Things I always wanted to ask...

My mom and I would always talk about her childhood so I felt pretty good about knowing her past, but as for my dad, that is another story. I don't know why but he and i never spoke to much about his childhood. Sure I knew some stuff about him but I was feeling the need to knoe more. I did not know how to approach him on this subject, so I started by asking him to describe his home. He started by telling me that before he was born when his mom, my grandma, was expecting a child my grampa had left and had not returned for months. He was found by his father in a nearby town with nothing but the clothes on his back. He had gambled and drank everything he had to his name. My grandma was holding down the fort. She had managed to buy a little wooden shack where she lived. My grampa was brought home by his father and then my aunt Isabel was born. Apparently my grampa would go on these crazy episodes of drinking and gambling. My grandma would do whatever she could for her and her little girl.

Apparently my grandfather would come around and stay long enough for my grandma to get pregnant since now she was expecting my father. He goes on to tell me how they lived in that little hut till he was about 7 years old. After that they moved into a slightly larger wooden hut. These huts were made of wood and they had shutters for windows and a tin roof. My dad, when he was old enough to do so he would go to a bakery and buy loaves of bread which he then sold or traded for eggs or anything else he could get for the family.

My grandfather then was working the sugar cane. My dad would help by milking the cow, delivering the milk, selling his bread and going to school. Aside from that he had to take his father lunch and coffee wherever he was working. Not much of a childhood when compared to todays standards.

After a few years they were able to get a home through a government project. This was an adobe home. It still had a tin roof, but it was a far cry from the first home he had.

Life was not easy and as he told me he and his sister always had to be on the watch for when their dad came home drunk. They would hide under the kitchen table or wherever they could. As my father puts it, my grampa would go crazy whenever he got drunk and he would pick a fight with anyone. And as my dad pointed out, my grampa had his machete very well sharpened at all times. Not someone you would want to cross paths with.

I can clearly see that my dad has always been a very hard worker. He may not know how to do many things but what he does he does with all his heart. I admire who he was and who he is....