Born in West Texas, Raised in Northern California

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Born in Odessa Texas and raised in Northern California in towns like Morgan Hill, CA, Gilroy, CA,
San Juan Bautista, CA, Lodi, CA we even lived in Watsonville, CA for a while at the very beginning of our days in Califronia.

The most amazing thing I ever saw was the ocean and how it seemed to blend with the sky and if you did not know it was the ocean you would have thought it was the sky because in the horizon they would meet like they belonged together forever.

We spent most of our time in Morgan Hill and Gilroy but I only remember the school names of 3 that I attended which were in Gilroy. Eliot Elementary, Jordan Elementary where I went to the 6th grade only and South Valley Junior High which was right across the street from the apartment complex where we lived for about 5 years. I attended elementary schools in Morgan Hill but not sure of the name but I do remember the name of the high school because my older sister went there and it was called Live Oak, she once called in a bomb threat while her and her friend Connie were cutting school and getting high. They got busted because they were the only 2 trouble makers that weren't in school that day.

My memories are a bit strange because as a young boy I spoke Spanish for the most part or what we like to call Tex-Mex not quite Spanish and not quite English like another word used these days SpanGlish and I remember myself as real quiet but not sure why because I love to talk, but as I think back my English was horrible and though I understood those around me I think I was embarrassed to engage in conversations until later when I started gaining a little more confidence.

I have some memories of when I was very young in Texas and my parents had taken me to a dance or something and they were drunk and arguing, swinging at each other in the car and even as we drove and I sat in the back seat scared out of my mind, my mother took my father's beer which I think was Budweiser, a six pack and hurled it out of the window or at least tried to because my father reached over and got a hand in her throwing motion and so prevented all 6 beers from making it out of the window, but those that did not make it out of the window hit the window that was not rolled all the way down and busted open all over everyone in the vehicle which I believe was a green Pontiac and that memory fades as we speed down the dark lonely, oily West Texas road.

I also have a memory of my father taking me from my mother and I remember thinking that us leaving was wrong but did not know what to say or do as I was just a young boy and not even sure I had started school yet and as we drove down the dark lonely west Texas road the vehicle started to sputter, we were running out of gas and who knows how far we were from our destination. We got out and started to walk but I guess I walked to slow and my father carried me and I guess he was drunk as always because he set me down said lets race and took off into the darkness and all I could see was his shadow and I ran as fats as I could but I could not catch up so I cried and feared I was being left behind. My father then returned laughing and assured me he was just playing but I wasn't amused at all. We arrived at our destination but can't remember if someone picked us up or if we walked the remainder of the distance whatever that was, but it was at our destination which I believe was family on my father's side because they were so happy to see us and made a big deal about our visit where I heard that my father had taken me without my mother's permission. This is where this memory ends.

Another memory was one of joy and excitement on one Christmas morning when we, my siblings and myself awoke to brand new Tricycles which was so amazing, I don't think I remember anything as glorious as that day before that day. We were a family that had very little money so this was an extra special day for us, for the whole family. Our parents finally were able to buy us something they knew we would enjoy and they finally got the satisfaction of providing it for us. Those bright red Tricycles still shine in my minds eye like it was only yesterday.

Soon after this my parents decided they needed to move to a place with more opportunity especially for a minority family like us and that place was California. They had been speaking with a family member on my father's side who lived in Watsonville, California and she had explained that California government was quite helpful to it's citizens with a great welfare program. This was one of the worries of my parents moving to California, not having much money and needing a lot of help to make it and so knowing this that was enough to help them make the decision to make the move from West Texas to Northern California. Can you say cultural shock? We felt like aliens in California, it really was that different, but of course I was so young that the shock was felt but not understood until later.

I will continue my story about how my life went in California soon....