CHAPTER 21 My Salvation Experience and Amma’s Healing I hurried home as fast as I could go. My stride was wide, and my long skinny legs just couldn’t go any faster. So I would run and then walk fast when I would become short of breath. The mile and a half that I had to walk to and from school seemed farther than usual. In all of my fifteen years of life I had never been so worried. I was scared and very troubled in mind and heart. My mind was racing with so many terrible thoughts. I couldn’t stop it. “Would Amma be dead when I get home?” “What would I do without her?” Could she have died while we were all at school? Grace was at home too, but because she was handicapped she could not help take care of Amma. Appa was at work and Socorro was still in Arizona with Lupe and her husband. The plan was for Socorro to get a job in Arizona and then send for the rest of us so Appa could also get employment. “Please God, don’t let Amma die! I can’t raise four children by myself”. Mary was married now and I wasn’t sure that Socorro would actually ever come back to live with us, especially if Amma would die. That would make me the oldest and therefore responsible for raising the four younger siblings, while managing the house. “Besides,” I pleaded, “I’m still a child myself.” “She’s all I have in the whole world, and I need her so much!” It never occurred to me that Appa would have something to say about the matter of raising his own children, for to me he always seemed so distant and preoccupied with making a living for us, for which I will always be grateful. I finally made it to the front door, exhausted and out of breath. I threw open the door, dropped my books on the floor, my eyes wide in desperation as they searched the dark room where she might by lying. There was a knot in my throat and pain clutching at my stomach from the uncertainty of what I would see at any moment.
100 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy Amma’s blood pressure had gone up so high that she could have possibly suffered a stroke or a mild heart attack a week or so prior. Although, no one told me at the time, because they didn’t want me to be upset. I didn’t know what was really wrong with her. I just knew that she was very ill. I would lay awake at night listening to her belabored breathing, and moaning. Afraid that at any moment she would expire. We had no medical insurance and no way of paying the hospital bills. Therefore, after they diagnosed her condition at the hospital and she was stabilized, they dismissed her because she had no means to pay. As sick as Amma was, she should have remained in the hospital, but they sent her home with no regard for her very delicate condition. That night while laying sleepless from worry, I could hear Amma’s distress. Everyone else seemed to be fast asleep. “How could they all sleep when Amma could be dying?” For it seemed to me that every breath she took would be her last. “Doesn’t anybody care?” “Why doesn’t Appa do something?” I had been praying for Amma since the day that I realized how sick she really was. I wondered now, “why was God not answering my prayers? I know I’m not as good as I should be…, but wait! Was that it? What could I do or say to get God to hear me? I felt an extremely heavy burden and my chest felt as if there were a ton of bricks on it. My tears were making my nose clog up until I couldn’t hardly breathe. I searched deep within my mind and heart to remember at least some of the teachings and countless sermons I had heard all these years growing up in church, Sunday School, and Vacation Bible Schools. I had always loved those times and places. I tried to remember some word that would enlighten me, concerning my spiritual estate, or the lack thereof. Suddenly, I remembered the words that I had heard so often from my Sunday School teacher, Mrs. Ratliff, with a caring and loving voice she would explain with patience. Jesus said, “Come unto me all ye that are heavy laden and I will give you rest.” “Repent ye or you shall all likewise perish.” “Salvation is mine saith the Lord”. “Trust in me and be saved”. I was shocked that I could actually remember all these scriptures and admonitions, especially since I didn’t particularly pay much attention in church or class. I appeared as though I was listening, but all the time I would be either thinking about things that didn’t pertain or whispering to my friends Nina or Rosa, who faithfully sat beside me in church. I also amused myself by passing notes to them or trying to open a stick of gum without making paper noises. Then seeing if I could quickly put the gum in my mouth without being noticed
Clara Alice Smith 101 by some overly zealous, self-appointed Christian overseer of misbehaving teenagers. Evidently, unbeknown to me, I was taking in more than I was aware. My young brain was recording information heard intentionally or not—even while doing and or thinking about other juvenile trivial activities. My mind suddenly lit up with the answer that I had been so desperately searching to find. “I am not saved!” “I haven’t repented of my sin!” “I need to ask Jesus to forgive me and save me!” It was all coming to me very clearly. Without hesitation I jumped out of my bed, I went into the kitchen, which was the only place where people were not sleeping. For a moment I thought about what I would say to God. I didn’t feel worthy of calling on Him now, feeling a sense of remorse and guilt for neglecting Him all these years and for putting off the most important decision that I would ever make in my whole life. I also remembered Amma telling me (for she spoke to me frequently concerning spiritual things) “Don’t ever promise God anything that you are not able to keep, or you will face serious consequences.” While kneeling down on the hard kitchen floor, with tears streaming down my cheeks, my hands folded in a tight sweaty clasp, I looked up toward heaven with a child-like faith. I prayed, “Lord God in heaven, I know now that I have never truly repented of my sin (I had previously made a false profession of faith because I wanted to follow my friends). I have never asked you to forgive me, I have been bad, please forgive me and save me. Lord, I don’t know what else I’m supposed to say, I just know that I’m sincerely asking you to save me, and, Oh, yes, I believe that Jesus died on the cross for my sins.” I have to say, that at that very moment I felt relieved of what felt like a heavy burden being lifted off of me. For a few seconds I forgot about Amma. But then I added to my prayer, “Lord, I come to you also with another great problem.” In my ignorance I spoke as if God didn’t already know what was troubling me. “Lord, Amma is dying, and I can’t bear it right now. Please Lord, don’t let her die! I need her, I wouldn’t know what to do without her. I would be an orphan and so would my three little brothers and sister; I just can’t handle that kind of responsibility. Please, Lord, heal Amma, I beg you.” The next phrase that came out of my mouth was well thought out before I spoke it, remembering Amma’s admonitions about promises made to God. I went on to bargain with God, right or wrong. “I promise that as of now, I will try to always progress in my Christian walk with You, never regressing.
102 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy And if you will help me I know I can do it, but please don’t let Amma die.” I ended my heart wrenching prayer with “In Jesus name, I pray—Amen.” I rose up from the floor. My knees were sore with ridges imprinted on them from the hardwood slats. I wiped my tears away and blew my nose quietly hoping not to wake anyone. Then I tiptoed to the curtain that served as a door to Amma and Appa’s tiny bedroom listening to hear how she was breathing. For a moment my heart was elated that she was not breathing heavily, but then fear gripped at my stomach realizing that I couldn’t hear her breathing at all. Hastily, I flung open the curtain, fell down on my knees beside her, laying my head on her breast and grabbing her hand at the same time. I cried out with a quivering voice, trembling hands— “Mommy!” (I still called her Mommy when I spoke of her) “Mommy, please don’t die!” Sobbing uncontrollably, I felt her hand on my head. For she had just been sleeping restfully, something that she had not done for a long time—and now I had awakened her. Amma could barely speak as she looked at me in the nearly pitch black room. From somewhere a flicker of light found its way to Amma’s weak but tender, soft brown eyes; I heard her whisper words that could only come from a loving, concerned mother, reassuring her distressed child, “No llores, Hijita, estoy bien”. (Spanish for; don’t cry my little daughter, I’m going to be fine.) Now, go to bed, you have school tomorrow.” I felt so relieved that Amma was still alive. “I love you Mommy, good- night.” I kissed her cheek, and she squeezed my hand, while her weary eyes closed—I knew she was just sleeping. The following morning, I was pleasantly surprised to see mom sitting up a little in her bed. Appa had propped up some pillows behind her head and back. She looked somewhat better even though she was still not well, somehow I knew that God had heard my prayers, I went to school that morning feeling a lot lighter, with a much better outlook on life. I knew I had talked to God and that He had heard me. I was now saved! My life would be different now. Mary stayed home with mom that day. Amma improved daily and fully recovered in a short period of time. She later went back to work—I was never happier. The Lord gave Amma twenty-three more good years of life. I thank God always for those were the years I needed her most, to teach me, to guide me, most of all to be there with me, loving me, and me loving her. Thank you Amma for loving me and sacrificing so much for me. Amma went to be with her Lord, September 5, 1985 at 68 years of age.
CHAPTER 22 My Most Regretted Choice Age –15 I was consumed with the excitement of moving away from Eldorado, and at the school I could hardly think of anything else. I loved school, just not this one. I was under the impression (from listening to other kids) that Eldorado school was too hard and the teachers were too strict. They expected too much from the students. Moving to Arizona would solve all my problems. I Was so ready for the big day. Everything was ready for the actual move. Everything, except for the letter. Amma was waiting for a letter from Socorro who was in Arizona with the Tanguma’s; she was looking for a job for herself and opportunities for Amma and Appa, as well. Then she would send for us. My few friends (school-mates) had given me their addresses. I was so excited and had no doubt that Amma would be receiving a letter any day now. I could hardly wait. For weeks I had been telling everyone that I was moving away—even stopped doing my school assignments, thinking there was no need since I would be gone very soon. Amma was feeling much better since her illness, this was before she returned to work. She was not quite strong enough yet. Every day, coming home from school, as soon as I walked into the house, I would ask Amma, “Did we get the letter from Socorro today?” The letter that I thought would make me the happiest girl in the world (or so I thought). I was so anxious to start my new life in the great state of Arizona—leaving this school behind forever. This school was so hard that I would never be able to advance myself, much less graduate. I’d heard so many stories about Arizona from Lupe. It sounded like a great place to be. People there had so much fun. The schools were so easy and every student passed to the next grade. It just sounded too good to be true. Imagining all the new friends I would make, yet I knew I would miss my best friend, Nina. Maybe there would be good-looking boys there? Maybe there would be one that might like me? I was tired of listening to the other girls talk about boys that liked them, even some who had real
104 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy boyfriends. There were no boys that liked me. I had liked Arthur awhile now, but he just didn’t seem too interested in me. Then there was Joe, whom I could never figure out whether he liked me or hated me. Joe would sometimes walk by me on the way home from school. One day he made a smart-aleck remark about what I was wearing, which offended me. So I decided not to like him anymore. Therefore, there was nothing left for me to look forward to in Eldorado. I was ready to leave. I had been begging Amma to let me quit school in order to help her pack. Amma would look at me in her special way, patiently saying, “Just wait a little longer. Wait until Socorro lets us know when to come. You don’t want to quit school too soon.” However, with every day that went by, I just got more anxious and impatient. Finally, I convinced her to let me quit—I was ecstatic! No more waiting to say goodbye to my friends and teachers. This was becoming a great day, my last day at this school, enjoying all of my goodbyes—hearing them say how much they would miss me, as they hugged me. Other girls that didn’t like me (much) would be forcing themselves, pretending to be sad at my departure. I was thoroughly enjoying the attention from everyone. There was even a tear welling up in Patty’s eyes. WOW! This was almost like being at my own funeral, except being alive, of course. After school that day, I went home very happy. No more school! No doubt that today would be the day that Amma would receive the letter giving us the O.K. to leave Eldorado and move to Arizona. Flinging the door open, my excitement became somewhat deflated as I noticed a definite quiet in the house. It was too quiet, even though everyone was home—our house was never quiet, it was always noisy. What was going on? “Amma, did you get the letter?” Amma answered, “si hijita, I got it.” Rushing over to her with wide eyes and great anticipation, I asked “Well, when are we leaving?” Amma looked up at me, not saying a word, but with her eyes she was saying, “I’m sorry”. “Amma!!”, I exclaimed, as if she couldn’t hear me. “When are we leaving?” Amma’s answer came methodically, almost apologetically. “We’re not moving”. Pleadingly I cried out, “But Amma, Why not?! I quite school today and said goodbye to everyone. I’ve got all these addresses—we have to go!” Amma just stared at me in pity, “I told you not to quit so soon. Now, you’ll have to go back and explain to the principal tomorrow and everyone else. Just tell them our plans changed, I’m sure they will understand.”
Clara Alice Smith 105 “No!”, I almost screamed. “No! I will not go back to school. Everyone will laugh at me. They will make fun of me. I will never hear the end of it. No! I would rather die than go back!” Besides, I was so far behind in my school work. For weeks I had not been doing my assignments. Then there was a very thick book, “The Raven”, which had been assigned to me for a book report—never even checked it out of the library. The report was due soon. Amma tried to explain to me, but I wasn’t listening. Evidently the letter from Socorro advised us not to come. She had not been able to get a job nor find any job openings for Appa either. It would not be a good idea to uproot the whole family and move so far-away without a promise of a job. Therefore, it would be best to stay in Eldorado, she would also be returning home soon. Realizing the gravity of my predicament, I ran into my bedroom and threw myself on the bed crying uncontrollably, for hours—it seemed. I know that my pride would not allow me to do what Amma asked me to do—going back to school and facing the consequences. Instead, I stubbornly chose to be proud, rather than have a few ignorant kids, such as myself, have a few laughs at my expense. That would have probably been the extent of it. But in my mind, having people laugh at me seemed like the most monumental disgrace that could ever have happened to me. In reality, no one cared about what I did or didn’t do—I was only hurting myself. About two weeks later, the Sherriff came to our house wanting to talk to me. He asked me why I wasn’t in school I told him that I had quit because I needed to help my mother, since she was still recuperating from an illness, which was partly true but mostly a lie. He asked, “Did you know the law says that you have to be sixteen years old in order to quit school? How old are you?” The second lie that came out of my mouth convicted me deeply. Lying was out of character for me. Not realizing that these lies would stay with me the rest of my life, I kept lying, “I am sixteen”. He did not continue with his interrogation but left it at that with his last admonition. “I hope you will come back to school”. As I watched him walk away I wanted to run after him and say, “Please, make me go back. You have the power to make me go back! I want to go back to school!” But I only stood there, partly frozen in fear and pride. I went into my room and bitterly cried, for somehow I knew that I would always regret this choice. Even though quitting school was not very uncommon in the sixties, especially among poor folks, parents generally tried to keep their teenagers
106 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy in school. For many low income families school was a luxury. There were certain priorities, such as food, a roof over our heads, shoes on our feet. Amma would remind us of that when we would ask, “When are we starting school this year?” If time and resources permitted, if we didn’t have to work to help out, then we could attend school. If only I had waited one more day before quitting like Amma asked me to do, I would have never quit. As a result, it would have gone much better for me. I wouldn’t have so much regret concerning this bad choice. I believe that “pride” is a very bad thing. The bible tells us that pride comes before a fall and shame with it. (Proverbs 11:2; 16:18)
CHAPTER 23 The Intruder (1962) Age 15 I was beyond horrified, actually in shock. Trying hard to scream but no sound came out of my mouth. Struggling to move to fight back, my whole body was limp under the grasp of this stranger as he effortlessly lifted me half-way up by my thin shoulders. He stood just outside my bedroom window, lurching over me from his waist up. My bed was flush against the wall just inside. His broad bare chest and shoulders were very muscular and his hands were so strong that the mere thought of getting away from his grasp was a remote endeavor in my mind. Even if I could have screamed or moved, it would have been impossible to escape. The only thing to do was think, telling myself to calm down and notice everything about him in order to identify him later. Even though it was about ten in the evening, there was some light shining from the full moon—the only beautiful thing happening this night. It shone brightly through my window and on his face. I didn’t have to try hard to remember the details of his face, hair or what he was wearing below his waist because his face was very close to mine. The thing I remembered the most was a mole he had on his chin. He continued pulling me out, then I realized I didn’t have much time to protect myself. Mary was also sleeping in the same bed, but she was fast asleep and was unaware of the contention taking place right beside her. I was still trying to scream or move—but nothing happened. Finally, I decided to concentrate on moving my leg in her direction, trying to kick her or at least nudge her and awaken her. In the meantime, the intruder was momentarily hindered from pulling me out further by the window screen, which was obstructing his efforts. At this point I was able to move my foot just enough to thrust it against Mary’s leg and utter a moaning sound.
108 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy At first, when waking (but not fully awake) I thought it might be Amma. She and Appa would come home late from work and she would come to check in on us—covering us if she thought we were cold. Before opening my eyes, I automatically reached to touch her face. At the moment my fingers touched the strange face I knew it was not Amma’s. Realizing what was happening, I went into shock. My next thought was ‘am I dreaming?’ When his awful hands gripped my shoulders, I knew it was no dream. Mary, after what seemed like an eternity woke up—sat straight up in the bed, and with her boldest, meanest sounding voice yelled, “Somebody hand me the gun!” The intruder must have been as ignorant as he was depraved. He immediately dropped me, leaving me hanging out the window from my waist. He took off running through the backyard disappearing into the alley. It’s a good thing for him that we didn’t have a gun in the house because Mary probably would have blown him away. Lupe was visiting us from Arizona, her husband Lupe was in another town visiting relatives. At the sound of Mary’s blood curdling yell, Socorro and Lupe came running from the bedroom across the hall appearing startled and confused when they discovered me hanging out the window like an old discarded rag doll. Pulling me back out of the window, they both started asking me questions at the same time. “What happened?” “Are you alright?” “Who was it?” All I could do was stare at them in shock. One of them ran across the street to Alda’s to use their telephone (Alda had married Manuel Martinez about a year or so prior and lived directly across the street from us) to call Amma and Appa at work. They called the Sherriff, and then all three came home immediately. The Sherriff arrived, asked me a series of questions, then he left. That night we all tried to go back to sleep. It was difficult for everyone to fall asleep. Realizing that Amma and Appa were there to protect us, we finally dozed off to sleep. That is, everyone except Appa. He stayed up all night with an old hammer in his hand waiting for the intruder, just in case he decided to come back. After this incident, I had nightmares for a time. Before going to sleep I would pray and ask God to protect us from that man. Eventually, I quit having those reoccurring dreams and was fine. No one, including the Sherriff, had any idea who the intruder was. El Dorado was a very small town where everyone knew each other. I found out (almost by accident) about two or three years later who the intruder was. Apparently there was a young family visiting relatives in our town. They were only in town for a couple of nights. The man of the family went prowling around, peeping through windows at night, looking for a
Clara Alice Smith 109 victim. The morning after he tried to abduct me, he took his family and left town very early. No one in town knew them and no one knew that they had been in town. Even his parents, who were out of town, did not know that their son (the intruder) had come to visit. We found out weeks later that he was in prison for raping a girl where he lived. The Sheriff never came up with any information concerning this incident. I made it my business to get to the bottom of this, even though it took me some time. By asking certain people questions and doing a little unprofessional investigation, I finally found out. Every time I think about this incident, I thank my God and Savior for watching over me and not allowing harm come to me.
CHAPTER 24 The Carnival (1963) “Did you hear the latest news?”, my friend Manuel asked. “What news? I queried as we hoed side by side—the endless rows of ‘Johnson weed’. “A carnival is coming to town next week!” he said. “Are you joking?” I asked incredulously. The posters were all over town. Everyone, except me, had heard about it. So far, this summer I had been bored. The only thing I looked forward to was going to work, chopping cotton. That was only because some of my friends were also doing the same thing. We all worked during the summer in the cotton fields. It didn’t pay much but it gave us spending money. Manuel now had my complete attention. Immediately I felt my brain going to work and my excitement building. Finally, something fun is going to happen here. Manuel was a friend whose friendship I valued so much. At the same time, I didn’t even realize it—not appreciating him as I should have. He was a very kind young man whom I could count on during my ups and downs—a great Christian example to me. I was so excited about the carnival—couldn’t wait! The only other things to do for enjoyment were the drive-in-theater and the Friday night football games. But both were seasonal. We spent many evening on weekends at the ‘Eagle Drive-in Theater’. Usually with my sisters or friends. Once in a while I would be allowed to go with a date, but always accompanied by one of my older sisters. Amma never allowed me to go on a date alone, until I turned twenty. Most of the time when we went to a movie, I didn’t seem to recall the movie plot. We were more interested in being together. Enjoying
112 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy each other’s company while talking and laughing. The movies were almost like an excuse to get together. The announcements, which were placed in various local establishments, were concerning a carnival that was coming to town. I had seen pictures of carnivals and seen movies about carnivals, but had never been to one. It all sounded so exciting. What an appropriate event to commemorate my sixteenth birthday! Finding it hard to concentrate on work, or anything else, it felt like an eternity as I anticipated this great event. The posters promised a wonderful time for all. There would be thrills galore, wild rides which would thrash and jerk the body mercilessly for about five minutes; then to repeat the process all over again in a different contraption! Boy oh boy! What fun we would have! Everyone at work was talking about the carnival. Everyone was saying how much fun it was going to be riding all those wild rides, and playing the mid-way games, winning some prizes, too! There would even be a haunted house to scare us out of our wits and make us scream till our throats were sore. It was so hard to wait. I wondered if Amma would give her consent. Without Amma’s permission, none of us kids would be going. Then there was Socorro, who was the oldest, would have to agree to take us because my parents would not be interested in going, besides, they had to work. I started working on Socorro to agree to take us; that included Jesse, Grace, Walo, Freddy and me. Begging and pleading to get on her good side, because at times she seemed to be too serious and strict—I tried very hard. When Amma was at work or out of the house Socorro was the next in charge—she finally agreed to take us! A couple of days before the carnival started, while we were having our lunch break at work, Carrie decided to sit by me. Although, I thought it was a little unusual, I accepted it as a good friendly gesture on her part (she had never been that friendly to me before). Giving her the benefit of the doubt, besides she was a nice girl, I thought maybe she needed a friend. Plus, the fact that she was Joe’s sister also had its benefits. Joe was her older brother, whom I had a school-girl crush on since the age of eleven. Joe used Carrie as his messenger-investigator whenever needed. Not long after sitting down beside me, she told me she had to ask me something for her brother. “He wants to know if you will do the rides at the carnival with him (almost like a date but not quite)?” “Why doesn’t he ask me himself?” I asked curiously. “Because, he may not have the chance to see you before then”, she answered. I was not totally surprised at the messenger’s request in behalf of her brother, seeing as how
Clara Alice Smith 113 he had been dropping little Alice and Jesus (Jesse). hints for a while. Hints that were not very clear. In his shy and awkward way his hints were too subtle for me being naïve with little self-esteem. For instance, while walking home from school he would at times walk beside me. Trying hard to think of something to say to me, he would blurt out something just to be funny, ending up hurting my feelings. Or like the time he sent Carrie and his cousin Letty with a silly (written on paper) game, where one would write down their favorite things and at the end a list of boys names. The girls would then be asked to put a check mark on the boy’s name they liked the best. Once, on our way home from work he made a point to sit beside me in the truck. Pretending to stretch he put his arm on the back of my shoulder, leaving it there as if by accident. Although no one else there knew what he had done, I felt my face was blushing so much that everyone could tell that Joe’s hand was on the back of my shoulder. “Well, will you or won’t you?” Carrie asked again. “OK”, I answered. As she walked away I felt pleased to know that I would have an escort at the carnival. It would be a lot better than walking around with my bossy sister and all of my younger siblings trailing behind. Not that I didn’t enjoy Socorro’s company, especially if she was in a good mood, and if it was just me and her, we would have a good time. But she could never compete with Joe. When my family first moved to Eldorado, we lived in a house that was almost across the street from his house. I liked Joe in my little girl way. We would play together and with other children in the neighborhood, never letting anyone know how I felt about him, fearing the adults would chide me and that the kids my age would laugh. I sometimes wondered if he liked
114 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy me or disliked me because one day he would be very nice to me and then at other times play tricks on me. But now he has actually (sort of) asked me for a date! That first night of the carnival, I put on my best skirt and blouse—all starched and pressed just right. Also, wore my new pair of ‘bobby-socks’, which I saved especially for this occasion. My canvass shoes had been washed, looking very nice and white. It was a challenge to maintain white canvass shoes when walking on the dusty caliche roads of El Barrio. As we drove up to the grounds where the carnival had been erected my excitement was building. The music was loud. The song that blared out through the speakers was heard from far away. It was a popular hit entitled, ‘Just one Look”, and it played over and over. It wasn’t long before I spotted Joe, looking very handsome. His black curly hair was all slicked down, as he was walking toward me. I could see him from the corner of my eye pretending to be surprised when he tapped me on the shoulder. As I turned around we both said “Hello” at the same time. We shook hands as was our custom, and then in a nervous way, with his hands buried deep in his pockets while shuffling his feet, he asked, “Would you like to ride the Ferris Wheel with me?” I turned to Socorro for approval and off we went. We went on every ride that we could, and played every midway game until he won a large Teddy Bear for me. All in all, we had a great time. We came back a couple more evenings. He was a real gentleman, spending his whole allowance (five dollars) for the week on me. He made me feel very special, not at all like when we were pre-teens playing tricks on me. The first evening he asked me if I would be his girl-friend. I hesitated for a moment as to not appear too anxious and then shifting my gum to the other side of my mouth, I answered, “OK”, but what I really wanted to say was, “I would be honored”. On the last evening he informed me that he and his family would be leaving town in a couple of days for the rest of the summer. The day before they left town, he came to the church where I practiced my piano lessons to say his farewells. He also gave me his ring which bore a big letter ‘J’ on the face of it, as a token of our special friendship. He promised to write and so did I. The next few days I felt so lonely. There was nothing to do. I spent my time moping as I listened to my music and clung to my happy memories of Joe, trying to remind myself that he would return in a couple of months. But to an almost sixteen-year old girl, it seemed more like two years. About two weeks after I said good-bye to Joe, our pastor made an announcement that brought me back to myself. He told the teens that the First Baptist Church
Clara Alice Smith 115 in town was going to sponsor any teen that would like to go to the Menard Baptist Encampment. All we needed was our parent’s permission. I knew Amma would give me permission to go because it was free, but mostly because it was a Christian camp. This would be my very first Christian teen camp. I was thrilled about the prospects of meeting other Christian teens.
CHAPTER 25 My First Summer Camp (Part #1) (1963) The second week of July finally arrived, bringing with it, not only the scorching West Texas heat, but the promise of an exciting time to an ‘almost’ sixteen-year-old girl. My search for a life of perpetual fun-filled days may be just around the corner. My very first camp! The excitement was great, even though I was not sure of what I would be experiencing there. Whatever I would be doing, I knew that it would be better than moping around, feeling lonely, especially since Joe had left for the summer. Others who had attended camp before raved about how much fun it was. The pastor also told us that it would be a time of spiritual renewal. That sounded like something I was needing. He also said that we would have a special speaker every evening. The sermons would be specifically designed to teach and encourage teens. I was not sure I was going to enjoy that part, knowing from my church upbringing how long and boring some sermons could be. Maybe this time it would be better. There would also be bible classes, singing, swimming, games etc. I considered myself a pretty good person, not necessarily in need of sermons, but it probably wouldn’t hurt to be a little bit more spiritually minded. The thing I was really looking forward to the most was meeting new teens my own age who would be coming from the surrounding towns and communities. Like most teens my age, I lived for a good time, hating the thought of having nothing to do—getting bored easily. But now I was actually going to camp! Amma gave me permission to go after careful consideration. The First Baptist Church in town was the sponsoring church of the small mission church in El Barrio; they were a very caring and generous church. What a blessing they were to our small congregation. This summer of ’63, they would be sponsoring several teenagers, including me, to attend Camp
118 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy Menard for five days. When the day of departure finally arrived, we all met at the church early Monday morning with great anticipation. Our young bachelor pastor, Brother Lorenzo, would be driving the small yellow school bus to camp. Amongst the happy campers were Edwina, a petite girl whose bronze complexion was complimented by her pretty facial features, and her jet black, long, shiny hair. Her younger sister, Patsy, who was a total opposite in looks and demeanor. Nonetheless, she was a beautiful girl despite the freckles which accentuated her enormous light brown eyes. There was also, Enedina, the most mature one of the bunch along with her younger sister, Elena—she appeared very proper and intellectual. They were two of the nicest girls that I knew. There were also two boys, Lee and Moses. They were buddies and enjoyed teasing the girls. Although, at the time, it seemed like we had been traveling for hours, yet the trip could not have been more than a couple of hours because Menard is only about fifty miles away from Eldorado. It was probably because of the conditions of the old road and an aging bus which could not go much faster than it was. On the way there we sang, laughed, and talked (mostly) about the great time we would be having there. Pastor Lorenzo would occasionally have to ask us to keep it down a little—he was a very patient man. Once we arrived, we were assigned the dorm hall (for girls) where we would be staying. The dorm was a long room adjacent to the length of the front of the tabernacle on the other side of the wall. There were a few small holes on the wall where we could peek through just before evening services began. We wanted to see who was already there and where they were sitting. We felt like we got a little advantage on the rest of the campers this way. The dorm housed about fifty beds, more or less. We were one of the first groups to arrive at camp and also first in our dorm. This way we had the pick of the bunks we wanted. We immediately began to get settled in—making our beds while giggling about every little thing. Suddenly, two guys popped their heads through the opened door and in a very jovial, friendly tone said, “Hi girls!” I could not help but notice that they were extremely handsome—way out of my league (so to speak). The first thought that came to my mind was, “Whoa, I’ve been stuck in Eldorado way too long!” It was hard to pretend that I didn’t notice them. Since camp had not yet officially started, they explained, they felt it would be OK (because of strict camp rules) to come by to introduce themselves. Being the furthest from the door, I didn’t feel obligated to speak to them. Besides, I was not ready to see anyone yet—especially good looking guys.
Clara Alice Smith 119 With my brush rollers in my hair and wearing my house coat, I felt quite intimidated by their mere presence. I had never been in the same vicinity of such amazing men. Deciding to leave all the formalities to the other girls, I tried to ignore them, keeping my head down, pretending to be busy making up my bed—praying they would go away before I was forced to introduce myself. After they asked all the other girls what their names were, and so on, one of the guys asked, “and who is that pretty girl over there?” My first thought was “I’m sure he doesn’t mean me.” I had never been referred to as ‘pretty’ by a guy before—especially not a handsome one. Feeling my face blush, and wanting to become invisible—I continued to pretend making my bed. With my head still down I heard one of the girls’ whisper, “her name is Alicia.” Then hearing what I didn’t want to hear, (being shy at times and having low self-esteem): “Hi Alicia”, “My name is Alex, and this is my cousin Tim.” At this point I managed to raise my head up and say “Hi”. Alex then proceeded to explain that Tim would be the lifeguard for the week and that they were from Ozona, which was a town about two hours North of Eldorado. That day, Alex saved a place in the dinner line for me. The next morning, he did the same for breakfast, then lunch and again at dinner. During the evening service he would sit behind me (we were not allowed to sit beside a boy during the evening services or during classes in the morning). In between activities he would walk and talk to me every chance he got. I didn’t know what to make of all this attention because he was the most attractive guy in the whole camp. Not only that, but he was nineteen and I was almost sixteen. I tried to tell myself not to take him serious because he couldn’t possibly be enjoying my company. Maybe he just felt sorry for me. I was being so careful to protect myself from emotional upsets or let-downs. I felt myself looking forward to being around him, more and more as each day passed. As much as I tried to concentrate on the lessons and sermons each day, I found it almost impossible to do so. My mind was now becoming captivated by an unexpected romantic illusion. Even though I was resisting it all the time, my very naïve and tender heart was blindly following. Nevertheless, to my surprise, I actually learned a lot that week, more than I realized at the time. Not only about life in general but spiritually as well. The Holy Spirit, which is greater than all still convicted me of my sin and spoke to me through the preaching and teaching of the Word. I was not knowledgeable of how the sin nature worked, even though I was saved, I
120 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy was not yet sufficiently taught. Even though I had come to camp to have fun, God had brought me there for another purpose as well—the good folks from the First Baptist Church also knew why they were sending us. I realized that through the preaching my heart would be convicted of its sin. The preacher motivated us to think about our particular sins in our lives. Searching my heart and mind, I came up with what I thought were my greatest sins. It would have to be lying—although, I never lied to Amma, Appa, or even my siblings! Maybe it was because I knew they wouldn’t let me get away with it. But I lied (in story form) to some of my friends, acquaintances and especially strangers—by that I mean people that I would meet somewhere, like on the Greyhound Bus, knowing that I would never see them again. Not realizing it at the time, but I had a great desire to be a ‘story teller’ by nature and should have instead written out my fictional stories on paper. I also thought that liking boys was a sin. Someone somewhere had lead me to believe this. So, I thought something must be wrong with me, because I was attracted to boys, but only the good-looking ones—not being aware that it was normal for teenage girls to be attracted to boys. In all my ignorance, I was pure and naïve. Nevertheless, I considered myself a bad sinner and would have to repent and turn from my wicked ways, according to the preacher. I will definitely think about doing that, but not now, because that would mean that I would have to forget about Alex and all the good times we would have together if he continued to pursue me. I must wait at least until this week is up. By then I would know Alex’s intentions. If he doesn’t pursue me then I would stop liking boys and stop my story telling, serving God with my whole heart. Yes! I thought to myself. As the invitation continued I decided that I would stick with my plan while my fists clenched the back of the old rough wooden pew in front of me while being convicted by the Spirit. Tomorrow would be the last day at camp. It seemed like it had just begun, and now I would have to say good-bye to Alex, wondering if we would ever see each other again after this week. I couldn’t believe how fast this week was going, wishing all the while it would never end. That night, after devotions, the counselor went over the schedule for the next day. She proceeded to reinforce the rules and to remind us that even though tomorrow evening we would be allowed to stay up until mid-night, she would be watching our every move. She sometimes reminded me of a drill sergeant. Also, she went on, it was permissible to talk to the boys, but to remember the camp’s cardinal rule. “No physical contact between the boys and girls.” If anyone
Clara Alice Smith 121 was caught breaking this rule, they would be reported to their pastor and that would result in banning one from Camp Menard forever. After the lights were turned off, Patsy and I whispered excitedly about Alex and Juno, Patsy’s new camp boy-friend. We continued giggling and sharing gleefully our day’s adventures until we heard a firm voice say, “You girls from Eldorado, shut-up and go to sleep!” Whispering facetiously in response, “and God bless you too”, trying hard to stifle our giggles. The next day went by faster than the day before. That evening as we were all getting ready for the evening service, I thought that this might be the most important evening of my life. Peeking through the crack on the wall, I could see the guys and girls arriving. Everyone was looking their best for this special evening. Alex had not arrived yet. I wanted to wait until he came into the tabernacle so I could see where he was to sit, then I would go sit in the pew in front of him. I reminded the girls that if they saw me with Alex after the service, not to talk to me or bother me in any way—not wanting any distractions or anyone to spoil this special evening.
CHAPTER 26 My First Summer Camp (Part II) (1963) Every girl saved her best dress for the last evening at camp. I wore a red dress which was inherited from Socorro, a hand-me-down. I had never worn it before, but was saving it for a special occasion such as this, hoping that this evening would prove to be just that. Before we left to go to the tabernacle, Patsy came up to me babbling excitedly about Juno’s parents coming from San Angelo for the evening service, and that he had permission to use his father’s car so we could go into town after the evening service and get some ice cream. We would need a special permit slip from the camp director, but Juno didn’t think that it would be a problem. I was not impressed at all, because I knew that Alex would not be invited. For some reason Patsy and Juno had been trying to get me interested in Tommy. He was from Ozona, and from the first day at camp he had been trying to get my attention. Whenever I wasn’t involved in an activity, or talking to Alex, Tommy was always there, appearing out of nowhere being quite persistent. He seemed to be a very nice boy, very polite and well mannered, nice looking too. He was a football player on his school team and was closer to my age than Alex. Had it not been that I was quite taken up with Alex, I would probably have reciprocated his attentions. After the service was over and we were dismissed, Alex made a bee-line over to me. He asked if I would like to go with him to the snack bar for a coke. After saying “sure”, I thought to myself, so far things are going just as I hoped they would. As we moved slowly toward the snack bar, I was so proud to be walking beside him and proud and also proud of myself for not allowing my true feelings to show. Remembering my mother’s advice, “don’t ever be ensimosa with the boys!” Meaning, “don’t be all over a boy, be a lady!”
124 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy We had barely walked a few minutes, when suddenly a car drove up beside us. Patsy got out of the car and began pulling me away from Alex, telling me that Juno got the pass for us to drive into town. Before I had a chance to react, Tommy had opened the car door to the back seat. Patsy pushed me in and Tommy got in beside me, shutting the door, while Juno drove quickly away. So, there I was, sitting next to Tommy. Juno’s sister, Ida, and her boy-friend, were also sitting in the back seat. We were all sort of squished together. There was no doubt in my mind that this was a well- planned set up. Tommy casually stretched his arm and it just happened to fall around my shoulder. I became angry and was speechless at the audacity of these misguided friends. Not believing what had just occurred, I watched Alex standing there by himself looking very confused. Right away, Tommy started talking to me as if nothing unusual had just happened. He proceeded to ask me for my address so that he could write to me, among other things. He continued to talk but I was not hearing him, my mind was racing in another direction. I was trying hard to think of a way to get out of this situation and get back to Alex. Before we even made it to town, I had come up with a plan. Clutching my stomach, I began to moan and groan, bending over as if I was in excruciating pain—immediately getting the expected response. I was not feeling at all guilty for faking it and ultimately ruining everyone else’s (in the car) plans. Besides, I thought, they had planned and executed this devious trick on me, ruining my evening. They were about to get some of their own medicine, because, once they entered the gate back into camp they would not be allowed out again. At this point I did not care—I just wanted to get back to Alex. But what if he had given up on me and went into his cabin. It was almost midnight, which was curfew. Even though the thought scared me, I felt that I couldn’t blame him after leaving suddenly and without a word. As I continued my charade pretending to have pain, I felt justified for lying. Knowing in my heart that this was wrong, I would need to ask God’s forgiveness—later. Everyone in the car kept asking me what was wrong. Leaning over to whisper in Patsy’s ear I told her that I was having severe cramps from my monthly, and didn’t have the needed article for protection. Patsy gasped and whispered it to Ida. Ida, being older than her brother, ordered him to turn the car around on the spot and take me back, adding “this is an emergency!” Juno drove back breaking all the speed limits while I moaned in pain. Once there, Patsy walked with me into our cabin while I kept an eye out for Alex,
Clara Alice Smith 125 hoping he would still be there waiting for me. In the cabin Patsy started to look in her bags for the item she thought I needed. I proceeded to tell Patsy that I was not sick at all nor had I started my monthly, but that I had to come up with a lie to get them to bring me back. I told her I was sorry but that they had taken me against my will. Also, that I did not want to be with Tommy nor any of them, but with Alex. And now my evening was ruined. Going back out into the tabernacle, I was hoping that Alex would see me there and come out to me, but instead Tommy came out of the shadows. I began walking the opposite way and around a long display table which held books about “how to be a God fearing teenager”. It soon became apparent to him that I was trying to avoid him. Tommy finally left and I was beginning to think that Alex was not coming back. I hung out around the book table just pretending that I was interested. Suddenly, to my surprise, Alex was there standing behind me with a great big smile. “I thought you might need someone to rescue you”, he said reaching out for my hand—which was against the rules. But after all I had been through, I didn’t care. I reached out for his hand and we started walking to the snack bar which was about to close because it was almost midnight. Instead we stopped at a gazebo on the way. We didn’t say much, just stood there looking up at the beautiful moon in a typical starry Texas sky. This was without a doubt the most romantic spot in the whole world, thinking that maybe I was “in love”. I suddenly realized that it was after curfew and I had broken two major camp rules: holding hands with a guy and being late for curfew! This means I would be banned from Camp Menard forever! No telling what all I’ll be facing now. All kinds of repercussions came to mind short of going to a literal hell. But for one moment I felt that it would be worth it all. I’d heard that God was merciful and because I was saved, He would forgive me later. As far as the rest of my accusers, well, I would just have to live with the scorn from the rest of the world. The sight of Patsy hurrying towards us brought me back to reality. She was out of breath as she tugged at my arm, frantically explaining that someone had told on me and that I was in really big trouble with the counselor for being late. She had sneaked out to come get me. It was not hard to figure out that Tommy had tattled on me and Alex holding hands. Once again, I left Alex in a hurry, not even having the chance to say good-bye. I ran back to the girls’ dorm with Patsy. It was a few minutes after midnight and everyone was preparing for devotions. Before going to bed I was
126 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy privately reprimanded by my counselor. I truly wanted to always do right but sometimes was not sure what that was. The next morning as we were packing, cleaning, and preparing to go back home to the real life, Alex came by our dorm to say good-bye to me. I couldn’t help but be proud when he showed up asking to speak with me. He told me that he would like to see me whenever possible. We both agreed that we could see each other during the monthly youth rallies or football games once school started, or just come in his own car to see me. As our church bus drove down the long dusty road leading out of the campgrounds I looked out the window and with a heavy heart watched Alex wave good-bye and then disappear in a cloud of dust. When we got home, I felt as though it had all been a dream. But it was not a dream. In my bedroom, standing in front of my dresser, my eyes fell on something from the real world. I spotted a ring which had been left there by me, before going to camp, for fear of losing it. The ring with the big letter “J” on the face of it. I exclaimed loudly “Oh my goodness! I forgot all about Joe!” I realized I would have to break-up with him as soon as possible. I would not want anyone in the way should Alex ask me to be his girlfriend. I also did not feel it was right to be unfaithful on purpose. I had honestly forgotten about Joe since I met Alex. I was told by someone that it was wrong and cruel to break-up with a boy by mail, so I would have to wait till he came back. When Joe came back he came to see me that same evening. I broke-up with him and gave him his ring back. He didn’t take the breaking-up very well. He kept asking me why, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I was now interested in someone else. Alex and I saw each other occasionally as planned, for some time. As I matured I wondered, ‘how is it that a man as handsome as Alex would be interested in a plain girl like me?’ I decided to make a special effort to find out more about him. Realizing that I was getting too emotionally attached to him without knowing him well enough, I decided to make some inquiries. One Friday evening after youth rally at his home church in Ozona, I made a point to speak to the pastor’s daughter. She knew Alex and his family very well for many years. I asked her if she wouldn’t mind telling me about Alex. Among other things she told me that Alex was quite the lady’s man, and that he always had girls hanging on a string. At that very moment I realized that I did not want Alex or any man like him in my life, ever. I made up my mind not to see him anymore. Even though he continued to pursue me I stuck to my convictions. The last time I saw him I told him that I had a boyfriend
Clara Alice Smith 127 named Joe, and that I was happy with him. The surprising thing about it all was that it didn’t take me long to get over him, understanding that all the time I truly only cared for Joe. Joe and I picked up right where we had left off before I met Alex. I believe that even though camp seemed to be nothing but a place for young girls to experience drAmma, yet I learned a lot while there; but I didn’t know it at the time. As I grew older I remembered the spiritual lessons that I learned there. The Lord helped me to apply those lessons in my everyday life helping me to make godly choices.
CHAPTER 27 Daughter of the King (1963) Age 16 Lupe never intended to hurt me. Not thinking through what she was about to tell me, she blurted out, “Your real last name is not Cruz, you know?” I hesitated for a moment, thinking that maybe she was joking or maybe just didn’t hear what she said correctly. “What?” I asked, somewhat confused. She repeated what she had said. “What do you mean?” I repeated. As she explained, I stared at her in shock and disbelief. It was devastating! In my adolescent and teenage years, I was plagued with a multitude of unanswered questions, such as: “The facts of life”, boys, family history, God and life in general. The most puzzling question was about me. There were many things about me that didn’t make any sense, therefore I needed answers. Amma was the only one who could provide them for me. Now, Lupe had answered one of my most pressing questions, but I could not believe her. If there was ever a time in our busy household when it was quiet or when Amma was alone and sitting still long enough to really talk to me, it was rare. Amma was a very busy person. Whenever she was not at work (she cooked at a local café) she was at home, either cooking, doing laundry, or giving instructions to all of us kids concerning our chores; going to church, or reading her Bible. She would also tend her vegetable garden in the Spring and Summer. On Sundays after church she would invite the preacher and his family for lunch (since they came from out of town). There was a host of other unexpected things that she always had to tend to. So, when she wasn’t busy with any of the above, and alone, then I would see my opportunity to try to start a conversation with her, that is if she was in a good mood.
130 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy There had been so many times when I just gave up trying to talk to her about my personal matters. I remember as if it were just yesterday, that she would be sitting in the kitchen, a cup of coffee on the table beside her, and something would always be in her hands, which she was diligently working. Her hands were constantly busy at a task, always for her family. She rarely did anything for herself out of the ordinary. Her hands were rough and strong. Liver spots dotted the back of them. Her fingers were thick from age, hard work, and arthritis. She would sit in a way that her knees would be slightly spread so that her skirt could hang creating a large pocket sized receptacle. There she would place a bowl that would hold vegetables or fruit to peel. Amma never wore pants, except in her younger adult years while working in the fields or when climbing a ladder to pick from fruit trees. Many times as a toddler, I barely remember sitting in her skirt pouch, using it as a place to sit or swing. It was usually at these particular instances when she seemed to be still long enough that, now as a teen, I would take advantage of the opportunity to talk to her about those things that had been stored away in my mind for such a precious time as this. Maybe, just maybe, I could talk to her without any interruptions this time. I would approach her in a different way than I normally would. I came to her softly, gently, like a timid dog with its ears down and tail between its legs, not that I Was afraid of her. “Mommy”, I would say, she would then ask, “Que hijita?” “May I ask you something?” Amma immediately recognized the obvious timidity of my humble approach and braced herself. Amma knew that sooner or later I would have many questions which she was not readily willing to answer. Amma would have to face her past knowing that she did not want to relive the pain of her past which she had been trying to bury all of these years since my birth. I had many questions, but this time I was going for the big one, the one that had to do with what Lupe had just mentioned so carelessly a few days before. I thought, I might not ever have another moment like this one to catch her alone again. She had avoided my questions many times before. Questions such as “Why do I look so different than my brothers and sisters?” She would become irritated and dismiss me by saying, “Well, that’s because you took after your German grandmother, Clara (whom I had never met in person, but had seen some photos of her), and immediately followed with, “Now go play, or make yourself useful, don’t be bothering me with such impertinent questions.”
Clara Alice Smith 131 Her response would often satisfy me since I did know for a fact, because of her photos, that I did resemble my grandmother Clara. She had a fair complexion and blue eyes. I was also her namesake (Clara being my first name). Only this time it was different. I was not going to settle for the same old answer, for it was troubling me, especially after my conversation with Lupe. For several days I had been very troubled about what Lupe told me while she was visiting us at the house on Murchison Ave. Lupe and her husband didn’t live far from us so she would frequently come to visit during the day while he was at work. This one day in particular, she and I were talking in my bedroom and the conversation lead to the fact that we looked so different from each other. Lupe had brown skin, black curly hair with dark, almost black eyes; while I was pale white with light brown hair, and blue eyes, except for my left eye which is half brown. Lupe then blurted out that my last name was not Cruz, as I had been lead to believe. This was the cause of my consternation and recent depression. I grew up as Clara Alicia Cruz. I knew I was different, but never in my wildest imagination did I ever suspect that I had a different father than the rest of the Cruz sisters. As Lupe tried to explain (in her own feeble way) what she meant, her words became just noise to my ears. They were like a faraway hum without clarity or meaning. I had always known that Appa was not my father. I grew up believing that Marcelo Cruz was my real father. The fact that Mr. Cruz was not my real father was not a big problem to me, since I never knew the man. “Besides, (reasoning within myself) I had heard Amma once say what a bad father and husband he was, so there was no love lost there.” What really hurt me, cutting through my young sensitive heart was that this all meant that my sisters, whom I loved more than anything in the world, except for Amma, were just half-sisters. That’s almost like as if they were not my sisters at all! Feeling almost as if I had been told that I was adopted. I soon became withdrawn, very troubled, and felt totally alone. Now, the moment had come, I must know the truth. Lupe probably didn’t know what she was talking about (I hoped). “How could she know?” speaking to myself. Amma would get this matter settled once and for all. “Mommy”, I asked bravely, “Who is my real father?” Never implicating Lupe, for I never held anything she said against her, or in any way felt bitter towards her. On the contrary, in some way I was appreciative of her candidness to the demise of my new found identity. Realizing it was none of her doing, she was just a self-appointed carrier of ill tidings. But neither did I at any moment judge
132 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy Amma or feel animosity towards her. How could I ever feel anything but total love, respect and understanding to the one person who only next to God was the most holy, righteous and perfect human being to me. I only wanted reassurance and to be clear on this very important, gut wrenching dilemma. Knowing who my real father was (I didn’t understand the word “biological” at the time) would certainly clear this matter up. It just wasn’t possible that my sisters were not my real sisters. All I wanted to hear from Amma was that Lupe was wrong and that Mr. Cruz was indeed my real father. “Hijita…”, Mom began to speak breathing out a deep sigh. I observed her every expression. She always spoke very slow, as if she had all day, picking every word ever so carefully. Her face began to exhibit hurt and pain, shame and disappointment, mingled with fear of opening her heart. Fearful of the repercussions off her past. She obviously did not want me to think less of her. I was a big part of that past, being to her a constant reminder of her lost love for sixteen years, I never knew it. I tried to look into her eyes as she spoke, but she avoided my pleading, searching stare. Instead, with her head down, she tried to concentrate on the half peeled potato that she had been trying to peel, clutching the knife till her knuckles were white. The hesitation was obviously long. It became apparent to me that she was having a difficult time coming up with the precise words to satisfy her daughter’s urgent question as to not hurt me. Suddenly, realizing how much I was hurting her by this particular question, I wanted to tell her that “it was alright, that she didn’t need to explain anything to me”. This was not going the way I had hoped. It hurt me deeply to see her pain which I was witnessing, exceeding my own. Now all I wanted was for her to be happy again. “It’s OK, Mommy!”, I said while grabbing her hands. “I don’t have to know that”. She tried to speak but her voice cracked under the emotional strain in her heart while tears started trickling down her cheeks. “Mommy, please don’t cry”, I pleaded. “I’m sorry!” feeling as if I had poured salt on her wounds. Getting down on my knees beside her and laying my head on her lap, I felt her hand on my head as she gently stroked my hair. Both of us were silent for a while except for the sniffling. I gave her a hug and asked if I could help her peel potatoes. The silence was finally broken as she said, in slow, well thought out words, “Hijita, you have a Father in heaven who loves you more than any earthly father could ever love you. Don’t ever forget that.” I knew then, that for now, I was not going to get the answer I had been wanting so badly. Somehow it didn’t seem to matter anymore, I
Clara Alice Smith 133 was just so happy that Amma’s expression was placid again. She seemed at peace. That meant a lot to me. Turning to her with my jolliest tone that I could muster, I replied, “I guess that if God is my Father and since He is the King of heaven and earth, that it makes me the daughter of the King. She looked at me and smiled. I felt ashamed of myself for putting her through those few minutes of emotional agony. Even though she only had a few teeth left in her mouth from the lack of nutrients during her child-bearing years, to me she had the most beautiful smile I had ever seen. Post Script: (About thirteen years later, while living in Canada with my husband and three children, I called Amma, in Texas, on our home phone. Somehow the conversation came up about parents and children. I felt at this time she was strong enough and ready for me to ask her who my biological father was. She told me that my father’s name was E.W. Gregory. She also told me a few other bits of information concerning their relationship. The topic was never mentioned again.)
CHAPTER 28 A Very Responsible Sister (July 1964) I had just turned seventeen and was enjoying life. Everything seemed to be going smoothly and going my way, never realizing that it was all about to end. I had a job, and an older sister who, unbeknown to her, had spoiled me. She made everything easy for me. I depended on her for almost everything. Just a few months prior she had bought a very nice car. It was a 1962 ‘four-door’ white Corvair. I felt proud driving around with her in that car. Sometimes she would let me drive it. I had no shortage of boys asking me out; even a couple marriage proposals which were not taken seriously. Everyone knew that I only had eyes for Joe, even though we were on a break from each other at the time. Socorro was almost like my second mom, but then she was also a very close friend. She was also my cook, housekeeper and decision maker. When I’d come home from work, it was so comforting to find everything in order, not that I expected it to be that way, I just never thought about it and did not appreciate all the work she did from taking care of the younger kids, to preparing dinner, and to cleaning house. Sometimes, mostly in the evenings, we would go places together, on Sundays we went to church. We started going to a church in San Angelo, where they had more youth. I was enjoying being a follower rather than a leader. She also had a boyfriend by the name of Telesforo, he was referred to as ‘Tele’ by his family and friends. They had been dating off and on for several years now and wanted to get married. This particular day while on a visit from San Antonio where he was stationed at an army base, they made the decision to get married as soon as possible. It was July 30th, 1964, in San Antonio they were officially married, with Amma’s and Appa’s blessing.
136 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy The following Monday morning, getting ready for work, I realized that things were going to be different for me from now on. My happy world, as I knew it, was over. I felt as though I had been demoted from a princess to a lesser status than that of a maid. When I got to work, I was fired for no apparent reason. Crushed and humiliated, not having Socorro to drive me home anymore, I walked home in the heat of this very hot July afternoon. Dragging my feet, kicking up the caliche dust from the side of the stony road, my heart felt heavy, while I sobbed; thinking about how my life was not at all how I thought it would be. The whole world was no longer a pleasant place to live, but now I would have to carry it all on my young shoulders. Having now all the responsibilities that had been Socorro’s all these years. Walking along, I wondered how could I ever take care of four children, keep the house clean, and work. I would have to start looking for a new job the next day. Also, cook for everyone! I didn’t know how to cook at all. How will I get around without her to drive me places? Appa had a blue Chevy, but he wouldn’t let me drive it. As I walked on, wiping away my tears, a new flood of tears came streaming down my wet cheeks thinking about all the good times we had together and now she was gone, forever! What would I do now? It was no fun going anywhere alone or going with my parents along with four little kids. Opening the door, the realization of my sister’s absence hit me hard, as I noticed the messy living room and my disorderly siblings playing in their new found freedom. They knew that Socorro would not be coming home and ordering them to do their chores. They knew there were no more rules to follow since their older sister and disciplinarian was gone. I took one long look around and hurried into my bedroom. Then throwing myself on the bed, I cried till I couldn’t cry anymore. Socorro had often taken mom’s place in our home because mom worked many hours to help support the family. Mom would tire easily because of her bad heart. When she came home from work she was barely able to do a few things. She knew that she could count on Socorro. Appa worked hard at his job. Other than tinkering with his car he didn’t do much else. He was raised and taught by his parents that a man never did woman’s work. The four younger children which were born of Amma and Appa were: Jesus, Graciela, Eduardo, and Alfredo Suarez. They were all cute as can be and they knew it. Needless to say, “they were somewhat spoiled”. All in all, they were good kids. They were respectful to Amma and Appa, older folks and others in authority. Most of all they respected Socorro, for she was the disciplinarian when it came to keeping them in order. She had them
Clara Alice Smith 137 like little soldiers, not taking any flack or nonsense from any of them. They obeyed her when she spoke and managed to keep them looking neat in their dress and clean in hygiene. But when it came to me, it was a totally different story. With me, they acted as if I was on their level, turning a deaf ear when I tried to take the role of a leader and order them what to do. They soon became out of control with a “I could care less” attitude. Amma expected me to make them obey and mind me, but for all my efforts to act mature and in control, I wasn’t fooling them. At seventeen years of age, I did not possess the ability to come across as respected and authoritative as Socorro was. Therefore, I lost my temper with them when they didn’t listen to me. They were like choir kids who looked saintly in front of their teacher but became unruly when he wasn’t looking. Nonetheless, I loved them dearly. As much as I tried to run the household as smoothly as Socorro used to, it was out of my control. I didn’t have what it took, and so the Cruz/ Suarez household would never be the same. As much as I missed Socorro, eventually I stopped feeling sorry for myself. Even though I was selfish and living in self-pity, in my heart I was sincerely happy for her. She deserved to be happily married to her long-time boyfriend whom I knew she loved dearly. I liked him, especially since he was my best friend’s brother. That meant Nina and I would be almost related! I couldn’t wait to take them up on their invitation to visit them once they got settled. The thought of all the cute guys at the base cheered me up for the moment. Socorro wrote to me on a regular basis, giving me instructions on what to do at home and how to do all the things she used to do, still guiding me from a distance. She also asked me if I would take over her position as treasurer at the little church we were attending in Eldorado, that is when we couldn’t get to the one in San Angelo. She even encouraged me concerning my Christian walk with the Lord. At the bottom of the letter she included “Don’t forget about Martin”. A couple of days before she left, she sat me down to talk to me about a twenty-year old young man named Martin from the church in San Angelo. He was a very handsome (according to her) Christian guy who was preparing to leave for boot camp. He had confided in her that he had feelings for me and wanted her permission to write to me, hoping she didn’t think that I was too young. I thought about it but was not at all interested. I had been on a break from Joe and still thought about him now and then. Besides I preferred Martin’s brothers, Reggie or Rudy. They were closer to my age and very handsome, but I just couldn’t understand why they always
138 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy ignored me. Later I discovered that Martin had warned them to stay away from me! Socorro and Telesforo made their home in San Antonio for the next couple of years. After that they were stationed at another Army base in another state. Nine months after their marriage she gave birth to a beautiful baby girl named, Joyce Ann. I visited them as often as I could.
CHAPTER 29 Julie Cross (1964) age 17 It was close to Christmas of 1964, and I had not seen Socorro for about five months, but it seemed like an eternity. In one of her letters she had asked me if I could come to help her after their first baby arrived in April. I was so ecstatic about this opportunity that I agreed to come without consulting Amma. I knew Amma would give me permission to go since she couldn’t go to help Socorro. I couldn’t wait that long to go, so I convinced Amma to let me go right away. It was so hard for me to contain my excitement. I quit my job at “Nell’s Café” and said goodbye to my friends. While boarding the huge Greyhound Bus I noticed that it was almost empty, choosing a seat at the very back, I quickly made myself comfortable. Sitting in the back would give me the advantage of seeing everyone who entered the bus later, hoping no one would sit beside me. Finally, the time had come for me to go to San Antonio and wait the arrival of a very special baby. Many thoughts rushed through my mind. They were all good, and exciting thoughts—the kind that a dreamy-eyed seventeen-year-old, whose expectations are great; her hopes surpassing reality. The only thing sure was the great event of the baby’s birth. Also, it was exciting to know I would be seeing my sister, whom I had missed so much. The thought of having fun was not new to me, but a permanent state of mind—I loved that feeling. If, even for a short while, I would be my own person; making up my own mind—making my own decisions. It was freedom from the everyday hum- drum routine of work, from the ever watchful eye of Amma and Appa. It was freedom from my responsibilities and criticisms of some people that I felt expected more of me than I was cAppable of doing. Or, maybe it was all my imagination. I dreamed about writing stories—fictional or true to life. But I had no clue as to how to go about accomplishing it.
140 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy Now—here I am in the bus all by myself. I’m ready for an adventure! Even though, Socorro was not due yet for four months, I felt like I wanted to stay gone for at least that long. We had so much to talk about and things to do together—wondering if the baby would be a boy or girl. How good it would feel to hold my niece or nephew in my arms. It would be so thrilling to be in a big city! I hoped I would meet young people my age in their church! Or some cute soldiers from the Army base! Feeling like a bird being let out of its cage. As my mind continued wandering, I imagined being someone else. Someone unique, sophisticated, not just a plain Jane—poor girl ‘from the wrong side of the tracks’. Not just Alicia Cruz, or a fictional character such as one would read of in a book—where the reader would hang on every word. To start with, I would need to create a new name for myself—a glamorous name—one with a nice ring to it. Just then the bus heaved onto the paved road in front of the small store on Main Street, which also served as a bus stop for our small town of about a thousand in population. Looking out the window I continued my train of thought in the search of a new name. After considering several names, I finally settled on “Julie Cross”. I even whispered it to myself in order to hear how it sounded. “Yes”, I thought—this is it. I will be, Julie Cross. The bus slowed down as it approached the San Angelo bus stop, making a loud noise that sounded like air pressure and squeaky metal. The bus door flew open as a long stream of awaiting passengers filled the bus almost to capacity. It was a little intimidating. I hoped that no one would sit by me enabling me to continue my daydreaming without being disturbed any more than necessary. As I watched the travelers selecting their seats, I spotted a handsome soldier in his Army uniform. At first I tried not to be obvious, but I noticed through the side of my eye that he was not sitting but kept walking toward the back of the bus. Suddenly, I heard him say, in a very mannerly way, “May I sit here?” Sitting down, he immediately stretched out his hand and said, “Hi, my name is James”. Automatically, I shook his hand and blurted out, “My name is Julie Cross”. Simultaneously, I felt guilty for lying, but exhilarated that he believed me. Presuming that I would never see this young man again after reaching my destination, I continued playing the role of my fictional ‘self’. “Now I know what it felt like to be someone else”, thinking to myself, “I’m Julie Cross”.
Clara Alice Smith 141 As we continued the trip, he began to ask me about my everyday life, trying not to be too personal, and I was answering his questions with as ‘interesting’ answers as I could. My imagination ran free and wild, sharing my make- believe life with this total stranger, whom I would never see again, in just a few hours. He hung on my every word. I was enjoying the response that I was seeing in his expressions of disbelief while continuing to ask follow-up questions from the ones before. I purposely paused or stopped talking to get a reaction. He would always ask, “If you don’t mind me asking” and each time I would have to tell another lie in order to cover up the one before. When he asked me how I survived my latter tragedy, how a tornado had destroyed the whole town where I had lived, I explained that I had curled up in our refrigerator for protection. Continuing, I told him that when the tornado had passed, my beautiful, long-haired Collie had found me and opened the door with her paws. “Lady” my dog and I were the only survivors. By the time we got to San Antonio, James was almost in tears having listened to my tragic stories for the past four hours. It was about this time in my life that I learned a very valuable lesson which I would never repeat nor forget. It seemed that once I got started with my fake story I couldn’t stop. Approaching the San Antonio bus terminal, it occurred to both of us that we had not mentioned to each other what our destinations were. I assumed that when I got off in San Antonio, he would continue on the bus to a different location. But to my horror he stated, “Well, I guess we’re here.” “Are you also getting off here?” I asked. “You getting off here too?” he replied. I panicked inside when I realized that he was going to be at the same Army base where Telesforo was and there was a chance that we could run into each other again! Exiting the bus, he asked me for my phone number and address, with a pen and paper ready to write. “May I call you?” “Sure!” was my reply while mustering up a smile. I quickly gave him a phony number and address. Waving goodbye, words could not explain how badly I felt for all the lies I had told him, especially at the thought of almost being found-out. I couldn’t understand why I had the desire to fabricate such stories. Years later, I realized that what I felt was a desire to be a writer. In my youthful naïveté I had gone about it the wrong way.
142 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy Socorro asked me as I got into the car, “Who were you talking to? “Oh, just a guy that sat by me in the bus.” They were glad to see me again and I was certainly relieved to see them and be me again. We were soon on our way to their apartment. I couldn’t help but notice that my sister looked a little different. She was obviously pregnant and proudly showing, now on her fifth month. As Telesforo drove down the road, I heard her give him instructions, such as “don’t make such sharp turns”, “watch out for the pot holes!” “Let’s stop at the Dairy Queen and get an ice cream cone.” I thought, “Wow, she hasn’t changed much.” But I was okay with that, since I had missed her so much. I’m so glad that my God is a forgiving God, and should I ever see James again, I would definitely ask his forgiveness. After about three weeks of visiting with the Martinez family, I was ready to go back home. Although, I had a wonderful time, I decided that three months was a long time to stay away from my family and friends. Socorro gave birth to a beautiful baby-girl on April 20, 1964—they named her, Joyce Ann.
CHAPTER 30 Nina, Rocky, and the Fire (1965) At eighteen years of age, I didn’t dwell on the negative occurrences of the past but was always thinking about what the future would bring. Not realizing that at least for the next few months I was going to face some tough times—for now, I was content (to a degree) to enjoy life as it was, living one day at a time. I began wondering about what my life could have been like if I had not quit school. For one thing, my social life would have been a little better. Many times I would be bored feeling as though I had a mediocre life. But I stopped myself from thinking that way. For the most part I was a happy, fun-loving girl, always hoping for a brighter future. I didn’t have a clue as to what it meant to have a broken-heart, or to be rejected by someone, or experience the heart-ache of the loss of a family member. My daily routine was simple but I was content with the status-quo. I would wake up every morning around five and be at work by six. After work, around two in the afternoon, I would rest for about an hour or so, then get up and clean house. After dinner Joe would come by (not every evening). We would either visit in the house or outside. Sometimes on the weekends we would go see a movie or just go for a walk at the park. On Friday evenings, during football season, we would go to the school football games. Unfortunately, at this time, I was not involved in church. It was mainly because I was the only teenager there. Also, I was very discouraged that we had changed churches and did not like the new one we were attending. I missed not being in church with Nina. She knew me better than anyone else. We had been best friends since we were eleven years of age. Her proper name was Adelina Martinez. Except for our physical differences, we
144 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy had very much in common with each other. Nina was short, a little heavy set. She had a beautiful brown complexion, brown eyes, dark black hair that was almost shoulder length, and a contagious laugh. In contrast, I was tall and thin; I had one blue eye and one brown, and my complexion was very white. As far as our ways, likes and dislikes, we were very much alike. We got along magnificently, making allowances for each other where we might have differed. Nina was a true, faithful friend. She was kind, always encouraging me when I was feeling sad, scared or just having a bad day. I could talk to her about anything, never feeling that she would betray my confiding. During the summers her family would often go to a different city or state to work. Those were times when I would miss her terribly. She was just like a sister to me. Unfortunately for me, Nina would be going away this summer, 1965. She, along with her family, would not return until October. Days before she left I was already feeling sad at the thought of her being gone for so long. One evening while on a date with Joe, he shared with me that he and his family were also leaving to California for the summer. He added that he would be back in September, in time for school. I knew then that it was going to be a very long and lonely summer. When July 25th finally rolled around I found myself beginning to feel somewhat excited about my eighteenth birthday. I could not remember when, or if ever, my birthdays had been celebrated. That morning I went to work as usual. After work Amma wished me a happy birthday just as she did every year prior. “Happy Birthday Hijita”. there was love and pity mingled in her voice. “I’m sorry that I don’t have a gift for you and not even a cake, but you know how things are around here! I just didn’t have the time or even the money to buy the ingredients to bake you a cake. Maybe next year, I’ll try harder.” I would tell her that it was alright. Just another hum-drum day. By this time my unshared feelings of excitement had diminished to a realistic life as I retreated to my bedroom, shutting the door to my world of self-pity—not because of my birthday, but because my boy-friend and my best friend were both very far way. Today of all days I felt that their company was needed. My hum-drum summer thus far was drab but almost over. One evening I heard someone knocking on our front door. I was sure it was Joe because it sounded like his knock, also because it was almost September—school would be starting soon. As I scrambled to the front door, expecting to see him there without a doubt in my mind—
Clara Alice Smith 145 instead I saw two of Elvira’s little brothers standing there holding a box. I was so disappointed. Looking up at me they asked, “would you like to buy a baby raccoon?” Immediately I went from wanting to vent out my disappointment on the boys to extreme awe and excitement as I peered into the box. Four tiny adorable creatures were nestled together in the box. I asked, “how much for one?” In the meantime, my siblings were hovering over my shoulders trying to take a peak. The boys piped up, “twenty-five cents each”. Without hesitation, “I’ll take one!” came out of my mouth. Amma came over to the door to see what all the commotion was about, “Oh no Hijita, you don’t really want that animal, he’s wild!” “Don’t worry Amma, I’ll take good care of him. I’ll bathe him and feed him—you’ll see!” Amma went back to the kitchen shaking her head. “Rocky” the raccoon, grew up in our household as a pet. I kept my word about caring for him but in the process I became emotionally attached to him and so did my siblings. It didn’t take long for him to get house-broken. He learned the tricks of getting in and out quickly. When Amma went out in the morning to feed the chickens, Rocky would follow her. Before Amma came back into the house from the backyard, he would run to the dogs’ water bowls, under the faucet, in order to wash his hands, then hurriedly— while keeping his sharp eyes on Amma—he would run back to the door in order to arrive there before the door would shut behind her. One morning, Amma went out to feed the chickens with Rocky trailing behind her. This time he did not have enough time to wash his hands before he saw Amma opening the back door. Amma walked straight to the kitchen sink to wash her hands with her back to Rocky. As she turned around she saw Rocky standing on a chair by the table, washing his hands in Amma’s cup of coffee. Needless to say everyone was fond of Rocky. He made us all laugh, but as he grew older he started to play rough. He also tried to play with our guests and scare them by pouncing on them from behind doors or grabbing their legs from under the couch. They would scream and looked as they would
146 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy die of a heart attack. Amma decided that we should get rid of Rocky. I reluctantly agreed. After coming to a conclusion that we should get rid of him, we decided the only way we could accomplish this was to take him to a park on the edge of town and leave him there. After saying a teary good-bye to Rocky, Appa, Jesus, and I, took Rocky to the park. The plan was that Jesus would put Rocky on a tree limb, while Appa kept the car motor running. Then Jesus would run as fast as he could, get in the car and Appa would quickly drive away. While we were driving away, Rocky had climbed down from the tree and ran very fast catching up with the car. Appa stopped the car—Rocky got back into the car making distressful noises. The next day we repeated this procedure a couple more times. Finally, the last time—Jesus put Rocky higher up on the tree. Quickly Appa accelerated the car. While we watched him through the back window of the car, I felt my heart wrenching in pain, as we watched Rocky run after us as fast as his four legs could carry him. With tears streaming down my face, I watched him become smaller and smaller in the distance. I wanted to tell Appa to stop the car so I could scoop up my precious raccoon into my arms and hug him once again. Appa kept speeding away and asking “is he still coming”, he repeated himself several more times. I couldn’t talk because I felt like that I had a large knot in my throat. Then Jesus finally answered him, with a cry in his voice “No, you can slow down now.” Many nights after that I had dreams about Rocky—I dreamt that he had made it back home and that I was playing with him as I had many times before. A few days later in the evening, I was so anxious for Joe to return from California. I could see his house plainly from my bedroom window. They lived across the street from us and about three houses down. Every day I would look out my window to see if his car or his dad’s truck was there. Maybe a light would be shining in their windows—hoping that they would be back. Although, next door to Joe’s house was the home of the Tanguma family. They had just come back from being gone a couple of days prior. I decided to go to the neighborhood convenience store and drive by their houses. As I was driving by, I noticed something that concerned me. The Tangumas had not yet got their electricity on so they were using kerosene oil lamps in the meantime. The lamp could be seen sitting on a stand by the window. The window was open and the breeze was blowing the curtains very close to the oil lamp. I put the thought of danger out of my mind and continued on to the store. On my way back, to my horror, I saw what I had
Clara Alice Smith 147 feared had actually happened. The house was engulfed in the flames. The fire department had not even arrived yet. It was a large house and very old, so it was burning very fast. Mr. Tanguma (my brother-in-law’s uncle) tried to put the fire out at first by himself but the fire was growing rapidly. He quickly made sure his family was safe outside. I had never witnessed a large fire like this before. I felt guilty for not warning them earlier but I wondered—what could I have said to Mrs. Tanguma when I passed by there? She was a very proud woman. I felt that she would have scolded me or something like that. I always felt like she didn’t like me. The fire truck finally arrived, but it was too late, the house was already fully engulfed in an Ammazing inferno of breath-taking towers of flames reaching high into the red sky above. The sun had already set and if it had not been for the fire, it would have been dark outside. Instead, it seemed as though the whole neighborhood was ablaze. People came to observe this spectacular event, also ready to offer assistance. I just stood there looking in Ammazement and worried for the Alice & Rocky Raccoon family. They were a large family. Not knowing how to pray, I just asked the Lord to protect the Tangumas and not to let Joe’s house catch fire—because for a while it almost appeared as though it would also go up in flames. The commotion lasted late into the night even after all the excited spectators left and we were sure the Tangumas were safe with a place to stay. I could still hear their voices coming from that direction amid the crackling fire along with the smell of burning lumber. The next morning everyone was talking about the Tanguma’s house fire. Everyone was thankful that they were all safe. Although, Mr. Tanguma did suffer some burns on his hands while trying to put out the fire. Mr. Watson (house mover and developer) supplied them with another house that was later placed on the same lot after the debris from the burned house was completely removed. The house was not new, but it was a lot nicer than the previous one. Many of the town’s people got together and supplied
148 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy everything they needed to start over again. Evidently, even their money which they had earned during the summer months of harvesting (their entire livelihood for the rest of the year) had been burned up in the fire. They did not use the bank to keep their money choosing rather to keep all of their cash under their mattress. All in all, they had everything they needed and were better off than even before. I for one was elated and thanked God for His protecting hand upon them.
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