This is me & my brother at ages 3 and almost 5. The Shirley Temple ringlets were called "rizos". A long strip of cloth was tied to my scalp then my hair wrapped around the center strip, the rest of the cloth was wrapped back around and back up to my scalp. There the 2 ends were tied together until my hair dried. I hated those things. Every time mom would put my hair into "rizos' I would cry until my Grandpa would take them out. They were rather painful.
I tried to salvage as many pieces of the above photo. Another one I'll probably have refurbished. Must have been a good photographer to get me to giggle. I miss my brother. I wonder what he would be like at the age of 64.
This next one was taken on Mother's Day 1958 when my brother Floyd & I made our first communion. I was 7 y/o. He looks like such a sweet kid. He was a year and 9 months older than me. But he broke his leg the previous year and had to wait to complete this Catholic rite of passage with me. We had received bikes for Christmas and ever the daring one Floyd took quite a plunging tangle-y, trip down the road and broke his left leg. We would race and tried to go faster and faster down a stretch of road in front of our house. I remember it was his left leg because he would ride my girl's bike by pedaling with his right leg, first on one side then the other while holding his cast laden left leg straight and away from the pedal. He got so good at pedaling with one leg that he sped up to an alarming speed. I was afraid he would fall and break his other leg.
As you can see, I looked merely amused. I was probably confused;) I struggled with the mixed messages given in catechism and church. We had to memorize the Ten Commandments but then pay homage to a statue? I got in trouble for questioning the nun about how God did not want us to put any idols before Him.
Then we had to "go to confess our sins" to the priest before we could receive the papery host wafer during the ceremony. I asked why we had to tell the priest since God heard and knew everything. I was told so the priest could forgive our sins. But only God can forgive, right? Got my hair pulled over that exchange. The age of knowledge was way beyond my comprehension at that time. So I lied to the priest. What did I know of sin back then? We were still catching grasshoppers to fish for crawdads in the ditch next to my Grampa's house. The worst thing we would do was blow up frogs with fire crackers, or hypnotize chickens and leave them there for hours. Not a good thing to do because it affected the egg laying process. Or so we were told. I think I'll teach my grand-nephew how to do that.
Not too long after that picture was taken my Mom's boyfriend rented a house in California and we took a Greyhound bus to join him. I was in the 3rd grade. My teacher was Mrs. Herrera the terror of Duranes Elementary school. In 2 months we knew the arithmetic Time Table and were forbidden from speaking too much Spanish. Not happening. Another rebellious act. Good thing I loved math as did my brother.
Floyd saved me from one of my mother's rages in CA when the landlady Ann found out that my "parents" weren't married. This by way of my playing with the landlady's daughter. When the girl said that she wondered where my Dad was I told her he was in New Mexico. When she referred to mom's bf, I told her he wasn't my Dad. I didn't know at the time, but her boyfriend was absent due to being busted for marijuana possession. I think she would have put me in the hospital if Floyd hadn't intervened and told me to get under the bed where she couldn't reach me. My Grandpa wasn't there to protect me so my brother did. Thus started my lifelong, fierce loyalty to my brother. And him to me. It lasted until his death on 12/25/1998. I would do almost anything for him and vice versa.
Before we left for CA my mother cut my waist length hair off. Gave me a "pixie" haircut because CA was too hot for my long hair. When my Dad found out we were moving and he saw my new haircut he blew a fuse. But I think she threatened him with court appearances for nonpayment of child support. So he backed off. I hated that haircut and I did not want to leave my Grandpa Julian.
Anyway, after that incident we moved in with my Grandpa's youngest brother Fermin. We stayed there until my Grandpa gathered enough money for bus tickets back to Albuquerque. I remember that ride vividly. I didn't sleep because I was anxious to get home where I belonged. And with my Gramps. I cried and cried while holding on to him when we finally arrived. He told my mom that was the last time she would take me out of the state. Thank God for Gramps.
My sister came along 9 1/2 years after me. We were fiercely protective of her.
I love my family.
Have a blessed week. Pray for persecuted people around the globe.
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