah...who am I kidding, it was funny!

After my boss was no longer able to take my stench anymore, he picks up a magazine and fanned the air in hopes to shew the ravenous attack. He then playfully, but slightly seriously yells "take that stuff over the developers." Still unable to contain my giggles, I walk over to the developers cube. Their first question for me was "why are you laughing?" Sharing my story, they laughed with me.

In the words of Doug Citizen, "Ah life......."

:-)

Lights Out

I sit in a dark corner. Classical music soothes my head. Blah...blah...blah.

Its Saturday and I'm at work. The lights are off because we have a developer who likes to work in the dark. He comes over to me asking "hey Ramon, is it okay if I turned the lights off?" With out missing a beat I chimed back at him "sure, why not, I leaving in a while anyways." How accomadating of me.

It is freaky but kinda nice to work in the dark. On another note....

I'm having dinner with this wonderful man tonight, his wife is coming too ;-) Actually, I'm having dinner with my buds, Erin and Darren. Maryann(e) (sp?) may come too. We are eating at the NEW Mediterranean cafe. I hear the food is the same good stuff, but not to expect to much out of the ambiance.

Met with Chris last night. That was a good time. 2 conclusions from last night. 1. I'm pretty sure I was mourning for Jesus. 2. I am terribly, utterly inept at being patient with people and having patience for myself.

As I shared with Chris it struck me. The patience he has for me I have not for myself or others.

I cried. He listened.

Sadness

I didn't know what to expect other than the hyped reports of blood and gore.

My reactions planed from one end of the sphere to the other end. I cried, I had fear, I was angry, I sat in despair, I accused; not what I expected to feel.

This morning I awoke up with sadness. The type of sadness that churns in you as you mourn the death of a person.

When I walked into work this morning, I was told by our administrator that Mike O'Callaghan died this morning of heart attack while he was at church.

I didn't know Mr. O'Callaghan personally, but I know that many people are in pain due to his departure.

My sadness this morning was for Jesus and continues on for Jesus and Mr. O'Callaghan too.

Dreams

I had a dream a couple of weeks ago. I dreamt that my friend Paul W. is moving. The dream was somber and passionate. I need to call him.

I have a dream that one day I will own many restaurants and give to the kingdom and live in the barrio or hood amongst the poor.

I want to give to the kingdom both financially and through my soul.

Ramon

I Feel like an F-ing IDIOT

Argh....

I feel like an idiot because I chewed out one of my dad's nurses. I allowed other things to affect me in a way that prompted me to treat her poorly. I should have indeed been bold with her, but not belligerent nor over the top. Dang it!

How do I make it up to her? How do I apologize? She's due an apology.

Contemplation and self-serving shameless Plug

Today is my birthday. I am 28. Well, actually, at 10:43 a.m. I will be 28.

28 is a number. I don't say that as in "please don't think I am old." Rather, 28 the number doesn't properly capture the previous years lived. The trials, the struggles, the attempts for purity, the cynicism, the torture, the unwanted feelings, the life lived, all reside behind a number.

Today is a good day....well, at least for me it is. Its not good because of the presents or cards. No...... I believe today is good because it is my birthday. I have been given the potential to live another day. I could have died last night and never made it to have seen my 28 birthday. Today is a good day.

I have alot more to say, but maybe I will wait for another day.

Do You Love your Father

I saw Big Fish this weekend.

I watched the movie with gladness and sadness in my heart. The movie, I declare, was made specially for my father and me...and the countless other father's who battle cancer and their sons.

How true did the movie ring with me.

I treat my father so bad sometimes. Typically I find that when I treat him bad is for two reasons: a) I hate the ravenous disease that eats away at him b) our roles are reversed now and I hate that.

I thought this past week was a moment of accepting my role as father/son.
I thought this past week was a moment of accepting his circumstances.

I don't think I was wrong in thinking those things. I think they remain true. The only difference is I no longer have the emotional butterflies that go along with such awareness.

I don't beat my father....but I beat him with my words.

I want to be a good son who truly cares for his father.
I want to look in my father's eyes and know that he knows that I care for him.
I want my father to look into my eyes and know that he is cared for.

Father, how can I make it up to you?
How can I bring meaning to you life.
How can I make it easy for you to call me your son.
How can I take your pain away.
How can I honor you.

"I like the movie...but it was some kind of sad--sad because he dies..." -- Felix Avendano

An ode to the Relyea's family member

You are round
You are brown

You snort
You fart
You smell

You breath heavy
You have bad breathe

You are a dominatrix
You are sensitive to the touch

You have been diagnosed with a condition
Your plumpness is not your fault

Take pride you overweight Chihuahua. Take pride.

El Fin

With a sigh of relief, I can now proclaim: "We are done".

The new apex site is up!

Major thanks goes to:

Jim Sullivan
Gregg Stokes
Kurtis Kopf

and Greg Hubbard for seeing this to its completion!

But that's who he is now

The glare
The stare
The infantilel excitement
The curiosity of whose at the door

To leap out of bed
To investigate
To no longer procrastinate

Life is different now

Your youth is a memory

For us

We recall the days of dancing
The days of excitement
The days of Joventud ---

Youthfulness is no longer manifested physically

Your stare expresses

Joy and Pain

Your time of becoming an old man came too soon.

Mine
Mis heridas No las puedo comparar Cada uno tiene suyo Pero son bien diferentes Son separados por una gran distancia El Gran Canyon no es Nada En todo su espacio No queda nuestras dolencias	My wounds I can't compare we each have them But each are are different Seperated by a great distance The Grand Canyon is nothing Even with all of its space Our hurts and pains are too enormous to fit in it.

Damn. It just ain't fair.

But...yes, yes, I know... life ain't fair.

Fairness is not what I hope for.

REDEMPTION