Author Archives: thetorzorean

Growing up Azorean-Canadian, mainland Portugal was foreign to me until my first visit several decades ago. I did not go to the Algarve then. It was only when I met my partner that the Algarve became a place of destination … Continue reading →

In an age of globalization and ever-expanded connectivity with our world, I search for a way back to a singular place, a single point in time where I might connect with my deepest experience of change and loss: the moment … Continue reading →

The taxi had finally arrived. The driver watched Eulália Dias as she descended from her front porch one heavy step at a time. He got out of the cab to open the back door for her, smiled an apology for … Continue reading →

Drawing by Jamey McDonald Today marks my 49th anniversary of emigrating from the Azores to Canada. This past week I have spent time in Montreal, the first place I set foot on North American soil on a cold February day … Continue reading →

It seems to me that in our lives we only experience a few moments of clarity, lucid glimpses of events, emotions, and feelings that impregnate our consciousness and surface in-between moments of distraction or absentmindedness; when we are lost in … Continue reading →

I came across this discarded tree with wreath on my walk the day after Christmas. This year, we did not get a Christmas tree. In fact, last year we didn’t get one, either. But I do love a Christmas tree, … Continue reading →

I went to the Azores in late September for seventeen glorious days. As with all my previous visits, I go to the island of São Miguel. It’s not that I don’t want to see the other eight islands that make … Continue reading →

Cows Across the Street by Emanuel Melo When we arrived back in São Miguel, my mother quickly learned that my grandmother was now in good health and did not need looking after.  She became very angry for making this unnecessary … Continue reading →

Family Reunion by Emanuel Melo When we arrived at my aunt’s house, there was no place for us to stay but the basement. She, her husband and two children lived on the main floor. Upstairs lived my younger aunt and … Continue reading →

Campo de Santana by Emanuel Melo When my father arrived in New Bedford, Massachusetts, he lived with his aunt and uncle and their son. While there, he found a job pressing suits during the day and, in the evenings and … Continue reading →