Dear Barack Obama,

In the weeks leading up to the November 4, 2008 presidential election, I remember knocking on doors in areas mama told me to aviod.  I canvassed with an Asian one day, a young African-American girl the next day, a young progressive White man the next, and a retired woman the next.  I remember visiting the local Obama phone banking sight and seeing long-time Latino friends running the show (one of which was an immigrant student).  I drove a 15 passenger van over 150 miles on election day to north Kansas City, through midtown, and then to Harrisonville dropping off and picking up volunteers who were hitting the streets one last time. 

As a first semester law student who swore in writting not to work, I was driven to sacrifice multiple nights of studying to contribute my infinitely small part to elect you president of the United States.  I believed in your message of hope and change, you inspired me, and you sealed the deal with me that you were a champion of immigrant rights when you promised to push an immigration bill through congress in your first year.  Let me refresh your memory: 

"I cannot guarantee that it is going to be in the first 100 days. But what I can guarantee is that we will have in the first year an immigration bill that I strongly support and that I'm promoting. And I want to move that forward as quickly as possible." - Jorge Ramos interview with you on May 28, 2008. 

But oh boy...after that first year, despite the excuses by some (especially by democratic Senator Charles Schumer who was tasked with writing the bill) that health care, jobs, Iraq, and Afghanistan kept immigration reform off of the agenda, not a single bill was introduced or even written to address immigration reform.  I certainly hope Schumer took "Multi-tasking" off of his resume as a result.  PROMISE, along with the hearts of many immigrants, BROKEN...

I hope you didn't think that we weren't watching, would overlook it, or would somehow forget?  It is true that lately Republican presidential candidates are doing a great job of alienating their hopes of splitting the Latino vote in 2012 every time they open their mouths thumping their chests as to who hates immigrants more.  But, is that how you wish to approach the Latino electorate?  Would you rather be known as the better alternative as opposed to a champion for immigrant rights? Do you think your defensiveness and blaming of Republicans will inspire us?  Do you believe criticism of your record of on immigration is a "disservice to the cause of getting the DREAM Act passed and getting comprehensive immigration reform passed?" Do you believe this messaging strategy is going to excite Latinos, drive us to the polls, and gear us into action for your re-election efforts? 

Once upon a time your message was one of hope and change; that you could even lower the oceans:



Just so you know, as president you have the power to issue executive orders.  Presidents have issued them since the inception of the republic.  Hey look here, you are no exception. Here are listings of the executive orders you have issued: 2009, 2010, 2011.

Despite the 95 executive orders you've signed to date, an executive order providing immigration relief to undocumented kids seems to be your kryptonite I guess.  See, this was you a few weeks ago basically telling us that your executive powers are useless and that you can not go to bat for DREAM kids.  Maybe I'm wrong, but its seems the very fact that we are even challenging you on this point irks you a bit.  (from minute 25:30-28:00)


Isn't it a bit disrespectful to presume we don't know the law well enough to understand your mistatements of what you can and can not do as president? 

I urge you to go down the street and  ask US Senators, many of whom are lawyers,  if they believe you can and should use such powers you claim you don't have. 

Sadly, I also get the sense you know what powers you have, given that you are a constiutional law professor, but you'd just rather not confront it.  Confronting reality even seems tough for your team to face. As Harry S Truman would say, "I never give them hell, I just tell the truth and they think it's hell!" 



Bottom line is, its seems you will continue to spread the falsity that you don't believe your administation can priortize resources on criminals and not deport DREAM Act kids.  My message to you is simple: "Yes we can!"

We are not seeing in you a champion for immigrant rights.  In fact, what many Latinos see are record deportations (over 1 million! and on pace to out-deport George W. Bush in one term what took him two to accomplish!), and not just of criminals, but non-criminals are still being deported in the largest numbers than any other administration.  Even your "prosecutorial descretion" anouncement in August has no teeth, and eligible immigrants (Including DREAM kids) who were supposed to have their "low priority" cases administratively closed are still being deported.  We see inaction on pushing for the DREAM Act/CIR.  Most disheartening is that you generally portray the criticism you've received from Latinos as: 1) wrongly placed on you and should be placed on congressional Republicans, 2) not an issue you can address administratively without legislation, 3) and that such criticism does a disservice to the efforts of getting DREAM/CIR passed. 

You could only blame the Republicans if you yourself dedicated capital towards passage of immigration reform.  You can't blame the long muddy path as the reason why you did not make it up the hill if you never got in the driver's seat and turned on the ignition.  During the one-year window of time you promised CIR, you had 60 democratic votes and a Republican who committed to bring other Republicans on board.  You did not get on your bully pulpit for us when it mattered; or as of yet. 

This defensiveness of your record does not energize me or any Latino I've spoken with.  In fact, it is depressing us.  Addressing that you have shortcomings with regard to the Latino vote should be a priority.  The stakes could not be higher and a revamped messaging strategy will be critical in the key swing states with rapidly expanding Latino demographic shifts. 

I've been asked recently by a person affiliated with your 2012 re-election campaign: "Where are my Latinos at?"  The only answer I can think to give is that if only you had done what you promised, this question would never have arisen and we would already be in the trenches fighting for our champion.   

I wish I were politically savvy enough to show you exactly how to get us back on the wagon.  I can tell you that any effort to pass DREAM or Comprehensive immigration reform prior to the election without  placement of significant political capital will fail.  Any attempt at DREAM or CIR without your complete buy-in might allow you to deliver smooth talking points on the campaign trail and it might help you bash Republicans on their one way ticket to political suicide by alienating the Latino vote.  But forgive me for believing your pre-election hype of our issues will be anything but an sad attempt to court the Latino vote.  I will be watching with great focus. 

But first things first.  Mr. Obama, the first step to addressing a problem is to admit you have one.  Mr Obama, you have a Latino problem on your hands.  67% of Latinos supported you in your 2008 election, today only 47% of Latinos approve of the job you are doing.  Nationwide, 50,000 Latinos turn 18 every month.  In 2008, there were 18 million eligible Latino Voters, in 2012, that number will be 22 million.  With these kinds of numbers, in swing states like Florida, Nevada, New Mexico, and Colorado, if 67% of Latinos vote for you again...you will win, it's that simple.  Even in Missouri, registered Latino voters have risen 24% just from 2008-2010.  As states such as Nevada and Colorado may prove decisive battleground states for your re-election, I implore you to ask Harry Reid of Nevada how important the Latino vote was there (Won 94% of Latino Vote, won election by 5%), or Michael Bennet in Colorado if the Latino vote was important there (Won 81% of the Latino Vote, won by .5%) in 2010. 

I want you to know that Latinos are not single-issue voters.  Immigration, in fact, is not even a top five issue.  We are members of the general public and all other issues are important.  However, when the word "immigration" comes out of the mouth of a politician, Latinos listen with razor sharp focus.  So as you travel to swing states with large Latino populations, and when you begin your efforts to re-connect with the Latino vote, I'd advise you to reexamine your messaging. 

Mr. Obama, you have overpromised and underdelivered, and the bad news is you will suffer the inescapable political consequences. Will I advocate that Latinos sit this one out on election day?  Never.  But many Latinos are jaded along with me. When the time comes, those who do vote will likely vote for you as the better alternative, but not as our champion.  If your approach does not change, and we are not inspired or energized, perhaps many Latino voters might favor sitting out this election at the local Taco Tuesday special as seeming more tasty and less salty than a vote for you on that day.

Sincerely,

Raymond Rico

Wisdom Of Our Fathers: Heaven is For Real

[It has now been six months, or a half-year since my father's passing.  This is the blog piece I have wanted to share for quite some time.]

As a devout Catholic, I never needed any proof that there is in fact a heaven.  I have always believed without a shred of doubt that eternal life awaits us all.  Visions of heaven that accompany near death experiences are usually only told by those who live to tell about them.  For instance, the latest book I read was "Heaven is For Real," about a four year old boy named Colton who visited heaven while undergoing an emergency surgery, saw Jesus, met his unborn sister, his long-deceased grandfather, and confirmed biblical scripture that he had never been taught.  

Survivors and those who hear their stories draw strength from experiencing the beauty of heaven and, as a result, no longer fear death.  Now I too have my own set of stories that accompanied my dad’s departure from earth.  Although I never needed heaven to be confirmed to me, my dad's experience has shown me that yes, Heaven is for real, and as a result, that I should also no longer fear death.  I leave open the possibility that I have let myself read into these experiences a bit more than I should.  Most of these experiences I have not shared before now.  To me, they will remain stories with a hint of mystery, but with a ton of impact. 

Shortly after Dad's recovery from his initial 5+ hour long surgery on March 1st, he was wheeled to his room where we anxiously awaited his arrival.  Although still coming out of sedation, Dad was alert, was able to answer questions from nurses, looked me in the eye, said he felt little pain, and said he was thirsty.  When the first opportunity came for Dad to ask a question, his question took us all by surprise.  He asked with the most sincere and almost sad voice, "where's the little boy?" as though he expected him to enter the room behind him.  My mom responded, "what little boy, Cruzie? (his grandson)."  "No..." my dad said, "...the little boy that was with me downstairs."  

Despite the fact that he was still just coming out of surgery, there was a curiosity that just had to be explored, so I inquired further:
Me: "How old was the boy?"
Dad: "About five."  
Me: "What did the boy look like? Was he White, Black, Latino?"  
Dad: "Latino." 
Mom: "Was he cute like Cruzie?"
Dad: "He was cute, but not as cute as Cruzie."
The nurses were very busy but Mom then asked the nurse that wheeled him in whether there was a boy downstairs, and they responded that no child would be allowed with him, especially in the surgery room.  
Was this perhaps a guardian angel guiding dad through surgery?  We, unfortunately, will never know. But I know my dad had an experience during his surgery and in that moment, he cared more about the whereabouts of that boy than his own well-being or even chatting with us in the room.

I must admit that Dad had moments where it was clear he was not completely lucid. But I am still taken aback that Dad had some other-worldly experiences that seemed to always occur shortly after some of his most lucid moments.  I truly believe that dad was, for a time, living between two worlds. 

On Friday, April 1st, my father had one of his best days at the hospital, maybe his best.  During physical therapy, he took the most steps he had taken since undergoing an emergency additional 5+ hour surgery.  From his hospital bed he was making jokes, engaging in conversation, watching TV, and he did not fight me come feeding time, a small miracle.  Immediately after coherently responding to the nurse his name, birthday, and that he felt no pain, he turned to me and asked in Spanish: "Do you see those steps?" 
Me: "What steps?"
Dad: "Let's go!  (trying to get up from the bed and walk towards the steps)”
Me:  "No dad, what are you talking about?!"
Dad: "Those steps over there! (with a voice that suggested I must be blind)"
I walked towards the hospital wall where he was pointing: "There are no steps here Dad."
Dad: "You don't see those steps?"
Me: "Where do they go?"
Dad: "Al cielo (Heaven)"
Me: "No dad, it’s a hospital wall." (As I run my hand across the wall, even knocking on it to prove the point)
Dad: "Ramon, when you get a chance, dame unas toallas, una chiquita y una grande para las escaleras y traigame espuma (give me some towels, one little and one big for the steps and bring me some foam). Don't forget, ok?!"

Dad just looked back towards the hospital wall where he saw these steps and repeated, "don't forget."  Was he hallucinating?  Shortly thereafter, again the nurses came in, asked him questions. He was asked if he liked baseball (the season had just begun).  He said yes, he liked the royals (which still makes me smile that he admitted this).  He was asked if he liked music?  I joked, "he can sing too!"  My dad always thought that singers could (and do) make millions just repeating variations of the phrase: "ohhh baby!"  So, upon my request, he sang his "ohhh baby!" song for the nurse.

That night, despite the great day he had, my Tia was very concerned about this vision, but I interjected that my dad had his best day at the hospital and was lucid and his old self again.  I was happy.  Overnight, my dad began a sharp decline; his last.  

My Tia pointed out a similarity between what dad said at the hospital and the often omitted verse from the famous song “La Bamba” describing that the way to heaven has two sets of steps, a big one and a small one. Below are the key lyrics:

Para subir al cielo
Para subir al cielo se necesita
Una escalera grande
Hay una escalera grande y otra chiquita
Ay, arriba y arriba [listen from 0:43 below]



On a few occasions, my dad would have visions of his mother, who my dad loved tremendously and who passed away in 2003.  With a smile on his face, he would look towards the ceiling and state: "Ay que trabajadora es mama!"  (Oh, such a hard worker is mama!").  My mom asked, "What is she doing?"  He responded, "preparing things." 

Again, it was during some of Dad's more lucid moments that he would raise his hands up and say, "let's go!"  I'd respond: "Where dad?"  He'd respond "Home" and one time he responded "Heaven."  Shortly thereafter Dad said: “Has it come yet?”
Mom:  “Has who come yet?”
Dad: "The Holy Spirit."
Tia: "Don't talk like that, you still have a lot left to live for and still have many years left!
Dad: "Nope." (Shaking his head)

On Tuesday, April 5^th, I had one of those few dreams in my life that seemed not to be a dream at all.  I was staying at my parent’s home to look after mom and be close to family.  In this dream, I was in my car overlooking a hillside at dusk.  I could see the guard rails in the distance as though I were on a dead end street. 

However, on the right side of the street, I could see that there was a young girl with long black hair and a light complexion.  She was dressed in an angelic all-white dress.  As I looked at her face I noticed she was looking right at me, and she did not blink.  She had a big smile on her face that I could not help but focus in on.  For some reason, I first wanted to see if it was one of those evil smiles you see from villains in movies.  Quickly, I could dismiss that thought as I confirmed that this was, without a doubt, the most genuine and calming smile that I could ever only dream about. 

As I wondered what she was doing, I thought maybe she wanted to cross the street.  I waived for her to cross, and even honked my horn so she could acknowledge my waiving.  She did not flinch.  So, I gave up and just accepted that she just wanted to stand there, look at me, smile at me, and give me a sense that everything was going to be alright. 

As I woke up around 6am, I thought about this dream I had just had.  I called the hospital to check on my father’s status, where I was relieved just to know he was still alive, even though the news was grim.  I cried as I first told this story that day at work, because I felt that the reassurance did not indicate that everything was going to be great again.  This dream seemed to give me a sense that things were going to fall apart, but that despite the depth of the pain, and the sorrowful path ahead of me, she was there for me, and in that sense, everything was going to be alright.  I held on to that dream in the next few days as my dad continued to spiral downward until Dad ultimately passed.  I have held on to it since. 

Finally, for the last 14 years, Dad drove a 1992 van that had 6 doors (but only two worked), that you could hear from two blocks away as the engine roared.  Every month it seemed it was needing some work.  It smelled of leaking gas, had the check engine light perpetually lit, and had no working heater/AC/radio/wipers/interior lights/windows/locks.  Dad’s often stated quote was: “I’m not sure who’s going to go first, the van, or me.”  As it turned out, as I was driving the van two days before Dad’s surgery, the van finally stalled and there was no turning it back on.  Dad said that after the surgery he would buy a little truck.  Sadly, that day would never come.  However, two days after my father’s death, on Friday the 9^th, I had a dream that brought me to both tears and laughter.  Simply put, Dad was driving his van through the clouds on his way to heaven with a great big smile on his face. 

Hired! :)

Raymond Anthony Cruz Rico, J.D.

Joins

Garcia Immigration Law Firm, LLC

Garcia Immigration Law Firm, LLC in Kansas City, Kansas, welcomes Mr. Raymond Rico as an associate attorney.  Raymond was humbly born and raised in the Argentine barrio of Kansas City, Kansas.  Raymond is proud of his Mexican roots having a father who immigrated to the U.S. from Mexico armed only with a second grade education and a trashbag of belongings and a mother whose family migrated from Mexico and followed the railroad and other industrial labor factories eventually settling in Kansas City’s working class neighborhoods of Armourdale and Argentine.  Raymond is a USD 500 public school product who graduated from Sumner Academy of Arts & Sciences in 2001.  Raymond went on to KU and graduated in 2005 with degrees in Political Science and Latin American Studies while gaining experience interning at the Kansas City LULAC Educational Center, Coro Kansas City, the Congressional Hispanic Caucus Institute Internship Program, Governor Kathleen Sebelius’ office, and the Kansas Hispanic & Latino American Affairs Commission. 

After graduating from KU, Raymond had a short stay as an organizer with Community Housing of Wyandotte County until Raymond was selected to be a Congressional Hispanic Caucus Institute Fellow in Washington DC.  Through his fellowship, Raymond secured a policy analyst position with the National Immigration Law Center where he pushed for comprehensive immigration reform, fought anti-immigrant federal and state legislation, advocated in the halls of congress, spoke across the country about immigrant rights, and organized/facilitated the national United We DREAM Coalition in efforts to pass the DREAM Act.  Raymond completed his time in Washington working for the Alliance for Children and Families to advance the causes of non-profits throughout the United States. 

For the last three years, Raymond has attended the UMKC School of Law and led UMKC’s Hispanic Law Student Association.  Raymond graduated in May, 2011, and was admitted into the Missouri Bar September, 2011.  Raymond began working as a legal intern at the Garcia Immigration Law Firm, LLC in May, 2009 attending to the various needs of clients from all around the world who reside in the Kansas City area and surrounding states.  As Raymond transitions to an associate attorney position, Raymond states: “I am grateful and humbled by the opportunity to join the Garcia Immigration Law Firm and its wonderful staff as an associate attorney and look forward to growing professionally while serving the community alongside my longtime friend and mentor, Teodoro Garcia Jr.”  In addition to practicing immigration law, Raymond plans to become a more active member of the Kansas City community through participating in various associations and organizations, plans to advocate for immigrant rights, especially immigrant student rights, to fight apathy through civic and political engagement, and focus on promoting education in every way possible among the next generation of young Latinos. 

 

Two Big Sighs of Relief

Sorry it has taken me so long to return to my blog, I have begun many different posts am ready to get back on the saddle and write my thoughts. 

This week was truly one to remember while at the same time one to try and forget.

Sigh #1: The great news is that I passed the Missouri bar exam!

No, not that one, the actual Missouri Board of Law Examiners Bar Exam! 

Well, pursuing a law degree has a been a dream of mine for at least 13 years since winning a mock trial debate at the National Hispanic Institute Great Debate.  This bar exam was no joke and it kicked my butt every which way...but I fought the law, and I won!!  There's nothing quite like the overwhelming amount of information one must absorb and conquer, the time commitment it takes, and the stress associated with eating, sleeping, and shitting the law.  Having a headache for weeks prior to the exam and throughout day 2 of the exam didn't help and thoughts of my dad continued to dominate my mind on both test days.  Knowing that I have been dealing with a lot of emotions, I was advised to seriously think about dropping law school courses, taking them in the summer, and delaying taking the bar.  Again, I was having none of that! 

As fate would have it, my life circumstances served as both a distraction impacting my emotions and mental clarity...while at the same time these same circumstances served as fuel and trumped the distractions by serving as my greatest motivation.  The thing I kept thinking about was how much my dad was on team Raymond.  One of the last deep conversations I had with my dad was about how scared I was of this monster of an exam and how conquering it would be the last and hardest hurdle to achieving my dream.  His response: "God bless you boy!  I'm proud of you and just try your best!"  Law school plus the bar exam were the hardest things I ever achieved and there were no shortcuts.

How did I celebrate? I first went to go visit my dad.  I cried my eyes out the first time dad dropped me off at Kindergarten, and I must say I cried my eyes out 30 minutes after getting my results at my dad's grave site.  I took blades of grass from the grave site to go celebrate with me!  I went to give mom a big hug, saw my nephews (who also wished me congratulations), and went to meet up with the newest lawyers and close friends at the official Coors Lite/UMKC bar passage after party!

I received lots of love on facebook and, besides family, it made me proudest of all to hear folks from Argentine, KCK and the many Latinos who told me in one collective voice: "Oh, so now you think you all bad or what?"  This one's for you!

There are too many people to thank by name but just know that I could not have done this alone.  I'm a son of am immigrant with a second grade education, I'm a public school KCK USD 500 student, it took a barrio to raise this kid, I can not read fast, I don't believe I'm that smart of a guy (please don't disagree, believe me! I'm not!), and a poor Mexican-American average student from the barrio can become a lawyer.  The axiom is also true in this case: It doesn't matter where you come from, if your parents are wealthy or well-connected...If I can do it, you can do it too. If you think you can't do it, talk to me!

I will be making the best of it in Jefferson City (Sept. 26th) with my mother in attendance at the Oath of Admission to the Missouri Bar at the Supreme Court of Missouri.  

Lastly, what do I plan to do with my new law license?  Well, I don't know yet and is another topic for a blog another day.  But know this: I feel there's no point of getting a law degree if you can't do some damage with it.  I am a servant at heart, and when only 2.2% of lawyers are Latino, I won't let you down, I promise you, because I can't. 

Mission Accomplished!

Sigh #2 Survival

In the same week I find out I pass the bar and accomplished my dream, the dream almost ended on I-70 before it began.  I found myself lodged underneath a semi truck after it encroached into my lane causing me to swerve to avoid contact, losing control as a result, completely going sideways when I tried to correct my chevy impala and ended up in a t-bone formation under the semi.  We were going over 60 mph, I was dragged under the semi until we came to a complete stop (which felt like an eternity), and I can think of 999 ways that this crash could have ended in disaster.  Not to sound conceited, but even I can take a step away and appreciate the tragedy this could have been given the good news I received this week and the tragedies that have already befallen my poor mother.  I have been told by many that my dad was looking after me.  I can't say I disagree.  I can not answer for the life of me where my head was at the time of impact and why I was able walk away with only a concussion and a lovely looking forhead.  But I am ok, and all I know is that I'm very blessed, thankful, and someone is looking after me.  Life is a little bit sweeter today. 

 Scene of the accident.  I was in lane three and a semi was in lane two.  The semi entered my lane, I swerved to the right to avoid contact and lost control as I tried to correct to the left and ended up lodged under the semi.  You can see the tire marks in this photo as we entered the "V" of the split.  The marks are from my tires as I was sideways being dragged for what seemed like an eternity.

KU Medical Center Emergency Room

Where my head was at the time of impact.

The steel frame that saved my life as it impacted the underside of a semi at 60 mph. 

Totaled!

Video!

Law School & Bar Exam: The Aftermath

Two weeks ago I completed the bar exam in Jefferson City.  I am still not sure if I have quite recovered yet.  I'm still getting migranes and pain behind my eyes which I never had problems with before the bar exam.  Law school and this bar exam, together, were the hardest things I've ever done to this point.  I'm glad it's in the rearview mirror and I should find out the results come mid-September.  eeek! I'm crossing my breath and holding my fingers!


Disclaimer: Law school and the bar are not at all to be confused with the hardest thing I've ever faced. (See my earlier post)


The last three years of my life have been singularly dedicated to pursuit of a law degree.  In fact, I realize now my pursuit of the law goes back many years before then.  I participated in the National Hispanic Institute YLC Debate which steered me to believe I had the talent to pursue something other than sports and that I had a voice that I could use. The fact that we won in mock trial, took home the trophy, combined with watching "My Cousin Vinny" made me think I could maybe consider law as a career. 



Furthermore, I had always read the newspaper (and never wanted to throw these historical records away - my past roomates can attest to this), watched the news, and I have been abnormally interested in politics and world events.  For a full year in 2000 I scrapped together my favorite newspaper clippings until I noticed that this put me more in line with being a serial killer or kidnapper for ransom than I would have liked. 

For many years I scrapped together newspaper clippings!

  

I came to realize that these interests had one thing in common: the law!  99% of the news is related to the law and lawmakers.  So I managed to graduate high school, study political science at KU where I learned obscure theories: Machiavellian's better to be loved than feared, Confucious' virtues, Adam Smith's invisible hand to Karl Marx' chains he wanted to lose, Hobbes and Locke, Socrates, Plato, Seneca, Liberation Theology, Arrow's Theory, Conflict Theory, Game Theory, and I think Conspiracy Theory too.  I interned in various capacities for Governor Kathleen Sebelius, Rep. Dennis Moore, and with the Kansas Hispanic & Latino American Affairs Commission. 

I went to Washington, DC to strut my stuff and put my newfound knowledge to practice.  I worked to change the world through changing laws!  While there, I worked for lawyers and worked everyday to influence lawmakers!  Unfortunately, explaining to Senator Kit Bond that Adam Smith was wrong didn't move him an inch.  The biggest lesson I learned was what really happens to good public policy...politics!



I did not, however,  lose my faith that I could influence the system and challenge the man, but I did leave the life I knew in Washington and jump with both feet into law school! I willingly decided to live in poverty, take out loans, and as a famous defense secretary once said, "you go to law school with the swag you have, not the swag you might want or wish to have." 

I'm not sure if I ever really mastered the language of the law that first year, but I did learn that this law school thing was no joke, there was no turning back, and that failure was not an option. 

Thus, I also learned very quickly the power of saying "no," and I embraced it.  I said no to most community events, restricted my traveling, did not pursue some of my greatest passions of organizing/lobbying/concert jazz flute playing, greatly limited my socializing, and did not make great efforts to make new friends, hang out with old ones. I did not seek to be popular amonst my classmates and mostly kept out of trouble and to myself.  I felt being even marginally involved with law school activities would take my eyes off the prize. 

These are 35 reasons that kept me out of trouble! (only about half of the books pictured)

Well, I did what I had to do and I'm happy to say it paid off!  I earned my Juris Doctor from the UMKC School of Law in May!

So hard not even Harry S. Truman could do it

There were moments I wondered if I'd ever have my photo appear here & I wondered if I would maintain my jet black panther hair.

Unfortunately, passing your classes and graduating only takes you so far.  The dreaded bar exam still stands in the way between graduating law school and becoming a lawyer.  No license...no soup for you!  Thus, I did what I had to do all over again: said goodbye to friends, limited my socializing to almost zero, drank 3,254,921 cups of coffee, and studied on average about 14 hours a day during the month of July.  I will post a full bar exam edition closer to results day (which I think is September 14).  Come good news or bad, I gave it my best shot!  I have used these past few weeks to relax as much as possible, read for enjoyment, and as you already know, start a blog.  I will be cold-calling friends, reconnecting with people I've neglected, getting involved, and showing my face more around this town. 

As this post is getting quite long, I'll end it by sharing with you how I recently relieved some stress.  

Kansas boy done spent too much time in Missourah!

The .22's only made it to around page 650 in case you're wondering. The shrapnel tore apart the "demurrer" and "forum non conveniens" sections so I hope I won't be needing to use those during my career...

Before



After: Felt quite good to strike back! Federal Rules of Civil Procedure (Est. 1938 - Making law students cry for 73 years) 



Lastly, went to Kanrocksas and Muse kicked ass!  I now have a resistance song (above) just in case those apes from that movie really take over!

Wisdom Of Our Fathers: Pride!

On December 28th, 2010 I had a conversation with my dad about law school, my future, and life in general (I'm not yet ready to share the "life in general" part).  I told my father then that law school was the toughest thing I had ever done.  I explained the bell curve grading system, how most of your grade depends on one final test, and how I had to put my all into my studies just to get the modest results I managed to receive.

I also told him about the rigors that awaited with the bar exam and the uncertain direction my legal career could take me.  He responded by telling me that he was proud of me, that I should not get too stressed out, nor get down on myself, and he finished with his usual, "God bless you boy." 

My father then relayed to me the various labor intensive jobs he performed to provide for his parents, his siblings, and eventually his wife and children.  My dad discontinued his education after the second grade for one predominate reason: he needed to work to help raise his siblings.  He was too young to perform labor on his own at such a young age, so he assisted his father out in the fields.  Once able, he picked cotton and fruit as a young teenager, sleeping out in the fields sometimes and working his back to a point where he could not straighten it out after day’s end.  But he would wake up the next morning and do it all over again.  He started working in the sulfur mines at age 16, worked in construction, cleaning bathrooms, worked as a pipe welder, truck driver, and lastly as an upholsterer.  

I had heard my father tell of his struggles before, but that evening his stories hit me moreso than usual.  I needed to hear them, and the stories lifted me up.  They drove home to me once again that I would not be in any position to make it to the finish line if it weren't for this man, my father.  He sacrificed so I could be within striking distance of my educational dream.  He worked from sun up til past sundown, seven days a week, so that I could have a better life than the one he had.  I wrote on facebook that same evening that I would dedicate my last semester to my father.

At the time of the conversation, nobody had any idea what was coming right around the corner.  In mid-January, my dad went to his primary care doctor.  By late January, he was diagnosed with cancer.  By the end of January, my dad was on the operating table. 

On January 31^st, my dad has his first surgery.  As only one family member was allowed in the preparation room, I was chosen to go back there with him.  I got to meet the doctors, talk to the nurses, and interpret questions my dad had from Spanish to English.  As the final preparations began, I stepped out of the room and rejoined my family.  A nurse came out shortly thereafter and looked our family over.  As we all zeroed in our attention toward the nurse, she asked:  “Which one of you is going to be a lawyer?”  Everyone paused.  “I am,” I responded, as though all the eyes directing her to me towards me did not give me away.  She said, “Well, your father is very proud of you!” 

My father was/is proud of me!  What every son seeks and some never receive was already in the bag. 

Did I already know this prior to that day?  Yes.  I had many reasons to believe my father was proud of me.  Owners of local bars (where my dad frequented and used to clean house at the pool table) never failed to relay the message that all my dad would do is talk about me while kicking ass at the pool table.  He would share the things I was doing and absolutely and unashamedly gloat about them.  But for him to think of me and show pride in me just before his surgery made the timing on this day as emotionally charged as ever. 

The nurse continued, “Gregorio said: ‘My son graduated from KU in political science, worked for the governor, has been all over the world and is in his last year of law school at UMKC.  He’s smart…Like me!!’”  Then he was wheeled out for surgery.  As he passed by, I could only muster the words that I never said enough and wish I could tell him a million times over: “I love you dad!” 

Breaking My Silence

(Oh boy, here we go! Although the next few paragraphs will be written with a heavy heart, therapy session #1 is about to begin). 

Four months ago, on April 7^th, my father drew his last breath after a valiant fight with bladder cancer.  The world was blessed with 68 years of life, laughs, teachings, leadership by example, and the absolute hardest work ethic you ever saw.  In the last few months, many of you have asked how I’m doing.  Mostly I respond that “I’m doing ok." This response has felt the most appropriate and since it has usually gotten me on to the next subject, I went with it time and time again (nobody wants to be the party-pooper!).  "Ok" does not mean I'm doing great but it also doesn't mean I have become incapacitated.  I am still me, but before I write another post, allow me to break the silence as to my current emotional status. 

The truth is, this remains the hardest thing I have ever faced.  My brother, mother, and I are still in a day-by-day grieving process.  We have banded together, become closer, and have pulled each other up if one of us feels particularly down or in disbelief that Dad is no longer here.  So soon after Dad’s death the calendar decided to cruelly frontload many events that my father would have loved to have been a part of: Easter, Father’s Day, Mother’s Day, my graduation from law school, his grandson Paulie’s baptism (this month), and four birthdays: mine, my mother’s, grandson Cruzie’s, and grandson Paulie’s).  

*Not to mention Dad would have loved the beautiful family gatherings we had for his novenario (especially with the presence of his brothers and sisters from Mexico). 

You never know your true strength until you have no other choice but to be strong.  The sorrow has not yet entered into the realm of the past tense; it is still very present.  I have mostly looked inward, towards family, and towards faith for strength during these tough times.  Personally, I have relied on my own sense of humor (I should mention my humor comes from my dad who was always making people laugh) to break my mood if I am feeling particularly down. 

This year has been anything but easy for me and my life seems to have moved at a 100 mph pace since my father’s death.  It is often said that there is a feeling of comfort in remaining busy.  I felt something alright, but the workload I faced hit me more like a ton of bricks.  On top of the many arrangements a family must prepare to bury a loved one and the emotional toll a loss of this magnitude inflicts (I would describe it if words could do it justice), I became backlogged with work at my job and with my studies.  I worked around the clock to graduate law school on time with my classmates.  Luckily, I received extensions to complete my assignments and final papers.  However, the day I finished my last paper was the day before bar exam preparation began and I pushed myself to my utmost limits to show up prepared for that dreaded test. 

Some have commented to me that they don't know how I pulled it all together.  A few teachers and administrators were doubtful as well as to whether I could pull it off.  An option was presented (and strongly suggested) to me that I delay graduation and perhaps not take the bar exam this summer.  This, to me, seemed like the “curl up like a rollie pollie” option.  I was having none of it!  The one constant thought I had was that my dad would not have wanted me to let his death disable me.  So, I studied through the tears, I fought the loss of concentration due to thoughts of my father during every single final exam, wrote my papers, and found the will to study all summer and about 14 hours a day throughout July (despite headaches and eye strain) to whip myself into shape for the bar exam.

Before anyone thinks I am some Azteca warrior Mexican version of He-Man , you should first have a conversation with my pillow.  For lack of a more eloquent way to put this, it sucks! Bad!  I am incredibly saddened by the events my dad has not and will not get to see.  Paulie is taking his first steps this week and Cruzie played his first summer of tee-ball.  I even get saddened thinking about future events that may or may not even happen in my life for thoughts that my dad won't be there to see them.  I still think about my dad over 10 times each day before I even have lunch, and honestly, it has not been so long since the days I’ve not cried have outnumbered the days I have. 

I can’t believe it has been 4 months.  For better or for worse, one decision I made and stuck to is that I have not relied on many of my closest friends for support.  There are too many of you to name but knowing you are there, hearing your messages, seeing your support through emails, texts, and facebook postings has helped me cope more than you could ever imagine.  I have read every word of every message and posting.  I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your offers of support.  My lack of reliance on you is mostly a reflection that I feel I must test my ability to rely on the one person who’s going to have to deal with me the rest of my life: Me!  Furthermore, as will be explained in future postings, my dad prepared me my whole life for these post-dad moments. 

I have recently checked out “Wisdom from our Fathers” by the late Tim Russert.  Oh boy...hearing the stories of people talk about their fathers has been tough to digest for me, but it has already inspired an idea! On (or around) the seventh day of each month I will be blogging a nugget of wisdom that my dad has instilled in me or a heartfelt memory I will carry with me for the rest of my days.  The first will be in my next posting scheduled for Wednesday!  For now, here is a beautiful photo of my dad (this edition by Arlene Hinojosa is different from the other version on my Facebook page and has never before been released.  Thanks again Arlene!).  Below the photo is the last song I karaoked and a song that I have listened to many many times as a message I know my dad would have wanted me to embrace: that I should not stop living my life, and I should live it to the fullest and as though I were dying!

I love you old man!  I miss you dearly and I pray you are up there watching and smiling down on us.  Until we meet again, rest in peace!

  

Gregorio Cruz Rico
    3/12/1943 - 4/7/2011    
  Rest in Peace

  

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Be sure to check back often, comment, provide feedback, and of course provide criticism of my opinions.  Challenging my point of view is the best way for me sharpen my beliefs or maybe even change course (highly unlikely).  As much as this blog will post personal thoughts, ideas, and opinions of my creation, I'd also like to dedicate this blog to interesting things and events  that are going on out there too: locally/nationally, philanthropic/local business oriented, activist/laid back, political/comical (most times a distinction without a difference), funny/serious, and seriously funny.  If you have something you'd like to promote or an article/human interest piece/event you'd like to make people aware of, let me know.  I don't charge too much for my promotional fees (free entry, a Mexican beer, and 2/3rds the proceeds usually suffice).   Am I not merciful!


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Why is this blog being created?  Well, I have idle time on my hands after having just graduated from law school and completing the Missouri bar exam.  I often find myself wanting to comment on so many things I see going on out there on the evening news, the internet, newspapers, from talking to people, or while enjoying a beer from the front porch.  A blog seems the best medium to lay bare my thoughts pre-emptively, in an uncensored way, and outside of the 140 character limitation many have willingly chosen to confine themselves to.  I will use this blog personally as a way of developing my creative and journalistic writing skills while discussing topics of interest to me and hopefully to you too. 


What's my niche?  I'm a young Latino born in the heart of Kansas City, Kansas' predominately Latino Barrio of Argentine.  Somehow, despite the many temptations to veer off course, let circumstances dictate my actions, or fall through the cracks, I've managed to navigate my life towards something I'm on the cusp of being proud of.  I am still struggling to find out what and where I want to be when I grow up.  I'm still striving to live the American Dream on that path blazed by those who came before me, and I'm still hoping to make my small mark on the world while seeking ultimate self-fulfillment in the process.  Those of you who know me well know that I am not short on opinions, ramble at times, but can and have held my own intellectually with everyone I've encountered thus far.  I am an emotional introvert seeking extroversion, more of a mama's boy than not, and to sum it up: I became a gentle nerd from a rough barrio, and there's no going back now.  

Lastly, it has been said that experience is a great teacher.  On that measure, I can say I have learned a lot during my time on this wonderful world, wish I were ignorant of many of these life lessons, and in a small way this blog will also serve as my written therapy to shout my joyous, painful, and personal thoughts to you.  Here's to one more attempt at finding my voice! 
I'm grateful if you have gotten this far!  Sit back, hold tight, and lets learn about each other and maybe, just maybe, if we're lucky, we'll even learn a little something about ourselves! Ha!