My Dad is Magic

As a child, I remember my father always carrying around a red handkerchief, a small multi-use tool (which included a hammer, blade, wrench, and Phillips screw driver all in one), and a small black book with a pen. With these items in his possession, anything was possible. ANYTHING. According to our family, my father is considered a Gomez legend. Although I truly enjoy listening to all of their stories about him, it is not necessary for me to learn about his greatness because I had my own first-hand experiences.

He was an un-defeated boxer, creative inventor, somewhat professional mechanic, skilled cowboy, extremely hard worker, and of course the coolest dad ever. To accumulate his wealth at an early age, he worked two to three jobs at once. His day-to-day job was as a construction laborer and his weekend job was as a handy man working on houses during the day, while serving as a limo driver for his very own "White Horse Limousine” service at night. At age 22, my father had enough money to purchase a five acre land for his whole family - including that of my mom, older sister, both his parents and his six siblings. At the time, the property was just a dirt lot to others, but to him, it was his future kingdom. He constructed three large houses on the property, one for my grandparents, one for his siblings, and one for us. He welded a blue metal Gate displaying our last name, “Gomez.” This was the gate to my childhood.

Upon entering the Gomez gates, guests were unexpectedly greeted by luscious plants and fruit trees, a few happy- but beastly looking dogs, and a never-ending driveway. After a few moments of travel, one would encounter plentiful life; chickens and their chicks scattering, children playing on the swings, men laughing as they compete in dominoes, women chattering in the kitchen windows as they cook, peacocks loudly cawing in the background, and horses grazing in the very back with baby pigs running around them. In the middle of the run-down streets of East Los Angeles, a visit to the Gomez residence was like taking a quick trip into a magical realm. During the summers, my dad would set up a water slide out of thick plastic with running water and he’d place it on the largest hill, so a trip to the waterpark was never necessary. He assembled rotating high-swings and other interesting rides, so Disneyland was never a yearning. He had a strange fascination for wheels and anything that moves. Motorcycles were his thing, along bikes, skateboards, sleds, boats, and real live race horses! Every hill in the backyard was transformed into some sort of ramp. Behind the Gomez residence were hiking trails and a small lake. He claimed this uncharted area and made it his own. The trails became motocross practice zones as we flew over hills with our motorcycles. With his aluminum pirate ship, he turned the lake into our very own mighty ocean.

As a kid, living this fun-packed and adventurous lifestyle was normal to me. I had never compared fathers with other kids because I thought that all dads acted this way. As I grew older, the fun began to disappear little by little. My parents got divorced, and I moved away with my mom. While visiting once a month, I noticed the Gomez residence grow gray and dim. All of the luscious plants died. The dogs ran away. The peacocks fled. The swing set rusted. The motorcycles were sold. The horses got old and passed away. Happiness disappeared. My dad no longer needed his red handkerchief to wipe down oil from his motorcycles or blood from my knees after an adventurous fall. He no longer carried around his multi-use tool to fix any fun toys or objects that needed a tune-up. He also stopped carrying around his black book and pen…which I had never actually seen him use. As an adult, I realized that it was not common for dads to carry around these items.

Recently, I came across my dad’s black book in an old shed on the Gomez residence while looking for a tool. My curiosity drove me wild and I so badly wanted to take a glimpse into the past. Did this black book have to do with my dad's past successes? Instead of invading his privacy, I asked him while we were barbecuing, “Dad, why did you always carry around that little black book? I have never seen you write in it. What did you use it for?” My dad’s response was, “Mija, at the end of every day I would write down what I am grateful for and what I would like to accomplish.” I looked at him with such surprise. “Why did you stop writing in it?” I asked. My dad looked lost, as if he didn’t have an answer and responded, “I am not sure. Everything I wrote in that book came true. I no longer needed to write down what I wanted to accomplish because I already had everything I wanted.”

He walked away as I was left in shock. I thought my dad had accomplished everything he wanted because he was a hard worker. I did not know he had some magic black book to pave the way for his successes. He came back with the black book and blurted, “I found this book while working on a mansion when I was your age. The owner let me have it and warned me to only use it with great intention. The very first thing I wrote in there was that ‘I have $10,000 of disposable income'… and what do you know, the next day I lose my eye in a freak accident involving a nail gun! The company I worked for at the time had extensive insurance, so my settlement was $10,000 a month, for six months. Even though I would like to have my eye back, it seems that this accident was a blessing in disguise.” As I sat there in anguish thinking about the loss of my dad’s left eye, I was also grateful to know that he was a lucky man. “After the accident, I did not write in the black book for months out of fear that the magic would take over again. I got brave one day and wrote, ‘I have my kingdom.’ Soon after, your mom walked in with the newspaper at our tiny old home. There, displayed on the second page was this huge residential lot for sale. It caught my attention because the address was 1026, your mom's birthdate. This is when I really started to believe… and I knew it belonged to us. I cashed out my settlement money and went straight to purchase it. She thought I was crazy.”

My dad continued to speak. “You know, despite the strange occurrences that helped me, I never took advantage. I still held three jobs, worked sleepless nights, and lived a humble life. That seems to be the secret to this magic book. If you get too greedy, it will not work for you,” he warned. I gazed at him, once again with adoration.

He turned to me and exclaimed, “I want you to take this. You will find such great value in manifesting what you want. If you really believe, everything you write down will come true…but you have to work hard and carry it around with you everywhere. Read your entries once a day.” My heart was filled with excitement. “One more thing,” he said. “You must write down what you want, as if you already have it. Only then will it come true.”

I went home and carved the words that I was raised to believe, ‘My dad is Magic,’ and, ‘I am magic.’