The Greatest Story Never Told

Chapter 23 - I Never Knew

Imagine going through the first thirty-two years of your life not knowing who your father is. When I was a toddler my sister Delores and I were often sent to Delores' god-mother's house on Sundays, her  name was Barbara Guilbe. Barbara and my mom were childhood friends that were so close that my mother asked Barbara to be Delores' god-mother which Barbara was thrilled to accept. I can still recall being at her house hanging out with her four young children. We would all play together under the watchful eye of Barbara and her husband Andres. Sometimes Andres' older brother would come over to visit and hangout, while listening to Spanish music. His name was Angel Guilbe. He was often in and out of the picture. They were all Puerto-Rican.

Once my mother moved from the Lower East-Side to Brownsville with Hiawatha, we drifted away from those Sunday visits as my mother and Barbara used phone calls to stay in touch. As I grew up into manhood I'd occasionally drop by Barbara's house for a surprize visit. I had grown close to her, Andres and their kids. I loved her cooking, and whenever I came over she'd give me a huge plate of rice, beans and chicken. She'd laugh every time I put ketchup on her rice. I often kept her abreast of what was happening with my family and Andres was always happy to see me.

Then, one day, a sad day, my mother received a phone call from Barbara that Andres had passed away. Little did I know, before he passed on, he made a final request of Barbara. He asked her to do something for him that would have a major impact on my life, and Delores' as well. It happened during a three-way phone call one Saturday afternoon, a few days before Andres' wake and funeral. I was on the phone with Barbara and my mother while they joked, laughed and reminensced about all kinds of things, which they did all the time. Then, there was a moment of silence.

Out of nowhere Barbara asked my mother, 'So Dot, are you gonna tell him?' My mother remained silence, before Barbara said, 'He's thirty-two years old now, don't you think he should know?' I was at a loss for words, I had no idea what the conversation had just morphed into. My mother then said in a low voice, ' David, Andres brother Angel is Delores' and your father.' Now, it was I who had no words... Thirty-two years! That's when Barbara put the finishing touch on this atomic bomb by saying, 'It was Andres' dying wish that you be told the truth, thats why he loved you guys so much, you were his nephew and niece, my kids are your cousins. Barbara then said, 'Your father will be at Andres' wake, you should go and meet him. You also have two brothers, Angel Jr. and Billy, and a sister, Annie, they'll all be there and you can meet them all for the first time.'

(Above: Papi and Me / Below: Mami, Papi and Delores when she was born. Their love shows in this rare photo)

After that phone call, I was flooded with emotion, sadness, and then happiness. I called Delores, who was equally shocked. We talked for some time over this new reality. Every fiber of my being wanted me to attended Andres' wake, and I did. I remember it like it was yesterday. I put on a suit and took the two hour bus ride into NYC. The ride was a quiet one. I was going someplace I'd never been before. I was headed into a den of strangers who were family members. My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. I thought of all of the things I had gone through, the homelessness, the runs through Times Square as a wayward youth, the jails and prisons, the drugs, the hopelessness and despair, the near-death experiences, all the things that often happens to kids without their father. 

I finally arrived at the Port Authoriry building and took a train to the Lower East-Side before exiting the train station and walking to the funeral parlor where Andres rested. Standing outside of the parlor I took a deep breath before entering. I worked my way through the throng of people who came to pay their respects. There were people standing coffin-side, and I approached. For a few minutes I just stood there. I honestly didnt know what to do. Death creates a cold feeling within, yet for me it was intermingled with warmth, it came from the possibility that I was in the room with my father and maybe even my siblings. I waited. Then, I saw Andres Jr., my newfound cousin. It was him who walked me over to the group of people who were viewing Andres. 

He began introducing me as his cousin to some of the folks, before taking me over to Angel. And, there he was, the missing piece of my life, my reality, the essence of who and what I am. He introduced me to Angel. I saw the sadness in his eyes from losing his brother, and then there was the sparkle of joy from seeing me. The hug that ensued was overwhelming, I couldn't fight back the tears. I had his Guilbe forehead! Though raised a Samuels, I was now in the presence of what I was supposed to be, a Guilbe. I was David Samuels-Guilbe. 

My roots weren't of the Lower East-side of Manhattan, my roots were actually in Ponce, Puerto-Rico. This explained everything! My love of Spanish food and music, the reason why most of my friends were Puerto-Rican, why I dated 'Rican girls and women, why the language came so easily to me. Why I gravitated to baseball, not knowing that I came from a famous baseball family with two uncles in the Puerto-Rico Baseball Hall of Fame, Telo and Felo Guilbe. One of them even beat the freaking Yankees in an exhibition game! It was all making sense now. I went on to get introduced to my two brothers and my sister, and it was all love. They told me that since they were children, Papi always reminded them that they had another brother. Later when Papi passed away, I found out that I also had another sister in Ponce that was older than I was. 

(My mother, Me and Papi at his retirement party. Reunited as fate put me where I needed to be, with my parents.)

I went on to have relationships with Papi, Angel Jr., Billy and Annie through the years that followed. And, I learned a lot about my parents history. I was always a great dancer. In the 70's I was hitting discos hard to dance The Hustle, and I was pretty good at it. I learned that dancing was in my genes, deep in my DNA. The story of how Mami met Papi is a sweet one. One night Papi and Andres decided to go Mambo dancing at the legendary Savoy in Manhattan, a premier Mambo spot for New York's best dancers. He and Andres were regulars there and also at the renown Palladium Nightclub. They went to Mambo the night away. On that fateful night, their decision to hit The Savoy that evening would lead to my birth.

The story goes, as Papi worked his way through the dancing crowd alongside Andres, he and my mother locked eyes while Barbara saw Andres dancing in her direction. My father started dancing in front of my mother before getting lost in the Mambo rythm. He started shaking his shoulders hard from side to side drawing my mother out on to the dance-floor. She blew his mind by matching his moves shaking her shoulders harder then he did. Instant love! The same magic was also happening for Andres and Barbara which led to my cousins being born. We're all here today because of Mambo and a chance meeting between two brothers and two young ladies who wanted to dance, live and love at The Savoy.