Thursday, September 18, 2014


by Ray Jason
           The old fisherman was smiling as he rowed his cayuco through the twilight tinted lagoon towards AVENTURA.  As he pulled alongside, he told me in Spanish that he had some very fine fish tonight.  Looking down into his bucket I agreed, and so I bought a nice fresh mangrove snapper.   When I went below to get some money, I also brought back a couple of cold Balboas – the local beer.  We drank them silently as we watched the sun’s amber descent behind the distant volcano.  Then he surprised me with an unexpected question. 
            “Que pais?” What country, he asked, as he pointed to the flag flying from my rigging.
            “No pais!” No country, I answered.
            “No pais?” He responded in a puzzled manner.
            “Correcto, soy un gitano del mar.”  That’s right, I am a sea gypsy. 
            Realizing that he still did not quite understand this, I lowered the flag down so that he could see it closely.  It is an Earth Flag with the classic photo of our planet from space. 
            “El Mundo es mi pais.  El Mar es mi pais, comprende?”  The World is my country.  The Sea is my country.  Do you understand?
            “Si, fantastico,” he said.  And then we sat quietly and finished our beers as the darkening sky shadowed the bay.  He passed me back the empty can and then reached into his bucket and brought out another fish.  In Spanish he told me that it was a gift – “for his friend whose country is the Sea.”

Friday, September 5, 2014


by Ray Jason

With Mom at the Ray Jason Day event

The melancholy is heavy on me this morning.  It is my Mom’s death day.  And even though it was on a September 5th many years ago, I still grieve … deeply.  I was beside her in the emergency room in her final minutes.  She was already unconscious and the doctors were trying to shock her back.  I knew she would not return.  She had told me so the day before.

It had been her first day of physical therapy after a very severe cardiac attack that left her with only a third of a functioning heart.  With me holding one arm and the nurse on the other, we tried to gently help her take a few steps.  She could not.  This just staggered her.  When the nurse left us alone we had our last conversation together.