The woman working with an old, ungainly wooden box type camera sets herself up just in front of St. Michael's Roman Catholic Church on the South-Side of Chicago. The old steel mills cast its dirty shadow over the working class neighborhood and Lupe finds the lighting is just perfect. In just a minute, the old wooden doors burst open in a joyous explosion as the young couple, surrounded by family, friends and well-wishers stream out of the church.

Lupe takes one smiling shot right by the door, then loads another glass sheet negative into the camera. As wedding guests throw rice, she yells out to the couple as they walk down the steps: 'Juan, Susan, look here and smile!' 'Another picture perfect moment'; Lupe thinks as she captures another happy event for her family. 'Sis, come on or you're going to miss the party': Juan yells out as Lupe struggles with the heavy camera.

A few years later...inside St. Michael's church, Lupe steps up to the baptismal font. Fr. Bob blesses the baby: 'In the Name of the Father and of the Son an d of the Holy Ghost.' The proud mother, father and Lupe and her husband all answer: 'Amen.'

With her brownie camera, Lupe snaps another picture in the darkened church, winding the film forward, then taking another picture until Juan's smile starts to hurt. "Sis, come-on...or we'll all miss the party"; he admonishes. He turns to the priest and with an apologetic shrug explains: 'she treats us all as if we were movie stars or something.' 'One more shot'; Lupe begs: 'Juan, Susan, hold up the baby...look here, smile, father...please step in closer?'

The pictures were never perfect, there was always some smudge, some mark, something in the picture that seemed oddly out of place. Yet the pictures were full of memories and love. 'Oh...and they were free'; Juan would remind everyone in the family: 'that's the best part!'

When Juan was so proud of his work as a manager at the phone company, Lupe was there. For the kids at Christmas and on their birthdays, for all the holidays and all the important times...Lupe was there and the family had their pictures, their memories. Maybe the pictures weren't perfect, but the memories were. All the way until Lupe got that expensive 35mm camera. 'Like a professional'; she gushed when she opened her present from the whole family.

Even as tears of happiness streamed from her eyes, Juan saw something deeper. He knew, he just knew that something was wrong; that there was something Lupe wasn't sharing with her brother. He didn't know what she knew; he had no idea that she had just been diagnosed with diabetes. He didn't hear what the doctor had told his sister. He didn't know, how could he?

A week later, before she told anyone in the family, Lupe was driving home from the advertising place where she worked as a commercial artist. She had forgotten to take her insulin and within two blocks of her home, she drove off the overpass and her car landed upside down on the expressway below! Barely conscious, Lupe tried to reach for her broken camera lying next to her. Two cars smashed into her car before she died.

It was about a year before anyone in the family took or even posed for another picture. Juan and Susan had another child and they were still in the hospital, it was a 'gift' from the hospital. The flash lit up and the camera clicked! Even though Juan was a proud dad, something inside him felt broken and even then, he didn't show it, he didn't tell anyone...he just went aside, in a bathroom and washed off his face with cold water.

Three, maybe four weeks later an envelope came with the pictures, it took maybe another month before Juan could open it. When he did, he had to grin...this 'professional' photographer got the same smudges and marks in his pictures that Lupe used to get in hers. His grin faded, he remembered teasing her, joking, he remembered how frustrated she'd get.

He remembered how much he loved and missed his sister; he remembered how much she loved him. 'No matter what I did'; he thought in a sad whisper: 'she was always there for me.' Sadly, Juan slid the pictures back into the envelope and the envelope into a drawer.

The months and years pass, children get older...Juan and Susan, their two kids, and the pain, though it never goes away, the pain fades. Matt, their son was away at seminary, studying to be a Jesuit priest. Gabrielle, their daughter was still in high school and pondering what to ask for this Christmas. 'A camera'; Gabby blurted out! Juan ripped his newspaper when he jumped from the sudden shout that stabbed at the silence. 'What honey'; Susan asked with a weary eye on her husband. Their daughter said it again, but this time with certainty: 'A camera mom, I want a camera.' 'One of those new video cameras'; she declared in an explanation: 'I want a video camera for Christmas.'

Susan watched her husband, not sure what to expect and Juan admittedly was a little unsettled at first. Then he just shrugged and mumbled: 'We'll see.' Gabby hadn't noticed the reactions; it was just a thought, just an idea and not much more than a Christmas wish.

The months of September and October blended into November and December 24th brought the whole family together: Matt, the seminarian, Juan, Susan and Gabby. The house smelled of all the traditional dishes and memories that Juan remembered from his younger days, the happy times when his sister and mother would be in the kitchen making tamales. Susan and Gabby made the delicious tamales from the same recipe and Juan sat in his chair, a recliner they got him three years ago and inhaled the steamy aroma while his son moved the packages he brought under the Christmas tree.

‘So what did you get dad’; Gabby asked her mother as she cleaned the table. Susan lifted the lid to check on the tamales and with a huge grin playfully scolds her daughter: “You know better than to ask before we go to Mass…next you’ll want me to tell you what we got for you!” ‘Well…’; Gabby says as her curiosity peaks: ‘Since you brought it up…’ ‘Aye mija’ her mother interrupts with a laugh and shaking her head: ‘Go change for Mass and tell your father that we’ll be ready to go soon.’ ‘Remind him that we were late last year!’

Walking up the front steps, the church looked dark and closed as Juan and his family arrived. Opening the massive wooden doors, there were people, there were noises and finally you could see as the candle light illuminated the parishioners. An older, distinguished man in a nice suit approached and handed everyone a candle with a lace doily at its base. Another man helped the family light their candles for the Midnight Mass.

Juan looked over at his son Matt, knowing he would soon be at his own parish getting ready for his own duties as a parish priest. An unseen tear formed in his eye and he leaned over to whisper: ‘Son, I just want you to know that I am very proud of you.’ ‘I know dad’; Matt replied in a reverend whisper: ‘I know.’ ‘Just made it’; Gabby announces as Father Lovett sends an altar boy out to light the candles at the altar. The family makes it to their pew just as another altar boy leads a procession into the church. The parishioners all rise, the singing starts, the Mass begins and just as in Christian churches all over the world…the people celebrate the birth of a child in a stable over two thousand years ago as the clock strikes midnight.

During the Mass, Father Lovett spoke fondly abouth the various traditions within his parish. He talked about the Polish hams in some of the homes, the traditional American turkeys and geese and duck in other homes, then he mentioned the Hispanic tamales, so many kinds...from hot and spicy to sweet deserts, soon to be devoured in the neighborhood houses of this multi-cultural parish. Juan didn't know if this was bringing him closer to God, but it was making him painfully aware of how hungry he was!

He could almost taste Susan's delicious tamales right there in the Church, right there in the middle of the Mass...especially when he closed his eyes. 'Wake-up'; Susan whispered with a sudden and surprising elbow jab in Juan's mid-section! The sudden jolt to reality came as Fr. Lovett finished his delicious disertation on the customs and foods of Christmas.

The steamy aroma of tamales welcomed Juan home as he opened the door. Gaby excitedly ran to the tree and grabbed the first of many presents she would open tonight! 'Just a minute'; Susan urged with a smile: 'let everyone get inside so we can share in the fun.' The door closed as Matt walked in after his father and the first presents' wrapper was torn. Susan looked at her husband and he smiled, nodding for her to watch her daughter.

The house stood still as Gabby ripped another layer off the box to expose the word 'Sony...' The teenager screamed in excited joy! 'You did, you got me a...'; Gaby pulled at the last of the paper: 'video camera!' Susan felt a drop of water form in the right corner of her eye, she knew it was almost painful for her husband. Juan watched from a diferent perspective. 'Actually'; he thought proudly: "It's as if she were still here, a part of my sister lives deep within my daughter." He didn't see his wife watching him with more love than she ever felt for him.

Matt passed his father a small book wrapped and bowed for the holiday. Juan passed a gift to his wife and everyone sorted through their reamining treasures, though admitedly, Gaby and her present took most of the attention until everyone had a small snack and went to bed...everyone except Juan. He couldn't sleep and he was curious about this camera, this expensive gift he bought his daughter.

As Gaby slept, as his whole living family dreamt of other things...Juan picked up the camera and checked all the buttons and settings. He had a drink of tequilla while fingering the manual. He looked into the lens and through the viewfinder. He had another drink, almost half a glass of tequilla. Juan looked at the tiny, mini DV lable on a very small cassette. Squinting his aging eyes, he read the small letters: 'digital video.' Sipping from a fresh glass, Gaby's father thought about the sister he missed so very much and imagined her reaction to such a product...to such an age and he smiled sadly, shaking his head.

Before going to bed himself, Juan poured the rest of the tequilla into his empty glass and put the digital tape in the camera. He set the camera on a tripod and faced his chair...thinking he might say something interesting on the tape. Juan drank the rest of his tequilla...emptying the glass while he sat in his chair waiting to come up with something interesting to tell his daughter, something they could watch tomorrow perhaps. 'Maybe something funny'; he thought with a smirk, but the tequilla, the night...it all got to him and finally, Juan went to bed.

Morning greeted a hung-over Juan with the steamy aroma of tamales, the hushed tones of family members in the kitchen and a pounding head-ache. His slightly shaking hand slowly wiped his face as he reluctantly opened his blood shot eyes. It was another holiday, and somehow...even with his wife and kids, it was still a lonely time without his sister. Times like this, alone and before he got together with his busy wife and kids were the worst. Times like this gave him pause and made him remember.

The old man (that's what he felt like anyway), started to stretch and strain and moan and groan and reached to get out of bed. Wearing just his t-shirt and nothing else, he roamed into the bathroom and scratched, pee'd, brushed his teeth and stepped into the shower. Under the hot water, Juan turned his head this way and that and pulled his neck left and right, letting out a groan at the rush of relief. Patting himself dry with an oversized towel made from Egyption cotton, he dressed and went to join the wife and children.

'Good morning dad'; his son and daughter sang out together. Susan was already pouring him a cup of coffee. 'Mmmm....tamales'; Juan returned with a smile and rubbing his hands together. Susan passed him his cup and cautioned: 'Take it easy honey, remember last year.' Everyone smiled at the remark, because Juan would always indulge his impulses and eat too many tamales...it was a tradition! Then he'd be sick for the next two days, it was another tradition.

"Oh dad"; Gabby sighed disappointedly from the next room. Susan stuck her head out of the kitchen to try to stop any family squabbles before they got started, scolding mildly: 'Gabby...' 'But mom, dad left the camera on all night and used one of the tapes all up on this stupid chair'; her daughter whined. "Well, can't you just re-use the tape"; Susan tried to console: "come-on honey, it's Christmas...and you know it wasn't easy for daddy to get that camera for you." "Yeah, I guess so"; Gabby responded in a disappointed way, putting the used tape up on a shelf of her dad's entertainment center to be forgotten.

Juan ate too many tamales as usual, got sick, took two days to recover and forgot about it as Easter passed, then the Fourth of July, then Labor Day...as all the holidays faded until that uniquely American holiday, Thanksgiving Day of the next year.

Susan was in the kitchen doing something with the turkey; his son was away on retreat somewhere in Illinois and Gaby was out at a friends house. Juan looked around the tv for his remote, his hand searching in spaces between the tv and the entertainment center, in the dark when he felt it. A small plastic rectangle, a box, a case, the plastic box that held the digital tape he toyed with last Christmas!

Curious to see what he had recorded, he went to his daughter's room and pulled out her camera. Juan plugged it in the power supply, plugged the power supply into the wall and pulled out a gaggle of color coded cables that he watched his daughter plug into the VCR a hundred times before. Scratching his head, he pulled open a little plastic door in the front of the VCR and was relieved to see that the connections were color coded too...the same was true with the camera. He smiled and thought: '...not bad, this is easy.'

He then turned on the television and the camera and pushed on the play button, but nothing came up. 'Oh'; he realized: 'the VCR isn't on.' Almost chuckling at himself, he turned on the VCR and the picture came up...it was his chair, he was there for a few minutes, looking a little drunk. Then, he noticed the one of those smudges, the kind Lupe always seemed to have in her pictures. 'Damned cameras'; he thought. Then, the weirdest thing happened, although Juan was sure he imagined it; the form almost took shape, form...it almost started to look like something. Juan stared in silence, he looked harder he struggled to focus.

Susan finished basting the Butterball turkey with some of the buttery sauce that it had been cooking in through the night. Even if it was just the two of them this Thanksgiving, she was sure they'd still have a nice dinner, another memory to share. Closing the stove, she was surprised at the silence...this is when her husband would usually be in the kitchen looking for a snack, some Twilight Zone marathon playing loudly on the television...but she was alone and all she heard was a quiet, an empty quiet in her home. She had to investigate!

At first, when she walked out if the kitchen and into the living room, all she could see was her husband bent over the TV. Then, she moved to see and she too saw the blur, only now it had taken shape and form, only now she could hear something, a voice...barely perceiving her husbands' sobs as he watched his sister...his sister Lupe!

At first, Lupe seemed to struggle to say something. At first the voice wasn't even a voice, it was a sound a garbled gutteral sound...to the ear, what the blurs had been before this one, before Lupe took form and shape. And onlyJuan knew the secret, only Juan knew that his sister had promised...if she went first, to let him know if there really was life beyond, if it was heaven and hell. Only he knew their secret as Susan watched, now in shock and unable to move.

The sound was more audible, but still not clear...until she looked into her brother's eyes and said: "It..." Lupe swallowed or moved something in her mouth or something and said: "It is..." Again she struggled and said clearly: "My gift." Susan gasped and drew her hand up to her mouth in a sudden reaction. Lupe amost hugged the empty chair and smiled before fading away.

Juan pushed his face up and practically hugged his TV. Susan silently stepped up and hugged her husband, knowing what this meant to him and knowing that there really weren't words for the moment. Juan finally rewound the tape and tried playing it again to see his sister, but the blur was gone and never took shape, the blur was always gone and no-one ever saw Lupe again. Yet using that camera, Gaby made a small documentary that got her an interview that led to a job as a producer with a network news show.

Juan and Susan still have that camera...and every now and then, Juan pulls it out and his wife and him watch a video of an empty chair. No blurs, no forms, no shapes...a crystal clear video of an empty chair. They share what they know happened, they feel closer to each-other and to someone they feel is watching over them. From his chair, there are times Juan swears that his sister's unseen hand is resting on his shoulder. And, Susan is sure he's right.

Created: May 09, 2001r.
Last Updated: May 23, 2005r.