Those days are gone

 In my early years in the small town of San Marcos, Texas, I had both sets of grandparents alive. My dad's parents were well off compared to my mom's parents back in the early 1950's. Strangely enough though, my dad's parents lived on the northside of the railroad tracks, and my mom's parents lived on the southside of the tracks. They were separated by a distance of about half a mile apart. 

My dad's parents' names were Macedonio and Prudencia. My mom's parents' names were Francisco and Florencia. My dad's name was Ysabel Estrada Gutierrez and my mom's name was Teresa Ramirez Natal. From the time my dad started dating Teresa, his mom disapproved of the Natal family and of Teresa. So there was conflict from the beginning of mom and dad's relationship in the families. But, my dad did marry Teresa. Ysabel was born November 22nd, 1924 and Teresa was born on October 18th, 1928. Ysabel was the first born and Teresa was the first born also in her family. 

I remember that before I was seven years old, my four other brothers and I would always be staying at my dad's parents' big house on Post Office Alley by the railroad tracks. Mr. Macedonio had two big houses on a big lot in what is now called the Dunbar neighborhood. The main house was one story and the house in the back was two stories high. My dad and mom lived in the  back house. Eventually, my grandpa Macedenio died followed by my grandma Prudencia. By 1957 the houses and properties were sold so that all his children would get their fair shares. 

My dad dropped out in the third grade so he could help Mr. Macedonio in the small business ventures that he had. Mr. Macedonio owned a two story building downtown San Marcos which had a hotel and restaurant. Back then Macedonio also had several acres of land in Staples and Fentress, Texas. It was a well established fact among the offspring of Macedonio that my dad was his favorite son. So when my mom got sick, my grandpa sold a lot of that property to pay for my mom's hospitalization, doctors, and medicine. So it was no surprise that my dad and mom suffered a lot over many years. 

And as one can see, unexpected apocalyptic events come uninvited out of nowhere and suddenly we can all end up like "Pancho Rivera El de la camisa de fuera." It's sad, but true. Moreover, from what I gleaned about Macedonio from older friends of my dad is that Macedonio was a great storyteller aside from being generous. Since in those early years television was not readily available to them, Macedonio would sit outside at the front of the hotel at night and tell ancient stories about kings and queens to the kids in the area. Macedonio also had big trucks and during certain seasons of the year he would get my dad to drive families to certain destinations in the country to pick or plant crops for a fee. These themes were common threads for many people in this time period. I understand that this time period was the 1950's, but, for the poor and underprivileged people in America... they have always seriously lagged behind financially during any kind of economic boom in this great Country. 

After my baby brother Sam was born in 1951 my mom contracted tuberculosis and thereafter she was sick until her death in 1962 at the age of 33. However, even though my mom was hospitalized in a sanitarium in Kerrville, Texas, my dad moved us to my maternal grandpa Francisco's house on 365 McGehee street across the tracks and built a small one bedroom house behind that house for us. 

Mr. and Mrs. Natal had a very large family too, but their house was smaller. Rooms were added to Mr. Francisco by my dad and other men in that family. My father, Ysabel, was a handyman until he became a master carpenter, master stone mason, master plumber, master electrician, and master boat builder; and turn keyed Glass bottom Boats for Aquarena Springs Resort, under the ownership of The Rogers family, and Ysabel had Texas licenses to prove it. 

You should have seen the Barrios then. Most houses were shanty shotgun type houses and I would wonder much later, how in the heck did we manage living like that for all those years? I remember that many times the kids slept on the floor like sardines in a can. Many people lived in single walled framed houses and their interior walls were cardboard and newspapers. Back then we still had outhouses for restrooms and please don't ask about what we use for toilet paper. San Marcos, Texas back then was the woods and the wild outdoors. I still remember Highway 81 was two lanes without a median. Man, those were the days. Nothing was simple, everything was a struggle. 

My dad did finally build a house for us and mom circa 1959 and we moved there to 119 Kenwood; now Kingwood, in San Marcos. Although my mom remained hospitalized since 1952, she was allowed to be furloughed during holidays sometimes. She was transferred from Kerrville to San Antonio sometime in 1959. My dad would drive us to see her every weekend at Kerrville and San Antonio. And leaving her was the saddest times of my life. When we arrived at the Kerrville hospital, many times all we kids could do was see her as she would be brought to the window and that would be the extent of our visits. I remember that of all my brothers sitting in our car, none cried like I did as I looked back from the backseat back to those isolated hospitals for T.B. patients where she was. My brothers were sad in their own way, but none cried to see mom left behind. And when she died, I didn't cry anymore for her, not even at the funeral where I saw my dad break down like a baby boy hungry for his mother's milk. Ah!, those days are gone now. 

But, I can still see the hobos; the tramps, and bums, all along the sides of the railroad tracks in their pitched shanty tents, waiting for the right train to hop on. I can still smell all the poor man's food being cooked throughout the neighborhoods, and I miss eating that incredibly delicious Mexican Tejano old homestyle foods. Yes, those were the days when the women would really let down their hair and work hard at all the home care work and more. And if those guys down on their luck by the railroad tracks needed a bite to eat, no matter their skin color, my mom would give them tacos to eat or water to drink when she spent brief time with us. And at that time I didn't know what real American Southern Cooking was like, or what real American Soul food was either. All I knew was that people are resilient and they can take a beating. And even if they didn't understand what outside or inside forces were shaping their lives, they understood that we as human beings are all programmed and equipped to play and perform our prescribed parts in this dimension. And many people did it very well. Let us sleep on that for now. Goodnight and thanks again. 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        

Respectfully,                                                                                                                            

 Ruben N. Gutierrez