Clara Alicia Flipbook

CHAPTER 10 Facing My Fears After the most wonderful Christmas of my seven-year-old life, it was back to reality as the New Year of 1955 rolled around. I knew I had some real fears to face beginning with going back to school. In the back of my mind I feared returning to school, especially after the Christmas Holidays, after overhearing my parents talking about killing “Molly” in the Spring. Molly was a hog which Appa had bought in half partnership with a man, a friend of the family named, Julio. They had bought the piglet at a very young age and had built a pen for it far away from our house and the neighbors. I fell in love with the piglet right away even though I had been warned not to do so. I couldn’t help myself, she reminded me of a real baby when she squealed. She was so cute and pink. I decided to call her “Molly”. We would walk down a path that we had naturally worn by walking through the tall grass across the vacant lots to where Molly was penned up. We would take the slop (leftovers from what we ate every day) to her. I remember one day climbing up about half way on the fence of the pen and watching Molly eat anything and everything that was thrown or poured into her trough. I watched her eat like a hog and then wallow in the mud, all the time wishing, I could teach her manners so that I could play with her like my doll. I watched Molly grow up into a huge, noisy, smelly hog. My parents kept reminding me that she would be killed one day so we could have meat to eat. But I never thought the day would come. They tried to keep me away from Molly, but every day I couldn’t wait to go see her. I was not allowed to go alone. When Mr. Julio came by (he also brought slop for Molly almost every day) he would let me go with him to feed Molly. Julio was a nice man; seeing him coming was always exciting to me. He used to pick me up in his arms and say “you are my little girl because you were born in Julio” (in Spanish, ‘Julio’ means July), and then he would put me down and reach way down

50 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy into his deep pockets. They seemed deep to me because they were half full of coins. With great delight waiting and watching, as he pulled out a hand full of jingling coins. He would slowly pick out a couple of them, usually pennies or nickels, and would give them to me. The morning of Molly’s demise came too soon. I had heard something about it the night before and had a hard time falling asleep. When I awoke, I felt terribly anxious, and desperate. I had either seen or heard something about a hog butchering before, because I remembered the details. I felt that if I could only go somewhere so that I couldn’t hear Molly squeal when they started stabbing her on her back and neck with a big sharp butcher knife that I would be able to settle my fears a little. I felt that I couldn’t tell Amma what I was feeling because I had been warned several times to stay away from the pig. I never even told her that I called her Molly for fear that she would give me the ‘look’. Appa was just waiting for Mr. Julio to arrive with the necessary things they needed to kill and prepare the meat. I was walking back and forth to the window constantly, dreading with all my being what was about to happen. Mr. Julio arrived and then Appa followed him down the path to Molly’s pen. I was horrified; my heart was beating fast as I dove under the bed. I pulled a cover over my head and covered my ears while closing my eyes, and clenching my teeth. I felt my body trembling uncontrollably. It seemed as though I had been under the bed for a very long time. I thought I heard Amma calling me in a very calm-like manner. I crawled out from under the bed. I was soaked in perspiration. Amma looked at me speaking compassionately, “hijita, you are perspiring so! You look so flushed. What’s the matter?” while running into her arms and crying with big choking sobs. “What’s the matter?” she repeated. “Why?” As my sobbing subsided somewhat, the words just blurted out, “why did they kill her?!” Amma used her calmest voice to comfort me, stroking my hair, holding me as my face was buried in her bosom. I felt so loved and comforted at that moment. I loved Amma so much. My other fears included spiders, snakes, scorpions, witches, darkness, and a boy who lived next door, called ‘Lalo’. I believe that Lalo must have been mentally challenged. He used to do things that most boys his age would not normally do. Whenever I saw him coming into our yard, I would usually run the opposite way. I remember how disappointed I was when he tore up Ramon’s red-peddle fire engine truck. I enjoyed playing and riding in it with Ramon. Lalo also sneaked behind me one day and proceeded to whack me on the head with a hammer!

Clara Alice Smith 51 I was so afraid of the darkness. When Amma turned out the lights in our bedroom I cuddled up against my sister (which-ever one was sleeping beside me at the time) covering my head. I used to experience hallucinations. At the time I didn’t understand why this happened. When I uncovered my head and looked into the darkness of the room I would vividly see things which I feared. In most cases I would see witches laughing and jeering at me. They were as ugly and wicked looking as I had either seen in a picture book or that was more likely described to me by one of my siblings. I also saw snakes slithering on huge poles in every corner of the room. When I first started hallucinating in the darkness, I would scream and call Amma and ask her to leave the lights on. She would ask me “Why? What are you afraid of?”. I would tell her and then she would show me by turning the lights on and off that there was nothing there. But the witches and the snakes would not appear as long as the lights were on and or if she was still in the room. The hallucinations decreased and became less frequent over time with age. Years later as an adult, after consulting with my family physician, it was explained to me why these fearful imaginations occurred. It was because of caffeine. Evidently, my brain was too young and tender to cope with caffeine. Ever since the age of two (Amma told me later) I had been drinking coffee. I used to drink Amma’s left over coffee, which she would leave sitting here and there in the kitchen or living room, helping myself to it freely. It was easy to like the coffee because she put a lot of cream and sugar in it. She would scold me a little, not realizing the serious side-effects it was having on my mental wellbeing. Getting older the habit continued but my resistance had gotten stronger so that it no longer bothered me. My thanks and praise goes to God because He loved me and protected me in my childhood, even as He does all the little children.



CHAPTER 11 The Kidnapping In the spring of 1955 we left Corpus Christi to follow the cotton crops through-out a series of small towns in West Texas, beginning in Rosco and ending up in Rotan. We were to take with us only what we absolutely needed for the summer. That meant I would have to leave my doll, Ogie behind. I was not very pleased about it but never complained. Knowing that everyone else would have to leave their toys behind as well, I tried to tell myself that we would be back soon. Then everything would go back to normal. Amma was the one who had to make the greatest sacrifice of all; she would not be able to see Roberto for the entire summer. Before we left, though, we made one more visit to Lolita and Roberto. Amma wiped her tears away as she gave her little son a last embrace. Grace had now recovered from the typhoid fever episode. The family doctor was surprised that she had no more signs of the usual disabilities that follow for years after, and in some cases never disappear. But he warned Amma that if Grace ever developed a fever the typhoid could return again and that the next time it could kill her. So whenever she would get a cold or a low- grade fever, Amma would immediately take her to the doctor. Otherwise Grace was a happy, healthy two-year old. That summer ended but we did not return to our home in Corpus. Appa had plenty of work in Rotan and no work in Corpus, and our car had broken down again. Amma explained the dilemma to us and assured us that we would return as soon as Appa could get away from work and get the car repaired. There was just no money to fix the car, so we started school in Rotan and spent Christmas there as well. By this time our landlord either kept or disposed of all our earthly belongings in Corpus Christi, since they had not received any rent payments from us during that time. As for me, I kept thinking we would return to Corpus and continued to wait; always hoping and looking forward to returning home. No one had told

54 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy me about us losing all our things, I just knew we had to go back sooner or later because Roberto was there. Frequently Amma and Appa would talk about getting the car repaired so we could go see him. It was becoming very obvious to me that Amma was more than ready to go see about my brother. She made many phone calls from public phone booths to him as often as possible, but it was never enough. Appa kept promising her that the car would be fixed soon. Alice’s mother holding baby Jesus and One of the things that kept me Roberto (standing) who was kidnapped occupied while living away from home in the small cotton-town was my adventurous spirit. I loved to curiously explore my surroundings. Finally, Appa happily announced that the car was ready for the road. Amma was especially elated because this meant we would be able to go to Corpus and see Roberto. Although, she explained to me that we were not staying but only visiting until hopefully some later date when Appa’s job was finished in Rotan. I didn’t quite understand it all but just accepted what I was told. Because our family being so large we couldn’t all fit in the car for our trip to Corpus, so the older ones would stay behind with some of the younger ones. There is a long bridge in Corpus of which I used to be afraid of every time Appa would drive on it. All I remember was the water on both sides of the narrow bridge and the railings (in those days) which seemed to be so short or even nonexistent. I was fearful that Appa would drive too close to the edge and that the car would fall into the deep water. Appa’s eyesight was poor, plus the fact that the steering wheel had an excessive amount of play in it didn’t help my fears. Appa couldn’t seem to keep the car from veering from left to right constantly. Amma sat with an expression of horror on her face, often clutching the dash board till her fingers looked colorless and

Clara Alice Smith 55 saying ‘epa!’ (Watch-out!) on and off, while I looked on with intense fear. To a young seven-year old this bridge seemed like a hundred miles long. For some reason some of us children were terrified of policemen, especially when the siren would go off. Frances seemed to become the most frightened. On this very same trip to Corpus, on this very same bridge, Appa was driving way below the speed limit, mainly I suppose, because of his insecurity with his eye-sight and the play in the steering wheel. Suddenly we heard the sound of a police siren not far behind us. We became deathly silent. There was extreme tension and fear in everyone’s face. As the siren got closer Amma told Appa, “I think he wants us to pull over”. At those words Frances started screaming in a panic, which made all of us join in the chaos, while at the same time Amma and Appa were trying to calm us down. Appa got a ticket for driving too slow! Although the officer initially thought that Appa might have been driving drunk. We eventually made it to the familiar street where Lolita and Robert lived. Driving up to the house I noticed that Amma’s facial expression had changed from elation to grave concern. Something was very wrong. The windows were boarded and nailed shut. So were the doors to the house. Amma told us kids to stay in the car while she and Appa walked around the house investigating. Then they walked over to the neighbors and stood discussing the situation in their yard for quite a while. Lolita’s neighbor told Amma that Lolita had died about two weeks prior and that she had no idea where Roberto was. Amma’s mind was confused and racing; she told Appa, “Let’s go see Alicia (her friend for many years).” I guess in Amma’s mind she hoped that maybe Alicia might have Roberto with her. We had no phone where anyone could have called us to let Amma know about the passing of her dear friend Lolita. As we drove up to Alicia’s house, we all came out of the car like we had been in it for days due to the extreme heat inside the car and outside. It looked like Amma was going to jump out of our moving car even before it stopped. She was obviously anxious to know where her little son was. Alicia was so happy to see us and immediately welcomed us with open arms while her own children came into the room with happy bright faces anticipating fun and games with missed friends. No one knew where Roberto was or what had become of him! On our way back to Rotan it was very quiet. It was a long and sad drive for all of us but not nearly as upsetting as it was for Amma. She vowed that she would come back soon and find her lost boy. We returned not long after this. Amma and Appa had made many sacrifices in order to make this trip back

56 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy to Corpus in order to look for Roberto. Amma would spend, what seemed like hours in phone booths, making calls, while we waited impatiently in the hot suffocating Texas heat, inside our old car. Waiting and hoping to find my little brother. But every time nothing turned up and once again we would return home with no information, no leads, and no Roberto. I was actually more upset for Amma because I couldn’t bear to see her so sad. How I wish that Amma would have had more knowledge about the Lord Jesus in those days. She already knew and had a nominal knowledge of Jesus Christ but had not yet learned how to pray effectively and find the peace that passes all understanding. But God in His infinite mercy knew her future and took care of her, and Roberto, and all of us. Praise God that not long after these events, Amma received the Lord as her personal Saviour and grew to become a fine dedicated Christian woman. Twenty years passed after the disappearance of Robert. After countless prayers and numerous attempted searches, Amma was awakened by a phone call one night in 1976. The voice on the other end said, “Hello, my name is Roberto. I am looking for my mother Consuelo”.

CHAPTER 12 A Taste of Country Life In the beginning of 1956, once again, Appa found himself without a job. Appa was a very resourceful man when it came to work. He would try anything to support his large family. He would get out and about looking for work and inquiring; making contact with people that might give him a lead about a job. One day a friend of a friend came to our house to let Appa know that a certain man, a farmer, by the name of Clyde Nunn was looking to employ someone interested in working for him at his small dairy farm just outside of Sweetwater, Texas. It would be a fulltime job with some benefits. Appa’s main job would be to milk fifty-eight cows twice daily. He had, at the time, the latest technology in milking. The cows would be milked in the early morning and then again in the evening. We all helped after school and in the summer. Needless to say Appa and Amma were elated. I believe that by this time in Amma’s life she had learned how to pray and that this was definitely an answered prayer. I can’t really speak for my siblings, but as for me, I was extremely excited to be moving to the country. I remember Appa driving up to our new home as we all looked out the windows of our old car which barely made the trip before it died. As I recall it was a modest house in comparison to most, but to me it looked wonderful. It actually looked better in the inside than it did on the outside. We even had an indoor bathroom. The kitchen had a working refrigerator and an old but normal looking stove. I could see how pleased Amma was, and that was the most important thing for me. Outside was a vast and seemingly endless grassy yard of adventure for a little girl; from the huge barn that promised many hours of unlimited fun and enjoyment appealing to my sense of adventure, to the enormous mountains of hay piled only a quarter mile behind our house, to the huge oak trees to climb on or to make rope swings to hang from the strong branches that curved down as to say, “welcome”. Then there were the corrals that separated the cows from the other farm animals but especially from Philip, the only bull there. Philip was the biggest

58 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy and scariest creature I had ever seen. Although he was in a pen that was especially designed and fortified for him, yet nothing could keep him from breaking out when he was of a mind to do so. It wasn’t long after we moved there that we started getting to be familiar with each one of the 58 cows on the farm. They were all so different one from the other. They each had their own personality and we named each one accordingly. There was, for example, Cinderella, Big Red, and Panda, just to name a few. I accidentally got to see a cow giving birth. I didn’t understand what was happening, I thought the cow was dying and became upset about it for quite a while. There were also lot of chickens and four horses. One of the horses was a big golden mare which we fittingly called, Golda. She was the only one that we were allowed to ride occasionally. Mr. Clyde was a very kind man; obviously a Christian man, who was fair and generous. He once bought Ramon a new suit for church. He and his wife would often take us to church with them. That was probably the first time I started to understand the basic teaching about Jesus. I loved so much going to church with them. We did not attend Sunday School but only the worship service and the sermon, but I loved and enjoyed the singing. Mr. Clyde gave us an old hymn book once and I cherished it. Sometimes on rainy days when we couldn’t play outside some of my siblings and I would go into Appa’s old car and play church. The ones sitting in the back seat (we pretended) were the congregation and the ones in the front seat were the pastor (me) and the choir. I would lead out in singing the songs in the old hymn book and we would sing loud and long until we would be hoarse from the singing. I couldn’t wait to be invited to church again. I have fond memories of this place even though we only lived there for such a short time. It was here where God blessed us so much; from the memory of Alda dyeing a baby chick with food coloring and then taking it to school for pet day entering it into the ‘cutest pet’ contest, to the bounty of food such as we had never had before. We had fresh milk and cream daily, eggs, chicken, vegetables galore. The extra blessing when for Easter Sunday Amma made each one of us girls a new dress. She asked me how I wanted my dress to look, I said “yellow with a matching apron, and lots of material on the skirt with puffy short sleeves”. It was a beautiful semi-nylon material. All the dresses were of the same type of material except different pastel colors, plus we all got white sandals, except for Lupe and Socorro. They were teenagers and something more appropriate was bought for them. Amma made each of the boys a beautiful shirt and bought them all new pairs of jeans. I was a very happy girl.

Clara Alice Smith 59 It was on this farm that I experienced a severe sand storm. It was more like a black dirt ball as big as a two or three story house on the horizon. When I first saw it rolling on the ground about a mile away from me, it appeared to be coming straight toward our house. Appa and Ramon were scrambling outside trying to bring all the cows in to the barn. Amma and the older girls were grabbing kids and things rushing us toward the storm shelter. I was terrified, the younger ones were all crying and Appa and Ramon were still outside. The wind was growing stronger and the ball of black dirt was drawing closer. Amma was standing at the shelter door with it wide open. I could see how dark it was getting. Finally, Appa and Ramon came running through the open door, and everything went black as pitch except for the dim light of the kerosene lamp sitting up high on a dusty shelf covered with spider webs here and there, which of course added to the frightfulness which was already suffocating me. The door shut with a loud slam. We all gave a sigh of relief. Looking over at Amma I saw her taking Walo from my sister and clung to him. I wished that it would be me in her safe embrace. I didn’t know Amma was pregnant until several weeks after the storm. On April 26th , 1956, she and Appa had gone to town in the pick-up truck which was used around the farm to haul the containers of milk to market. When they came home Amma was holding baby Freddy in her arms. He was named, Alfredo Suarez, after Appa’s father. One beautiful afternoon while Appa was fixing a wooden fence a terrible accident occurred. It all happened while we were at school. When we came home Lupe told us that Appa had injured his eye. She didn’t tell us what happened but later on we heard that as he was hammering a nail it flipped over and the point of it hit him directly on the pupil blinding him in that eye. His other eye was already his bad eye. He had to wear thick glasses because of that, now his bad eye was his good eye. After coming home hours later Appa wore gauze over his eye and had to be lead around everywhere. My first impression was just a feeling Alice, Alda and Appa (dad) of pity and deep sadness for him.

60 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy The doctor ordered him bed rest and absolutely no working or lifting. It was devastating for him since now he realized he would be blind out of that eye, but most of all because he would not be able to take care of his family. We would have to leave the farm. My dreams of living in the country were shattered. Before the accident Appa had worked so hard, trying to find time to fix the old car that had been disabled since we came to the farm. He was always waiting to find the right part needed for the car or didn’t have the money or the time to work on it. Once he thought he had finally fixed it. But it wouldn’t just start by turning the key. So he reassured us that it just needed a little push. We all helped push it down a small incline while Ramon steered, but it just sputtered and with a huge jerk stalled. It was obvious that it wasn’t going anywhere. We all just looked at each other in disbelief, but no one said a word. Now here we were; one day I was happy, contented, and feeling secure. Then it seemed that overnight I was rudely awakened out of a peaceful dream and ushered into a world of uncertainty, insecurity and confusion. The one whom I depended upon to protect us and provide (for I had not yet learned how to depend and trust the lord Jesus) for us was now incAppable of taking care of anyone, not even himself. I could see the stress in Amma’s face. With a new baby to care for, among other things, and now this; how would we even survive? Now we would have to leave the farm and go back to the cotton fields. Amma assured us, trying hard to sound convincing and confident; she got the older ones together and announced her plan. She was like a coach hyping up the players just before the big game. She and Appa somehow made contact with a man they knew who was a foreman named, Alfredo Martinez. He helped us to get to Rosco, Texas, where the cotton crops were good. Amma had told my older sibling that we would all have to work hard to support the family. They all worked hard that summer and not only supported the family but also bought a nice pre- owned car. It took Appa sometime to recuperate after his incident. About twenty-five years later with newly developed technology, Appa was able to get a pupil transplant. Shortly after the surgery he was able to see again. At the time of his injury (1956) Appa was not yet a born-again child of God, although he believed in God. He became a saved Christian during the early 1960’s. I believe that Amma’s prayers were answered because not only did he get saved but his eye was also healed. Praise God for His faithfulness!

CHAPTER 13 Resiliency As I think of my childhood (up to this time in my life) and all of the negative occurrences that have happened, I can’t help but thank God (now, as an adult) for preserving me. I’m so thankful that He made me so resilient. He has also given me the ability to put all the negatives behind me, not forgetting, but not allowing them to make me bitter or resentful. God knows my heart; I give Him all the glory. I’ve never blamed Amma for my imperfect raising, for we all make mistakes. On the contrary, I loved her more than I can say, and wish I had told her so, more often. My attitude and/or way of thinking as a child was to put aside the negatives and go on with hope that tomorrow would bring a positive or some good thing. I somehow realized that if I hung on to my negative experiences they would spoil the blessings that were awaiting me just ahead. All of the above I knew then. I just could not put it into perspective; obviously because of my immaturity. What I wanted most as a child was so basic. Most of all I wanted Amma to be happy. Secondly, I wanted so much not to move around from town to town anymore. Mainly because I wanted to start school on time and be in the same school from year to year. God has a purpose for everything. I realize now that God knew what He was doing with my life even then. He placed me in this family and environment, allowing all this to happen to me in order to mold me and shape me for His kingdom work. Once we left the farm and joined up with the cotton picking foreman, Mr. Martinez, I bounced right back into my adventurous self, looking forward to the next adventure. We started out in Rosco, Texas, following the cotton crop trail to other cotton towns such as Earth, Tulia, El Campo, among other South Texas towns.

62 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy Along the way we made long lasting friends. Some were acquaintances from the years’ prior who did the same kind of work as we did. In July of 1957, I turned ten years old. I had for some time been feeling the pressure from Amma and my older sisters about my behavior. It seemed to me as though they thought I needed to be more mature. I needed to act more lady-like. Prior to my birthday, after considering my ways, I told Amma that when I turned ten that I would start being a lady. More than anyone else Amma was well aware of my not so lady-like demeanor. She would remind me regularly that I was growing up and needed to think about my deportment. She tried to instill in us girls some semblance of manners, politeness and good etiquette. Amma had never really put an age limit to starting the process, but for some reason I thought that age ten was a significant age. It was the unsaid time for me to become a young lady, and most of all to act like one. As a result, I was not looking forward to my birthday, but looked at it as a day of sentencing. I would have to make some big changes to make Amma proud and to fit into society. The morning of my birthday I started out by making my bed properly; taking special care of my hygiene (I hated hygiene); washing my face with cold water; making sure my nails were cut and no dark crescents underneath them. I had waist length, golden brown hair, which was a chore to untangle after washing it (we didn’t use conditioner). I was a bit of a tomboy so this particular morning I wore a dress instead of my usual overalls. I did my chores without complaining. All the time thinking about all the fun I would be missing out on for the rest of my life; like climbing trees, and hanging upside down on a limb; playing cowgirls and Indians; tops and slingshots, just to name a few. Because I was tall, I looked older than the kids my own age. Now I would have to mind my manners, sit properly and walk like a lady. As I sat on the couch looking so proper and neat, Ramon took one look at me and exclaimed! “Amma what’s wrong with Alicia”? Amma momentarily forgot that it was my birthday and looking at me with a smile said, “Happy Birthday hijita”. She didn’t even notice that I looked better than usual and my lady-like behavior. That day I tried so hard for at least two hours to be a refined young lady. Later on I heard my siblings and friends running and playing outside. I looked out the window and my whole being said, “I want to be out there”. I decided then and there I didn’t want to be a refined young lady anymore. Maybe when I turned eleven, “yes”, I thought, “I will for sure change when I turn eleven”. I ran outside feeling free to be myself again. Later on Amma told me she was sorry that she didn’t bake me a cake and why, but I didn’t care. I was just so glad I didn’t have to be a lady yet.

Clara Alice Smith 63 Around this same time, there was a girl about my age that I used to play with who unfortunately fell into the pit of an outhouse and did not survive. In those days we had no such thing as therapy for children who had been traumatized. No one even knew how that incident bothered me. But God in His mercy made me, as he does all the children, very resilient. Another girl got shot in the eye accidentally by a boy playing with a BB gun. Fortunately for her, the BB lodged in and under her eye lid. The parents didn’t even take her to the doctor. About a month later she showed me her eye and how the lead BB had turned green. Other kids would frequently ask her if they could see the BB under her eye lid and she would gladly show off her eye by pulling her lid up as we looked in awe. When Amma heard about this she marched right over to their place and told the girl’s mother that she needed to take her daughter to the doctor before she lost her eye. I felt so proud of Amma for what she did. One day not long after the BB incident this same girl stole a cigarette and some matches from a member of her family. She then talked me into going behind a bail of cotton that had been left somewhere between the cotton field and the cottages where the workers all lived. I agreed, thinking of it as an adventure. As she proceeded to light the cigarette, somehow the bail of cotton caught fire. We tried to put it out but it just spread so fast we couldn’t keep up. We got scared and ran to hide. Soon the bail was engulfed in flames. The neighbors were running out of their cottages to put out the fire carrying water in anything that they could find. No one had a telephone to call the fire department. Thank God no one was hurt. No one ever knew who started the fire. Not everything that happened to me was bad. Once in a while there were good things, insignificant things that made an impression on me as a child. This was also the place where I was first introduced to the best snow cones ever. Anyone who knows me well, knows how much I love a good snow cone. The gentleman, who made and sold them for five cents, took so much pride in every cone he made; putting a lot of care into his wonderfully tasty creations. From the way he embellished the shaving of the ice with his old fashioned hand operated ice shaver, to the delicate way he piled the ice high on the cone. We watched every move with anticipation as he would pack the ice down with his ice scoop. We would then pick the flavor of our choice from an array of brightly colored bottles of fruit syrups. After the cones were consumed we would all have stained mouths for the rest of the day.

64 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy Saturday was the day we all looked forward to; the day after pay day. We would all pile into our car to go into town. The older ones with their fluffy petticoats and starched full material skirts, wearing their freshly polished saddle oxfords with bobby socks rolled down just right, were dropped off in front of the theater. The rest of us would go with Amma and Appa to get the weekly groceries. Afterwards they would treat us to an ice cream cone. One Saturday, Socorro and Lupe went shopping and came home with a surprise for me. It was a beautiful red petticoat and the shiniest pair of black patent leather shoes I had ever seen. I quickly put them on, and proceeded to model by twirling round and round for everyone to see. I felt so beautiful for the first time. In the fall when the cotton crops were all gathered and the work there was finished, we left. By this time Appa had recuperated enough to where he got the doctor’s clearance to work again. He had heard that there might be an opportunity working with the pipeline in Borger. By this time Appa was anxious to get back to work. We moved into a nice Appartment complex which was the first modern Appartment we had ever lived in. There were many young people there with whom we all soon made friends. We also started school and enjoyed lots of snow during the winter months. That Christmas was my first time to visit Santa. I had only seen pictures of him in my favorite, very thick coloring book which I had gotten for the Christmas before. There was a very long line that took a long time waiting. This was outside in the town square. While in line, one of my siblings had to go the bathroom, but did not want to leave her spot in line. Instead she waited while hopping up and down on one leg and then the other. Shortly after, we noticed that she had quit hopping. She seemed calm and even had a big smile. I remember looking down and seeing a stream running on the sidewalk coming from her direction. We all knew what had happened but we all ignored the obvious so as not to cause any embarrassment to her or the rest of us. Needless to say, we never mentioned that incident in any way, form or fashion, at least not in front of her. But the good thing was that we all got to sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what we wanted for Christmas. That was the Christmas that I stopped believing in him because he never delivered what I had asked. Up to this time in my life, we had never owned a television set. Although, I had a friend next door who would regularly invite me to her place to watch a then popular series entitled, “Sheena the Queen of the Jungle”. I looked forward so much, to once a week going to her apartment to watch this show with her. It was no wonder that I became so enchanted by this

Clara Alice Smith 65 beautiful, brave, heroine, who could communicate with animals and lived in the jungle swinging effortlessly from vines and limbs only wearing skimpy leopard skin attire. I dreamed about being like her and doing all the exciting things she did. My goal in life was to become like her, never dreaming or imagining that I would ever meet her in person. My friend’s parents took us to see “Sheena” when she came to Amarillo to do a live show. I was so excited. I had never seen so many kids (screaming) under one roof. After the show everyone received a signed photograph.



CHAPTER 14 The Kitten and the Ghost Spring arrived early this year. There was excitement in the air. Each one of us expressed it in different ways. The older girls would come home from school and would turn on the radio which sat on top of the refrigerator. They would dance in front of it, especially Socorro. She was the owner and keeper of a tall stack of 45’ records, mostly of Elvis. There was not a day that went by when I didn’t hear Elvis’ name mentioned or hear one of his songs; this went on for years. For me, spring meant that I would soon be out of school and would have more time to play. But for Appa, it seemed to me, that spring brought along with it “cotton fever”. Appa spoke daily about how good the cotton crops would be this year. Chopping cotton would come first. That’s when the cotton plants are very young. The workers would take hoes and chop the weeds from around the cotton plants. Then later when the cotton was ready the pickers would come back and pick the cotton. The pull must have been strong and very hard for Appa to resist. It seemed to take control of his whole being which was evident in his demeanor. Although he was still employed by the county pipeline, he knew that this job would be finished in the near future. I knew because of past experiences that we would once again be following the cotton trail for the summer and fall. I believe that this time none of us children or even Amma wanted to leave Borger. When school was out, Appa sent all of his family to Tulia, Texas, where the foreman and the other workers would start chopping the brand new cotton plants in the fields of the surrounding countryside of Tulia. Later when his work ended in Borger he joined us. Once we settled into our small quarters, it wasn’t long before I started making new friends. I recall one girl in particular whose name was Alma. One day while playing outside we happened to spot a small abandoned kitten. He was yellow striped in color, a bit thin and with a very weak meow. We quickly ran to it picking it up gently and as we petted it we both agreed that he was cute, precious…

68 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy falling in love immediately. We also agreed to call him “Tiger”. I couldn’t wait to ask Amma if I could keep him. When I asked her she said, “No”. Alma also asked her mom, and she also said “No”. We decided that we would take care of the kitten outside by feeding it and checking on it regularly making sure it would be alright. One day we went looking for Tiger and found him lying on his side, quite dead. The two of us cried and comforted each other. We told our parents about Tiger dying. They told us to put on our cotton picking gloves and toss him in the garbage bin. We couldn’t bring ourselves to do such a thing so instead decided to plan a funeral for him. We found a shoe box and placed him in it. Then Alma took one of her mom’s candles from her religious altar. The vase that held the candle was dark red with a picture of a woman wearing a robe and a crown holding a baby in her arms. We then made a cross with two sticks tied together with an old shoe lace. After cutting out a piece of cardboard we wrote “Tiger” on it. We then buried Tiger under a small bridge where we would sometimes play. Alma said a “Hail Mary” as we lit the candle, leaving the mock funeral with a feeling of satisfaction, pride, and a sense of closure. That evening after dark while at Alma’s place there were about six of us girls just talking and telling ghost stories. Alma’s mom suggested that we all go to the outhouse and then each go to their own places. It was our custom (for the girls) to go to the outhouse together before bedtime after dark. We would actually hold hands while walking in line; the oldest would lead while holding a small flashlight. We would take turns going in until everyone was finished, then we would walk back together. Our houses were all adjacent to each other in a straight row. When the last girl was still in the outhouse, one of the girls looked over toward the bridge and gave a blood curdling scream. She yelled “There’s a ghost under the bridge!” As I looked towards the bridge I saw the candle which was still burning from Tiger’s funeral. The breeze that was blowing was not too strong, but just enough to make the light in the jar move back and forth, sending distorted shadows all around under the bridge. I realized immediately what it was and worried that the bridge could catch fire. Alma also knew. By this time all the girls were screaming and running home, while the last girl still in the outhouse came stumbling out. As she ran she was pulling up her underwear! Alma and I ran to the bridge to blow out the candle. The next day all the kids were talking about the ghost under the bridge, but Alma and I just kept it to ourselves.

Clara Alice Smith 69 When the chopping of the cotton was finished in the Tulia area we moved south to where the first crop was ready to be picked. This time we moved into a complex which looked similar to a row of small attached apartments. Our neighbors were mostly the same people that did the same work as we. A couple of days later on a Sunday morning when everyone was resting or getting ready for the next day’s work, Ramon, a couple of friends, and myself, decided we would explore the area. Although there didn’t seem to be much to see or explore, because all there was were miles and miles of cotton fields in every direction, except for the dirt road on which we lived. Amma didn’t worry much about any of us getting hurt, because there was nothing that could hurt us there. As we started out to explore we walked down the dirt road. One of the kids kicked a can as he walked. Ramon picked up a long stick and scraped the soft earth on the side of the road along the way. Eventually we came across a small overpass. Underneath was a large circular metal tube for water to flow through when it rained. It was dry and very dark through it. It was as long as the width of the road. We decided to keep going ahead. By this time, we had been walking for quite a while. As we looked straight ahead on this very flat area we saw something far away. We all perked up at the prospect of finally finding something other than the boring walk. As we got closer we noticed it was some kind of structure. It was something strange; we couldn’t really make out what it was. It looked like a small barn with wooden fences surrounding all the structures. We approached with caution but kept our distance at the same time. There were weird noised coming from that direction, especially when the wind changed. Then we heard sounds like gun shots off and on. The noises got louder as we got closer. We hid behind one of the small pen like structures. There were lots of cows there. We found a comfortable place where we could see through some large cracks in the wood. We then saw some men with rifles. Up to now I still didn’t realize what I was seeing or what this place was about. Suddenly, to my horror, I saw the men pushing the cows which had been lined up in a chute, up to a trap that was designed to keep the cow’s head from moving, and then one of the men would shoot the cow in the head. The cow would bellow loudly and then drop to the ground while other men would remove the dead cow. This process would be repeated until all were sent through the chute. I was almost paralyzed with emotion and disbelief. I felt sick at my stomach. The others must have felt the same way because I heard one say, “Let’s get out of here!” We all walked back in shock not fully realizing that we had just witnessed what really goes on in a slaughter house.

70 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy On the way back we came across the small overpass with the dark tunnel underneath. The tunnel was just big enough to crawl into. We decided to see if we could crawl through it and come out the other end. The middle part of the tunnel was black as pitch and that’s what made it such a challenge to crawl through it and come out. We never stopped to think that there could be any number of a variety of Texas critters, poisonous snakes or rabid rodents also in the tunnel. As I was crawling through the black area and going pretty fast, another kid was doing the same coming the opposite direction. We bumped our heads so hard that I immediately felt pain and became very dizzy. We both scooted out backing up. He seemed to be alright. Laughing about it later, but at the time I barely made it out. My head really hurt badly. I was very dizzy and vomited all the way back home. When I went into the house I told Amma that my head hurt and that I was tired. Amma not knowing what had happened told me to take a nap before dinner. I didn’t wake up until the next day. I had a bump on my head and was still experiencing tiredness and a headache. Obviously, I had gotten a concussion. I never told Amma about anything that happened that day for fear of her disapproval causing her to worry as well. It would be an understatement for me to say that God loves the little children very much. I thank Him for loving me and protecting me so many times as a child.

CHAPTER 15 Field of Drama (1957) 10 years’ old We moved so often, that one morning I woke up and wondered where I was. My parents had been talking about moving. This time we had moved during the night. It was at the end of the cotton season and the fields would be cleared of the remaining plants and stubble. As the huge combine moved across the endless rows, overturning the rich black earth, it left nothing but a thick cloud of dust behind. It was an exciting event to watch. Once the ground was overturned the field looked so different. There was nothing but rich black soil for miles in every direction. Once it was all done I couldn’t help but stand in awe with my mouth open. Even though there was absolutely nothing there, I saw great potential. I couldn’t wait to run and frolic on the beautiful soft looking dirt. Soon we were all out there running and laughing. Then, tired of running, I began to touch the dirt, busting clods by throwing them against the others. I soon came across a new born mouse. Evidently the combine had exposed their nest, a tiny mouse had survived. Its eyes were still closed and it was hairless. Noticing it was still alive I gently picked it up, cradling it in the palm of my hand. I rubbed off the dirt that stuck to its frail and helpless little frame. My motherly instincts came alive, and I was immediately overcome with a deep sense of maternal emotions and protectiveness. One would have thought that I had found a real human baby! Ever since I can remember, I’ve always felt a need to nurture. One of my biggest wishes, a dream as a girl, was to have a doll. Since I had to leave the only doll I ever had in Corpus Christi, I naturally gravitated to baby animals. Feeling great affection for this tiny creature, I also felt fulfilled, and couldn’t have been happier. Suddenly Ramon noticed that I was very preoccupied with something. His curiosity made him run over to me and investigate. Showing him my new

72 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy found treasure, he became very interested and asked if he could hold it. Immediately pulling away from him, as if he were a predator looking to devour my precious baby, I replied with a very firm, “No!”, because there was a lack of trust on my part. He began to beg and plead, promising to be ever so careful. I fell (as I had many times before) for his persistent pleading. Upon agreeing to let him hold it, I added, “Just for a second, and be sure to be extra careful.” He promised he would, mustering up as much sincerity as a devious eleven-year-old boy could. Carefully I handed the baby mouse to his waiting palm. No sooner that he had my baby in his clutches, to my horror; he pitched the mouse as high into the air as he possibly could. The mouse was so tender and tiny that it didn’t stand a chance against the hard clumps of dirt that awaited his demise. I felt emotions that I had never felt before. Standing there mute with my mouth wide open in disbelief I wondered how someone could be so cruel. He had a sinister look in his face, then turned and ran toward the house. I wanted to cry, scream, scratch and beat him all at once! All I could say was “I’m telling Amma on you!” With tears streaming down my face and running fast toward the house I tried desperately to catch up with him, but he could outrun me anytime. We were both trying to get to Amma first, not that it mattered. By the time I got to her he had already blurted out to her that I was playing with a nasty, dirty mouse, trying hard to get into her good graces. Sobbing incoherently, I felt rage and hurt, repeating “My baby is dead, Ramon killed my baby mouse!” I had such high hopes for that little creature. Amma stared at us for a second. Almost as if she didn’t hear a word we were saying. Our concerns were petty in comparison to her monumental ones. She replied to our insignificant drama by saying “Have you both done your chores yet?” The following morning, I woke up with an excellent idea! I thought; “What if there are more live baby mice in the field?” That thought sparked a new sense of excitement within me. As I opened the front door, I could not believe my eyes. I suddenly forgot all about baby mice. Right outside the door (our house and a few others were in the middle of the fields) was an amazing wall of white fluff like mist, otherwise known as fog! We (siblings and friends) wasted no time running into the fog. I had never seen such thick fog as this before! Running through it I tried closing my eyes. It didn’t make any difference (I thought) running with eyes open or shut, either way one couldn’t see a thing. How exciting and exhilarating it felt to just run free without any obstacles in the way, laughing gleefully without a care in the world! Everyone was running in different directions; never thinking we could possibly run into each other. Thankfully we didn’t. The

Clara Alice Smith 73 field was so expansive that we could have gone for miles if we had a mind to do it. In my excitement I didn’t realize that I was running away from the others until I noticed that it was extremely quiet. There was an eerie sort of quietness. Standing still in the field, listening intently, I heard nothing but my own heart pounding and my chest heaving with my rapid breathing. I felt as if I was both blind and deaf. Running frantically to one direction and then another; hoping I could once again hear or see someone, I felt as though I was in the middle of a nightmare. I wondered if I could have run for miles in the wrong direction. I had no perception of distance or time. Once again I listened but heard nothing. At this point I was in a state of panic; many thoughts were running through my mind, such as “What if I’m lost forever?” “What if I die alone in this field?” and “will anyone ever find me?” Thinking about how sad Amma would be, the tears soon began to flow down my cheeks. I just wanted to hear Ramon’s jeering laugh again, I loved him more than I thought. I didn’t know which way to run, but I ran in every direction and still could not hear the others. Finally, I threw myself on the cold dirt and cried bitterly. All of a sudden I thought I heard voices. I listened carefully, standing up quickly, wiping away my dirty face with dirty hands; I raced toward the faint voices. As I ran toward the sounds they got louder and clearer. Soon I could see the figures that I was so anxious to see. There are no words to describe the feeling of joy and relief which I felt. No one ever knew what a traumatic experience it was for me being lost in the fog. I wanted to hug everyone, even Ramon. When Amma saw me she said, “Hijita, you need to eat something, but please wash your face, you look like a raccoon!” I wonder now if this is how some might feel when they are lost spiritually. Not knowing which way to turn, until they hear the still small voice of God calling them to come out of the thick fog or darkness of sin. And then when we answer and turn to Him, believing with the heart by faith, He rescues us by His grace and mercy. As the song writer said, “It is joy unspeakable and full of glory!”



CHAPTER 16 Dirt Devils and Tumbleweeds (1958) 10/11 years old I was a storm-chaser and didn’t realize it. I knew which ones to respect. Whenever I saw one starting to build-up I started to get excited. I would run toward it as if I were playing a game with another child. The thrill of it and the challenge was too much to resist. March and April were our windy months in West Texas. Among other things they brought along with it dirt devils and tumbleweeds. It was hard for me to resist the temptation to chase the small dust swirls which resembled miniature tornadoes. They were not always small but ranged in size. One never knew which way it was going. Sometimes we would stand still with eyes and mouths shut tightly with our hands over our noses, so to keep the dust out. Once the swirl of dust engulfed us, the force of the wind would pull my skirt up above my head no matter how hard I tried to keep it down with one hand. My hair would also be blown straight up, leaving me covered with dust from head to toe. It would seem that I would learn my lesson after having it happen before, plus the scolding I would get from Amma. But I thought it was worth it for the exhilaration of experiencing nature that way. Afterwards I couldn’t get rid of the grit in my teeth for a long while even after rinsing my mouth out. The worst part was to have to take a bath when it wasn’t even bath day. Saturdays were bath days at our house. The rest of the week we just “washed up” or “took care of things”. Bath times were an ordeal. It literally took hours for everyone, from the youngest to the eldest. The reason being is that we only had one number ten aluminum round washtub. The water was heated on the stove in the largest pot or kettle we had. Then poured into the tub until the tub was filled about half-way with water and the temperature was right for the youngest to bathe first. Amma would put her elbow into

76 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy the water to check the temperature. The older girls would start bathing the younger kids according to their age and then the older ones according to their ages. The problem was that several people before me had bathed in the same water, so by the time my turn came up the water was quite murky and dirty. If anyone didn’t want to bathe in the same water they would have to go through the excruciating ordeal of finding someone who would be willing to hold one of the two handles which were on each side of the tub, take it outside through the back door, dump it, rinse the tub, and start heating more water for their bath. It is a very common thing during these windy months to see the tumbling tumbleweeds rolling around. They all seemed to be going somewhere together as if they were families of living creatures, carried by the wind, all varied in size. They moved across the fields gracefully and sometimes very fast as if they were in a hurry. They would roll on until eventually they would get stuck on an object, usually on a fence. My friend and I would tie a string to one and pretended they were our pets taking them for walks. Then we ran after them, laughing and having a simply wonderful time. I suppose we had to be creative as we had no store-bought toys. Needless to say, one rarely saw an overweight child in those days. It was a simple life, but we had so much enjoyment playing with God’s creations. When my eleventh birthday rolled around, I conveniently forgot that I had promised myself the year before that this year I would become a refined young lady. I had known for some time that Amma was concerned about it. In order for that to happen I would have to give up a lot of the fun things I enjoyed, such as: chasing dirt devils, and tumbleweeds, among other things. One thing that did happen was that I suddenly became aware of boys, in a child-like way. I had a very innocent attraction named Danny. He was one of my playmates and the foreman’s son. One day while several of us were playing hide-and-seek in a corn field, he found me and without a warning he kissed me. He shocked but pleased me. I kept it a secret and so did he. In the evenings, when the sun went down, the fireflies would emerge out of somewhere flying everywhere, turning their magic-like lanterns on and off. We would get jars from Amma’s canning supplies, punching holes in the lids, filling them with these luminous creatures. Danny and I played together a lot that summer. Later on when summer was almost over my parents decided we would move on because the fieldwork in that area was done. There was a family by the name of Tanguma also working in the fields that summer. We knew them previously, plus our families were good

friends. Mr. Tanguma was a kind man Clara Alice Smith 77 with a large family. He also had a nephew who lived with them named Lupe. This Alice at age 10. man convinced my parents to move to his hometown, Eldorado, Texas. He told Appa that he could probably find a job there. Since we didn’t have a better offer, my parents agreed. This broke my tender heart. I knew that meant I would never play with Danny again. I didn’t know at that time but Eldorado would become my hometown as well. This is where I would live for nine years of my life experiencing many things that would impact my life, all of which contributed to making me the person who I am today. I believe that God had it all planned out for me, guiding me and teaching me in the way I should go. Later on Mr. Tanguma’s nephew met and married my sister, Lupe. He became a great brother-in-law whom we all loved very much.



CHAPTER 17 Eldorado (1958) I was rudely awakened by a loud knocking at the door. It was Mr. Tanguma’s wife, arms loaded down with food and other necessary items to help our family to settle into our new home. We had arrived into town late the night before. As I sat up in my make shift bed (commonly known as a pallet) I heard murmuring; voices coming from the front door. Listening intently, I could hear Amma saying, “Thank you”, among other things she asked Mrs. Tanguma the same thing she always asked her. “Are you feeling alright? Have you been having morning sickness?” As an eleven-year- old, I had no clue why she asked such questions to Mrs. Tanguma. Her youngest was only a few months old and the other children were all about a year Appart. We were all exhausted from the trip. My younger siblings and I were probably put straight to bed as soon as we arrived. It used to take a lot longer to travel from El Maton to Eldorado back then. The cars were slower, the roads more winding and narrow. We also had to stop a lot for bathroom breaks. I had a lot of questions about this new place and didn’t waste time bombarding Amma with my inquisitions. Not that I would get any answers, “Amma, is this where we’re going to live now?” I asked. Amma, busy as always, replied “Si hijita”. “Will we go to school in this town?” “Si hijita”. After the third or fourth question, Amma’s answers were sounding a little short and somewhat agitated. I knew it was time to stop asking and start helping. Soon one by one the others began to emerge from different rooms, inquiring about their immediate future in this strange place. All the while the younger ones were crying for one reason or another; probably afraid of their new surroundings. There was so much to do in order to get settled once again. Everyone pitched in and helped. Everything from helping to comfort the little ones,

80 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy to cleaning, and especially setting up beds and cooking, were finally achieved. The Tanguma family had arrived a couple of weeks prior to us in Eldorado. We had stopped in at another cotton town on our way to pick the last of the crop there. The Tanguma’s had an established house in Eldorado, since this was their hometown. They had also secured a rental house for us when we got there which was just down the street from where they lived. School had already started. I was apprehensively anxious, but mostly scared about starting school for two reasons: one, I would be starting late and secondly, I didn’t know anyone there. I very much disliked beginning school late. Although it happened almost every year. Because I was so shy, I didn’t look forward to standing in front of the class as the teacher introduced me. The kids would all stare at me, making me feel extremely uncomfortable. It also meant that I would be behind in the curriculum and would have to study very hard in order to catch up with the rest of the class. After the first day I would feel much better about school and enjoyed making new friends. My teacher, Mrs. Robinson, was a very kind Christian lady. She was so good to all of her students. I learned to appreciate her very much. Eldorado was (or is) by no means a perfect little town. Neither was it a beautiful place, but I believe that the good that existed there far outweighed the bad. The majority of the citizens were friendly, kind, generous, and hard working. Some were actually funny. I personally thought that some of the nick names they had were hilarious. The memories of the people I knew there will stay with me forever. Among them was my wonderful Sunday School teacher, Mrs. Ratliff. Without a doubt I believe God put her there for me to learn about Him. It was then that I first heard the salvation message more clearly so that I could begin to understand it. Mrs. Ratliff was a dedicated Christian lady, who would leave the comfort of her beautiful church building and the fellowship of her church family to come to our humble neighborhood and our modest little church building to teach us (me) about the love of God. I regret that I was so immature and did not pay more attention to her words of wisdom. Many times I have wished that I could have found her and thanked her for her sacrifices. I also recall Mr. O’Banion, my piano teacher. He was a wonderful man who volunteered to teach me piano at no charge. He did this as a ministry to help our church to have a piano player in the future. How I loved and looked forward to my piano lessons. Unfortunately, I had to quit for reasons beyond my control.

Clara Alice Smith 81 After school was out for the day, I looked forward to playing with my new friends on our street. Almost every evening the children would start coming out on the street to play. There was no danger since very few cars ever came through ‘El Barrio’ (Spanish for ‘neighborhood). There was a stone well in front of our house which I can still visualize. It was no longer being used for its original purpose but had long before been filled with dirt at the ground level for safety reasons. Now it was being used as a perch for the teenage boys who would gather there. They would be sitting or leaning in the cool of the evening awaiting my five teenage sisters to come out and just talk and laugh, having a good time getting to know each other. The boys would sport their starched shirts, turned up collars, blue jeans and high top black tennis shoes and greasy hair, which was very much in style. The girls would wear starched blouses, turned up collars—their skirts were full material mid-calf, with either a poodle or a squirrel imprinted on it, with several petty coats underneath to make the skirts standout puffy. The girls usually wore a scarf tied neatly around their neck with their hair in a ponytail. They either wore penny loafers or saddle oxfords (shoes) and thick white bobby-socks rolled down. The boys would often ask me to tell one of the girls something or even give me a note for one of them. There was never a lack of suitors or admirers hanging out every evening at the well. One evening while playing on the street, I noticed Mrs. Tanguma walking by our house, on her way home from visiting her mother. She was holding her youngest with her right arm and holding her two-year-old by the hand, followed by several other little ones. As they drew closer, I said, “Good evening Mrs. Tanguma, how are you feeling today? Have your ankles been swelling? Are you having morning sickness?” She let go of her two- year-old and changed her baby onto her left arm. Then she squinted with her eyes and pursed her lips. Her jaw muscles hardening as she leaned over to me, pointing her long brown finger, almost touching my nose, as she said, “Why you little impertinent, rude little child. Your mother will hear about this!” For a minute I thought she was going to hit or slap me. I stood there frozen, wondering what I had said that had upset her so. She stormed away with her brood as I stood there feeling crushed. I finally ran inside and blurted out to Amma what had just transpired. Suddenly Amma started laughing so hard till tears came out of her eyes. Moments later there was a knock at the door and Amma called to me, “Alicia, someone wants to see you.” It was a boy named Joe who had witnessed the verbal exchange between me and his neighbor, Mrs.

82 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy Tanguma. “Don’t worry about her, she’s just that way,” he said. I thought you might like to have this nice rock, it’s ‘magic’. That evening, lying in my bed, my mind reflected on all the people who had gone out of their way to make us feel welcomed. The people of this quiet, peaceful town, where no one bothered to lock their doors; where almost everyone waves and smiles as they walk or drive by; this quaint, small West Texas Town, was now my Eldorado.

CHAPTER 18 My Rock, My Refuge (1959) Age 12 There was more chaos and excitement than usual in our household this beautiful July fifth of 1959. Amma was giving orders in a way I had never witnessed her doing before. She was in our tiny kitchen, preparing large amounts of food. Truly, this must have been the most important event that ever happened in our family up until now. We had recently moved from our first house into a slightly smaller house at the very edge of town. It was not far from where we first lived. On the other side of our driveway was nothing but brush, Mesquite trees, cactuses and rocks. Mr. Tanguma’s nephew, Lupe (short for Guadalupe, same name as my sister) had asked for my sister Lupe’s hand in marriage some time before and today was their wedding day! Amma and Appa could not have been happier for them both as he had in a very short while won our whole family over with his kind and genuine personality. The wedding would take place in the church we had been attending with Pastor Orena officiating. Amma seemed more nervous than the bride. I recall that day as Amma scurried around constantly wiping the perspiration from her flushed face. She had placed a large pot of boiled potatoes on the floor, ready to be mashed. Another pot with pinto beans and other special dishes complemented the slow roasted young goats which were being lovingly and carefully prepared over an open fire in the backyard of the church. This is where the reception would take place. Mr. and Mrs. Pina were the “padrinos” or sponsors for the happy couple. The custom was that in a large wedding the padrinos would supply the main course. While in the kitchen Amma would occasionally exclaim, “someone please get these children out of my way.” At one point there was a big commotion coming from the kitchen. Graciela crying at the top of her lungs had fallen seat first into the pot of potatoes. Thank goodness they had

84 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy cooled down just enough so as not to cause a serious burn, but her seat was quite red for a while. All in all, it turned out to be a wonderful wedding. Unfortunately, I missed the ceremony because Freddy wouldn’t stop crying and I was in charge of looking after him (he was about three years old) and was asked to take him outside and entertain him. I remember being very disappointed. After the wedding, the next day and for quite a while I felt sad. I missed Lupe around the house—she was like a second mother to me. They only lived about five minutes from us and came by to see us on a regular basis. It was during times like these when I felt sad that I wanted to be alone. There was never a quiet moment in our overcrowded house. One day I was so desperate for peace and quiet that I walked away from our house into the brushy area across our driveway looking for relief. I walked away from the house and the constant noise. As I walked around some brush, cactuses and mesquite trees cautiously, knowing the possible danger of snakes, scorpions and poisonous spiders, (which I feared more than anything) I came upon a huge rock. This rock was Ammazing to me. It was as big as a bed, protruding out of the ground. It was smooth on top and warmed by the sun. It was far enough from the house that I couldn’t hear any of the noise. Sitting down on the middle of it I began to admire it feeling every crevice with my hands. I felt safe there, reasoning within myself that if a snake or a bug would approach my new found fortress that I would certainly be able to see it in plenty of time in order to protect myself with a stick or run for my life. For the first time in a long time I was alone, it felt so good. At first I just cleared my mind feeling the sun on my face enjoying the beauty of nature surrounding me. Then I began to daydream, a luxury that I never had under normal circumstances. I tried to pray in my own way. I loved this rock! I decided to keep it a secret. This rock became my refuge in my times of sadness, or joy. I came there not only for the feeling of peace but when I felt like crying, or to make plans for my future, to meditate or just to sing at the top of my lungs and no one would criticize me. What a blessing that rock was to me! After school was out for the summer, my siblings and I attended our first ever ‘Vacation Bible School’. I enjoyed it so much, learning my first Bible memory verse; Psalms 119:105, “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path”. We also made an octopus out of yarn during craft time. Earlier in the Spring I had also helped Amma plant some “Morning Glory” vines on the side of the house. Appa also built a trellis for them to climb. How beautiful they were in the mornings. Spring came and brought along

Clara Alice Smith 85 for me a romantic awareness. I developed a school girl crush on a boy whose name was Arthur. I would go to my rock taking ‘Bully-boy” (our hound dog) with me and talked to him about Arthur and wondered if he liked me too. I think I knew that he like Yolanda, the pastor’s daughter, but I hoped that somehow he would start liking me also. This summer Appa was not able to find a job in Eldorado so he and Amma decided to go with a group who did migrant work. Once again we packed up and left our new home for the summer. This time it would be quite different than ever before. We would be going to Colorado and then to Idaho, following the potato crop. I was not very happy about this until I heard that Arthur’s family was also going, along with Nina’s family and the newlyweds, the Lupe Tanguma’s! At this time no one knew but that this would be our last summer migratory trip. Once I got used to the idea I became excited about the adventure of going to Colorado and Idaho! Once we arrived and got settled, Mrs. Martinez decided along with some other faithful church going people that we needed to have a place of worship on Sundays. Mrs. Martinez was an amazing little woman. She was a single mother raising about eight children, Nina was the youngest. She had several grown sons who moved quickly to perform any task she commanded. It didn’t take them long to erect a tent ample enough for Sunday morning prayer and worship. Arthur’s father was the Deacon of the church back home, so he would lead out. Arthur’s older brother would lead the singing. One evening when Appa came home from the field he carried something wrapped in a towel which he carefully handed over to Amma. Her face had a look of disbelief as she raised her brows and her eyes almost popped out as she exclaimed, “What is this?” “I saw this little kitten stuck in some fresh soft tar where the road workers had been patching up pot holes. Appa answered, “I think some boys threw it in the soft tar just for fun.” “Poor little kitten”, Amma said, “it’s barely alive, how can some people be so cruel? Why did you bring it here? What could I possibly do for it? It’s all covered with tar, it will probably die!” As soon as I heard the conversation I began to beg Amma to let me keep the tar covered kitten, promising to take good care of it and bring it back to health. Amma looked at me and saw how determined I was; she shrugged her shoulders and shook her head…! “Well, alright, but it’s going to die and I don’t want to see you upset.”

86 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy I took the kitten and immediately went to get the bottle of ‘Five Roses’ hair oil for men. Amma used to rub this oil on our hair whenever we got gum stuck in it. I rubbed the oil on the kitten’s fur several times a day until I finally got all of its fur free of the tar, also a lot of its fur fell off because of the tar. Eventually the kitten which by now I had named, ‘Tar Baby’ (chapotito in Spanish), had grown all new fur; it was very shiny black fur. I had been feeding Tar Baby milk in a medicine bottle with an eye dropper by putting a hole on the rubber tip. He learned to hold the bottle with his paws as he lay on his back to drink. The neighbors had heard about Tar Baby and would come just to see him drink his milk out of the bottle. Needless to say I was so proud of my little pet—we had become extremely attached to one another. When school started we were still in Colorado. Normally we would not start school until the crops were all harvested, but in Colorado the laws were very strict about the children starting school on time. This school was quite different than any school I had ever attended. For one thing there were several grades in one room and the same teacher taught all of them. I was also in a choral group which I enjoyed very much. When the day finally came for our group to put on our performance on stage in front of the whole school, I was truly excited. We all looked so smart in our special outfits. When we were on the stage, I was situated on or about the third row from the front. Not long after we started to sing a wasp came out of nowhere, swooping down towards me, and landing inside the front of my blouse on the left side of my chest. I felt a painful burning sting. My first reaction was to reach with my right hand to the area of the sting. In doing so I aggravated the wasp and it stung me again in the same area. Meanwhile everyone continued singing unawares of my personal trauma. I stayed calm as I grabbed my blouse pressing the wasp hard between my fingers. The pain was unbearable and tears flowed down my cheeks as I tried to remain calm. I let go of the wasp thinking it was dead but to my horror it stung me the third time! This time I grabbed it again and twisted it so hard until I was sure it was pulverized. I don’t recall when I had experienced such pain before. By the time I got home, I felt sick, although the pain had subsided; the area on my chest remained swollen and red for some time. As I look back now I realize how much the Lord loved me and how He always took care of me. I have so much to be thankful for. After the potato crops were harvested in Colorado we moved on to Idaho. We did not attend school there, but helped our parents in the fields staying there for about a month or so. The potato harvest came to an end, and then we made our way back home to Eldorado. I remember the long drive back,

Clara Alice Smith 87 as the nights began to get colder especially in the back of the truck where we had no heat. Except for our body heat and warm blankets that we had to keep us warm, there was only a thin tarp covering the top of the truck bed. There was another family traveling with us who had several children, two of whom were teen boys. These boys were unruly and very annoying, complaining about everything, especially about my pet Tar Baby. For the most part Tar Baby would sit or lay beside me (as he was very attached to me). At times he would walk around in the truck. Whenever the truck stopped for everyone to get a break and fill the tank with gas, I would also take Tar Baby out for his break. This time we all got back in the truck and Tar Baby jumped in right behind me. As I was getting comfortable in my place and talking with my friends, the truck finally started moving again. We must have gone twenty miles or so from our last stop when I noticed the teen boys kept looking at me with smirks on their faces. I tried to ignore them but they started making meowing sounds and laughing. I started glancing around looking for Tar Baby but I could not see him. I began calling him. He would usually come to me right away, but not this time. I sensed right away something wasn’t right. I asked everyone if they knew where he was. It soon became apparent to me why the boys couldn’t stop laughing. Evidently while I was busy talking, the boys had put her out of the truck and closed the flap which served as a door to the back of the truck. I suddenly felt a knot in my throat from a mixture of feeling. I felt fear, anger and anxiousness. I stared at Amma with a frantic look in my face. I could not talk at first and suddenly all I could say was “Amma, we’ve got to go back! Please, please, please!” I begged. Amma looked at me in a pitiful way as she gently pulled me closer to her. “Hijita, there is no way the driver is going to turn back now for a cat. We don’t even have a way of stopping the driver in the cab. And besides it’s dark now, we would not be able to find a black cat in the dark.” At that moment I felt an intense pain in my throat. I longed to be at my rock in Eldorado, to be alone, where I could cry and let out all of my frustration. But for now I would have to just try to hold on as everyone was now looking at me in pity, except for those boys who had done this evil deed. I buried my head on Amma’s lap sobbing myself to sleep as the huge truck moved in a gentle rocking motion and Amma’s warm comforting hand on my head. We finally arrived home late one evening. Everyone was elated as we saw familiar sights when the truck approached the street that lead to El Barrio. It was very cold. The temperature would drop below freezing during the night. Everybody and everything was finally unloaded including a one-

88 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy hundred-pound burlap sack of beautiful Idaho potatoes. This was a huge blessing to our large family. We would enjoy these potatoes the whole winter. Unfortunately, the potatoes were left out on the front porch during the confusion and weariness of trying to get everybody to bed. The next morning Amma discovered that the potatoes were frozen solid and ruined. I thought Amma was going to cry. Her disappointment was so vividly expressed in her face. There was nothing I hated more than to see Amma sad. After all these years I can clearly see how the Lord was trying to get my attention and work in my heart. At the time I knew almost nothing about the real “Rock”, my “Refuge”. I thought I needed my comfortable physical rock across the way and into the bush. The rock I couldn’t wait to go to and share all that I felt in my heart concerning my disappointments and concerns. But instead it was the Rock of Ages; the Refuge of which David speaks of in the 31st Psalm; the One who would listen and comfort me like no other; One who would not laugh at me or send me away; the One who was calling to me to come to Him for forgiveness and salvation. I didn’t understand at that time, but praise God, I found the lord and was saved not long after this account.

CHAPTER 19 The Trip to the Healer (1960) Age 13 Graciela’s fever was escalating and something had to be done quickly. Amma could still hear the doctor’s words about seven years prior, “If she ever gets a fever again she will probably die”. It was after midnight and Amma was becoming a bit frantic as she realized that without ice she could not bring Graciela’s fever down to normal. She went next door to our neighbor to ask for some ice. That still did not help very much. Next she told Appa to ask someone to drive him to a friend’s house whom we knew from church who was a nurse, and ask her to please come and assess the situation. She would give us advice about what to do. Mrs. Pina came and after examining Graciela, advised Amma to take her to the hospital in Sonora (there was no hospital in Eldorado in those days). From Sonora they transported her to San Angelo in an ambulance. Amma prayed while holding Graciela’s limp body in her arms, fearing the worst. At this point Graciela’s eyes had rolled back into her head, her body seamed lifeless. By the grace of God, Graciela improved and after some time returned home. Our whole family had to take typhoid immunizations. Graciela did not die, but would need extensive therapy. After this horrible disease had done its work on her, it left her body like that of a newborn, affecting all of her nervous system. It did not, however, affect her senses (brain, hearing, sight, smell and touch) but she had to start with therapy in order to be mobile again. She eventually walked again, but never completely recuperated. At the age of thirteen I was scrawny, skinny, and tall for my age, experiencing nose bleeds almost daily. She did not explain to me the facts of life, the menstrual or anything pertaining to puberty. I suppose that it was because she was old fashioned, or thought I was too young to know. One day, out of the clear, Frances took me aside and explained to me about the menstrual. Her explanation about the subject was not completely

90 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy accurate and poorly communicated, but she tried to be sensitive and to the point. Even though, at first, I was in shock and disbelief, I got the message. I felt this would be just another problem to add to my already miserable existence. I never told Frances that her lecture couldn’t have come at a better time. It was a few days later that my unwelcomed visitor arrived. I was going through so many changes in my life and didn’t understand my feelings. One minute I felt like climbing a tree with the boys and the next like dressing up and looking pretty for them. Some of the kids would make fun of me and call me names such as ‘giant praying mantis’, ‘white horse’, etc. I was white, tall, skinny, simple and clumsy. My hair was thick, long, and golden brown, which hung below my waist. All in all, I felt awkward and like I didn’t fit in; not understanding myself and definitely not understanding boys. I liked boys but was afraid to talk to them. My mind was made up that my only requirement for my future husband would be that he had to be taller than me. Since there weren’t any boys taller than me, it meant that I would probably never marry. I was a picky eater, so much so that Amma would beg me to eat. She tried to tempt me by making special dishes for me, like refried beans, Mexican style rice or fried potatoes. Also, her delicious Mexican mixtures of hamburger meat with special spices, sautéed to perfection. Best of all were her freshly made flour tortillas right off the pan. Looking at the plate of food I would often turn away, insisting that I wasn’t hungry. At times my stomach would hurt to the point that I would bend over in pain, not associating the pain with my hunger. Sometimes in the evening Amma would listen to a religious program on the radio (we had never owned a television up to this time). At the end of each broadcast the evangelist would ask his listeners to put their hands on the radio to receive prayers and healing if needed. He would also claim to set his listeners free from demonic spirits which might have possessed them. It was about this time that Amma became disinterested in the Baptist church and focused on this man who claimed to give his listeners a greater and more exciting spiritual experience. Hearing him describe someone who was possessed, she thought that it described my behavior, or the negative behavior of any child or adult. After thinking about it for a while, she came to the conclusion that I could be possibly demon possessed. She concluded that I had some of the very symptoms he described in his sermon. For example: not eating right, spoiled, lying, at times rebellious, faking nose bleeds to get out of class, and being opinionated. After talking it over with a preacher (who obviously did not know his bible very well) she decided that I was more than likely possessed. At the time it did not occur to me that if

Clara Alice Smith 91 I was possessed then my whole family (except for Amma) was possessed. Then everyone else in the family also had issues that could fit into that category. One evening the radio evangelist announced that he would be holding a tent revival meeting in Dallas, Texas. Amma was so excited, one would have thought that she had won a million dollars. She began trying to convince Appa to help us find a way to go to this tent meeting and declared how wonderful it would be to take Graciela, who was now an invalid since her recent contraction of Typhoid. There was no doubt in Amma’s mind that Grace (Graciela) would be healed if the healer were to lay his hands on her. There was also Manuelito, a single young man, a friend of the family who was deaf since birth. Amma thought, we could take him with us too! Last but not least, she thought, there was Alicia, I’m sure he can cast the demons out of her. I didn’t understand exactly what it meant to be demon possessed, but if Amma and the preacher said I was, then they knew better. I would probably become a perfect girl afterwards. That sounded like a great deal to me. Once Appa was convinced, it was settled. We started planning the long trip to Dallas to see these miracles happen right before our very own eyes! How wonderful it would be to see our little sister walk again, and talk, and just be normal. Also, to see Manuelito’s face and that of his mother and father as he hears their voices for the first time in his life. And—Alicia would be demon free! Everyone was hyped up with excitement including myself. I just hoped that whatever was going to happen to me was not painful, but even if it was I was willing to go through the ordeal just to see my little sister be well and happy again. Amma packed her usual travel type lunch for our trip which consisted of burritos filled with a variety of special blends; eggs and sausage, cheese, hot sauce, refried beans, etc. along with a large jug of water to wash it all down. The newest member in our family, Lupe T. (Lupe C. my older sister’s husband) agreed to take us in his old jalopy. I wondered how we would all fit in, as we piled into it. Lupe T would be driving; Appa sat on the passenger side, Amma sat between them with Grace on her lap. Manuelito was behind Lupe T. in the backseat by the window. I sat on the opposite side with ‘Walo’, Jesus and Freddy wedged between us. As the car rolled away from the dirt driveway onto the white caliche road, I looked back and saw the rest of the family waving goodbye. I did not really understand it all, but I felt like something big was going to happen on this trip. They kept waving

92 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy until all that could be seen was a cloud of white dust billowing behind us, engraving its memory into my mind forever. When we finally arrived in Dallas, Amma inquired about the location of the tent meeting. After securing an efficiency room at a small hotel, we made our way to the huge tent anticipating the great things that we imagined were going to happen. As we drove onto the parking lot it became evident that Amma was very nervous and exceedingly jubilant. We were all apprehensive but ready for the most wonderful thing that we hoped was about to occur. The multitudes started to pour into the big tent and the excitement in the air was electrifying. The music started up with a loud enthusiastic thrust as everyone stood up. The handsome young organist was playing, it seemed, with his whole body, almost making the organ speak. The music leader on stage was waving his hands and arms to the rhythm of the beat, shouting, “Hallelujah and Amen” over and over between stanzas, causing my younger sibling to sit very still. I was mostly in shock having never experienced such ‘goings on’. After singing several choruses (most of which we had never heard before) for what seemed several hours, the congregation began to calm down from their ecstatic holy tumult. The famous evangelist finally made his entrance. By this time, I was so exhausted that sleep was ready to invade my mind. I didn’t dare complain for fear of being told that the devil was making me sleepy. I was hoping now that maybe they were going to get down to business and start the healing part. Not so, for now the healer had to preach his two-hour sermon. Feeling exhausted and unable to endure another minute, I was relieved that he finally ended his sermon by inviting everyone who had an illness, malady, or handicap to come up to the stage in order for him to lay his hands on them and ask (command) the Lord to heal them. Even those with family or financial problems were additionally invited. Those who felt demon oppression or possession were invited as well. All these people walked forward in droves, lining up below the stage, stepping on to the stage as their turn came up. I felt good just knowing I wasn’t the only demon possessed person there. Each person stepped up on the stage after having been talked to by helpers. After asking what your particular problem was they gave us a card which was color coded. When you came up to the stage you would hand it to the healer and then he would lay his hands on the place on your body wherever the problem was, or just on your head. Then he would proceed to pray asking God to heal them in the name of Jesus.

Clara Alice Smith 93 The first hundred people standing in the line were rearranged in the line-up order. There were hundreds of hopeful souls awaiting to be called on the stage, all anxious to get to that life-changing man who would deliver them from their ailments. I didn’t even care about myself getting healed because I felt fine, but my concerns were for Grace and Amma. The first night our disappointment was felt because the healer motioned to the song leader to lead in a closing song. As everyone stood up, he walked off the stage signifying the end of that evening’s service. Among us there were many more that never made it to the stage. Nevertheless, we were not totally discouraged. An announcement was made that everyone who had not been prayed for should return the following evening. The next evening the same thing happened, and every night thereafter. The last evening came and we knew for sure that we would finally be prayed over. We had to stay positive. I would not dare allow myself to believe otherwise. This was it because the next morning we would be returning back home. That evening when it came time for the healing part of the service, we were ready to get in line first before anyone else, but was impossible because the helpers (ushers) were obviously trained to keep some people back. Once again, we were escorted to the back rows. The service was drawing to a close for the last time. It became obvious to Amma, who had stood patiently every evening with Grace weighing heavily in her arms for more than an hour that it wasn’t going to happen. Appa was waiting with the younger ones on the pew. The children were fast asleep. Manuelito and I close behind Amma, were waiting expectantly for our turn. At this point I just wanted Grace to be healed, not just for Grace’s sake, but for Amma. Once again we didn’t make it to the healer, neither did many others. The last service was dismissed, everyone started leaving. I stood there frozen, staring at Amma’s face with my mouth open in shock. Amma had an expression on her face that words could not describe. The disappointment she silently revealed was more than I could bear. As I observed the tears streaming down her cheeks, my heart broke for her. I too broke down crying. I did not cry for myself, but for my mother and my precious little sister. Amma and Appa had sacrificed a great deal to come to the healer. The whole family had to do without many necessities, borrow funds for gas, hotel and food to get there; not to mention the long hours of driving and waiting every evening for the healer to pray for them, and being turned away every time. But the worst part of the entire ordeal was having to face the fact that this man had led her to believe that he had the power of God to heal. Why had he not had the time to heal her daughter?

94 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy Suddenly Amma came to herself. A ray of hope gripped at her heart. She hurried to one of the associates of the healer. She urgently tugged at his arm and as he turned to face her she pleaded with him to call the healer back just long enough to pray for her little girl. She quickly added “We’ve come a very long way. We have been waiting every evening for him to heal my daughter!!” But the man just said, “I’m sorry lady, he is tired now. Maybe if you come to our next campaign in San Antonio next month he can pray for your girl then.” Amma looked as though she had seen a ghost. She sat down on a bench weeping with Grace in her arms. Amma continued to believe in the Lord. She believed He could heal and so did I. I learned a great lesson that would stay with me the rest of my life. Through the study of the Bible, God’s Holy Word, I knew that God is real and that He no longer imparts the gift of healing power to any one man. God is able to heal anyone from any condition but only if it’s His will to do so. He heals through the prayers of His faithful servants praying one for another. No one man or woman has a gift for healing. Paul the apostle prayed for his own healing, yet God chose not to heal him. God told him: 2Corinthians 12:9, “And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” God did away with the gift of “healing” as it was once practiced in the Bible: 1Cor 13:10, “But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.” This is a direct reference to the miraculous sign-gifts listed in the Bible coming to an end. The “perfect thing” is the completed Word of God, the Bible. Thank God that today we can still be healed of any condition by each one praying directly to God for each other, by faith and not by a so called “healer”. I don’t believe in “faith healers”, but I do believe that God still heals if it is according to His will. 1Jn 5:14 “this is the confidence we have before Him: Whenever we ask anything according to His will, He hears us.”

CHAPTER 20 The Wild Storm (1961) age 14 To say I loved our very first (newly acquired) television set would be an understatement. One evening a storm was raging, intensifying by the minute, while we were inside totally captivated by one of our favorite shows. Suddenly, the most horrendous noise occurred, such as I had never heard before. It sounded like the firing of a cannon, a blinding bolt of lightning, an ear piercing noise as of a woman screaming, all in unison. Immediately followed by a loud pop from our beloved television set. A huge dark gray puff of smoke filled the small living room, as the whole house became dark as pitch, except for the flashes of light from the lightning outside. Every one sat in shock, quietly still. The noise outside from the torrential rain beating down on our small frame house was loud and intimidating. Realizing what had just happened, I yelled, “Oh no! Our TV just blew up!” My heart sank. This small, black and white TV set had been a gift from Lupe and her husband to us. I believe that they felt sorry for us kids because we had never owned a television before, knowing how much we were wanting one. We had only had it for a very short while. It was the best thing I had ever had. At this time my whole life revolved around it. Now, what will I do without a TV? Right after the commotion inside stopped, one of the older girls started fumbling around for a match and a candle while Appa went to the fuse box. Someone went to the back door to look outside when they noticed Amma standing in a hole in the ground up to her knees. She was deep in muddy rainwater holding a baby chick in each of her hands high up above her head. She looked so pitiful, screaming for help to get out of the hole. Evidently what happened was that when the storm started getting worse she went outside without telling anyone, to find her baby chicks and put them into the chicken coop so they wouldn’t drown. She did not see the hole that Appa had dug the previous day (fence post hole). It so happened that at the same

96 Clara Alicia: Memoirs and Genealogy time she fell in the hole, a bolt of lightning hit a transformer just a few feet away from our house. She was actually the woman we thought we heard screaming. When I realized what had happened to Amma, (seeing her look so horrible. Her hair all wet and muddy, her clothing wet and sticking to her, dripping wet, obviously in shock) I felt so badly ashamed that I would care so much for an object like the TV. I realized that my own mother could have died outside in the storm. Suddenly losing the TV set didn’t matter anymore. In my heart and mind I was thankful to God that Amma was alright. I now decided to focus more on school and my best friend, Nina. We spent time together but not enough. Mostly, we enjoyed such times as church, and walking home from school. We had so much to talk about but never enough time. After school we both went home to do our chores, then our homework. I valued her friendship so much. At this stage of my life I felt lonely and bored, especially now that our TV set was destroyed. Sometimes in the evening I would go to Nina’s (on weekends) to watch TV with her or just to talk. The other girls at school seemed to not want to mingle with us, bragging about having boyfriends. I felt as though I was not accepted in their circle because I didn’t have one. As a fourteen-year-old, it was so important to me to be accepted. One afternoon walking home from school a boy (I knew him well) asked me if he could walk with me. I agreed. We walked and talked, laughing at insignificant things that the other said. Just before approaching my house, he asked me if I would be his girlfriend. “I don’t know”, I replied. “I will have to think about it, I’ll let you know tomorrow.” The last thing I wanted was to be this boy’s girlfriend. That evening while thinking it over I decided to say yes. The only reason was so that the other girls would accept me into their group. My idea was to have him as my boyfriend but not really spend much time with him. The next day I told him I would be his girlfriend, but was not allowed to have a boy at my house. That evening I was surprised when he showed up Alice at age 14. with his older brother, who was

Clara Alice Smith 97 Mary’s boyfriend; I was so embarrassed! (We used to call Mary “Jelos” or in English “Helos”) Mary called out to me from the living room, “Alicia, there is someone here to see you.” I had no choice but to ask him to sit down while offering him a glass of water. I couldn’t wait for him to leave explaining that I had homework to do and that I was very tired. The next time he came, I rushed into the bathroom and told Mary I had to have a bath and to please tell him I was busy. I had very long hair and it usually took me a long time to wash it. Taking an extra-long time hoping that he would leave. He waited for what seemed an eternity. I decided not to come out until he was gone (I could hear him talking). When he finally left Mary reproached me for being rudely insensitive. The next day I broke up with him. Feeling relieved, I realized that I wasn’t ready for a boyfriend, deciding that the next time I agree to be some boy’s girlfriend, it would have to be someone I actually liked. Christmas was just around the corner. I was excited to see Amma being positive about the prospects of having a good Christmas this year. As far as having the where-with-all to buy the necessary items needed to prepare her wonderful traditional Christmas dinner and maybe even a little gift for each of the younger kids, remained to be seen. We didn’t have a Christmas dinner and presents every year, so when we did we all appreciated it very much. Although Amma always tried to do something special for the family. As time drew closer to December twenty-fourth (We celebrated on Christmas Eve) in the evening, I allowed myself to get excited. The reason I say, “allowed myself” is because some Christmases prior when we didn’t celebrate I would feel depressed. Except for the fact that I could always count on having a good time at our church, where the real story of Christmas was always highlighted. The preacher always brought a sermon about the birth of Jesus and we sang Christmas carols. One year the teens from “the Baptist Mission”, the church we attended, went caroling. I will always remember that time of spiritual enjoyment, even though I didn’t truly appreciate the real meaning of Christmas. But, even with all that said, this year we enjoyed a wonderful Christmas. Amma prepared a great feast which included the traditional succulent turkey baked to perfection, stuffed with her delicious corn bread stuffing, mashed potatoes, and giblet gravy. Her own recipe of fresh Cranberry salad, and yeast rolls, which aroma permeated the entire house. For dessert, there was her homemade pies, fruit cake and decorated sugar cookies. After dinner we all received a small gift, for which we were so thankful. Over all, the Christmas of 1961 was the second most memorable Christmas for me.