Notice: Function _load_textdomain_just_in_time was called incorrectly. Translation loading for the twentyfifteen domain was triggered too early. This is usually an indicator for some code in the plugin or theme running too early. Translations should be loaded at the init action or later. Please see Debugging in WordPress for more information. (This message was added in version 6.7.0.) in /chroot/home/a6f7779a/9d7429a5d9.nxcli.io/html/wp-includes/functions.php on line 6170 {"id":372,"date":"2014-08-10T17:40:41","date_gmt":"2014-08-10T22:40:41","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/?p=372"},"modified":"2014-08-10T17:56:53","modified_gmt":"2014-08-10T22:56:53","slug":"from-sinners-to-saints-part-ii","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/?p=372","title":{"rendered":"From Sinners To Saints…Part II"},"content":{"rendered":"

From Sinners To Saints\u2026Part II<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Boy\u2019s Night Out<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

The service that Friday night was just a bit different from what I\u2019d seen previously. Because it was designated as \u201cEl Servicio de los Hermanos\u201d (Brothers\u2019 Service), it was run by, and for, the male membership of the church; and meant to nurture and strengthen the spiritual bonds among the men.<\/p>\n

Similar services during the week, with similar goals, were categorized as Youth Night (Tuesdays\u2014both sexes combined), and Sisters\u2019 Night (Thursdays). Mondays and Wednesdays were reserved as special prayer circle nights where anyone with particular or pressing needs such as a serious illness, lingering family problems, or sudden catastrophes, could attend and have the prayer specialists deliver their supplications to God via special delivery. These services were sparsely attended, usually no more than five to eight of the more devout members, and lasted no more than ninety minutes. No music, no offering, no singing\u2026but a whole lot of praying.<\/p>\n

Saturdays were reserved for special occasions such as conferences, financial meetings attended by the church leadership, and of course forming up and dispatching various outreach raiding parties.<\/p>\n

Even though the service that night was Brothers\u2019 Night, there were probably more women than men in attendance, but I did notice that the pews near the front of the church were populated by men, whereas the majority of the women had migrated to the back of the auditorium.<\/p>\n

Having taken my seat on the hard wooden pew to my mother\u2019s left I noticed that missing from his prominent chair on the stage, and particularly from the honored place on the first pew, was the Reverend Villa and his wife. Joni was also missing, and in her place on the piano was the pathetic little girl who had played when I attended my first Sunday service a few weeks earlier. She was again torturously eliciting flats when sharps were called for, and sharps when anything else would\u2019ve sounded better. The drummer and the bajo sexto (fat bass guitar) player were courageously trying to keep time with her uniquely halting style, and the one trumpet player who had showed up that night had apparently finally given up altogether and was busying himself by furiously polishing his already gleaming horn.<\/p>\n

After bringing a normally soothing and solemn hymn to a ragged yet merciful end, the girl (whose name I would later learn was Magdalena) stole a quick glance at the large wall clock hanging on the wall over the piano and quickly stood up and scurried off to join her beaming family at the rear of the church. The accompanying musicians on the stage produced a very vocal and co\u00f6rdinated sigh of relief and the bass guitar player, casting his eyes unto heaven, pulled a huge hand towel from his back pocket and energetically mopped his soaking brow. From the congregation came a scattering of \u201c\u00a1Gracias a Dios!\u201d, and \u201c\u00a1Gloria a JesuCristo!\u201d\u2014giving me the distinct impression that they were not necessarily just praising God, maybe they were sincerely thanking Him.<\/p>\n

Just then the side door through which we had entered earlier opened and the Villa family, minus the two brothers, made their entrance. Stopping just inside the doors, the reverend, followed by his wife then Joni, threw open his arms and enthusiastically bellowed, \u201c\u00a1Que Dios los bendiga!\u201d This brought the crowd around and they responded, \u201c\u00a1Y a usted, hermano!\u201d The men already seated on the stage stood up respectfully, each nodding their acknowledgment of the reverend and his family.<\/p>\n

Instead of turning right and taking his place on the stage, Reverend Villa took his wife\u2019s arm and escorted her to her usual place on the pew just in front of us. Just as Mrs. Villa sat down the reverend looked up and captured all three of us with his jet black eyes. Placing a knee on the pew he crossed his arms on the back of the pew and addressed us.<\/p>\n

\u201cAh s\u00ed,\u201d he said. \u201cUstedes son la familia De Le\u00f3n, \u00bfno?\u201d (You\u2019re the De Le\u00f3n family, no?)<\/p>\n

Jerking my head away from his gaze and looking at my mother to my right, I saw her with a look of sheer terror with her left hand clutching her throat and gasping as if she\u2019d swallowed a jalape\u00f1o and her right arm tightly wrapped around my little brother\u2019s chest. My dad, however, was doing his \u201cJoe Cool\u201d impression\u2014slyly smirking while casually crossing his legs\u2014with his right hand blindly reaching for his Camels in his breast pocket!<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s us brother!\u201d My dad said, cocking his head a little to the left. \u201cAnd you? You must be Reverend Villa. Right?\u201d His Camel reaching hand stopped in mid clutch and the tips of his fingers gently caressed the pack through the shirt pocket.<\/p>\n

\u201cS\u00ed hermano. Bienvenidos a nuestra iglesia.\u201d The reverend said\u2014his gaze sweeping us from right to left and back. Focusing on my dad and glancing quickly at the cigarettes in my dad\u2019s pocket, he softly said, \u201cConozco a su hijo, Frankie. He\u2019s been here before; and from what I hear you and your wife attended the church many years ago.\u201d His English was heavily accented, but very precise.<\/p>\n

\u201cAh, you speak English.\u201d My dad said, completely ignoring the reverend\u2019s comments. \u201cAnd not too badly either.\u201d He cynically added.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, you know brother,\u201d the reverend said, breaking into a wide smile that turned his eyes into black inverted crescents and caused his upper lip to pull up and away from his pearly white teeth. \u201cBueno\u2026I live here in Houston, so one has to speak the language. \u00bfVerdad?\u201d<\/p>\n

Out of nowhere my mother, having regained her ability to speak and seeing that my dad was not going to introduce her, blurted, while pointing at her forehead, \u201cAnd, yo am Evelyn\u2026uh, soy Avelina\u2026uh, De Le\u00f3n\u2026uh, Bob\u2019s mother and Frankie\u2019s wife\u2026No! I\u2019m married to Bob over here\u2026\u201d (Flashing her thumb at my dad as if hitchhiking), \u201c\u2026and Frankie\u2019s my mijo\u2026our mijo\u2026son!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEncantado.\u201d The reverend said smoothly, ignoring my mother\u2019s blubbering blunders and extending his right hand.<\/p>\n

Hoping my mother wouldn\u2019t drop to her knees and kiss his hand instead of shaking it, all I could think of doing was to grin and continue to sit on my hands.<\/p>\n

Saving the moment my dad quickly stood and instead took the reverend\u2019s hand in a manly grip, shaking it firmly. \u201cIgualmente.\u201d (Likewise) My dad said just as smoothly.<\/p>\n

Still smiling and letting my father\u2019s hand go, Reverend Villa pushed back from the pew and put both feet on the floor. Extending his right hand, palm up, towards his wife, he looked down at her and said, \u201cY les presento mi se\u00f1ora, Se\u00f1ora Villa.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mrs. Villa shifted her body slightly to the right, and still sitting, looked directly at my mother, smiling.<\/p>\n

\u201cQue gusto, Se\u00f1ora De Le\u00f3n.\u201d She said while extending her right hand over the back of her pew, palm down and three fingers out.<\/p>\n

Stuttering, my mother managed to say, \u201cS\u00ed, me too\u2026tambi\u00e9n..\u201d She gripped Mrs. Villa\u2019s three fingers with her entire hand and began to pump them vigorously.<\/p>\n

Mrs. Villa\u2019s natty little black hat did a slight slide to the right and then down towards her forehead before she was able to wrench her three fingers from my mother\u2019s gyrating fist.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey Frank!\u201d An angel voice from my left. \u201cGlad you came back\u2014and, without your thug friend!\u201d Joni added with a twinge of laughter.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, hi! I said, swiveling left to face her. \u201cYeah, I came with my parents tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n

Looking over my head she said, \u201cOh, glad to meet you!\u201d And gave them a little wave. \u201cOK\u201d, As she rubbed her hands together, \u201c\u2026gotta go warm up the crowd. See you after the service.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, that kid that plays before you come in is pretty bad.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, she\u2019s just learning\u2026so give her a break.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know\u2026OK, see ya.\u201d<\/p>\n

With that she spun on her heel and floated off towards the piano. The band perked up noticeably, and my heart did a little somersault.<\/p>\n

Turning back to my parents I saw that my dad was now standing and was conversing with the reverend. His stance said it all: legs slightly apart and leaning a tad right, weight on his right leg, arms tightly crossed in front of his body, his head tilted up and cocked right, and a smile on his lips that was just north of a sneer. He certainly wasn\u2019t buying whatever the reverend was selling.<\/p>\n

My mother, was sitting on the edge of the pew, chin resting in the palm of her right hand, staring at the back of Mrs. Villa\u2019s head. She seemed a bit dazed.<\/p>\n

\u201cMom, are you OK?\u201d I said as I sat back down and slid a bit closer to her.<\/p>\n

\u201cS\u00ed mijo; what time is it?\u201d Now this was number one of my mother\u2019s many classic eccentricities. Anytime she was stressed, confused, or embarrassed she would either stare intently at the watch on her wrist, as if it were some alien growth\u2014if no one was around\u2014or ask what time it was if someone was around. This was her way of changing the subject.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, almost seven. Why?\u201d I knew why.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u00a1Mira!\u201d (Look!) She said then, while pointing with her left index finger to some random point in space. This then was eccentricity number two. Whenever she found that eccentricity number one hadn\u2019t worked she resorted to eccentricity number two. Normally anyone would turn to see what she was pointing at just to find nothing to see at all. Turning back to ask what it was that she was pointing at my mother would then coolly respond, \u201cOh, nada.\u201d (Nothing). And hurriedly change the subject.<\/p>\n

\u201cMom, stop it, there\u2019s nothing there. What\u2019s wrong?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMira.\u201d As she pointed at an opposite point in random space.<\/p>\n

\u201cMom! Stop it!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh you!\u201d This was her patented \u201cgo-to\u201d remark when she couldn\u2019t think of anything else to say.<\/p>\n

I sat back and looked over to where Joni was taking her place at the piano. After adjusting her posture she addressed the musicians with a look then dipped her head as a downbeat. They then began to play an energetic little hymn that prompted Reverend Villa to end his conversation with my dad, shake his hand, and turn to walk regally to the stage to take his seat next to the pulpit.<\/p>\n

A little after seven Joni brought the song to a thundering conclusion\u2014eliciting a bunch of holy accolades from the audience, then she quickly took her place on the first pew on the left side of the church. One of the men onstage, who always seemed to be sitting in the same chair on the opposite side of Reverend Villa, slowly stood and took center stage. The congregation quieted down as he shuffled back and forth through the pages of his bible trying to find his bookmark with one hand while adjusting his reading glasses with the other. Having finally found his place he looked up, focused on the congregation over his readers, and cleared his throat.<\/p>\n

\u201cBuenas noches hermanos. Voy a leer un verso y entonces vamos a orar para darle gracias a Dios por la oportunidad de servirle.\u201d (I\u2019m going to read a verse then we\u2019re going to pray to thank God for giving us the opportunity to serve Him.)<\/p>\n

After reading a (thankfully) small verse, he peered over his readers into the audience, and after scanning the crowd, pointed and said, \u201cHermano Gonz\u00e1lez, ll\u00e9vanos en oraci\u00f3n, por favor.\u201d (Brother Gonz\u00e1lez, please lead us in prayer.) As everyone rose from their seat, a small dark man on the left side of the church quickly raised both his arms high to heaven and enthusiastically launched into a spirited supplication. In a loud and slightly hoarse voice he began by calling out the Lord and beseeching Him to descend upon this church tonight to seek out the very souls of all the condemned sinners who were surely on the road to eternal flaming Hell. This seemed to energize the crowd and they responded with an undulating chorus of sacred affirmations, a few whoops and a bunch of \u201c\u00a1S\u00ed Se\u00f1or!\u201d I got the distinct feeling that they were all talking directly to, and precisely about, us. So I dared not look up, fearing I\u2019d see divine lightning bolts rushing down from heaven to exterminate our sinful souls. Mercifully Hermano Gonz\u00e1lez finally brought his pleadings to an end and we all sat back down\u2014sinful souls intact.<\/p>\n

The rest of the service followed the familiar pattern that I had already experienced before, except that the majority of the testimonials, along with the usual Biblical verse recitations, and the gathering of the offering, were performed specifically by men. Looking around when I could I saw that the female membership seemed content to just sit quietly in their pews furiously fanning themselves with the little paper fans and occasionally shushing a child here and there.<\/p>\n

Endurance<\/strong><\/p>\n

Where this service differed from the others that I\u2019d attended was the notable lack of spiritual intensity that I had previously observed. Although the structure of the service was basically the same, it seemed to me to be more businesslike and less gospel-like.<\/p>\n

As an example, during one part of the service just before the sermon and the service closing activities, another male member, who had sat in one of the chairs on the stage, took over the pulpit and began reading entries from a green bookkeeping ledger. Items included offering totals for the four Fridays in the month, expenditures directly related to the male oriented church activities, and results of self-directed tasks in regards to church building repairs, maintenance and upkeep. All very boring stuff to a young teen who was more interested in daydreaming a few impossible romantic scenarios\u2014all involving the red-haired piano player.<\/p>\n

The service ground on and on until it was finally time for the sermon. Fully expecting Reverend Villa to majestically rise and (literally) wake the masses with his magnificent vocal delivery, I was instead surprised to hear the director of the service introduce a small fidgety young man who had apparently been sitting on the stage hidden from view behind the pulpit all along.<\/p>\n

With an exaggerated sweeping flourish of his right arm, the service director announced, \u201c\u00a1Hermanos, ahora con la palabra de Dios les presento nuestro amado hermano Vicente Aguilar!\u201d (\u2026now with the word of God I present to you our esteemed brother\u2026).<\/p>\n

As he left his chair and shuffled slowly towards the pulpit the little guy appeared to be sweating profusely and looked not unlike a death row convict being led to his ultimate demise. In his left hand he was carrying a bible that looked like it weighed more than he did, and in his left dangled a huge red and black bandana. My mother, staring intently, quickly brought her left index finger up to tightly purse her lips in order to suppress a giggle that desperately needed to be let out. Others in the congregation weren\u2019t quite so successful.<\/p>\n

Reverend Villa, perhaps sensing that perhaps some of the evening\u2019s holy decorum was quickly evaporating suddenly stood, and in a booming voice addressed the heavens.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u00a1Aleluia, y Gracias a Dios!\u201d<\/p>\n

Instead of having the intended calming effect on the audience that Reverend Villa probably wanted, his supplication came so abruptly and with such volume that it rattled the already fidgety Brother Aguilar and caused him to lurch back and to the right. His eyes bulging like freshly peeled boiled eggs his feet tangled and he went down to the floor, bible flying and bandana flapping.<\/p>\n

My mother, unable to contain herself any further, let out a little snort, looked at my father, and pointed her finger into random space. \u201cMira\u201d.<\/p>\n

Dad, legs casually crossed while regally leaning back with his arms spread and resting on the back of the pew, slowly turned and gave my mother a blank stare quietly mouthing, \u201cVieja loca.\u201d<\/p>\n

Never one to be left out of embarrassing activities, my little brother Ricky, who was sitting between my parents, let out a yelp as the brother went down, and quite unexpectedly, and very loudly, farted. His butt cheeks, constrained hard together into the old wooden pew compacted the passing gas in such a manner that when suddenly released it resonated in a tortured, squealing high C. What Reverend Villa had not been able to carry out, my brother did\u2014the whole place went dead quiet.<\/p>\n

Looking up between the fingers of the hand that I\u2019d used to hide my face I saw Joni glancing over her right shoulder and looking directly at me. Smiling sweetly she winked, licked her lips and quickly moved over to the piano bench. Taking her cue, Reverend Villa rushed over and helped the struggling brother up to his feet\u2014pointing him in the direction of the pulpit.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u00a1Vamos a cantar un corito, hermanos!\u201d (Let\u2019s sing a little chorus, brothers!) The reverend announced as he handed Brother Aguilar his humongous bible and tent-like bandana.<\/p>\n

Joni launched into a spirited tune while the harried supporting musicians rushed to bring their instruments to bear. Tambourines rang out from the mostly female crowd in the back and everyone stood up, clapping in time, joining in the joyful din, seemingly quickly forgetting the struggling Brother Aguilar.<\/p>\n

Having regained his feet with the reverend\u2019s help, and now firmly positioned behind the pulpit, Brother Aguilar wiped his brow and nervously began to look for his lost place in his extra-large bible. Reverend Villa, almost overpowering the entire congregation with his deeply echoing baritone voice, encouraged the crowd with exaggerated band leader-like arm gestures, then closed his eyes and raised his head high.<\/p>\n

When the chorus ended in a hail of \u201calleluia, gracias Se\u00f1or, and gloria a Dios\u201d, and everyone had again taken their seat, Brother Aguilar looked nervously at the crowd and timidly began his sermon. It was dreadful, and it seemed to last forever. Mumbling, stumbling, and often completely losing his entire train of thought, it was an exercise in total confusion. Even the most faithful in the crowd began to express their impatience by yawning long and loud and trailing it off with a long-winded \u201calleluia\u201d.<\/p>\n

Throughout this painful ordeal I noticed Reverend Villa maintaining a sort of stoic presence; a physical fa\u00e7ade that included hands clasped reverently on his lap, eyes glancing dreamily at some point in space, and head nodding occasionally in agreement when Brother Aguilar tried to make a salient point. Interestingly though, several times I noticed that the reverend would suddenly look directly at my dad\u2014holding his gaze steady until my dad met his in return. Was that a veiled smile that crossed Villa\u2019s face as his eyes darted up and away, and broke the connection?<\/p>\n

Dad, alternately crossing his legs, wore a bored expression\u2014and except for the times he intercepted the reverend\u2019s stare\u2014sat perfectly still, alternately stroking his silk tie and the pack of Camels in his breast pocket.<\/p>\n

My brother had fallen asleep still sitting on the pew, his head resting on my mother\u2019s lap; while she, however, seemed to be in another world\u2014slowly fanning herself mechanically and rocking dreamily to some soothing mental melody.<\/p>\n

I was bored beyond words and spent each eternal minute getting intimately reacquainted with my fingers, nails, cuticles and palms.<\/p>\n

Much later, and when we had become regular church-goers, I came to understand that on Brothers\u2019 Night (as was the custom with all the other designated nights) someone from that particular segment of the church membership was always chosen as guest sermon giver for the evening. Ostensibly this gave that particular group some measure of ownership for their respective services, while also assisting the church leadership in discovering any potential future preachers hidden within the lay population. Unfortunately for Brother Aguilar on this night, everyone in attendance (and probably him too) knew he would never make that cut.<\/p>\n

He ended the sermon much like he\u2019d started: mumbling into this bible while mopping his brow and occasionally looking up at the congregation as if seeing them for the first time.<\/p>\n

Then, mercifully he said, \u201cBueno, ya acab\u00e9\u201d. (OK, I\u2019m finished). \u201cDios los bendiga.\u201d<\/p>\n

The paper fans in the audience suddenly shifted into a faster gear and long numbed butts began to slide into new and cooler areas of the pews. Joni stood up and moved to the piano bench as the other musicians flexed fingers, wet lips and twirled drumsticks. Reverend Villa left his seat and tightly embraced a slightly befuddled Brother Aguilar, who finally extricating himself from Villa\u2019s loving bear hug, looked around smiling\u2014as if he\u2019d just been ransomed out of captivity.<\/p>\n

Joni and her group began to play the usual service closing hymn as Reverend Villa took possession of the pulpit and proceeded to officially close the service.<\/p>\n

The Personal and Painful Touch<\/strong><\/p>\n

As we were gathering ourselves to leave, Mrs. Villa turned around and addressed my mother:<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was really nice to see all of you together here in our church tonight. Did you enjoy the service?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, shure.\u201d My mother said gleefully while trying to get Ricky to stand. \u201cIt was very nice.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, don\u2019t leave yet because my husband would like to speak to you and your husband in private.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201c\u00a1Oye, Bob! \u00bfOiste a la hermana?\u201d (Hey, Bob! Did you hear the sister?) My mom spoke to my dad\u2019s back as he was hurriedly getting his hat and mapping out a rapid escape route to tame the raving nicotine beast.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u00bfQu\u00e9?\u201d Dad said, looking annoyingly back at mom.<\/p>\n

\u201cDice que el reverendo quiere hablar con nosotros.\u201d (She says the reverend wants to speak to us.) Mom explained.<\/p>\n

Now turning to face Mrs. Villa my dad looked down longingly at the sweet-smelling pack of cigarettes in his shirt, then looked up and said, \u201cWell, OK. But we gotta go pretty soon.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mrs. Villa looked up to the stage where her husband was enthusiastically shaking Brother Aguila\u2019s hand, and probably congratulating him for not totally alienating his entire congregation. Waving her hand at her husband to attract his attention she turned and said to my parents, \u201cHe\u2019s on his way down and I know he really wants to speak to you.\u201d My dad looked annoyed, my mom looked confused, my brother looked cranky and hungry; and I looked at Joni.<\/p>\n

\u201cMom,\u201d I said, seizing a visible opportunity. \u201cI\u2019m going to go up to talk to the musicians while you talk to the reverend. OK?\u201d<\/p>\n

As she turned to look to my dad for approval, Mrs. Villa said, \u201cFrankie, that\u2019s a good idea. You should meet brother Cant\u00fa. He\u2019s the one that plays the big bass guitar. And also Tommy. He\u2019s one of the trumpet players\u2014and did you know his name is De Le\u00f3n, also? But he\u2019s not related, I\u2019m sure.\u201d<\/p>\n

I really didn\u2019t care to meet either one of those guys, I just wanted to talk to Joni.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh!\u201d I said, mocking interest and surprise. \u201cYeah, that would be great. If it\u2019s OK with my parents, I mean.\u201d<\/p>\n

Completely ignoring my mom and dad, who were now in a quiet discussion with each other, Mrs. Villa said, \u201cSure, why don\u2019t you go over there and I\u2019ll come and get you when your parents are ready to leave.\u201d She touched my mother\u2019s shoulder. \u201cEst\u00e1 bien, Se\u00f1ora De Le\u00f3n, \u00bfverdad?\u201d<\/p>\n

Mom turned back to me and said, \u201cOK, go! Pero, be ready to go when we are!\u201d My dad was looking wistfully through a window out at the dark parking lot.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, can I go too?\u201d My brother asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cNO!\u201d I quickly answered. Then, whispering in his ear, \u201cYou stay here with mom and dad, pedoso.\u201d (Farty).<\/p>\n

He made a face and looked as if he was going to say something else, or maybe try to smack me; and I quickly turned and hurried off to where Joni was talking to a girl and the musicians were packing up.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey Joni?\u201d I called as I walked up.<\/p>\n

She looked over her shoulder, and for a split second I thought I sensed a look of displeasure cloud her face. \u201cOh\u2026hi. I thought you\u2019d left already.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, your dad wants to talk to my parents so I thought I\u2019d come over to say hello while they talk.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, well I\u2019m kind of busy talking to Susana here. Why don\u2019t you introduce yourself to brother Cant\u00fa?\u201d She turned away briskly and picked up her conversation with Susana, who was staring at me as if she was looking at a giant green amoeba.<\/p>\n

Well, I could\u2019ve cared less about meeting the bass guy, or the other guy on the horn. All I had really wanted to do was to talk to Joni. But now for the first time in my life as I stood there by myself and with no one to talk to, I became painfully aware of who I really was; and I felt shame.<\/p>\n

My head dropped and I noticed my cheap, scuffed brown shoes, sitting just below my almost\u00a0too short black cotton pants, hitched up with a tattered olive drab military style belt, topped with a clownishly large thin white shirt; and I became pitifully aware of a deep throbbing emptiness in the pit of my stomach. That very moment would mark the very first time, but certainly not the last, that I would experience humiliation, rejection, and deep shame. Sadly, I was so young and inexperienced that I just had no way of dealing with the feelings that were now ripping through my soul. So I did the only thing I could: I turned, swiftly walking away, my suddenly moist eyes sweeping the church for my parents\u2014but they were gone.<\/p>\n

Not knowing exactly where to go I looked around the rapidly emptying church to see if I could spot my parents and brother. Nothing. I dared not look behind me to see if Joni was still engaged in conversation with Susana, so I just slowly walked back to the pew where we\u2019d been and sat heavily down.<\/p>\n

Pulling back into the quiet security of my mind, I sat looking out the window. I saw groups of people slowly moving towards their vehicles while swerving headlights bounced gently, illuminating the white crushed shell parking lot\u2014sharp shadows masking its countless potholes. Just outside the church\u2019s side door, gleaming in the mix of soft moonlight and piercing headlamps, sat the Villa\u2019s new Buick. In the moist warmth of the waning Houston evening the car looked cool and slick, and I wondered how it would feel to sit on its smooth leather seats, the engine purring, the wind in my face\u2026<\/p>\n

\u201c\u00a1Pancho!\u201d My mother\u2019s sharp voice pierced my dream. \u201c\u00a1Ven, ya nos vamos!\u201d (Come, we\u2019re leaving).<\/p>\n

My dad was already out in the parking lot heading hurriedly in the direction of our little black Dodge, and my mom, standing by the side door and looking impatient, kept pawing the air with her left hand, motioning me to get up and get.<\/p>\n

Settling in next to my brother into the sticky and stained felt covering the back seat I asked, \u201cSo, what did you all talk about? And, where did you go? I kept looking for you but I couldn\u2019t find you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201c\u00a1Nada!\u201d My mother curtly announced.<\/p>\n

\u201cMom!\u201d You were gone for a long time. What were you talking about?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBob, tell your son to mind his own business!\u201d<\/p>\n

My father, sucking hard on an unfiltered Camel, and creating a dull yellow glow that framed his head in the dark car, just kept looking straight ahead and said nothing.<\/p>\n

\u201cBob!\u201d My mother implored.<\/p>\n

I caught my father\u2019s eyes in the rear view mirror.<\/p>\n

\u201cDad, what was going on?\u201d<\/p>\n

Finally, \u201cDid you hear your mother? Now shut-up and sit back!\u201d<\/p>\n

Ricky piped up: \u201cThey just talked about God.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201c\u00a1Callate!\u201d My mother yelled at Ricky. \u201c\u00bfQue sabes tu?\u201d (What do you know?)<\/p>\n

\u201cI know you talked to the man and the lady about God. And I know Dad said, \u2018bullshit\u2019\u201d.<\/p>\n

My mother spun around in her seat. \u201cAlright you! Your father said to shut up!! And that means you too Ricardo!!\u00a0\u00a0 SHUT UP!\u201d<\/p>\n

With that my brother sunk down into the seat, brought his legs up off the floor, and buried his head between his knees. I turned my head and pretended to be interested in the passing scenery that I could barely see through the little triangular window in the coup\u00e9.<\/p>\n

\u201cBesides,\u201d My mother added, belatedly. \u201cI saw you talking to that red-haired Villa girl. I think you like her. Don\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n

There was a sharp pang in my gut and a lump in my throat suddenly made it hard to talk. \u201cNo.\u201d I softly mumbled.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat? I can\u2019t hear you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe said he didn\u2019t like her.\u201d My brother volunteered, in a whiny mocking voice.<\/p>\n

Annoyed, I turned and whacked him on the leg; and, of course, he retaliated by taking a swing at my head.<\/p>\n

\u201cSTOP IT!!\u201d My mother yelled, as she turned to kneel in her seat, facing us with her left up and her fist cocked. \u201cStop it!\u201d<\/p>\n

I turned away from them both and wondered why the lump in my throat had grown so big.<\/p>\n

Scrunched tightly against between the back seat and the side of the car I could feel her hot eyes darting from me to my brother and back, and sensed her intense anger. \u201cYou wait until we get home! Then we\u2019ll see who\u2019s who and what\u2019s what!\u201d She said through clenched teeth. I never did understand what that really meant, but it was one of my mother\u2019s favorite lines and it usually brought all sorts of mayhem to an immediate screeching halt. (Until we got home).<\/p>\n

Chain smoking by lighting each new cigarette with the stub of the one already in his mouth, my father remained thoughtfully silent all the way home.<\/p>\n

Careful What You Wish For<\/strong><\/p>\n

The seemingly minor incidents occurring in that church on that warm summer night would set into motion events that would forever change our family in so many ways. And, only after many years did I come to the realization that on that particular Friday evening something extraordinary had happened. For the first time, and for as long as I could remember, my father had come home from work, had dinner with, and had spent the rest of the evening in the company of his family. And on the following Saturday morning he had awakened in his our home and in his own bed, sober.<\/p>\n

After getting up late that morning, and after taking my usual leisurely bath, I was surprised to see my dad sitting at the kitchen table dressed in an undershirt (wife beater) and khaki pants, drinking a cup of black coffee and reading the newspaper. Since we obviously didn\u2019t have a subscription I assumed he\u2019d gone somewhere to pick up a copy; probably King\u2019s Super Market.<\/p>\n

On a small platter in the center of the table were a few fresh Mexican pastries; and the sight of that in itself was enough to make me giddy.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey boy.\u201d He said, not looking up from the paper.<\/p>\n

\u201cHi dad.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGo put some clothes on and come join me. I got some pan de huevo and a couple of empanadas here with your name on \u2018em.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cReally?\u201d I exclaimed, suddenly needing to pee.<\/p>\n

\u201cSure boy!\u201d He said looking up while taking a long drag on his Camel. Tipping his head back he blew a couple of perfectly round smoke rings. He watched them hit the ceiling and evaporate. \u201cHow you like your coffee?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHuh? Oh\u2026I don\u2019t know. I don\u2019t drink coffee. It\u2019s too bitter.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, us De Le\u00f3ns like our coffee like we like our women: hot and black!\u201d He winked at me, threw his head back and broke into a deep belly laugh that quickly morphed into a phlegmy racking cough. \u201cShit boy, that\u2019s funny. (cough, cough) Don\u2019t you think?\u201d He said, digging out a raggedy handkerchief and loudly blowing his nose.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, yeah\u2026black\u2026I get it\u2026sure.\u201d I stammered.<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, \u00e1ndale, go get out of that towel, boy. We got man business to take care of today!\u201d<\/p>\n

I went into the next room to search the chester-drawers for some underwear and a pair of jeans, but my mother already had some clothes laying out of her bed.<\/p>\n

\u201cMom? What\u2019s dad doing here?\u201d I whispered, squatting down beside the bed to drop my towel and jump into my boxers.<\/p>\n

\u201cNever mind that! Hurry up and get dressed. He wants to do something with you today.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d I asked, pulling my thin t-shirt over my head. \u201cIs Ricky going too?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo!\u201d Through clenched teeth. \u201cPronto, he\u2019s in a good mood.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOK. He wants me to drink coffee.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBueno, I\u2019ll make some more.\u201d She said, as she headed to the kitchen.<\/p>\n

\u201cNO! I don\u2019t like coffee. Can I have milk?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShh! Look, if he wants you to drink coffee, you\u2019ll drink coffee.\u201d She hissed right next to my ear.<\/p>\n

From the kitchen my father yelled, \u201cHey, what\u2019s going on in there? Sounds like a bunch of damn snakes! Pancho! Get in here!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201c!Mira, vez! Now he\u2019s mad. If he leaves it\u2019ll be your fault. Now get in there now!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFine!\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

Sauntering back into the kitchen I pulled up a chair while my mother started rattling some pans and running some water.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo,\u201d my dad said. \u201cYou don\u2019t like coffee, huh?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I\u2019d rather have milk with my empanada.\u201d<\/p>\n

Getting up from the table, he said, \u201cOK, tell you what. You gotta learn to be a man sometime.\u201d He opened the ice box.\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cSo if you want to drink milk then it\u2019ll have to be buttermilk.\u201d<\/p>\n

He took out a quart of unopened buttermilk and pulled an old jelly glass out of the cabinet over the sink.<\/p>\n

\u201cUh, no dad! I\u2019ll have the coffee. If you make me drink buttermilk I\u2019ll vomit.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, suit yourself.\u201d He poured the white thick liquid into the glass. \u201cI think I\u2019ll have a glass then.\u201d He sat back down and licked his lips. \u201cUm, that looks good.\u201d<\/p>\n

Just looking at the putrid smelling liquid with clumps of God knows what, made me nauseous.<\/p>\n

While I was eating my empanada and trying to sip the boiled black coffee (mom didn\u2019t brew, she boiled the grounds, then poured the whole thing into a cup) between my teeth to filter the grounds out, my dad folded the paper, gulped the last of his buttermilk, and pushed away from the table.<\/p>\n

\u201cTime to get to work!\u201d He announced.<\/p>\n

\u201cWork?\u201d My mom asked while rinsing out the cups and glasses. \u201cI thought you were staying home.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI am! Gonna do a little work on the car. It\u2019s been making some funny noises so I\u2019m gonna try to find out what the problem is.\u201d<\/p>\n

Well, that was bad news. As great a mechanic as my father was, whenever he tinkered with our own car it would always turn out badly. Other peoples\u2019 cars would run like new after he worked on them, but our car would normally not run at all after one of his repair sessions. Eventually he\u2019d get it back running again only to tell us that while trying to fix what he thought was wrong in the first place, he\u2019d found a bunch of other things wrong and had to fix them. At the end of the day our car would still be suffering from its \u201coriginal problem\u201d; but at least it was running. So off he went that morning, whistling a jaunty tune.<\/p>\n

The next day I was awakened early by my mother. \u201cGet up, your dad needs to get to the stove.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat? Dad? Why?\u201d Since I slept in the kitchen next to the stove I\u2019d have to put up my roll away bed before anyone could get to the stove.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u00a1S\u00ed, pronto!\u201d<\/p>\n

I wondered just what the heck was going on as I started to fold up my bed. \u201cWhat\u2019s going on? What time is it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen you finish with the bed, go get into the tub and take a quick bath. Your dad\u2019s going to cook breakfast, then after we eat we\u2019re going to shursh.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat? Is there hot water? Church?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo! You have to take a bath with cold water. It\u2019s summer anyway and it\u2019s hot. So don\u2019t be a sissy. Get in there!!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s dad going to cook? We don\u2019t have anything to eat but Post Toasties.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, Pancho! He got up early and already went to the store and bought eggs y queso. And we already have frijoles y tortillas. So, go!!\u201d<\/p>\n

Climbing into the cold porcelain tub I kept wondering if I was still dreaming. Eggs? Cheese? Dad cooking? The first pan full of cold tap water over my head assured me that I was indeed wide-awake.<\/p>\n

Until that day I had no idea my dad could cook. Turned out he was pretty good. While I was getting my clothes on he yelled from the kitchen if I liked my eggs \u201csunny side up\u201d. I had no idea, but said, \u201cSure!\u201d I don\u2019t think I\u2019d ever even had eggs for breakfast. At least I couldn\u2019t remember if I had or not.<\/p>\n

\u201cOK.\u201d My dad yelled back. \u201cHurry, you don\u2019t let sunny sides get cold.\u201d<\/p>\n

I hurried\u2014mostly because the house suddenly smelled glorious and my stomach was growling mightily. Was that bacon I smelled? I cruised into the kitchen where my mother was just setting down a small pan of refried beans and a small stack of warmed over tortillas.<\/p>\n

\u201cSi\u00e9ntate.\u201d She said. (Sit down.) \u201cHay vienen los huevos.\u201d (Here come the eggs.)<\/p>\n

That had to be the strangest Sunday ever; a complete breakfast with bacon, and a full glass of milk. Sitting at the table with my mother, father and brother made me feel almost claustrophobic; as the table was so small we were literally bumping elbows.<\/p>\n

As I started to hungrily devour my eggs, sunny side up, I saw that my dad didn\u2019t have any eggs on his plate at all. There were frijoles, a couple of strips of bacon, and one of mom\u2019s saucer-sized thick tortillas. Instead of coffee there was a big glass (I\u2019d seen it sitting all alone at the back of the cabinet, but had never seen it used) filled to the brim with what I assumed was buttermilk. That was my father\u2019s usual beverage of choice when beating down one of his massive hangovers. But as I looked closer at the glass I noted the liquid\u2019s slightly yellow tinge and the small head of tannish colored foam at the top. That was not buttermilk.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey dad.\u201d I managed to ask while chewing juicily on a succulent slice of bacon. \u201cWhat\u2019cha drinking?\u201d<\/p>\n

Before answering me he picked up the glass and took three mighty gulps\u2014bringing the level down to mid-glass.<\/p>\n

\u201cPonche.\u201d He said, smacking his lips.<\/p>\n

Now, \u201cponche\u201d is the Spanish word for \u201cpunch\u201d in English. So I was a little confused.<\/p>\n

\u201cHuh? Ponche? What kind of ponche?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe kind that real men drink for breakfast. My parents used to make this for us when we were kids. Wanna try it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure.\u201d I said reaching across the table to take the large glass from his hand.<\/p>\n

Putting the glass up to my lips I sensed a faint aroma of cinnamon. I took a slug.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you think?\u201d My dad asked, with a little twinkle in his eye.<\/p>\n

It tasted like sweetened milk and cinnamon, but had a thick, rather slimy, consistency.<\/p>\n

Swallowing, I said, \u201cUm, it\u2019s not bad. But it\u2019s a little slimy. What\u2019s in it?\u201d<\/p>\n

My mother snorted as a suppressed giggle escaped her throat.<\/p>\n

Taking his glass back, he said, \u201cOh, that would be the raw eggs you\u2019re tasting.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRAW EGGS?? THERE ARE RAW EGGS IN THAT?\u201d<\/p>\n

Not being able to restrain herself any further, my mom cackled out loud and slapped me on the back of the head.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u00a1Ay, Pancho tonto!\u201d She managed to say between peals of laughter. \u201cYour dad really put one over on you.\u201d<\/p>\n

My brother, never missing an opportunity to add to my misery, said, \u201cYeah, tonto!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDad,\u201d I managed to say, feeling the swallow of ponche trying to find its way back out. \u201cYou\u2019re kidding, right? There\u2019s no eggs in there, are there?\u201d<\/p>\n

Taking the glass and putting it back up to his lips he drained the remaining ponche, licked his lips, and slapped his belly. \u201cAh, that\u2019s good! Sure mijo, six raw eggs. That\u2019s how I had my eggs this morning; in the ponche.\u201d<\/p>\n

I thought I was going to vomit.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf I hadn\u2019t told you there were raw eggs in there would you\u2019ve known? Did you taste them?\u201d He asked.<\/p>\n

Taking my mind off my feelings of nausea, I reevaluated. \u201cWell, no\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, there it is! Mind over matter. Now finish your breakfast, we have to leave soon.\u201d<\/p>\n

He went back to scooping the refried beans with his tortilla and humming a catchy little tune. My mother gleamed at me, wiggling her eyebrows while covering her mouth with her paper napkin\u2014surely hiding a silly grin\u2014and my brother resumed eating while repeating \u201ctonto, tonto, tonto\u201d between mouthfuls. Suddenly I felt just fine.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

The Sunday service was not much different from those I\u2019d attended with Robert and his family, except now I was with my family. During the service Reverend Villa pointed us out to the congregation and asked everyone to welcome us to the House of God. We were asked to stand and a special prayer was said, led by the reverend himself. He thanked God for bringing us to his humble fold and asked that He make His presence known to us. I wasn\u2019t sure what that meant, but my mother nodded her head with her eyes closed and said, \u201cS\u00ed, Se\u00f1or.\u201d<\/p>\n

My dad was uncommonly attentive during the service and I noticed that his pack of Camels was not in its usual place in his shirt pocket. After the segregated Sunday school classes reconvened in the main auditorium I saw that my dad had been given a pamphlet which he was reading with great interest.<\/p>\n

After the Sunday service was over, the reverend and his wife made a bee line to where we were sitting and cordially invited us to join them, and some of the more important church officials, to lunch. To my surprise my parents accepted their invitation and after leaving the church parking lot we followed the Villas\u2014them, in the gleaming new Buick, and us, put-putting along in our wheezy little black Dodge\u2014to a Mexican restaurant a few miles from the church.<\/p>\n

After the meal, which I was unable to finish due to still being full from breakfast, the group began to debate various religious scenarios involving the Apostles. I was surprised to see my dad take an active part in the discussions; he sure knew more about the bible than I had ever imagined.<\/p>\n

My mother made small chit-chat with Mrs. Villa, and occasionally looked at me while pointing into random space saying, \u201cMira\u201d.<\/p>\n

Although Joni didn\u2019t come along for lunch, I still wondered why she suddenly acted as if she\u2019d never seen me before. Earlier, during the Sunday service our eyes had met once\u2014and she just looked right through me expressionless before turning away. Although I\u2019d never heard the phrase before, I subconsciously acknowledged that \u201cshe was way out of my league.\u201d Even being friends was probably out of the question. Time to move on I guess.<\/p>\n

On the way home in the car, after leaving the restaurant, my father announced that we only had a few hours before we\u2019d have to leave to go back to church to attend the Sunday evening service.<\/p>\n

\u201cDad?\u201d I said, tentatively. \u201cI have a lot of homework that I still have to finish before tomorrow. Can I stay home?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pulling the rear view mirror down to focus on me, he said sternly, \u201cNo, you can do that after we get back home tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDad! I\u2019ll be up all night. We won\u2019t get back until after ten. I can\u2019t do that!\u201d<\/p>\n

In the mirror his eyes narrowed, and using a tone I\u2019d not ever heard before, he growled, \u201cPancho. This discussion is over. Now shut up!\u201d<\/p>\n

More shocked than hurt; I turned away and concentrated on looking out the side window.<\/p>\n

Ricky whispered, \u201cTonto, tonto, tonto.\u201d<\/p>\n

My mother pointed out her window and said, \u201cMira.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"