Little Children

Since Maximo has entered our life, I cannot help but look back on my own youth and relationship with my parents, and I know Andrea feels the same. There is a sudden desire to pull out the photo albums, dive thru old pictures, read things we wrote as children, and just sink into a part of our lives we really haven't thought much of in recent years. Our last few years in San Francisco feel like a non-stop love-fest, career explosion drizzled over the best relationship a freak of nature could ask for. Good times to say the least, an awesome life and great non-stop-supreme-love-party to say the most. I digress... Looking at these pictures, pictures thru the ages, pictures of me and my mother so happy, pure, satisfied... pictures of my father looking like...well, me. Or more likely me looking like him - tomato, tow-mato... Ok, back on track - In these pictures, I find myself looking for Maximo's parts in our younger faces and body. He has my ears! He has Andrea's eyes! His feet curve in the same way as mine! He has the Devil's eyes! What did they do to his eyes!?!? ....rosemary's baby..he hee...nevermind...Then we can wonder what he will be like, act like, sound like...will he be shy as I was? A youngster who knows what he wants, like his mother? An arty wallflower, or a super awesome student and valedictorian? That makes me think of what I was like in the different stages of youth, those I can remember - and many I do... quiet kid, knowing that drinking and smoking were super cool when i was super young...loving the bad guys in all media i encountered... letting my imagination get away with me... Fabulous times I look forward to my son experiencing. Here are some pics I dug up through those early years - I see alot of my boy's face in my long gone face of youth...

I have no memories of my infancy, or early childhood. I know that my brother was very jealous of there being a new baby in the house, and on one particular incident, was cought putting my fingers in a pair of pliers. That basically set the tone for our on and off relationship throughout my youth. My mother says I rarely cried, and was a generally calm and peaceful baby... let's hope Maximo follows in those footsteps, and maybe not some others...

On this particular Halloween, my parents dressed me as an old ripped bag of potatoes, or "hacha rota" as is sewn on the front of my "bag". This is a true story. Yes, Argentines are a nutty bunch, especially fresh immigrants with not too much more than a ripped bag of potatoes. I think my face describes my view on the world in the early years. "Quiet observation" as the baby books say. I would say I kept that vibe thru many of the years that followed.

I loved TV as a child, and continue to love it as an olding Man. Here I am taking the family TV on a little tour of the house. Clearly I took the tour guide job seriously, since I dressed for the occasion. Or was I the doorman of the Villarrubia house? That is pretty cool that I had such career ambition at such a young age and even cooler that my folks were smart enough to hire cheap (read: free) labor for the opening and closing of the front door plus giving tours to appliances. "Little Tubey" and I ended up hanging out behind the house, smoking candy cigarettes and drinking grape soda all afternoon. I heard that in later years Tubey dated a Beta-max machine, and moved to Sacramento. I loved ya Tubey.

I have always hated organized sports. My parents always enrolled me in sports. How that makes sense is beyond me, but I would imagine that it was a solid effort in assuring their son "socialized" and hung out with other kids. I was kind of a wallflower in this stage, and really just enjoyed reading comic books (which i read fanatically to this very day), painting D+D figures, and hanging out in my room. Thus, i did not like playing sports, going to camp, none of it. My parents finally stopped making me play soccer (something as an Argentine the world seems to think you have to love and are good at), when I kept showing my anger and utter hatred for male competition by cussing up storms and running off the field crying like a girl. A girl with a mouth like a sailor and an insult for every other kids parents. I had a dirty mouth, and the emotions of a very sensitive child. All just like today.

Ok, things started to go really really RIGHT around this time. Seriously, I was like 17 years old in this picture, and clearly I liked smoking... something, and I loved hats, shirts obviously did not matter very much to me... I must stress, seriously, I am on the road to becoming a public nuisance, and I like it, it feels good, and right. That hair is looking super Poison, I'm getting my very first tattoo and life is good. Can you imagine? Well, if you haven't gotten your first tattoo at 17, then you can't! Shit, maybe in the future I will go on and tell you more about the future years of Mad, Bad and Dangerous to Know Gabbi Villarrubia, but for now, onto brighter souls...

Andrea was a baby once too, it's true, I've seen pictures. And a little kid as well, all before her years as a revolutionary, freedom fighter, Lesbian Avenger, and all around stand up Woman. Coming soon - Andrea...through the years and looking glass...