The Weight of a Date

November 16 holds a lot of weight for me in many different ways.  So many different events have fallen on this day that it's sometimes overwhelming to remember them all.

My first memory of a significant November 16 was in 2001 when I was a college freshmen.  This was the birthday of my roommate, Valerie Jacobs, so the whole west wing of the Sullivan dorm at LMU was going out to celebrate.  She was a Potterhead and the very first movie was about to be released.  I didn't have any classes on Fridays so I spent the day reading Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone to get ready for our evening at the theater.  I fell in love with the book and movie and anyone who knows me knows what a hard-core fan I became.  I trace the obsession back to this date.

Aside from launching my fandom of The-Boy-Who-Lived, this day is marked for me on a much more serious and somber level. It's actually much more about those who died.  On November 16, 1989 six Jesuit priests, their housekeeper and her daughter were massacred at the Universidad Centroamericana (UCA) in El Salvador.  Being a public school kid, I had never heard about this until attending LMU.  Jesuit schools and universities always host memorials in honor of these victims.  I was particularly interested because it involved Salvadorans.  For one thing, Central America always feels like the forgotten area of Latin America and as someone of Nicaraguan decent, I always appreciated any attention to this region.  Secondly, our long time family friends and neighbors were Salvadoran so there was an instant connection and interest.  It turned out that the Annicchiarico family actually knew personally these Jesuit priests before they were killed.  Several of them also happened to be Spaniards, so I could even relate from my father's side of the family as well.  All in all, I was invested in learning more and understanding things better.

The victims were murdered by soldiers who were trained by the United States.  They were trained at Fort Benning, Georgia, at what was then called the "School of the Americas" or SOA.  Every year in November there is a protest and procession to remember the lives of everyone murdered by the students from that training program.  I signed up with Campus Ministry to attend during my junior year of college.  They take the time to prepare us intellectually and spiritually for this journey.  It was during the course of this preparation that I realized the SOA was associated with the National Guard in Nicaragua.  This started my initial questioning of the story of my aunt.  Learning about the deaths of these Jesuits brought light to the life of my aunt.  I had never really questioned who killed her or why she died.  I just took it as a casualty of war.  Suddenly, this whole trip became more meaningful personally to me than it already was.  As part of the procession participants carry white crosses to represent the victims killed by the SOA.  Some have names, some don't.  We leave the crosses at the gates.  I brought with me a picture of my aunt.  I knew the students there contributed to her death and I wanted her name and face included in their list of crimes.

Learning about the deaths at UCA led me to somewhat better understand the death of my aunt and I will always associate them together and appreciate that.  It helped me begin this journey.

Lastly, on November 16, 2006, while I was full blown in the middle of the chaos of production on The Simpsons Movie, my Nicaraguan grandmother, Dora Hildalgo de Gonzalez, passed away from her battle with cancer.  I hadn't seen her in years.  My mother left for Esteli to be with her for her final months.  My grandfather had passed when I was too young to remember so she was my first real experience losing a close family member.  It was really hard for me to acknowledge that I would never get to say good-bye and couldn't attend her funeral.  It's one of the many challenges facing first-generation Americans with such distant family.  I barely visited her tomb for the first time this past summer in August of 2012, 6 years later.

So today, November 16, I take time to remember the life of my grandmother,  the victims of the massacre at UCA and all the lives lost at the hands of SOA graduates and in turn my Tía Nordia.  It is fitting that November starts with All Saints Day and All Souls Day.  This month is saturated by the memory of those gone before us.  I must do my best to take the time to honor their lives.

Dales Señor, el eterno descanso y que brille para ellos la luz perpetua.

Descansen en paz.

Así sea.