A Lifetime of Drumming
Raymond "Papi Ray" Pacheco

It’s a strange life. When I first met Ray Pacheco al La Bonita Restaurant in Denver on a cold October night of 1977, it wasn’t that pleasant. At that time he was there working with Phil Marín, and I had been recently assigned to Lowry Air Force Base as part of my military service. With my musician enthusiasm (and awe) of having found a place in Colorado where the main musical dish was Salsa, I approached Ray during a break and he just politely said some frivolous nicety and turn away. Who could have said that the brush-off of that night would later turn into a 30-year deep friendship? Some people come into our lives for a specific, one-time reason; others are to become ever-present milestones.

As time passed, Ray and I became friends, talking a lot about the things that linked us, like our dear island of Puerto Rico, arroz con habichuelas, musical stuff, etc. But somehow we became more than friends, reaching a point where the conversations included subjects about profound personal feelings, about the ways daily life develops, about the future. I must confessed to having baptized him “Papi” Ray, a term of endearment common in our land of origin that serves as a sweeter form of “Papá” (father), and that shows my deep respect and love for him. In Denver, that different, big-city world where I was living at the time, he became my father figure, a gift for which I am still thankful to this day.

Since then, Papi Ray has always been there for me during many personal crises (maybe too many to mention), with his big bag of experience and advise. Even when I was living far away, he was there, and many times all I had to do was call him or ask myself what he would do in the whatever situation I was. On the other hand, looking back at many of the things I have achieved, I must recognize that somehow I owe them to him. Let me explain. True, I have been always a leader-type, but up to my thirties I had never perceived clear external support of my endeavors. Back in the 1990s I got myself into a tangle when I attempted to open a musical instruments shop, a project that looked better on paper than in real life. Papi Ray showed me he had confidence in my abilities by financing this venture, a first-time gesture (for me) that reflected trust and motivated me to continue “doing”. Sadly, before I could pull out Papi’s money from the deal, some of it was lost.

I don’t consider the money to be his greatest giving on that situation, but the confidence and momentum it gave me to push ahead without fear. That state of mind has continued and it is an integral part of who I am today. Some people say I have done great things... well, I don’t know about “great”, but I do know that my fearless attitude toward life has been nurtured by Papi Ray in a direct way.

These days I live back in Puerto Rico and Papi Ray and I are in touch via e-mail and the occasional phone call. Since publishing books is one of those things I have been blessed with, I thought it proper that today, on Papi Ray’s 74th birthday, I give him this one just saying simply: “Look what you have done for me”.

Love ya!

Wallice