Meet Maurice. The man who taught me how to two-step in the middle of our Cerritos kitchen. Whose mind was brilliant but heart was humble. A man who did everything and anything for our family—who would give us the stars if he could. He stared in the face of adversity and rose above it. Built an empire upon his two shoulders and then watched it fall twenty years later. Still, he was the kind of man you’d never forget having met. And his smile could light up the world. My dad.
My love of books came from him—a voracious reader, former English teacher, fluent in Latin and French. Countless weekends did we spend in bookstores and local libraries—I began piling up paperbacks at a very young age. And now, I write with the sound of Miles Davis playing in the background because he introduced his music to me. And I will never forget those afternoons spent watching black and white classics on AMC—together, just the two of us. My dad taught me compassion, integrity, and perseverance. Go in the direction of your dreams, but never lose yourself in the process. A man of God who went to church everyday. Even graduated from the seminary to become a priest, before deciding he wanted a family instead.
I am introducing you to this man because he is a large part of what makes me who I am today. I lost him at 15, but I carry him in my heart every single day.
And I want to say thank you, dad, for opening up the world of books to me. A world more vivid, more fantastical, and more extraordinary than any other.