This I Believe

This I believe

I believe there are important rites of passage in life that are not celebrated by ceremony. Yes, weddings, baptisms, bar mitzvahs are all important. But some rites of passage are as simple as inheriting a gold watch. For me, it’s putting on a shirt– a guayabera. A guayabera, for those who don’t know, is a pleaded, button-down shirt worn many Latin American men. If you’ve ever visited South Florida or Southern California, you’ve seen one. I received a guayabera as a gift recently, and it just didn’t look right on me. I felt awkward, then guilty for even wearing it. I quickly took it off and put it away.

This was the shirt worn by my father and my grandfather and all of my uncles. This was the shirt worn by men who were wise and had lived long lives and told me stories that made me look at them in awe. My uncle told me of hiding from Castro’s troops in Cuba and of watching his best friend executed. My father of working 3 jobs and watching Sesame Street to learn English. My grandfather of losing his oldest son and watching everything he ever worked for ripped away. This was not just a comfortable shirt. This was the shirt worn by men who had taken everything life had thrown at them, then finally afterwards, could sit back and with good humor, tell the story.

Of course, one reason guayaberas are so popular among older men, is that these shirts are comfortable even if you have a large belly. A guayabera could hide even the most prodigious paunch. And unlike the worrisome health nuts of today, the men in my family wore their bellies with pride. My grandfather used to pat his belly and say, “I’ve earned this.” And he did. My grandfather lived, boy. Sure, he had done some really stupid and selfish things. He had also done some wonderful things. He earned his belly and his shirt because he had lived long enough and that entitled him to a badge of honor. Making mistakes, of course, but getting through life so that he could sit on his porch with his grandson, smile that devilish smile and dare me to try it.; to make it where he was. And so I am trying it. This–living. And one day I will have raised my children. I will have been a good husband for 40 or more years. I will be able to look back at my most profound failures, shrug my shoulders and think, “Eh, I gave it a shot.” One day, I will not care about my belly nor that I am wearing elastic band pants. That day, I will take down the guayabera and put it on. That day I can say to the world, “I’ve earned this.”