I Remember When….

I remember when we still lived in Mexico we visited my gramma at the “rancho” on the outskirts of Guadalajara, Jalisco.

This is me and my sister, Rocio. Rocio cooked, cleaned and changed diapers at that age while my mom and dad worked in the grape vineyards to raise money to come back to Mexico and bring us to the states with them.

This is me and my sister, Rocio. Rocio cooked, cleaned and changed diapers at that age while my mom and dad worked in the grape vineyards to raise money to come back to Mexico and bring us to the states with them.

Her tiny shack had dirt floors, no electricity and no plumbing so in the middle of the night if you had to go pee you had to go outside.

Well, in case you don’t know…. in the “rancho” you ate what you grew and she just happened to have pigs. At night my imagination ran wild and I would freak myself out listening to their grunting in the dark until in my very imaginitive mind I thought these pigs were actually cucuys (*monsters!)

So my sister, who is one year older than me but I’m sure was ten times more powerful would go with me, to protect me from the “cucuys”.

I remember my first day of school in America. I was in the 3rd grade. I didn’t know any English.

Luckily we moved to a small agricultural community where a lot of migrant Hispanic families lived, so the teacher’s aides all knew Spanish.

Well, after school I started walking home only to realize I forgot the name of the street I had to take to get home.

I walked down one street.

Nothing looked familiar.

I came back, took another street.

That one also didn’t look familiar so I came back and waited by the stop sign hoping to recognize something or somebody that would get me back home.

A lady stopped and looked at me with concern.

 “Are you lost?” she asked me in Spanish.

I said, “Yes.”

She said, “What street are you looking for?”

I said I didn’t know.

 So she asked me my name.

I told her.

She asked me for my mom’s name.

I told her.

Her eyes lit up and said, “OH You guys are the family staying with Victoria (insert last name here)”

Thank GOD for small, close knit towns!

She knew my Aunt Victoria. AND she knew that her relatives from Mexico had recently moved in with her. AND she knew my mom, because a friend of hers worked with her in the vineyards.

She walked me home.

I remember in the 4rd grade I caught my “boyfriend” Jr. behind the building with this girl named Reah. She was new in town and blonde and beautiful. And she was starting to develop boobies.

Unfortunately, I’m still waiting to develop mine… anyways… I told him he shouldn’t be back there with her and she said, “Go away and leave us alone.”

He laughed.

My heart broke.

I remember in Jr High my friend James brought a plastic bag full of flour. But he told everybody it was cocaine. He got sent to the principals office after showing it off one too many times behind the teachers back. He was such a ham and was always pulling crazy stunts like that.

 Anybody else have favorite or memorable moments from their childhood they’d like to share?

Advertisements

3 responses to “I Remember When….

  1. this is just like that story in the silence of the lambs. you know, when they’re screaming. and then…well…silence.

  2. Yep. Thank GOD for close knit towns….

  3. Those are great stories, much more interesting than me wandering around in the woods down by the creek or sitting up in a tree reading a book. It helps me to imagine my father-in-law and his eight brothers and sisters coming up to California from Guadalajara way back when. I love that there are so many different cultures here in the United States. We met his relatives who mostly stayed in CA and when we were on tour a few years ago. It was like night and day, in a good way. The two brothers who moved east pretty much left their culture behind which is kind of sad I guess.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s