So far this winter has been very mild. We only had one blizzard which wasn’t too bad. Which reminds me of the blizzard of 1947. We had a very bad storm with about 25 inches of snow that day. It was impossible to go to work. I hope the weather continues like this. But the winter isn’t over yet!

Sometimes my daughter and son-in-law take me to see my other daughter, Aida, out east. We also go out to dinner sometimes on the weekends. When I first came to stay with them she brought me to a senior community center. There I met many new friends. I pass the time playing pool, which I enjoy very much. I met a fellow named Ambrosio who was bom in Puerto Rico. One day he told me he knew some of my family in his town of Rincon. He knew my uncle, Francisco Rios, and one of my cousins. This fellow is now 97 years old and he likes to play dominoes. Some of the other people there enjoy playing cards. So we all enjoy ourselves very much.

There is a special lady. Her name is Sevilla Livadariu. She lives in East Rockaway, not too far from me. She comes from Romania, where she was born. Then she had to pass through other countries before reaching the United States. She learned a few languages such as English, French, Spanish and Italian. She found a job here in New York in a bank but later got sick and lost the job.

Once in awhile she invites some of her friends from the center to her house for coffee and we play some games of dominoes. When I was about to be 95 years old she gave me a surprise by inviting me to her house. When I got there, she had other friends greeting me. She had balloons and gifts for me.

There are chauffeurs with buses to bring all the people back and forth from the center. They are very nice as well as the people who work in the office.

I am writing this story at the age of 94. I have two daughters, Aida and Hilda. Aida has three sons; Danny, Frank, and Jeffrey. Jeffrey has two daughters; Alani and Mia. Hilda has two daughters; Carin and Jennifer. Carin has two daughters; Sierra and Skye. And Jennifer has one son, Nikolas, and daughters Bianca and Lexi. That makes me a father of two, grandfather of five and a great-grandfather of seven. I, in other words, am not alone. So far I am in good health and I thank God for that. But Bertha will always be on my mind because thanks to her all of this could not have been possible.

How I Lost My Finger
Part 2

This is the beginning of the story of how I lost part of my finger. It began in Puerto Rico when I was about l0 years old. My father had built a sugar cane squeezer by using two wooden rolls covered with perforated tin and operated by hand. He put the sugar cane between the rolls and produced the juice which they called in Spanish "guerapo de caña." This juice was sold to people that converted it to molasses, then into rum.

One day when my father wasn't around, I started to play with the machine. I took a piece of sugar cane with my left hand and with the other hand I moved the handle so I had my finger nail caught between the rolls. My nail was split in the middle. From that day on, my finger nail was very uncomfortable until I came to New York and started working in a restaurant where I had the second accident on the same finger. So I lost one third of the same finger. My split nail didn’t bother me any more! On page seven I explained how I lost the other part, but it all started while I was in Puerto Rico, which was a coincidence.