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Raphaella Cruz  |
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of Richardson Cruz (Four Down, Five To Go?) |
 "Hi, honey! Guess what? I survived another one today!" |
He attracts disaster, but
keeps on smiling through
Special for TheColumnists.com
Richardson Cruz is a gentle giant with a natural tan,
a shy smile and a pronounced Hispanic accent. He is self-conscious
of his crooked front teeth, the result of a near-fatal accident
he suffered as a baby. This was only the first in a serious of
near misses that cause me to worry that his chances are running
out. I am worried because he is my new husband.
Richie tells me that when he was a small child, he was peacefully
sleeping in a bassinet. It was a hot summer day in Juana Diaz,
Puerto Rico, and his mother was preparing to tend to the chickens
and mango trees outside.
Richie's sister Tata, aged five, was put in charge of watching
over him for a few minutes while his mother stepped out. Once
she left, using five-year old logic, Tata carefully lifted the
bassinet and placed it on a shelf above, thinking Richie would
be safer. But within minutes, he rolled over in his sleep and
the bassinet crashed to the ground, landing him face first on
the cement floor.
His mother rushed in when Tata screamed, and they both became
hysterical.
Richie's face was swollen and bruised, and four of his his teeth
had been knocked out. He was breathing, but he was out cold.
The Cruz telephone was not working due to a recent hurricane
that had blown the lines down.
Richie's father was at work, and there was no family car to get
him to the hospital. The nearest hospital was miles away down
a dangerously curvy dirt road. Richie's mother, helpless and
frantic, held him in her arms, crying and praying, until her
husband got home in the early evening.
In spite of the boy's obvious injuries, his parents decided not
to take him to the hospital. Instead they nursed him at home,
afraid that the Department of Social Services would take him,
the 14th of their 16 children, because of neglect. Richie was
the youngest of the boys in this devout Catholic family and the
family gave him special affection.
For the next four days, he was watched over and prayed for as
he lay there, sleeping quietly but not waking up. On the
fifth day he came out of his coma and he gradually made a full
recovery, except for the teeth. The family celebrated, thanked
God, and life went on as usual.
But danger was never far from Richie. His stern father believed
in the strap, and administered regular whacks when he thought
the children deserved it. The worst beating came at the age of
six when his father lost his cool and hit him over the head with
a hammer for bringing him the wrong size nail to fix the bathroom
door. You can still see the little bump poking out of the top
of his head where the blow from the hammer fractured his skull.
A couple of years later, he suffered yet another brush with death.
Richie and several of his brothers and friends walked a few miles
down the mountain to an abandoned quarry to take a swim. The
heat was scorching and the water in the quarry was inviting.
At that age in that place, there was nothing more fun than diving
from the high quarry walls.
Playing gleefully with no worries, the kids were having a blast.
"One last jump!" Richie begged, when his brothers said
it was time to go. It would take hours to walk the four miles
back home. Before they could answer, Richie ran toward the edge.
About to jump in one last time, he tripped over a rock and went
tumbling down the quarry wall, banging his body and landing in
a still heap at the bottom. The boys scrambled down to rescue
him, and, fortunately, one of the older ones knew how to perform
CPR. He resuscitated Richie and got him to breathing. But once
again, Richie was unconscious.
The boys took turns carrying him home where he finally came to.
He did not see who saved him, and in fact he had no memory of
the experience. His brothers had just never mentioned it to anyone.
Until a few months ago.
Richie was at a family party that included several friends and
neighbors, and met a guy who shook his hand and looked at him
in a strange way. Richie paid no attention, only to remember
that look the next day. He mentioned it to his brother, Ramon,
who said: "Oh, yeah, that's the man that saved your life
25 years ago." And Ramon told Richie the story of that day
in the quarry.
I am apparently not the remedy for Richie's life of constant
danger. He was in my car recently, riding in the front passenger
seat as I was driving. A driver in the opposite lane tried
to take a quick turn in front of me and I smashed his car head-on.
The collision totalled my car, and although he sat in shock,
Richie was saved by his seatbelt and airbag (and so was I).
Richie, now living in urban Boston, struggles to make sense of
this country and our society compared to the one he left six
years ago. But he is an amazing man. In spite of his problems,
he faces life courageously and with extra vigor that grew from
a lifetime of escapes from death. Sometimes we joke that the
bump on his head is a new brain growing inside to make up for
the one that must surely have suffered the consequences of these
recurring accidents. We can only hope for the best from
now on.
© 2002 by Raphaella Cruz. The illustration is from IMSI's Master Clips Collection, 1895 Francisco Blvd. E., San Rafael, CA, 94901-5506, USA.
To read
the new column by Raphaella Cruz's father, Michael Johnson, click
here: Michael
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