Dear readers, illness has kept me from posting more often on my website. Today, on All Saints Day, I am taking you back to my Latino roots which began in Saucillo, Chihuahua, Mexico, at my grandmother’s house. This was during the period of Diaz Ordas’ leadership. Gustavo Díaz Ordaz Bolaños was a Mexican politician and member of the Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI), and served as the President of Mexico from 1964 to 1970. Before his time, Mexican citizens tired of the life that president Madero had afforded them decided to end his regime with strong leadership from concerned citizens. Among these people, Pancho Villa, and thousands of Mexican citizens tired of the dictatorship imposed on them by Madero joined forces with other leaders to put an end to his dictatorship. Emiliano Zapata was one of the leaders. Historians tell us about his assassination. They claim that he was gunned down and that he landed crouched down on his knees with his face kissing the ground. Fortunately, the valiant efforts of these strong, courageous leaders, both men and women, led to the independence of Mexico. (There’s more info on the history of Mexico, so I refer you to: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Francisco_I._Madero.)

My father who was born in Texas traveled throughout Mexico. He landed a job checking the “Posos Petroleros” (oil rigs). He was very talented and repaired the cotton gins when they were not working. I never found out how he met my mother, but I’m glad they met and got married. My father saved his income and when he returned to Texas, his brother helped him move his family from Mexico to Brownsville, Texas, where I was born. Dad lived to be 86 years old and passed away a few days shy of being 87 years old. During his funeral services in August 1985, the Lockheed L-1011 TriStar operating Flight 191 encountered a microburst when it landed at DFW on August 2, 1985. 137 people died and 25 were injured in the crash. My oldest brother was concerned about my safety because I had to fly back to Fort Worth. I reassured him that I would be okay. The important thing was to take care of funeral arrangements for my father and to comfort my mother.

With his savings Dad purchased a home for my family in Saucillo, Chihuahua. This house which was part of a duplex constructed from adobe bricks and beautiful tiled floors became our family’s vacation house and gave my mother time during the summer to visit her mother and siblings. Unfortunately, that house no longer belongs to us. I don’t know much about its sale. I wish that I would have had enough sense to write addresses and phone numbers of my dear relatives. But at that time, I was young and never thought that I would find myself longing to know how they were.

We spent summers in Saucillo, and I had a wonderful time with my relatives. While Mom visited her mother and siblings, time passed quickly. I became a teenager and my cousin, a good-looking girl, who was my age, introduced my sister and me to a custom that we didn’t know about.

One Sunday afternoon, we walked in the plaza, after going to church. We put on our Sunday clothes and walked around the kiosk with some of my cousin’s friends. Suddenly I found myself walking alone. I was approached by a slim, handsome, dark complexioned young man taller than I was. I gazed at his handsome face. He was talking to me, but I don’t remember anything he said. I was so surprised that such a good-looking guy would approach me and ask me if I could walk around the plaza with him.

In the meantime, my cousin and her friends stuck around the plaza to keep an eye on the gentleman and me. It got late and the gentleman walked me to my grandma’s house. I think we agreed to see each other as long as I was still in Saucillo. That was the beginning of a friendship. My sister also met another young man. Saucillo was a small city at that time and soon my relatives learned that my sister and I were dating two handsome young men. I don’t know how long we dated that summer. No sex or amorous encounters were involved. We just enjoyed each other’s company and got to know each other.

One afternoon the young men took us for a ride on their horses. That was a wonderful experience. My mother and some of my aunts sat on chairs outside my grandmother’s house to watch us go by riding the horses. As I said before, I’m not sure how long I spent that summer or other summers in Saucillo. All I can say is that I enjoyed the friendship that I had with my mother’s brothers and sisters. I also learned a lot from my grandmother. She was a hard worker, who constantly got pestered by me. While relatives took a siesta, my grandmother kept on working. She washed clothes and ironed them on the kitchen table. Those were the days when an old metal iron was heated in the potbelly stove and used to press clothes. I was not used to taking a siesta, so I watched her work and cook. I also walked barefoot in the dirt streets in the hot sun, but I was okay. I learned so many things. I learned how to chuck corn and take the corn to the factory to turn it into dough to make tortillas, gorditas de Manteca and tamales. The factory was far from where we lived. We had to cross a highway to come back with a bucket full of masa. I truly enjoyed helping my grandmother with chores. I wasn’t just a visitor. I helped around the house.

Unfortunately, one day my mother decided that we should go home. After all, my dad was by himself and probably missed us. I had a terrible time that evening saying goodbye to the young man that I met while walking around the plaza with my cousin and her friends. Later, in my cousin’s home, I cried so much that I made my nose bleed when I blew it with my cousin’s handkerchief.

The young man and I corresponded, but at that time I was starting my first year in college.  I was working on my BS degree and did not have much time to write to him. Letters became sparse and eventually, our correspondence terminated. But I never forgot him. He was kind and respected me. Later, I started my first year working on my master’s degree. I had a week off for Spring Break and took my parents to Saucillo. We spent 3 days visiting relatives. Dad had a wonderful time recalling pleasant times in Mexico. In the meantime, I spent time with two of my male cousins, Jose Luis and Polo Aguilar. I inquired about my ex-boyfriend. Both guys were not too interested in talking about him. They just mentioned that he was still in Saucillo. I suspect that my ex-boyfriend knew I was in town, but we didn’t have a chance to talk. My father had a 3-day rule: “After 3 days, bad company and fish stink.” So, we left after a very brief stay. Back in Texas, I continued to work on an advanced degree. During this time, I met a young man and got married. However, I still remember the young man I met on a beautiful evening in Saucillo while walking on the plaza with my cousin, her friends, and my sister. And I pray that life has been kind to him.

The years went by and many Americans did not travel to Mexico because they were afraid of being gunned down. We didn’t go to Saucillo. It was too dangerous. But I miss the old Saucillo. About fifty years ago, folks could walk on dirt roads to go to their homes, visit the plaza or the movie theater and feel safe. I miss the comradery that existed among my cousins, uncles, and aunts. I could walk to the Conchos River from my grandmother’s house. Sometimes relatives and friends got together with Grandma to have supper. Afterwards, we sang Mexican songs (“Corridos”) that poetically interpreted what had happened during the wars for independence and other atrocities. This was a time for conversation, laughter, and singing. I was expected to sing for the group. (I must have been a decent singer since they always asked me to sing.) I miss the food: beans, carne asada, freshly made flour tortillas, cajeta, and fruit cake that my relatives made. Menudo was definitely not one my favorite foods. As a matter of fact, I only ate the soup and never touched the tripe that was considered a delicacy.

During a conversation, one of my dear male cousins told me that he and some of our relatives were able to cross the Rio Bravo and successfully reach California. Unfortunately, my cousin along with relatives and folks trying to find a better life in the states were captured by the border patrol, detained and then returned to Saucillo. Nobody was tortured, but their clothing was removed so they could be bathed and fumigated. My cousin told me that he felt sorry for a frail, old man who had joined the group to achieve a better life in the states.

There’s more info on my Spanish heritage in Chihuahua and Texas, such as stories about “Quinceaneras”, “El Dia de los Muertos” (All Souls Day) and the tradition of making a pan de rosca which was baked with the Baby Jesus in the dough. The person who got the piece of bread containing the Baby Jesus was responsible for making dinner and a rosca for family and friends at another festivity.

Dear Readers, I have discussed some of my Latino traditions and life, but there’s more info. However, I am not ready to write a memoir. But I sincerely need your help. I don’t know how to reach my Mexican family. I haven’t seen my relatives since those years that American citizens and even Mexican buses traveling on Mexico’s highways were gunned down. I wrote to the mayor of Saucillo, didn’t get a response. Later on, in researching present Saucillo, I learned that she had been assassinated. If you have any recommendations on trying to locate my dear relatives, please pass them along. I love my relatives, Saucillo, Chihuahua, Mexico, and the USA.