I. The Wisdom of Guadaloupe Fernandez
My life has taken a strange turn, for better or worst....I simply cannot tell yet. At the beginning of this week I was first introduced to the head greenskeeper/custodian of HUD, a tan skinned and arthritis ridden Hispanic man named Guadaloupe Fernandez. We began to talk as he described how he longed to be back on his goat farm that he grew up on as a child.
I quickly became friends with this rough skinned prophet from Venezuela. Stories came naturally to him, though his English isn't what one would hope for. For the first 13 years he worked here, he remained in the boiler room for roughly 10 hours a day, jumping at the chance to be assured he would have a constant source of income. His wife was working as a custodian at that time, that is of course until the unfortunate events that would change the course of his life forever.
A brown haired "dazzler", as they called him around the office, named Frederick Archer, was then directly working for the assistant secretary of HUD. His office was no more than 5 feet from mine. Well he was working late one stressful night, as was Guadaloupe's wife (whose name he refuses to give me). He won't go into specifics, but I know this much. Never were such loud expressions of passion ever heard throughout the halls of HUD and one lonely fichus tree will never be the same.
I'm not really sure how he found out about Mr. Archer, but I know that when he did, his wife received the beating of a lifetime, causing her to be unable to ever walk again. Needing to provide for his 2 children and recently handicapped wife, Guadaloupe accepted odd jobs in every hour of the day he could with the hopes of simply being able to fly his family back to his Goat farm in Venezuela to aid his aging widowed mother.
After a good deal of time, the money finally came in when he was promoted and began trimming the lawns around our building and being a full time janitor. Though his family eventually made it back, he did not. Instead, he remained behind in hopes of starting a new life of his own in the small mountain town of Pontanes, Wyoming.
I don't know what will become of this aging man and his enduring spirit. All I know is that wherever his dreams take him, the adventure of his life is sure to continue. When we part ways, he turns to me and says "take care young man". As he walks way, the only thing I can think to say is "you do the same good sir........you do the same"
I quickly became friends with this rough skinned prophet from Venezuela. Stories came naturally to him, though his English isn't what one would hope for. For the first 13 years he worked here, he remained in the boiler room for roughly 10 hours a day, jumping at the chance to be assured he would have a constant source of income. His wife was working as a custodian at that time, that is of course until the unfortunate events that would change the course of his life forever.
A brown haired "dazzler", as they called him around the office, named Frederick Archer, was then directly working for the assistant secretary of HUD. His office was no more than 5 feet from mine. Well he was working late one stressful night, as was Guadaloupe's wife (whose name he refuses to give me). He won't go into specifics, but I know this much. Never were such loud expressions of passion ever heard throughout the halls of HUD and one lonely fichus tree will never be the same.
I'm not really sure how he found out about Mr. Archer, but I know that when he did, his wife received the beating of a lifetime, causing her to be unable to ever walk again. Needing to provide for his 2 children and recently handicapped wife, Guadaloupe accepted odd jobs in every hour of the day he could with the hopes of simply being able to fly his family back to his Goat farm in Venezuela to aid his aging widowed mother.
After a good deal of time, the money finally came in when he was promoted and began trimming the lawns around our building and being a full time janitor. Though his family eventually made it back, he did not. Instead, he remained behind in hopes of starting a new life of his own in the small mountain town of Pontanes, Wyoming.
I don't know what will become of this aging man and his enduring spirit. All I know is that wherever his dreams take him, the adventure of his life is sure to continue. When we part ways, he turns to me and says "take care young man". As he walks way, the only thing I can think to say is "you do the same good sir........you do the same"
posted by Max Rays at 1:05 PM
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