Without passion or love, nothing good can happen

     Amigos, up to this point in my life, nothing has been boring about living out my life here on this great earth. My life has definitely not been mediocre either. Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn or Robin Hood would have been impressed with what I have experience thus far. The old adage that says, You should have been there, is very true in my case. I am not bragging because I had nothing to do with all the things that came my way. I was just there at that place and time, whether it was the wrong place or wrong time. All I know is that I was there when this was happening, and that was happening. And just like many others before me, perhaps they also had similar experiences too. Or they had much worst experiences, and were at places and times that were more severe and drastic to survive than I experienced. Nonetheless, I believe that for minorities, or even poor Whites, living during The Inquisition or The killing of Christians by The ancient Romans, or The Killing of The Jews during World Two in Europe, or for The Black People of Africa who have suffered imprisonment, Slavery, and humiliations unspeakable throughout the ages, cannot be compare to mine. Or to compare my experience to Hiroshima or Nagasaki would be shear stupidity on my part. Because although my journey has been exciting and thrilling because of the element of Death and Danger being always present by my side all along,  it never was as horrific in  degrees to those others that I just mentioned. Ah!, but you should have been there at all the great institutions that I was introduced to from the moment that I was born until this very day. Guessing from what I went through from day one on earth, no one would have foreseen that I would be writing a brief history of what I survived and what life was like during this time, from then until now. The tragedies started when my Mom was taken away when a was too young to remember now because she was terminally ill with a highly contagious disease. And only my Dad was left to to take care of five baby boys. My baby brother Sam was one year old when my mom was hospitalized with T.B.. After that it was surviving hundreds of bed chinch bugs bites. In the warm weather months, I survived so many scorpion stings that they were common occurrences like being bitten by mosquitos. And going out at night to our constantly moving shanty portable out house, was dangerous because of rattlesnakes. And it seemed that there were always roof leaks and we had to keep waking up because the rain would find its way inside and we had to move our beds. The great Depression was over in writing, but it wasn't for us even in the 1950's. There were no food stamps then. Then when we got sick, the folk remedies were awful. But some did work, like the kerosene and sugar treatment for fevers and coughs. But, when a car struck you in the streets; my experience with a White Doctor when I was about 9 years old, and right after being hit by a moving car driven by a young White girl, was that he treated me on the spot by looking at me from a distance as I lay on the road, and then he told my shocked relatives to put me on the side of the road and then he drove off and left me there like a dog to die. Thank "God" for my praying Catholic maternal grandma. Because the rest of my so called pious Catholic family were Catholics only on Christmas and New Years when they got drunk as skunks. Their prayers were as effective as mine. However, my grandma was a righteous Church woman. She was poor, but she had Class and good Character. I learned my manners from those kinds of old folks in my family. They were the ones who thought us about showing respect to our elders. And how to treat and serve the elders of our small community. Back then all the grown ups looked out for the kids and their welfare. It was during these times with these elders that we learned the value of being driven and passionate about the family and those people and things that you loved. Back then as far as I recall, my Dad was my Pillar and Standard for what a man was suppose to be. But as I grew older I began to see through so much smoke and mirrors, and I saw something that was hypocritical and even doubled standard about men and women. Not in my Dad, but in people in general. And in retrospect, before I knew it, I grew up to be a reflection of all the things in my society, the good and the bad, mostly the bad. Therefore late in my life as I fell apart completely, and I became completely immoral and depraved, I nonetheless, maintained my manners mostly in tact. I was surprised about that because most people that I hung out with had no morals or class. They disrespected their own mothers and fathers and cussed them out in their faces. I couldn't do that. Somewhere deep inside me I was Luke, from Cool Hand Luke movie, I believed in "God," but I was disappointed with "Him" and with myself. I couldn't fix my own character and "God" seemed so far away and "He" never talked. Nevertheless, I still had passion and love for who I had become and that was that I was self reliant and independent. It didn't matter if I was living under a Bridge in East Austin or not, I had come a long way and never gave up. Why didn't you just give up Ruben and Die!? Because I had tasted the goodness of life. And I had eaten the richness and Power of "God" regardless whether it was in a movie or not. And further, I remembered my Dad and maternal Grandma Florencia Ramirez Natal who couldn't speak a lick of English, yet they were dedicated to their families and the families welfare. They told me that when one of us suffers, we all suffer. I was not a sociopath or psychopath, I was a nonconformist, that is all. Oh!, and I was insecure and a jealous kind of fellow when I got married to my wife. But, I was a conservative and traditional kind of person too. And like I said earlier, I was a reflection of my times and environment. I was born a Catholic but I believed like a Protestant. When my family insisted that I go to Catholic Church I went, but reluctantly. Until one Sunday a Priest stopped me and my brother Sam from going into Church because of our old raggedy clothes. From that day on my Dad said, "Boys, you don't have to go to Church no more." And I was happy about that because I couldn't follow all the ritual stuff about, standing, sitting, kneeling, when to be crossing oneself, or beating their heart, or saying any of the prayers. To me that whole scene for that hour or hour an a half was pure torture for me as a kid. I felt like Curly of the Three Stooges going cross eyed and just mumbling and watching the grown ups to see what they were going to do next and I just mimicked them. I am glad that's over for me. And I'll tell you what else is over for me, the life of crime and violence, and getting high on dope and taking liberties with women and or chasing women. I don't play with women's emotions nor do I care to hurt them or abuse them. I still enjoy my hikes at least once a week, and I still enjoy my ancient stone relic hunts and my research. Everyday I learn more and more and I never get tired of Tracking human migrants and what inspired them culturally and religiously. And I never get tired of learning more and more about "God Almighty." And when I consider how I came to "Him" when I was broken like a clay pot in a thousand pieces, and how "He" has been restoring me even at 73 years old, I still marvel at it all. And yet, I find it hard to believe that "He" would even want to spend time with me. Ah!, But you should be around when "He" manifest "Himself " through "His" Anointing. It will make a grown harden criminal to break down and cry like a baby. Let's sleep on that guys until next time. Thanks again.                                                                                                                                                            Respectfully,                                                                                                                                           Ruben N. Gutierrez