The Coolest Guy I Know (5-30-12)

Growing up, saying that my family life was weird would be an understatement. I was an interracial kid at a time when a lot fewer of them were running around. I was often confused when it came to social choices. Was I supposed to hang out with the white kids? The Puerto Rican kids? Some of the white kids didn’t want to hang out with me because I was Puerto Rican and some of the Hispanic kids didn’t like me because I was part white and didn’t speak Spanish. So growing up I had friends of every kind, often the misfits and unusual ones but they were white, black, Hispanic, Native American, you name it.

One side of my family was German-Polish and the other, Puerto Rican, so one weekend I would be eating pierogis in the suburbs and the next I’d be eating rice and gandules somewhere in the city. It was confusing as I struggled to find out who and what I was but looking back on it, I wouldn’t change a thing. It was amazing to have so much diversity in my childhood, to be introduced to so many things and no one introduced me to more than my brother Bryan.

My father had a previous marriage before meeting my mother and from it came 6 kids. There were 4 brothers and 2 sisters and I would always get excited when any of them came over to visit, but with Bryan it was always a little extra. Our dad was a month shy of his 50^th birthday when I was born so there wasn’t just one generation between us. There were miles. I often found myself perplexed trying to understand his dated logic on things, his perspective. He was so behind the times and wasn’t interested in catching up. He probably felt like I didn’t understand him and I certainly felt like he didn’t understand me. He was stubborn and so was I so pair that with the lack of understanding and you can imagine the lines of communication between us weren’t always clear.

When I was young I didn’t want to be like my dad. I loved him dearly but he was old fashioned and cheap. He didn’t understand the value of things at that time. He had closed and locked his doors while I had just opened mine. He always told me to be proud, aggressive and to take no crap from anyone. He gave advice that conflicted with my growing beliefs. He often reminded me that if I threw the first punch in a fight, it could very well be the last punch too. I didn’t want to punch anybody. He had a fiery temper (which I did inherit) and he could be very cold sometimes, often showing little to no emotion. I loved him but that wasn’t how I wanted to be. I still think to this day it’s a big reason why I am very warm and emotional. I didn’t want to be like him. I wanted to be like Bryan.  

Bryan seemed larger than life to me. He was so damn cool. He was handsome and he had many interests. He’d always been doing some cool thing and would soon be off to do another cool thing. He was a superhero to me… a cool superhero, a cool-perhero! I’d meet so many people; our father included who had a very narrow scope of pursuits and interests but Bryan taught me it was okay to like as much as my heart desired and like him, my heart desired plenty.

After I begged my parents to buy me Michael Jackson’s Thriller album at Hills sometime in 1983, despite my father’s objections to buying me a record with a “fruitcake” laying alongside a tiger on the cover, Bryan gave me cassette copies of Van Halen’s 1984 and Prince's Purple Rain. To say they had a profound impact on me would be an understatement. I ate them up and those 2 records helped to shape my musical tastes for years and still do to this day. The styles of those 2 records were so different but they had much in common with how iconic and amazing they were! Who knew? Most people liked one or the other; I didn’t understand why they couldn’t like both. My brother Bryan did and he was the coolest guy I knew. I wanted to be cool like that too.

A short time later Bryan and another brother, Lawrence took me to my first concert: AC/DC at Memorial Auditorium on December 1^st, 1983. We had floor seats and the stage wasn’t very far from us. By halfway through the show I found myself mouthing the words of these newly discovered choruses and I was fascinated by the funny smelling and strangely shaped “cigarettes” being passed around the floor. When it came over towards me, someone asked if I was wanted to try it. I was too afraid… probably for the best being that I was NINE but it was my first taste of a real Rock n Roll show and I loved it. I might have gone to a few more since. During the next year Bryan also took me to my first ever movie; Ghostbusters. Our father would never go or take me anywhere so my experiences to that point in my life were confined to whatever I could find in our poor lower west side neighborhood. I couldn’t believe how cool it was to see a movie in a movie theater. I still freak out whenever that film comes on television. You never forget your first.

Bryan was involved in many of my firsts… my first Bills game, Sabres game, my first pro wrestling show, my first rock record, first rock show, my first trip to a mall and my first visit to Bills training camp in 1985. I wore the t-shirt he got me there that day until it literally fell apart. He took me places I had never been and opened up brand new worlds to me. It was magical and cathartic. Whenever my mom would tell me he was coming by I would get so excited. I’d be bouncing all over the place and when he walked through the door I’d always try to regain my composure and play it cool, like him. We always talked about music and sports, 2 things that were and are always near and dear to our hearts. i don't know, perhaps those things matter so much to me because they mattered to him. I related to him more than any other person in my family and he’s always been my favorite relative. He inspired me and taught me so much. He always had great advice for me, especially in those times where I was impatient and too excitable. Our dad could have given me the exact same advice and like most kids I would have probably thought, pfft what does he know but if Bryan said the same thing, I’d think well if Bryan said it, it must be right. He was always there when I needed that advice, gear for football, things for school or even money for a class ring. He was always making me laugh and always leaving me feeling lucky I had him in my life. He's with me with every step I take, his influence, his passion, his love.

I’ll always be grateful for everything he has given to me and I’ll always felt indebted to him for it. So right now I want to say thank you Bryan. Thank you for being a great brother and thank you for always being the coolest guy I know.

The Old Me (5-26-12)

Last night I was supposed to go to a pretty cool event. It was called El Museo de Infringe. It was a fundraiser for both the El Museo gallery on Allen St. and the 2012 Buffalo Infringement Festival, of which I will be performing at again this year (but more on that later). On facebook I learned it was going from 6:30 to 11. I thought with such a wide range of time there’d be no way I would/could miss it. I was looking forward to it for many reasons. The first is to help the Infringement Festival out. I absolutely love that they exist and for several years now I’ve been going to many events related to the festival and supporting that way but throwing them some cash, just because is nice too. There was also supposed to be entertainment in the form of music, poetry and dancing and all I can to that is yup, yup and yup… 3 things I enjoy. Lastly and most important to me I guess was the fact that this show was the first opportunity for the general public to buy the new 2012 Buffalo Infringement Festival t-shirts. I still wear my 2011 one proudly and I think I bought that one only a few weeks before the festival started last year so I had hardly a chance to wear it out and promote the festival beforehand but this time, I could get a shirt 2 months before the start of the festival and if I wore it out to high profile events and activities I could probably get 7-8 wears in before the 2012 festival starts. Let’s not forget to mention it’s also a great conversation starter! People will ask about the festival or mention that they want to check it out or that they saw something there last year or in the past and it provides a perfect segue for me to talk about it and also my showcase “Young Hearts and Old Minds” poetry by Eddie Gomez, appearing for the 2nd year in a row, time and place TBA.

Fast forward (or maybe rewind) to 8pm. I was just leaving work after working a longer day than I expected to and I began to ponder not going. I worked a ten hour day and was tired but I still had to stop for some minor groceries and supplies on the way home. When I finally walked in the door I knew I had to eat something. I had to eat so my energy levels would be at a level where I could make the decision whether to go or not. When you are tired that’s one thing, but tired and hungry and low on energy, I don’t see how a person can be objective when making a decision in that state. Most people wouldn’t even want to think about going out, socializing and spending a few hours doing something else when the body’s most basic needs haven’t been met (shoutout to Maslow).

So after eating and getting cleaned up I still wasn’t sure if I wanted to go. If this had been 6 months ago, a year ago, 3 years ago this wouldn’t have even been much of a decision. The old me would have checked the television listings, settled in and wouldn’t have cared. The old me would have tapped out, thrown in the towel and called it a night. It was already about 9:30, I was really tired from an extra long day and by the time I got down there the event would be wrapping up anyway… but not so fast... these are different times.

After hitting bottom around the holidays I’ve lost 32 pounds so far since New Years. While I still have a long journey to reach my ultimate goal, the momentum cannot be denied. My poetry reading and writing is growing stronger; my confidence is improving week to week. I am no longer afraid every time I want to go out into public and to shows, even if I have no one to go with, which was the case here. During this time of transition I’m really learning a lot about myself.

I used to think I didn’t like to be around people. For all these years I thought I was shy or anti-social. It is true that I am not comfortable around strangers, but who is? I don’t put on masks and pretend I’m someone I’m not. What you see is what you get with me so it’s not that I don’t like to be around people, it’s that I don’t like to be around less desirable or for lack of a better term, bad people. Who’s bad to me? Well other than Michael Jackson and Run DMC who are bad meaning good, I don’t like ignorance, arrogance, shallow, phony, selfish or mean peeps. We all have what we are willing and able to tolerate in people. Some people just don’t care that much but I feel really strongly about my tolerance. I feel like life is too short to spend parts of it voluntarily associating with bad people. I’m an easy going guy but there’s no easy going ignorance. There’s no laid back nasty. Nasty is nasty, selfish is selfish, ugly is ugly. I think that’s why I am uncomfortable around strangers because I don’t know where they fall yet. Are they good peeps? Are they genuine, nice? Until I know I can’t let my guards down. I realize I’ve drifted away from the original point but I want to make it clear that I am changing, in how I look, how I feel and how I think. It’s a new Eddie. 


The new me walked out the door at 9:37pm and marched all the way down to Allen. It took me about 35 minutes and when I got there, there wasn’t much show left. My brow was dripping steadily from the march down and I didn’t feel comfortable subjecting the crowd to “Sweaty Eddie” for the last little part of the show so I wiped myself down (always a good short term fix) and walked up to the t-shirt table and did what in my heart I wanted to do, buy that shirt! On the walk back I took Elmwood and as all the bar people and social butterflies fluttered past I was nearly oblivious. I couldn’t stop smiling because in my hand I had more than a t-shirt. It was a symbol. I did something I used to be completely incapable of doing. The walk home was sweet. The sweat continued to glisten on my face and my legs kept pumping. It seemed like I was walking at my fastest those last few blocks before home. The whole trek took nearly an hour and a half but instead of being tired from the lengthy march I sat content. I would have liked to have gotten there earlier and had a chance to enjoy the show but considering the circumstances, looking down at that shirt... the new me was pleased.