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Tangled, Oxytocin, Kantshakes Sanabria

Tangled, Oxytocin, Kantshakes, State

TANGLED SYNAPSES ____________________


How Neuroscience and Resilience Overcome Depression
IGNACIO SANABRIA, M.Ed.

Tangled, Oxytocin, Kantshakes, State

WWW.TANGLEDSYNAPSES.COM Kirkland, Washington, USA, July 2008 ISBN 978-0615-19964- 1

Copyright . Tangled Synapses. Ignacio Sanabria, M.Ed., Author, 2008. All rights reserved. This book is protected by copyright. No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including photocopying, or utilized by any information storage and retrieval system without writing permission from the copyright holder. ************************* The publishers have made every effort to trace the copyright holders for borrowed material. If they have inadvertently overlooked any, they
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will be pleased to make the necessary arrangements at the first opportunity.

Tangled, Oxytocin, Kantshakes, State

TABLE OF CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION.. Page i

CHAPTER ONE. Page 1 When The Going Gets Tough CHAPTER TWO Page 70 Inside the Brain CHAPTER THREEPage 102 The Emotional Environment Within CHAPTER FOUR.. Page 138 Character and Personality as Potential Indicators to Possibly Developing A Mental Disorder CHAPTER FIVEPage 174 Where and How Are We At Risk of Developing Mental Disorders And What To Do About It CHAPTER SIX.. Page 239
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The Hurdles To Change: Overcoming Dysfunctional Cognitive Processes CHAPTER SEVENPage 276 A New Lease on Life: How Neuroscience and Resilience Overcame My Depression APPENDIX...Page 310 GLOSSARY OF TERMS.. Page 345 SUGGESTED READINGS... Page 368

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DEDICATION
I dedicate this book to the memory of my beloved brother, Alberto Sanabria, M.D. Had I known twenty years ago what I know today, I believe that he and I would still be enjoying life together. My brother was a brilliant young medical doctor who possessed everything a human being could want: intelligence, good looks, a passion for life, and a noble career caring for people. He succumbed to a disease that could have been prevented: alcoholism. At only 30 years old, Alberto was the victim of a drunk driving accident. Like any addiction, timely intervention can help one overcome alcoholism. I dedicate this book to my mother Azucena, who was the force behind my recovery. Because of her existence, I did not commit suicide; my sister Susy, who is my partner; my niece Pilar, of whose accomplishments I am very proud; my nephew Albertico, who someday will walk on the career path of his late father; and my friend Shawnwe see the world with the same glasses. This is also dedicated to my muse Simone, my samba dancing partner (we still need to practice), who engages with me in meaningful and meaningless pursuits, and who unconditionally remained at my side when the going really got tough. Simone has shown me the bright side of life. This book is also dedicated to the millions of people whose lives will be touched, at one time or another, by depression, stress, anxiety, anger, phobias, substance addictions, seasonal affective disorder, and other vitality-

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sapping mental illnesses. I hope that this book offers some aid in alleviating their pain and suffering. Lastly and foremost, this book is dedicated to the Mercy of God. He made my recovery possible and from now on, whatever happens or does not happen in my life is because of His Merciful Will.

Tangled, Oxytocin, Kantshakes, State

Tangled, Oxytocin, Kantshakes, State

INTRODUCTION
...The individual is an apprentice and pain is its master. Nobody knows himself until he has suffered Alfredo de Musset

The impaired, distorted reality I am accustomed to experiencing is in full force. As has been its habit over the last six years, my depression episode has taken on a life of its own. It usually lasts for about two or three hours, during which feelings of powerlessness, a sense of discomfort, and unreality take overas if I am not here, yet nowherebut wanting to be somewhere. Such confusion dominates the mind. A feeling that you do not

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exist as a human being; yet you breathe. You look, but you do not see; you do not want to be, but you are. You try desperately to feel in the present, but it is as if you are leaving the scene of life. You are being taken away from reality, indeed, from the world. Of course, you hate it you really hate these feelings. A lot of thoughts and emotions come to mind. The most fervent one is that this torture ends right here, right now. But it does not. Time, then becomes your master. You feel that time never passes. Seconds, minutes, hours, and days become eternal. Agony, yes, agony, is the best word to describe this. You give up on yourself, you give up on life, you care about nothing and you doubt anyone cares about you...

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The above mental and physical states were my constant companion for many years. They became my existence until I made a commitment to turn things around. I was not willing to continue wasting my life away to the relentless disorder known as depression. After years of enduring a collection of mental disorders, studying their neurobiology, and making dramatic lifestyle changes, I found a secret to beat them. Inherent in the concept that we are biological machines with consciousness is the truth that we are made to perish. We are made of cells, and cells have a life span. Individuals commonly want this biological machine with consciousness to persist 14

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indefinitely in the healthiest and most balanced mental and physical conditions. This is a tall order indeed. Disease, illness, and decay emerge at the cellular level. There is an immensely complex interplay of a vast number of cellular functions, the proper functioning of which is as fundamental to human life as air is to the lungs. Malfunctioning at the cellular level can manifest as disease, degeneration, and suffering. Happiness, true happiness, is the absence of disease, suffering, or degeneration. However, people with severe physical and mental limitations have learned how to be happy despite their limitations.

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Individuals have a natural drive to seek and attain happiness. However, there are strong cultural influences that shape what defines happiness for each individual. The Roman Empire, for instance, used six months of public entertainment in the coliseums arena to keep the people distracted, and sufficiently happy, to avoid revolt. This sense of happiness or contentment can keep a population engaged with cultural developments, facilitating further progress of the society as a whole. In modern America, happiness is tied to fulfillment of the American Dream. The media displays an unattainable standard of success, and Americans line up and pay for a glimpse of it. However, lack of 16

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fulfillment of basic needs, illness, and emotional shortcomings can defy happiness at its very core. The prevalence of disorders like depression skyrockets in populations where physical and emotional needs are not being met. To get the upper hand on my symptoms of depression, I applied good management practices and skills from my professional career. I once believed illness was the exclusive domain of doctors and hospitals. In my prior experience, dealing with an illness had meant going to the doctor or hospital, following the prescribed medical treatment, and then returning home to continue life as usual. Through my ordeal with depression, I discovered that while 17

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medicine offers important healing potential, we have the ability to become self-empowered. It is possible to take greater responsibility for our own behavior, even guiding our own brains to overcome dysfunctional environments. The realization that the experience of happiness is fundamentally a biochemical process can be aweinspiring. The biology of emotion, and happiness in particular, is an ongoing active area of psychological neuroscientific research. Nonetheless, evidence for an organic basis of ones basic sense of well-being is clear. Brain cells, called neurons, interact through chemical and electrical 18

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connections called synapses. Chemical inter-cellular communication through chemical synapses in the nervous system (i.e., the brain, spinal cord, and peripheral nerves) involves the release of compounds called neurotransmitters and neuromodulators. These affect the neurons through specific receptors. Indeed, psychoactive drugs, including many used to treat psychiatric illnesses such as schizophrenia and depression, affect levels of neurotransmitters or directly affect neurotransmitter receptors. The ability of brain cells to initiate and respond to chemical signaling involves the opening and closing of channels. These channels allow 19

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charged atoms, called ions, to flow in and out of cells and subcellular compartments. Likewise, electrical synapses involve the flow of ions through specialized channels formed by gap junctions. The most important ions in brain cell physiological processes include sodium, (Na+), potassium (K+), calcium, (Ca2+), and chloride, (Cl-). The charged nature of these ions means that they transfer electrical current as they flow. Thus, the fluxes of these ions provide and cause the fundamental electrical processes of brain cells. Abnormal, or tangled, electro-chemical activity in the brain can result in cognitive and emotional disturbances. Together with a common sense approach and lots 20

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of resilience, neuroscience provides clues for untangling the offending neurons. Individuals have long sought emotional easement through attainment of balance. Such a balance has been ideally exemplified by the ability to attain a zero state, an instant of complete and total rest of the mind and body. These optimal states, and the strategies to attain themincluding mediation, exercise, and healthy lifestyleare discussed throughout this book. The elusive sense of happiness is inextricably linked to a healthy lifestyle. It can be attained by maintaining balance in the three daily life cycles, namely 1. rest/

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activity, 2. sleep/wake, and 3. diet/metabolism. Research at The National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH) estimates that close to half of the US population will develop a psychological disorder at some point in life. Psychological disorder is a broad term describing a wide spectrum of brain chemistry dysfunctions (from mild to severe). Hence, a vast number of people are vulnerable to experiencing potentially devastating mental disorders. Depression is the most well known among these disorders. In this book, I share a recollection of events that ensued after depression sapped me of my desire to live. I have focused on mental 22

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diseases, or brain disorders, in this work because this was my burden to bear. Through the suffering, suicide attempts, therapies, and disappointments, my underlying hope of recovering my zest for life drove me to study neuroscience. Neuroscience, as weve mentioned, is the science that encompasses studies of brain function and malfunction, and how brain cells (neurons) communicate with one another through synapses, that when tangled, can produce mental disorders. Mental disorders and the behavioral problems that accompany them result from dysfunctional brain chemistry. Dysfunctional brain chemistry 23

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results when brain cells fail to do their job, affecting one or more brain systems. Numerous brain regions and circuits have been specifically implicated in mental disorders. These include the pre-frontal cortex, thalamus, hypothalamus, nucleus accumbens, amygdala, hippocampus, and insular cortex. The brain is also sensitive to information from the body; it does more than just responding to information within itself. Hormones in the body and chemicals that can cross the bloodbrain barrier, including steroid hormones and glucose (the fundamental unit of cellular energy metabolism), can affect brain states. Ascending and descending cranial 24

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nerves relay electrical signals, coded messages to the brain, that concern the bodys state. Neuroendocrine activitythe hormones like estrogen, testosterone, and otherswill also affect emotions and body state. Brain chemistry dysfunction rooted in two potential sources: 1. Genetic predisposition develop a disorder. is

to

2. A maladaptive interaction between the individuals internal and external environments. These manifest as neurobiological and behavioral dysfunction. Although genetics may play an important role in the development 25

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of mental illness, the focus of the book is on the role of intentional or voluntary behavior. An individual has little control over their genetic predispositions. However, each of us can have a great influence over environmental factors and habits, including nutrition, activity level, and behavioral pursuits. Human behavior, intentional or unintentional, may facilitate the development of brain malfunctions that develop into mental disorders. Common disorders in mental health include depression, anxiety, chronic stress, panic, phobias, addictions, and eating disorders. However, these are influenced heavily by nurture and the environment a person grows up and lives in. This creates the old 26

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chicken and egg conundrum. That is, does human behavior cause dysfunctional brain chemistry, or do failed neural synapses cause the dysfunctional chemistry and destructive behavior? Indeed, there is evidence for both. For example, a negative experience could have an impact on the brains makeup, such as in the PostTraumatic Stress Disorder suffered by war veterans. Trauma can, and does, change the brain. On the other hand, abnormal secretion or activity of neurochemicals can disrupt neuronal activity in a way that manifests itself in ones behavior. A vicious cycle of dysfunctionality could develop from either possibility, and take the victim on a mental roller coaster. 27

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Ones environment may offer protection or enable such a cycle. The brain, behavior, and the environment interact and depend on one another. The environment and behavior can protect and nurture brain chemistry in a positive relationship. However, in negative or extremely bleak environments, mental illness can be fostered. Without a clear understanding of how these factors interact, we are ill-equipped to make good decisions. In the worst case scenario, people may give up caring about themselves and fail to develop the skills or desire to care for others. Individuals suffering from addictions, such as alcoholics, compulsive eaters, and out-ofcontrol gamblers, may have 28

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damaged or altered the brain chemistry guiding their decision making (probably in the pre-frontal cortex, where decisions are made). There may have been a genetic predisposition to develop the addictive behavioral pattern. However, healing, and prevention from these devastating illnesses requires mastering the interaction between brain, behavior, and the environment. A basic knowledge and understanding on how the brain functions could keep the wrong genes from combining with the wrong behavior. This book intends to demonstrate that we as individuals have the responsibility to guide our own behavior, and to overcome our 29

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dysfunctional environments in as much as it is possible. I decided to make my experience public in an effort to reach out to the millions of others who have or may suffer from mental disease as I did. This account may be useful not only to those who walk the thorny path of solving ordeals like mine, but may also prevent others from developing such imbalances in the first place. I hope my experience may help those desperately searching for relief from these lifeshattering disorders. It seems that only a small percentage of people live a wonderful life: those who have managed to control their environments. Perhaps this is why so many follow the lives of the 30

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privileged, while being resigned to live their own lives as is. Those who constantly struggle to keep up, to hold on, and to survive may never be happy because they do not govern their environments, their brains, or their behavior effectively. I posit that the mass failure of people to take an active role in controlling their environments has contributed to the 25 million or more depressed Americans and 500 million depressed people worldwide. Some may choose to passively endure their suffering, perhaps out of habit, without actively seeking resolution. I caution against using exceptional cases as excuses for maintaining an unhealthful lifestyle. For 31

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example, I have a 64-year-old friend who indulges in carbohydrates and red meat, drinks beer regularly, loves salty foods, does not drink water or eat fruits, vegetables, fish, or grains. Despite his poor eating habits, he remains energetic and maintains a healthy weight, blood pressure, and cholesterol levels. He may have a genetic advantage. However, for most, a lifetime of poor nutrition habits is likely to have dire consequences. I define my zero theory for happiness as: the mental and physical states of experiencing the present moment, , where nothing is desired and plenty is experienced; a state of wholeness.

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Accordingly, people who are aware of their own behavioral, biological, and environmental vulnerabilities can take full responsibility for their actions and may indulge in actively guiding their lives. As of the completion of writing this book, July 2008, I am making substantial progress toward healing. I have learned not to let my guard down; otherwise my mental disorders return with a vengeance. I take responsibility for my own wellbeing, walking a razors edge to keep the vicious circle at bay. Mental disorders are relentless in inflicting misery on those unfortunate enough to experience them. We, the sufferers, must be more resilient than our disorders, empowering ourselves to prevail.

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THE OXYTOCIN WOMAN BY IGNACIO SANABRIA, M.Ed.

ISBN 978-1456473875 Copyright . The Oxytocin Women. Ignacio Sanabria, M.Ed., Author, 2011. All rights reserved. This book is protected by copyright. No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including photocopying, or utilized by any information storage and retrieval system without writing permission from the copyright holder.

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Chapter One
Astrid woke up very tired, lethargic, and unmotivated. Astrid was depressed. She had been depressed for several years. At the peak of it, she wanted to commit suicide. She hardly slept, just a few hours a day. She ate all the time, and spent her days lying in bed watching television, hooked on silly soap operas. She used to hate watching TV, but now she seemed glued to the television. As a result of eating too much, watching too much television and constantly having irrational thoughts, Astrid ended up looking and feeling like a cow in a bed, 36

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as her cruel neighbors once called her. But she could not get out of bed. Her legs refused to obey her. She was too heavy and too weak. A person usually gets out of bed to go to the bathroom, and most likely to go to work. Astrid did not even bother. She did her toiletry needs in bed, and she could have cared less. Sometimes she was aware of that, sometimes not. She had become the living dead. At her forty-two years of age, Astrid was wasting herself away. Ten years before, Astrid had been a very successful and powerful woman, a well-known scientist, dedicated to her research in neurobiology. She was a leading authority in the research of 37

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Alzheimers, as well as mental disorders such as depressionthe very same disorder she was now suffering from. At the age of twenty-eight, she went to Germany to carry out research at the prestigious Max Planck Institute in Munich. She took her savings and left for Germany. She had always wanted to travel, to see the world, and perhaps to find a mana nice man, with blue or green eyes, but never brown. She was absolutely and completely sure she wanted a man with blue or green eyes, like those she saw in fashion magazines and in the movies. When she arrived in Germany from her native South American country, she felt like the female

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Christopher Columbus discovering new worlds. Astrid also soon discovered that in order to fully live in the enchantment of her new country, she would have to have lots and lots of Euros, which she did not have. But she figured that if she could become a renowned scientist, she could have the type of lifestyle she always wantedincluding a man with blue or green eyes, but never brown. **** Astrid grew up on her fathers ranch, the Sochagota Fazenda1. At first, Dr. Guerrero was an attorney who could not distinguish a cow from a sheep. The majestic zebu cattle fascinated him with
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Ranch

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their humped backs. Back then, he would have never thought of crossing cold and hot climate cattle. The result was the Siboney bull, very common in Cuba, and a successful career as a cattle rancher. With years of dedication and effort, he became a sophisticated cattle breeder. His bulls were very expensive, and were used to inseminate cows in the region to improve the livestock, as well as supply the most delicious beef for churrascarias2. Some of these bulls looked more like elephants, weighing close to a ton. He also bred paso fino horses, similar to the Andaluca horses from Spain. On the ranch, Astrid grew up with Maria Jos, the daughter of
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Jos Martinez, the ranch foreman who worked alongside his wife, Maria. Jos Martinez was an honest hard working farmer, young and vigorous When Dr. Guerrero visited the ranch, he always brought little Astrid along with him to teach her the ranch work and familiarize her with the animals. Maria Jose was always the not-so-silent shadow next to Astrid, soaking up the information as Dr. Guerrero answered Astrids many questions. Someday, he wanted little Astrid to take over the ranch and continue with his cattle breeding tradition. In the meantime, Astrid attended primary school at the nearby village. Doa Beatriz, Astrid's mother, was a city woman, who never liked to visit the ranch. She hated the 41

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smell of the cattle, the humid heat, and the mosquitoes. Instead, she preferred to remain in the city shopping and spending afternoons fofoqueando3 with her friends. The lack of interest Doa Beatriz held towards country living greatly bothered Dr. Guerrero, who always visited his ranch without her. As you can imagine, he began feeling lonely. His companion was Astrid, who loved traveling along with her father. Doa Beatriz was a very meticulous woman, who was obsessed with cleanliness and loved to have her house looking like a royal palace. Dr. Guerrero usually arrived home from his
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Gossiping

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ranch with his boots covered with cow manure. He sometimes sat in the stylish living room, staining the expensive Persian rug. Doa Beatriz went ballistic when this happened. Dr. Guerrero loved to leave his cuecas4 scattered all over the bathroom. Perhaps Dr. Guerrero did this on purpose just to annoy her, or maybe this was a way to get even, as Doa Beatriz loved to lecture him on minor annoyances like cleaning his teeth with his fingernails instead of using a toothbrush. Doa Beatriz could not understand, much less accept, that her cultured husbandhe had studied in England after allcould

Men's underwear

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behave in such a disgusting manner. Doa Beatriz had white skin; she was a little chubby, and stood at a height of 55, with blond hair and blue eyes. She was always concerned with the way she looked, she was always groomed, and she loved to have friends and guests over to her house. She loved to visit museums, art galleries, and attend the movies. She remembered one day she went to Galleria Portofino in the Avenida Paulista in Sao Paulo to see the exposition of a famed Colombian painter, Fernando Botero. Her friend, Tainah, was with her at the art display. For some reason, Boteros picture of lta Sociedad resembled Doa Beatrizs more curvaceous figure. When 44

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Tainah saw the picture she asked Doa Beatriz: Did you pose for Fernando Botero? Unfortunately, Doa Beatriz did not think that was funny. Lying at the core of her vainness and secret feelings of inadequacy was Doa Beatrizs not so secret love of being a socialite who lived for fofoqueando with her numerous friends and acquaintance within the upper crust of society. Dr. Guerrero hated this. He was a refined man, although in his house he behaved like an immature, spoiled child. Their neighbors called Doa Beatriz Beatriz la emperifollada5.

Someone who likes to overdress, like Michael Jackson or Elvis Presley in his sequin jumpsuit and cape.

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On the contrary, Dr. Guerrero always dressed like a filipichin6. Dr. Guerrero began spending more time at his ranch, as things in his house were not pretty like a rose garden. After all, he took pride in his animals and his surroundings, and he enjoyed the tranquility and peace of mind his ranch always provided him. At his ranch, he felt like a feudal lord where he had absolute control over his employees and over his beloved animals. He loved to ride Don Pablo, his six-year old paso fino horse, which was a grand champion in local contests several times.

A very stylish, wealthy, and conservative way of dressing. Exudes power.

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Onix, the black Labrador, could always be found at his side. Dr. Guerrero was also a talented guitar player and singer. He loved to sleep in his hammock after the sun set, but some nights he sang. His servants were delighted to hear him sing, especially after a day of hard labor at the ranch. Maria, Joss wife, was transported to the moon when she heard him singing and playing. His voice was music to her ears. And Dr. Guerrero was a handsome man, very charming and polite. He looked a little bit like the Hollywood legend, Henry Fonda. It was no coincidence that Astrid slightly resembled his daughter, actress Jane Fonda. **** Dr. Guerrero was an avid swimmer and fisherman, and he 47

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had plenty of water to do both. The Susacon River, with its crystalline waters, crossed his ranch. He used to spend a great deal of time at the magnificent waterfall, where the river formed as the water fell from the mountain. The water made a tremendous amount of noise when it hit the bottom. Dr. Guerrero loved to engage in long sessions of meditation, yoga, and relaxation at his cascade. It was absolute heaven, and he was very protective of his place of solitude, even requiring authorized visits. Dr. Guerrero developed a meditation technique that consisted of spending an inordinate amount of time lying in the grass next to his waterfall, looking at the trees, listening to the chatter of the birds, the macaques, and other wild 48

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critters. It effectively cleared his mind and he loved the feeling. One Thursday afternoon, Dr. Guerrero went to his cascade for his daily meditation session. All of the sudden he saw Maria, Joss wife, washing clothes in the river. He was surprised. He asked her, "What are you doing here?" Maria replied, "Excuse me, Doctor, but the washing machine at the house is not working, so I had no choice but to come here." "You know that I do not want anyone here, much less someone washing clothes and polluting the river," replied Dr. Guerrero. "Yes, Doctor I am aware of that. I am finishing and leaving right now," Maria replied.

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Dr. Guerrero had never had his eye on her. To him, Maria was just Joss wifethe wife of his foreman, nothing else. As Dr. Guerrero began swimming, he inadvertently saw her underwater. Her dress was wet and glued to her legs, exposing her firm body. Maria had long, firm, well-formed legs. She was a woman in her thirties, energetic, charming, and well poised. Dr. Guerrero never paid attention to these attributes. His memories transported him to his college years when he was learning how to swim at the sports compound. He remembered swimming behind other students at the pool. He especially remembered his classmate Sue, his distant love at

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East Anglia University, who was also learning how to swim. Watching Maria underwater immediately sent him to a flashback of the pool in East Anglia. He became nervous and excited at the same time. Meanwhile, Maria continued washing her clothes, unaware of his presence. Dr. Guerrero was slowly approaching Maria. She felt helpless, but she had often fantasized about him. She always felt attracted to him. She found him very fascinating. The noise of the waterfall, the songs of the flying birds, the distant barking of Onix, and the tranquil but peculiar noise of nature created the ideal environment. They just need a trigger. Gentle touching was all 51

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that was needed, and then nature took its course. In the quiet of her nights at the ranch, Maria let her imagination run wild. She was a young woman full of desires and dreams, with lots of unanswered questions, ready for an experience she never thought she could ever have. Dr. Guerrero was the object of her desires. She could not help but imagine Dr. Guerrero, not only as her boss, but as a handsome man elegant, chivalrous, and courteous. Dr. Guerrero whispered in Marias ear. The sound of the water, the skin contact, a deep look into each others eyes, the smells of the bodyit is very difficult to determine at what moment Dr. Guerrero gently took off Marias

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calzhina7 . He possessed her, Marias loud yelling becoming a part of the symphonic chorus of the wild monkeys, birds, and insects. Maria, for the first time in her life, had an orgasm, and not just one, but many. Dr. Guerrero felt he had come back to life. He did not recall ever having an experience like that. Not even in his college years. **** Doa Beatriz made sure her little daughter Astrid would have a sophisticated upbringing, as some day Astrid would become a valuable member of society. Her education would be instrumental in achieving success in life. She reluctantly agreed that Astrid
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Panties

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could attend the public school located in the town nearest to the fazenda, where Dr. Guerrero thought it was be easiest to teach the little girl about the real world. He was a strict and exacting taskmaster. And while she loved her father dearly, she often struggled to meet his standards and run his errands as quickly and correctly as possible. Jos, the ranch foreman, was very happy to have a little girl. They called her Maria Jos, in homage to their love and their names. They did not have an education, but they were hard working people who did their best to provide Maria Jos with a good education. She even went to a public elementary school to obtain a basic education. 54

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Astrid and Maria Jos soon became good friends and playmates. Even though Astrid was a couple of years older than Maria Jos, they became inseparable. Together they discovered the animals, nature, flowers, and birds; they learned how to hunt, catch butterflies, fish, and play hide and seek. Astrid and Maria Jos shared toys, food and clothes and they often slept together. They were like sisters. As they grew older, they began developing different interests, personalities, and characteristics and they made different friends. While Astrid was a quiet and complacent girl, Maria Jos was very hyperactive and rebellious. She always did unusual and cruel things just for fun. 55

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She loved to throw Chucho, the house cat, upside down into the air just to see it land on its four legs. She was curious as to why cats always land on their feet. She tried also with puppy dogs, but the result was disastrous. Maria Jos showed an innate ability to exercise, ride horses, and do housework, while Astrid dreamed of traveling and playing with dolls. Astrid developed a passion for collecting plants and animals and began to create her own botanical garden and zoo. Over time, this hobby would lead her to study biology, the science of life. Maria Jos, by contrast, became interested in boys at school, whereas Astrid had no interest in them whatsoever.

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Maria Jos loved to spend a lot of time at the cachoeira8 observing Dr. Guerrero meditating. When she was a child, she thought Dr. Guerrero was dead and exclaimed to her mother, Mami, Mami, Dr. Guerrero is dead! He does not breathe. No, Maria Jos, replied Maria. Dr. Guerrero is meditating. When she asked what meditating was, her mother answered, It is a technique where a person breathes very slowly to find mental and physical peace. I want to find peace, stated Maria Jos. The battle of the sexes begins at an early age. The school is the battleground. The combatants
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Waterfall

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are divided into several groups: the nice, the ugly, the shy, the nerds, the papitos9 and the cocky. Upon observation, in most cases, the papitos and the cocky boys want to have all the pretty girls, and leave the ugly ones to the shy and the nerds. Out of frustration, the ugly and the nerdy children team up to lick their wounds. Astrid and Maria Jos were not the exception. Both were pretty girlsattractive and intelligent traits that both the papitos and the nerds pursue feverishly. Maria Jos quickly learned about adolescent obsessions. At fifteen, she got drunk for the first time. She soon began partying,
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drinking, and smoking. Astrid, on the contrary, found these behaviors absolutely stupid and primitive, in her own words. She pledged to herself that she would never do those kinds of things. I do not need, nor do I want to behave like a primitive, she would say. I really dont care about peer pressure, television, fashion, parties, or any other type of stupid adolescent behavior. She was determined to conserve her virginity until the day she married her husband with blue or green eyes, but never brown. Everyone at school, including Maria Jos, thought that Astrid was weird. Astrid could care less because she was focused on her future; she wanted to become a scientist. **** 59

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At 28 years of age, Astrid was a very successful young professional, full of life and ready to pursue her most ambitious dream: to become a well-known neurobiologist. But for this, she would have to go to a foreign country, where the sciences are more advanced. She did her homework on where to go: Europe or America. In Europe, she could go to France, Spain, or Germany. In North America, her choices were only Canada or the United States. She decided to head to Germany, a country that achieved major advances in biological research. Although she did not openly admit it, one of the reasons Astrid wanted to leave her country, besides pursuing a scientific career, was the fact that she was tired of

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dealing with a machista10 society, where men think that women are a piece of meat good only for physical pleasure. As her research continued, she found that women are predators as wellto a lower degree and with less sophisticationbut still, women want and enjoy the same urges as their male counterparts. She also found that a woman will go to great extents in order to get what she wants, even if she has to exercise some predatory practices. All of these phenomena deeply intrigued her, and she was determined to find an answeran answer from science, as she was tired of reading speculations from self-appointed gurus who believed,
10

Male dominated, machismo, patriarchal

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or made people believe, that they had all the answers. She got tired of watching sensationalist TV shows, where self-declared experts instruct the audience on how to successfully exchange flesh back and forth in the name of happiness. She set out and prepared herself to study. **** That Sunday afternoon on January 7th, Astrid boarded the 747 Boeing of Lufthansa Airlines, heading for Germany. It was the first time Astrid rode on a plane. The flight went smoothly for several hours, until it hit a thunderstorm in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean between the South American coast and the coast of Africa. Astrid became scared.

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She put herself in the situation of the passengers who perish in an airplane crash. She imagined their last moments. It is hard to describe the behavior, the feelings, the emotions of hundred of passengers stranded in a doomed airplane. Astrid counted the minutes and the seconds the passengers had to wait until their fates were sealed for good. Sheer terror came over her. She imagined surviving an airplane crash and being interviewed in the TV news. She imagined being famous. Several hours later, Mr. Kohl, a family friend living in Germany, greeted Astrid at the Frankfurt airport. They took the train to Munich, passing far too many castles from the medieval era along the Rhine river. Astrid thought 63

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about how she would love to live in one of them with her charmed prince with blue or green eyes, but never brown. At the beginning, Mr. Kohl was very accommodating and friendly, but within weeks things changed. Mr. Kohl wanted Astrid to do house chores, to cook, to clean, and to do other activities that are not proper among friends and guests. Astrid then found herself between a rock and a hard place. With no friends, very little money and no German language skills, she had no choice but to find a job as a babysitter, which at least gave her food and shelter and a little money for expenses. But Astrid soon became bored with her job. After all, she did not come to Germany to clean the little 64

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rears of spoiled German babies and put up with their neurotic and demanding mothers. On top of that, Mr. Maximilien Frederick von Paulus, a modern day aristocrat, was the owner of the house. He was tall and had green eyes, and began looking at her in a lascivious way. His wife Bettina, although pretty, was harsh, demanding, and not well-groomed. It was only a matter of time until he would make several unsolicited physical advances to her. These events forced Astrid to leave that place. Six months after her arrival in Germany, Astrid felt as if she was wasting her time; she was going nowhere, and while studying German, she was making barely enough money to survive. Her personal life was also a disaster, 65

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but she was determined to fulfill her dream of becoming a scientist, no matter what kind of sacrifices she had to make. At that time in her life, pursuing her studies was the only thing that kept her alive. She repeated to herself over and over and over, "My God how could I have been so stupid, how could I be so unprepared, how?" Meanwhile, the rhythm of life continued as it always does, a monotonous rhythm unfortunately for Astrid. On weekends she went to Marien Platz, located at the Sparkassen Strassea popular gathering place in Munichto attend concerts featuring major German and international composers. She was attracted particularly to the tragic and

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intense musical vibrations of Wagner. After the concert, it was customary to drink hot wine to fight off the intense winter cold of Germany, as winters in there were a nightmare. And when a lot of people get together to drink hot wine, interesting conversations and unusual behaviors arise. People switch to hard liquors such as beer, whisky, brandy, cognac, tequila, cachaza11, even aguardiente12. In the middle of the euphoria and excited by the musicthe German folk music is quite engagingpeople become inhibited and begin making advances towards each other.
11 12

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Munich was celebrating Oktoberfest, where Germans and people from all over the world attend a beer festival to drink all kinds of beer in enormous quantities and eat all sorts of frankfurter

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30,000 days for Mr. William Kantshakes A Novel By Ignacio Sanabria

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ISBN: 978-1456473921

Copyright . 30,000 Days for Mr. William Kantshakes. Ignacio Sanabria, M.Ed., Author, 2011. All rights reserved. This book is protected by copyright. No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including photocopying, or utilized by any information storage and retrieval system without writing permission from the copyright holder.

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Days 1,000 2,000 3,000 4,000 5,000 6,000 7,000 8,000 9,000 10,000 11,000 12,000 13,000 14,000 15,000 16,000 17,000 18,000 19,000 20,000 21,000

Years 2.74 5.48 8.22 10.96 13.70 16.44 19.18 21.92 24.66 27.40 30.14 32.88 35.62 38.36 41.10 43.84 46.58 49.32 52.05 54.79 57.53

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22,000 23,000 24,000 25,000 26,000 27,000 28,000 29,000 30,000

60.27 63.01 65.75 68.49 71.23 73.97 76.71 79.45 82.19

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Chapter One
My First 5000 Days From Birth to 13 and a half years of age. The protagonist of this story is time. Although an individual can skip a thought here and there, she would never be able to skip time, unless she enters the world of the dead. Even in the world of death, she enters the world of merciless and infinite time. Time is a constrainer, time is a facilitator, but time can cause agony. In fact, agony is measured in time; so is 73

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happiness, and so is pain. Pain and happiness are measured in time, and so is life. Life, then, is the time we spend switching between happiness and pain. Have a good time, is a customary salutation when we say good-bye to each other, or we might say, Excuse me, do you have the time? Which one, yours, or mine? is a very unlikely answer. It is time for lunch, is the most likely answer. This short verbal engagement would take place between Mr. Pete Schoppenhauer, the successful but lonely male jogger at NY`s Central Park. It was usually witnessed by Fifo, his faithful companion (who by the way is unaware of time) and the cute passerby whom he is trying to engage. 74

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As time and space are our tyrants, we must fight them with happiness. Time and space will then lose their grip on us. Mr. Ford used to brag about the twenty-five years of uninterrupted happiness he experienced while working for the government as a taxman. Ms. Pineapple remembered all the happiest times when she gathered her numerous family for Thanksgiving celebrations, where half a dozen turkeys were slaughtered for the sake of happiness. It was the happiest time of my life, Mr. Bush, the skilled butcher, used to say, but I never knew what these happiest times were for Mr. Bush. It certainly could not be for the countless sheep, cows, pigs, and 75

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goats, even horses, Mr. Bush used to slaughter in the name of happiness. But grilling Mr. Bushs steaks on a sunny Sunday afternoon brought us a lot of happiness, indeed. We had a good time, so was Mr. Bush right? Mr. Einstein also had his brushes with time. He used to say, "Only two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity, and I am not sure about the former." It is now the time to begin keeping track of my own time. This is the story of the 30,000 days I stayed on this earth. **** The minimum time someone has stayed on this planet is less than one day, maybe a few minutes or hours. The maximum was 46,355 days, which was lived by Ms. Jean 76

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Calvet, who died in 1997. I was assigned 30,000 days, exactly. My good friend, Gabriela, was assigned 24,465 days. Methuselah, the longest living individual according to the Bible, had 353,685 days, or 762% more days than of Ms. Calvet, and 848% more time than myself. The question still is what to do with all of these days available to us, whether it is one single day or 400,000 days. In any case, once a day is gone, it is gone forever. So, it is understandable that the wonderful days are desired to last forever and the painful days should end quickly, even before the end of the day inexorably arrives. The story of my days is exactly the same as someone elses 77

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days, as we all do exactly the same, day in and day out. It does not come as a surprise that half of humanity is obsessed in finding out what the other half is doing with their time. The days of dignitaries, high profile figures, celebrities, sportspersons, and actors, are meticulously accounted for, even on an hourly basis. So are the days of prison inmates. But pesky husbands and wives are also obsessed with what the other half is doing. Obsessed parents are also fixated on what their kids are doing at any given time, although there are parents who do not give a damn about their kids. The latter, unfortunately, was my case. My parents gave me away to my grandparents.

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a sense, there was some sort of scandal associated with the origins of my life. This story of my time and my life began that fateful night of Christmas Eve in Leavenworth, Washington, a small town a couple of hours drive from Seattle. That evening, everybody was happy, cheerful, and ready to open their gifts. My father, William Kent, was the typical All-American boy who loved to listen to rock music, to wear hair brilliantine, to drive my grandpas red Bel Air 1956 Chevrolet, to chase the girls and to take them to watch drive-in movies, accompanied with hot dogs, pizza, and of course, Coca Cola and Marlboros. It did not matter that the pesky smell of tobacco would chase some girls 79

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away because of the bad breath. Chiclets Adams would easily solve the problem of bad breath. Many generations of Americans owe their existence to Chiclets Adams. As was customary, my father, who was 8,000 days old at the time, took one of his favorite girlfriends, Emmanuelle Chase, a cute and shabby 7,000 day-old girl, to the Paradise Drive-In. The Paradise Drive-In was the gathering point for all boys and girls looking to have some fun. Attendees remember that during and after the movie , it was customary to see all the vehicles moving and waving like they were boats on the high seas. It was funny to see fifty or perhaps seventy vehicles lined up, rolling like ocean waves. You could see heads and 80

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toes through the car windows, and you could hear the frantic and loud yelling. Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God,most similar to the sound a pig makes when it is slaughtered at the slaughterhouse. My father William Kent, who was under the effects of smoking Marlboro and drinking tons of cans of Coke, chewing Chiclets gum, initiated a wrestling match with my mother Emmanuelle in the back seat of the old red 56 Chevy. My mother later on confessed me that she loved to lie on the back of the Chevy because it was comfy and loved to spend a lot of time there thinking about nothing. All of a sudden, the Chevy was waving, and during the confusion, I was conceived. 81

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Bystanders cheered and applauded, as if they were watching a sport competition, but while it initially appeared to be a scandal, it was just business as usual. The oxytocin secreted by my father and my mother that night in the back seat of the 56 Chevy was enough to change the world, at least my world, my fathers world, my mothers world and everything in between. I was always curious to find out how much of the oxytocin secreted by all people jammed in these vehicles at the Paradise Drive-In ended in babies like me. Perhaps someday we could form an association, an association of babes made at the Paradise DriveIn. It could be named The Paradise Drive-In Baby Boomer 82

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Users Group, Leavenworth, Washington, 1965. A lot of babies around the nation were manufactured in driveins, hosting Chevys, Fords, Dodges, and Mercurys. All the participants were under the influence of hot dogs, Coca Cola, Marlboro and Chiclets. The Bureau of Statistics, the office in charge of keeping track of numbers about anything and everything, called these babies the Baby Boomer generation. Some sociologists credit the boom of the baby boomer generation to the fact that after World War II, all of these combatants had nothing better to do but to engage in oxytocin rituals with the girls who were crazy about boys whod survived the war 83

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and wore uniforms. My father was one of these irresistible war survivors, and he was ready to spread his name around. Nine months after that fateful Christmas Eve I was born out of wedlock. My grandparents Joe and Louise, my mothers parents, were fuming. It took them a while to accept this disappointing news, as they wanted my mother to go to college, to save some money, and then get married with a boy worth her while, as my grandma used to say. Once my grandparents overcame the disappointment about the reckless behavior of my parents, they had no choice but to accept their new fate and help to put them through college. Meanwhile, my grandparents

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raised me, while my parents went to college. As early as I can remember, that is, when I had lived a mere 1,000 days, all I did was to play with cars, to wet my pants, and to cry and scream for almost anything. By the time I had lived 2,000 days, I was climbing to my tree house in the backyard of the house. Grandpa Joe built it for me. Years later, I discovered that he wanted to get rid of me while he was seated in the living room, reading the newspaper, watching endless sport games on TV, and smoking like a chimney. Meanwhile, Grandma Louise secluded herself in her kitchen. I became addicted to her cookies. My tree house and Grandma Louises cookies with 85

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pasteurized milk were my universe for years. I loved to spend inordinate amounts of time in my tree house, doing nothing but playing with cars and imagining fantastic stories and scenarios. I loved imagining myself as a bird. I could fly far and away and see the world with a birds eye view. I also imagined that I was a great white shark. Or better, I was Marianella, the relentless killer whale, so I could swim the entire ocean and eat all the fish I wanted. I loved to imagine being abducted by an alien and taken to outer space, where I could play with little aliens. But I wondered how their alien dogs would look. I wondered how they would move their tails.

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When I was in my tree house, I dreamed and dreamed and dreamed. I imagined how the bottom of the ocean would look or how the earth would look from space. Instead of coming down to interrupt my own day-dreaming, I told Grandma Louise, Grandma, I am sending you my bucket. Please put some milk and my favorite coconut cookies in the basket. I had a bucket attached to a cord, Grandma Louise put my snacks in, while I hauled them up. Pick up times were 9:15 AM, 12:00 Noon, 2:45 PM, and 5:45 PM every day. It worked religiously. Other than that, I was glued to my tree house. But occasionally, Grandmother Louise called me for lunch or a snack, a situation that 87

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greatly disturbed me. Pete, my black Labrador, was always barking, because he always wanted to be with me in my tree house. I bribed Grandpa Joe to bring the dog to my tree house. He did it only a couple of times per week. The rest of the time, he spent sitting in front of the TV, watching boring sport games and smoking. Grandmother Louise spent her days in the kitchen, cooking all sorts of dishes. She cooked very tasty cookies, especially the coconut ones which I loved to eat very much with milk, so my bones would grow strong, as she used to tell me. One day I asked her why she loved to cook so much, and she told me, because I love to cook, and besides a woman wins a mans heart through his stomach. 88

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Grandma Louise occasionally abandoned the house to go to the supermarket, to mass on Sundays, and to visit her longtime friend Mary, a 24,386 dayold widow. The rest of her time, she remained at home. When I completed 5,000 days of existence, my father William and my mother Emmanuelle decided that I was ready for elementary school, as Id previously refused to go to kindergarten. But I refused to go to elementary school too. I thought that it was not of useful purpose to go to these places to waste my time fighting kids my age for a Coke, a hot dog, a pretzel or a bagel. I could get tons of these at home, but without the fighting. Besides, I was not interested in learning how to write or how to 89

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read. I always thought that the real meaning of life was to lie in my tree house and to think about nothing. I mean, what else is there in life but to entertain your thoughts at will, instead of wasting time at school? I used to tell them what Bertrand Russell, the philosopher, once said: "Men are born ignorant, not stupid. They are made stupid by education," but they always refused to listen to me. But my grandparents and my parents insisted. They bribed and threatened to send me to my aunt Eduvigis, who lived in Hawaii, a stingy woman of bad character. So, reluctantly, I entered school. The first few months were fun, as I played a lot with my unruly friends, but when I got

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home from school, all I did was to go to my tree house and stay there. My problems began when my teacher, Ms. Rosenberg, began asking for my finished homework. I did not even care to watch boring TV programs, not even Sesame Street or The Simpsons. My tree house gave me all I needed. I had my toys, my bed, my blankets, Heriberto my clown, and Pete, my unruly and noisy black Labrador. But within weeks, they forbade me to stay in my tree house until I did my homework. As I continued to refuse it, my grandparents were summoned to the school. They became very furious with me, and threatened to eliminate my tree house privileges forever. I became mad, really mad.

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I hated school so much that I plotted a strategy to get expelled. One day I told Ms. Rosenberg, my cute 19,000 day-old teacher, Ms. Rosenberg, you either give me a passionate kiss, or I will poke your butt with my fork. But she laughed like a dwarf instead, and I got really furious. She was not taking me seriously. The next day, I did the same thing. This time she just smiled, and she told me, Billy, this is not appropriate for a teacher. Besides, you are too young for a kiss. The next day I furiously told her, You give me a passionate kiss, or I will poke your butt with my fork. And I pinched her butt. She screamed and sent me to my seat. She wrote a report to my grandparents. The next day, I did 92

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the same thing. This time, Ms. Rosenberg got a cut, and she had to go to the infirmary for a bandage. My grandparents were summoned to the school. The principal told them, This kid needs some restraining, as this may get worse instead of get better. I was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder by the school shrink, and placed on medication, a nasty tasting thing called Ritalin. I took one or two pills and faked the rest. I did not want anything of this. I just wanted to be at home, spending my time in my tree house and playing with my cars, with Heriberto, Pete, and eating coconut cookies with pasteurized milk. I was mad these grown-up people could not understand something as simple as this. 93

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But it didnt work. So, I invented something stranger and more dangerous. I brought a huge bag full of cookies from Grandma Louise to the school and gave them to the boys in exchange for having them to yell in chorus, Ms. Rosenberg, give us a passionate kiss, or we will pinch your butt. It got nasty. Seven kids pinched her at the same time. Ms. Rosenberg was taken to the infirmary, as she was bleeding, and the police came afterwards. The shrink dictated that the Ritalin was not working, that I needed a straightjacket. Ritalin was not working because I replaced the medication with Chiclets Adams, the same brand my parents chewed in the infamous escapades at the Paradise Drive-In. 94

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After a week of being held in a straightjacket, I began crying so loud that I finally got my wish. I got expelled from elementary school for abnormal behavior. By then, I had the solution to my problems. I told my grandparents, You get me a private tutor, chosen by me, or else. That else was for me to become an illiterate, ignorant for the rest of my life, which I thought was fun. Finally, I told them what Jacques Rousseau, the French philosopher, used to say, Men are born good, but they are corrupted by society. So why risk being corrupted by society if all I want to do is to stay in my tree house? And by doing so, perhaps I could avoid corruption and another host of bad maladies.

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Seven people applied for the job of becoming my private tutor. I chose Ms. Tucker, currently living her 7,300th day of her existence. She was a gorgeous redheaded energetic teacher from Boise, Idaho, who moved to the Seattle area to pursue a career as a school teacher. I liked her from the first moment I saw her, and she felt the same. Besides, the pay was good, and she desperately needed the money. Within months, I was reading, writing, singing, playing, having fun and enjoying my life. All my classes were held in my tree house. "I like this place and willingly could waste my time in it," I told Ms. Tucker when she first entered my tree house. She was curious about my quote. 96

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Where did you learn this? she asked. I have no idea, I replied. I guess I heard it from someone. By the time I had lived 3,000 days, I was very proficient in English, math, French, Spanish, physics, chemistry, geography and history. My parents were so happy that for Christmas, they gave me the complete works of someone that sounded like Milk Shakes, or something like that, and the book Critique of Treason by Manolo Ken, or something like that. I felt that was a silly idea for them to give me books as a Christmas gift. Besides, I was expecting something like Superman, Batman, Snow Whites and the Seven Dwarves, or Peter Pan.

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The 2,000 days I spent with Ms. Tucker were instrumental in learning the basics of life. In fact, I was more mature than kids that had lived the same days as I, thanks to Ms. Tucker who taught me a lot of things. She also taught me about how women think and feel. Many days later, I discovered that women hold the key for survival. It took me the entire 30,000 days of my existence to figure that out. In fact, the very last day of my life I learned something that I could not have learned otherwise. By then, it was too late. But at the time, I did not understand a thing about what she was talking about. She flat-out told me, Billy, when you grow up, your success or failure in life does not depend on how smart or how 98

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stupid you are. It wont depend on your fate, destiny nor luck, but in how well or how badly you interact with women. Women are either a real pain in the neck, or they can be the best friends you could ever have. Your success or failure in life may depend on the kind of women you get involved with. Someday, you will fall in love, and then you will understand what I am talking about. Have you been seen those little cute bears called the Tasmanian devils? I would suggest you research them. They are unique. Someday you will know why. Also, always remember, Billy, what Martin Luther King, Jr. once said: Nothing in the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity. 99

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I could not quite understand these words, but I guessed life someday would show me the wisdom of these words. But I was more confused than ever. I did not understand anything of what she was talking about. She finally told me, Billy, study the neurophysiology of women and the neurophysiology of men, then compare both, and you will find clues as to why men and women find it so difficult to get along with each other. Also, remember that men and women behave differently according to the cultures they are living in. In the end, a woman will always be a woman and a man will always be a man. Although, some men have this secret, and sometimes not-so-secret desire to dress like a woman. 100

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Yes, I know that. They are called drag queens, I told her. How do you know that? she asked. I saw it on TV. But, you told me that you hate to watch TV! Yes, I do hate to watch TV, but it was one day I was doing some errands for Grandpa Joe. I was bringing his cigarettes, and I could not help but to watch what he was watching. I accidentally saw a carnival in a country called Rio de Janeiro, where I saw men dressed like women. The country is called Brazil, and the city is called Rio de Janeiro, Ms. Tucker told me. I asked her, Ms. Tucker, it seems that you know a lot about how men and women interact. 101

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Why do you let that loser Ishmael to mistreat you? She just replied, This is the mystery of life, Billy, the mystery of life. By then, my head was spinning. She even went further and confessed to me. She confessed to me that she felt very lonely, as she had no family in Seattle. All her family was in Idaho. She also talked about Ishmael. I did not like Ms. Tuckers boyfriend, Ishmael Johnson. He drove a fast and noisy black 1966 Pontiac, smoked like a chimney, drank beer, and smelled like a ferret. His language was very grotesque. He repeated the word fucking at least a hundred times every minute. It was tiresome to watch and listen to him. 102

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On the contrary, Ms. Tucker was a very beautiful, sophisticated, intelligent woman, but it seemed to me that she did not know how to handle men. It was difficult for me to understand these peculiar details, as I did not know anything about love. One day, I accompanied her to look for her boyfriend in a tavern. He was drinking beer, shooting pool, and he was kissing a girl. What are you doing here? he asked her. Hi, honey. I came looking for you because I wanted to take you to dinner, and perhaps go dancing. Im busy! Cant you see that? Ill see you tonight at home. By the

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way, give me $100 bucks. I need it urgently. What do you need the money for? It is none of your business. Just give me the fucking money, now! She handed him a $100 bill. It was the first time I knew that money was something to fuck around, or at least to use to fuck. I imagined having a lot of money, so I could fuck. I imagined a twenty dollar bill fucking a five dollar bill four times, or worse, the twenty dollar bill fucking the one dollar bill twenty times. The 100 dollar bill would die of a heart attack, I thought, as 100 times is too many times to fuck a poor one dollar bill. Ms. Tucker left the smoky place crying. Do not cry, Ms. Tucker, I told her, and I hugged 104

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her. She began crying on my shoulder. I felt like a big man! Here I was, an almost 4,000 day-old kid, hugging and comforting an 8,800 day-old gorgeous woman who happened to be my teacher. I was protecting her from danger. I was her backbone. I was her confidant. I am Mr. Big, I thought. Ms. Tucker went for relationship counseling, and after a while, she finally left that loser and began doing her Masters in Education at Seattle University. She wanted to become a certified schoolteacher. She loved to teach. But I loved to hug her and to comfort her, until she would probably get tired of being hugged by a 4,000 day-old kid. I would assume that she was more 105

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interested in being hugged by at least a 10,000 days or older boy, or man, for that matter. By the time I reached my 4,000th day of existence, I entered high school because my parents decided that I had to go through the regular public educational system. I went to Belleview High School in Leavenworth, Washington. The first year of high school was a nightmare, a living hell. I was accustomed to doing my things on my own, at my own schedule. Now, I had to get up at 5:45 AM so I could be at school at 7:00 AM. My classmates were very unruly, spoiled, and irresponsible kids that did not care much about going to school. They liked to fight, chase girls, and to smoke in the 106

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bathrooms. They had this ugly custom of wearing their ugly and very long pants at the middle of their butts. They often ran around the school campus sustaining their pants with one hand and trying to hold their schoolbags with the other. Meanwhile, I was dressing like Elvis Presley and James Dean. I loved to wear moccasins, not sneakers, Levi jeans adjusted to my body, and shirts with short sleeves. My hair style was like Elvis Presley some days and like James Dean other days. This fashion caused a tremendous uproar at the school. The girls thought it was cool, but the boys called me nerd, strange, weird, fossil, and Neanderthal. But perhaps the biggest issue was my name. My name is 107

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William Kantshakes because of William Shakespeare and Immanuel Kant. Less than 2% of the school knew who they were. My school classmates had a contest to see who could come up with the weirdest nickname, so they could make fun of me. Billy the Silly, Milkshakes, Vanilla Shakes, Supercan, Captaincan, the Wisecan, Shakethepear, Chokethecan, and Drinkthecan all got tossed around. I did not understand why there was so much fuss about a name. "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. But I was not willing to become the laughing stock of my classmates. I decided to fight back. From then on, I would only talk like Shakespeare and Kant. If my 108

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teachers and classmates did not understand a syllable of what I was saying, I couldnt care less. Besides, their command of their English language was very primitive, and I did not want to repeat the word fuck a million times per day. That was disgusting, I thought. A truck driver would have a better command of the English language than most of my schoolmates. I recovered the complete collection of Shakespeares work and Kant`s book, his Critique of Pure Reason, that my parents gave me some years ago. I wrote my own dictionary of words to be used at school. For example, when I wanted to address my classmates I told them: "Friends, Romans, 109

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countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him." When kids from higher grades became very aggressive and abusive to lower grade kids, I told them, "If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? As boys and girls at school were chasing each other, I said, "O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?" As kids always were eating lots of ice cream, hot dogs, pizzas, burgers and all the junk food available, I quoted at them, "Can one desire too much of a good thing?" Within months, the entire school was speaking and quoting Shakespeare. Even the parents at home were talking in Elizabethan 110

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English with their kids. Soon the entire city of Leavenworth, Washington, was doing business in Shakespearean terms. The supermarkets, the government offices, the cab drivers, attorneys, doctors everybody else was speaking Shakespearean language. It got to a point where if you did not quote Shakespeare, you were not able to communicate with each other. The media took notice. They interviewed me, and I became an instant superstar. Long trips, TV, radio, newspaper, interviews, became my next favorite pastimes. The Lucy show lost its audience overnight, until I appeared on the show to demonstrate the bounties of the Shakespearean language. I negotiated handsome appearance 111

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fees for my presentations. I became rich. I was only 5,000 days old. Now that I have a lot of money, I can fuck, I thought. It was a matter of time until this cultural fashion moved to Seattle, then to Portland, then to California. In two years, the entire country was speaking Shakespearean slang. Foreign tourists to the United States had to learn how to speak Shakespearean in order to visit Disneyland. Business people had to relearn English in order to do business, and the judiciary system had to carry out trials in Shakespearean terms. The U.S. Congress was enacting laws in Elizabethan English honoring Isabel I the daughter of Richard VIII and Ana Bolena. 112

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TV programming, the movies, talk shows, newspapers, the Internets social mediaall of them switched to the language of Shakespeare. Those who resisted the bandwagon had to express themselves in sign language. It was not a surprise that the Shakespearean fad was adopted all over the world. The United States and the world had seen nothing like it. Even France, a country famous because of its resistance to cultural changes from abroad, had no choice but to embrace the trend. In just 3,500 days, the planet was talking the same way it had four hundred years before. Language barriers had ended and communication among cultures had substantially improved. People became more lovable, romantic, 113

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and civilized. Violence diminished to record low points. There was no point in being aggressive, as by just quoting Shakespeare, people became at ease and relaxed. But unfortunately, crime and criminal enterprises were conducted in Shakespearean language too. Criminals argued that some plays of Shakespeare talked about violence, death, tragedy, pain, and sorrow. When incarcerated, criminals recited Shakespeare day in and day out. The jail guards followed suit. Jails became Shakespearean cults. One day, Ms. Creighton, a new neighbor, went to my grandparents house. She wanted to make friends with Grandma Louise. She asked my grandma if she could babysit her 2,000 day-old 114

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daughter Jenny for a few days, as Ms. Creighton had to be out of town in search of employment opportunities.

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The State Dinner By Ignacio Sanabria,M.E.d.


Copyright . The State Dinner. Ignacio Sanabria, M.Ed., Author, 2013. All rights reserved. This book is protected by copyright. No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including photocopying, or utilized by any information storage and retrieval system without writing permission from the copyright holder.

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PROLOGUE
On Saturday, November 22, 1963 around 3:30 p.m. in the afternoon, we were playing hide and seek at the El Bosque park with my brothers and friends. I was living in the city of Tunja, capital of the state of Boyac, Republic of Colombia. I was living with my mother, my brothers and my grandparents, as my father had died on October 22, 1962, exactly one year and one month earlier from that fateful day. Television back then was in black and white. The news was transmitting a very tragic event: The President of the United States, John Fitzgerald Kennedy, was assassinated by a lone assassin, 117

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while on a state visit in Dallas, in the state of Texas. At seven years of age, one knows very little about world affairs, let alone about countries and cities. I remember seeing some a few months earlier an American magazine called LIFE showing black and white pictures of the president and his family in the White House. I also remembered seeing a cute blond girl called Caroline, about five years old, who was the president's daughter. During the next two weeks, the country was paralyzed and sad, everybody was crying in the streets and the news and major newspapers were repeating TV footage of his visit to Colombia, two years earlier, in December 17th, 1961. During JFK's funeral, I was 118

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intrigued by a lonely horse walking without a rider along with the president's coffin but with a twisted military boot in the opposite direction. I thought that it was the president's horse and that the horse was sad. The horse was unruly and nervous. Caroline, and his little brother, John-John, were holding hands with her mother Jacqueline Kennedy at the funeral. By age fifteen, I began watching Marlboro commercials with riders from the wild west arreando cattle. My father had a cattle ranch and I was familiar with the faena. I thought our cowboys were more skilled than the Marlboro ones. By age twenty two I was working at a bank, in a city called Villavicencio, state of Meta. While 119

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there, I met Mr. Richard Kirby, a 76 year old a genuine cowboy from Houston, Texas, who happened to own a cattle ranch in the region. He wore cowboy boots, Wrangler jeans and a Stetson hat. He used to own a big cattle ranch in the Texas panhandle. I associated him with the Marlboro commercials. I made friends with him and asked who JFK was. I remembered him telling me He was the greatest president after Lincoln, but we killed him in Texas. What a shame. From then on, I decided that I would save some money, improve my English skills and go to the United States to learn more about him. In 1986, at age 29, I travelled to the United States to study. As I began living my new life in the United States, I watched lots of TV documentaries on the life of JFK. 120

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My admiration for him began to grow. But I also learned about his life shortcomings, mostly his illnesses and his womanizing. I had mixed feelings about it. JFK was my hero. I wanted my hero to be perfect but he was not perfect. He was a human being like anybody else. Like the rest of us. But the only heroes in this world are the ones created in the Greek mythology, such us Hercules, Theseus, Perseus, Achilles, Atlas and others. Their father was the Almighty Zeus, the god of Olympus, also known as Jupiter by the Romans. So, if JFK was a hero, and Zeus was the god that created heroes, then JFK must be the son of Zeus. However, my real hero was my father, Hector Joaquin Sanabria Davila, who died when I was six 121

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years old. Consequently he must also be Zeus's son. Now I have two heroes. This is their story.

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To the living and loving memory of the siblings of John Fitzgerald Kennedy (1917-1963): Joe Patrick Kennedy (1888-1969), Rose Fitzgerald (1890-1994), Joe Kennedy Jr. (1915-1942), Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy Onassis (1929-1994), John Kennedy Jr. (1960-1999), Edward Kennedy (1932-2009) and The siblings of Hector Joaquin Sanabria Davila (1922-1962): Ilva Azucena Baron Tarazona (19292010), Ruben Alberto Sanabria Baron (1961-1991), Alfonso Cipriano Sanabria Davila, (1924-2012), Aurita Pineda de Sanabria (1940-1972), 123

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Adan Tarazona (1880-1954), Arcelina Tarazona de Baron (1900-1989), Ruben Baron Castro(1890-1972), Cipriano Sanabria(1887-1945), Isabel Davila de Sanabria (1901-1952), Bernarda Rodriguez de Tarazona (1898-1970), Victoria Sanabria de Puentes (1932-1997), Marien Hernandez Sanabria(1951-1984), Alvaro Tarazona Rodriguez (19312001)

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Chapter One
Two Heroes Find Each Other

On Saturday, December 17, 1961, a Boeing 707 landed at the Eldorado International airport in Bogota, Colombia, at 9:20 am. It arrived from Caracas, Venezuela, and previous to that, from San Juan Puerto Rico as part of a three day state visit to Latin America by the president of the United States of America, John Fitzgerald Kennedy, who came accompanied by his wife, Jacqueline Kennedy, members of his cabinet, fourteen members of the press and special guests. This state visit was to officially launch JFK's flagship program Alliance for Progress and to 125

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report on his Peace Corps project. JFK had spent several years working on these projects in order to establish a long and lasting relationship between the rich and powerful North and the impoverished and overpopulated southern part of the American continent. The north became rich, most likely as a result of the hard work of the first settlers, the Europeans, mostly from England, who settled the north part of the continent, circa 1607, and quickly developed the continent, making sure the United States of America, would, someday, dominate the world scene. The South became poor, probably as a result of poor work, or plain laziness, as some callous historians described the Spaniards, 126

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who arrived in 1492, and who wasted no time in ransacking and looting the riches of the continent, mostly gold, species and other valuable natural resources with no other purpose than to use these riches to finance endless and futile religious and dynastic wars in Europe. Both settlers, the Spaniards and the English, along with the French, made sure the Native Americans aborigines, were surely and totally exterminated. Some four hundred and fifty years later, after WWII, and after a series of small and large wars, mostly in Europe but branching out to Asia, Africa and South America, of which the most pivotal of all was the French revolution in 1789, where the eternal peasants after consecutively being denied the 127

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right to eat some bread and beans, decided to guillotine Louis XVI and his beautiful Marie Antoinette along with her children and Fufuruchis, her beloved black French Poodle. At some point the revolutionaries would have spared Fufuruchis's life, but Marie Antoinette was not going to leave her beloved puppy behind who may end up becoming sausage for the hungry revolutionaries. From then on, some painful experimentation with different social and economic systems, took place. Historians are keen to blame Napoleon Bonaparte for the tremendous and inexcusable shortsightedness of not confiscating the South American colonies from the perennially lazy Spaniards, an event that could have skyrocketed the use of French as 128

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opposed to Spanish. Clearly, two preponderant economic and social systems were defined after WWII: Communism and or Capitalism. Leading systems, all of them ending in -ism, such as Nazism, Fascism, Imperialism, Socialism, Absolutism, Anarchism, Monarchism, Nationalism, Militarism, Totalitarianism, Isolationism, Civicism, Altruism, Ascetism, Consumerism, Despotism, were finally discarded as deemed either too unfit or too cumbersome to implement. The world was feverishly adopting any of both, where the Soviet Union and China were making deep inroads in Southeast Asia and Latin America. The United States needed to maintain its leadership in these regions. 129

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Africa, on the other side, was eternally condemned to be ruled by tribal feuds where one big ugly dictator ruled the country until another big ugly dictator deposed him until a new one would eventually appear. Some dictators resorted to keeping the heads of their enemies frozen in their home refrigerators. The United States was rightly worried about the inroads of communism in the region. Fidel Castro's Cuba was the first communist regime implemented in1959, and intelligence reports indicated that Venezuela, Colombia, Bolivia and Peru could be the next targets. The United States could not afford such a transgression in its own backyard. JFK's was greeted by Colombian president, Alberto 130

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Lleras Camargo, the same statesman that in 1945 during the United Nations conference in San Francisco, did not answer politely the questions that a young JFK, a journalist from a New York newspaper, asked him. JFK was recently discharged from the navy where he served in the South Pacific during WWII. President Lleras was attending the United Nations conference as a political observer representing some Latin American countries that would eventually join the United Nations. After landing, JFK's was pleasantly surprised to find a huge crowd that cheered him relentlessly, passionately and ferociously along with the First Lady who was wearing a beautiful Parisian yellow dress with a hat of the same color. Both smiled, waved 131

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and raised their arms when heard the chanting of Viva el Presidente Kennedy, Vivan los Estados Unidos. After the protocol salutation, the president gave a short speech underscoring his final words Making a common effort to protect the principles of our civilization and to unite our forces to fight our shared problems, the problems of our times... Next, the caravan headed to the suburb of Fontibon where the president will inaugurate the first housing project called Kennedy City, composed of 18,000 houses for the poor, entirely paid for the United States of America. The president, wearing construction gloves, planted the 132

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first bricks for the project. Observing with curiosity and disbelief, it was Mr. Argelino Plazas Garcia, a humble peasant from the Tolima region, who managed to travel 5 days by treacherous roads as a passenger of the powerful yet uncomfortable American made bus Ford Mercury F-600 model 1960. He, along with his 14 children was ready to receive the house deed from the president. Mr. Plazas was a refugee from the political violence the country was going through where members of the two existing political parties, Conservative and Liberals, killed each other for no apparent reason, although they gave a zillion reasons for it. An acute observer to the construction ceremony suggested to the president that perhaps 133

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American houses should be built with Colombian bricks in order to make them safe and strong against the catastrophic tornadoes that devastate the country several times a year. The president smiled and asked his adviser, Theodore Sorensen, to take note. From there, the caravan headed for the city center. The president was riding a Cadillac limousine covered with bullet proof glass in order to prevent a possible assassination attempt, as there were reports that Colombia was having a small presence of communist guerrillas sponsored by the Soviet Union and the president of the United States was the ideal target for a political assassination. Along the way, rambunctious crowds, estimated at more than five hundred thousand fans, many 134

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of them came from all corners of the country, including a delegation from the Cocuy mountain region, wanted desperately to salute and touch the president and his wife. Thousands of white handkerchiefs and American and Colombian little flags waving in the air at the same time created a cloud larger and bigger that the president and the first lady ever saw in Paris, Berlin or Vienna during their state visits. The caravan moved very slowly, as the multitudes literally swamped the presidential limousine. **** Hidden within the multitude, was the always observant and attentive Zeus. The joy of being there witnessing the popularity of his beloved son, his beloved hero, brought him melancholic memories of when he used to preside over the 135

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majestic and pompous military parades when the triumphant Roman legions arrived to Rome from the provinces. He remembered with nostalgia the myriad exotic animals and the staggering number of slaves brought by the victorious generals. As a result of the Roman military victories, more people will worship me, my gods and goddess, Zeus thought. For a moment, Zeus imagined that the president was Julius Cesar entering Rome after defeating Vercingetorix, his most resolute enemy. The President and the First Lady represented the epitome of grace, smarts, power, dignity, hope and happiness that an impoverished part of the world could ever hope to experience. People felt and experienced an 136

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aura of optimism, a certain sense of accomplishment, a feeling of invincibility and all the emotions associated with. The women were very curious, jealous and mesmerized by the grace and beauty of Jacqueline Kennedy. Rich and poor women alike dreamed of dressing like her, looking like her, even talking like her. Jacqueline had a very soft voice. All of the sudden, women began talking in soft voice to their husbands. It was a fashion trend, albeit a short one. This made them felt feminine and important as their husbands and boyfriends paid more attention to them. The peasants with their characteristic colorful garments composed by ruanas, alpargatas, hats and trenzas for the hair, were performing their traditional dances 137

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on the street as the caravan passed them by. Their musical instruments were guitars, tiples, bandolas and donkey carracas, an instrument made from the donkey's that resembled the sound of maracas. The president and the first lady were electrified by listening to these rhythms. It was a new and pleasant experience for them, as they never heard such musical renditions. Around 1:30 pm, the caravan arrived to the San Carlos presidential palace in the city center, where they attended the shortest mass ever said by a Catholic priest. It lasted only 13 minutes as they had to continue with their busy agendas. The altar boys were the sons in law of president Lleras. Next, the president attended a 138

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private lunch at the palace with 12 special guests after taking a hot and relaxing shower at the palace. Clothes were changed. The president changed his clothes two or three times according to the occasion. Sometimes he wore six shirts a day. The first lady went to visit the Lorencita Villegas de Santos Children's Hospital, named after a former first lady Lorencita Villegas, wife of former president Eduardo Santos. But the first lady was more popular than the president. She drew an even larger crowd than him. Thousands and thousands of people were waiting for her arrival to the hospital. The smiling and exuberant first lady brought a sound recording Motorola system with two large speakers and fifty long-play records showcasing Elvis Presley, 139

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the Beatles and other famous musicians from American culture, so the sick children at the hospital would get a head start in immersing themselves in the fascinating, bewildering, yet annoying American culture, its biggest export commodity. Thirty children sang Christmas carols to the first lady. She was delighted. The children at the hospital suffered from a host of multiple ailments including cancer, leukemia, and tropical diseases such malaria. She promised sending vaccines to the hospital director, Dr. Gutierrez, a crippled man who walked assisted by crutchesmuletasas he suffered from polio since childhood. The first lady was stricken by the beauty and grace of a young girl, Olivia Canas, a 9-year old, 140

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who was dying from leukemia. The first lady asked Dr. Gutierrez if there was anything she could do to alleviate her pain. Dr. Gutierrez told her that her leukemia was eating her alive and that it was only a matter of time before her demise. The first lady asked her what she would like to do and she answered that she would love to go to the United States for a visit and perhaps to visit some amusement parks with merry-go-rounds. The first lady told her that in no time she will travel to the USA and probably would visit her at the White House. Olivia cried and hugged the first lady so strong that nurses had to pull her away. At 7:15 in the evening and after a short break while they changed clothes again, they returned to the San Carlos presidential palace 141

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where 400 guests were anxiously waiting to see them and ready to taste the exquisite buffet being offered. **** The San Carlos presidential palace was elegantly decorated with roses of all colors, claveles, geranios, orchids, and other exotic flowers from the region. The first lady was so impacted by the decoration and the architectural style of the palace that she thought she could renovate the White House by following its style and architecture. Bellavista lobster was served as the main course accompanied by arequipe, a delicious desert made out of milk and sugar with sodium bicarbonate, guanabana cream, a tropical fruit, in addition to plenty of cups of the famed Colombian 142

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coffee. After dinner, speeches followed. President Lleras Camargo thanked Kennedy and the first lady for their visit. President Lleras described in detail the interview Kennedy conducted with him, sixteen years ago in San Francisco. He apologized to him for being so aloof during the interview. The crowd cheered and applauded. The President walked to the podium followed by strong ovations. After the rigorous salutations, the president excused himself for not being able to speak Spanish properly, but he asked the first lady to introduce him. The first lady stood up and with his peculiar soft voice said in spotless Spanish: El mas grande sentido de logro y 143

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felicidad es poder darle a la gente la esperanza de tener una vida mejor, producto del trabajo continuo y constante de tal manera que ellos puedan obtener una vivienda digna y puedan criar a sus hijos saludables y que puedan recibir una buena educacion (The greatest sense of achievement and happiness is to give people the hope of a better life. Relentless and resilient work produce the benefits of achieving comfortable housing thus being able to provide for the children who could be raised healthy and would be able to receive a good education). The State Department rightly and accurately defined the social, economical and political struggles of Latin America in a confidential report in 1960, as follows: 144

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The chief obstacle to modernization is the existence in many Latin American countries of an agrarian, semi-feudal economic structure. The chief guardians of this backward economic structure are the classes which benefit from it--the socalled landholding oligarchy which still more or less governs most of the continent, including especially the Andean nations of Chile, Peru, Ecuador and Colombia. So long as this structure exists, half the population of these countries will be excluded from their national societies and kept in poverty and illiteracy; and, so long as this structure exists, industrializations, economic growth and social mobility will be impossible. The president began his speech 145

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describing the herculean efforts made by Simon Bolivar in order to gain independence from Spain, and outlining the benefits of mutual cooperation between the rich North and the poor South. The president also described in excruciating details the benefit of his Alliance for Progress program, which he strongly believed it would be the path to progress for Latin America, as well as fending off the looming threat of communism. He also underscored the benefits and the work done by the Peace Corps already in full implementation. The Peace Corps program consisted of sending noble and skilled young Americans to distressed regions in Latin America to assist peasants in improving their farming, health and cultural skills. Some of them did such a 146

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superb job, that they ended up marrying young and beautiful Latin women. The Latin women went wild when watching these tall, perfectly built muscle bodies flashing green or blue eyes, with blond hair boys who wore Levi's jeans, cowboy hats and cowboy boots, who constantly smiled, danced twist, and spoke trabado (mambled). The American boys became absolutely fascinated by observing the softness, swiftness and humbleness of the Latin girls. They even refused eye contact, although after some bribery they gave in. The girls' parents were delighted at the possibility that their daughters would marry a gringo who would take them to the United States of America, the land of milk and honey, as the experts described the 147

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country, so they could live a life plenty of milk and honey. After all, milk is the most sought after nutritious liquid to fight osteoporosis and hot honey with lemon, is all there is to cure a pesky winter cold. Word of mouth ran wild about the beauty, the charm and the docility of Colombian women. Enrollment for the program grew exponentially, as it was fashionable among the youth, to spend some years of their lives helping the poor and hoping to grab a poor Latin girl with good attitude. The gringos quickly figured out that their beloved American women were not going to do laundry, cook their lunch and make the beds for them, whereas the Latin women loved to do household chores in exchange for a 148

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good grocery shopping and perhaps being awarded a nice but inexpensive dress at the local community store. These culture events would bring unintended consequences in the US-Latin American relationships in the future. Soon, American husbands figured out that maintaining a high maintenance lady was going to be more than they could expect and ladies figured out that having a husband who would provide them with a pitiful weekly grocery shopping was not worth the while. The president, however, had more pressing issues in his agenda than being concerned about pesky family affairs. When the president was notified of the success of the Peace 149

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Corps program and that Latin women made the volunteers crazy, he smiled and thought that perhaps he could implement a similar program with the Soviets. Mrs. Lincoln, Evelyn Lincoln, President Kennedy's trusted personal secretary since his years as a congressman, always accompanied the president during his frequent state visits. Mrs. Lincoln was the official translator to the president. She was fluent in English, Spanish, German and French. She was now translating the conversation between President Kennedy and President Lleras. While President Kennedy was enjoying his tasteful Petit Upmann habanos and carrying out an enjoyable and livable conversation with president Lleras, all of the sudden, two gentlemen elegantly 150

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dressed with tuxedos, one in his eighties, the other in his forties, approached the Presidents table. The older gentleman politely asked President Lleras if he could have a word with the president, which he gladly agreed. He stood up and moved to another table.

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IMPORTANT LINKS

The State Visit to Venezuela and Colombia, December 1961 http://www.jfklibrary.org/Asset -Viewer/Archives/USG-01A.aspx#ooid=BhcnB3MTpE7Q7Tex XKSbV5ro_3-9CiOu

Photos of the Cocuy Mountain http://www.eltiempo.com/Mult imedia/galeria_fotos/especialcocuy/ paisajes-de-el-cocuy_13060032-5

The Orchestra http://www.luchobermudez.com/

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