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{"id":386,"date":"2014-09-06T20:20:26","date_gmt":"2014-09-07T01:20:26","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/?p=386"},"modified":"2014-09-09T14:20:49","modified_gmt":"2014-09-09T19:20:49","slug":"from-sinners-to-saints-part-iii","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/?p=386","title":{"rendered":"From Sinners To Saints…Part III"},"content":{"rendered":"From Sinners To Saints\u2026Part III<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n A Hint of Things to Come<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n After returning home from our having lunch at the Mexican restaurant I quickly changed clothes and went out into our little back yard to sit quietly on the steps leading out from the back door.\u00a0 I was trying to decide if I had enough time to do my book report, complete twenty-five math problems, and work on my history assignment in the two hours I had before having to get ready to leave again, when my mother came out and asked if I wanted a baloney sandwich before getting ready for the evening service.<\/p>\n \u201cNo, I\u2019m still not hungry.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c\u00bfBueno, entonces quieres un vaso de poly-pop? \u00a0Tu hermano is having one.\u201d \u00a0(Do you want a glass of Kool-Aid?\u00a0 Your brother is\u2026.) My mother always called Kool-Aid, \u201cpoly-pop; and no, I don\u2019t know why.<\/p>\n \u201cS\u00ed.\u00a0 I guess.\u201d\u00a0 I responded, a little dejected.\u00a0 \u201cMom, I didn\u2019t do any homework on Saturday thinking that I could do it on Sunday night.\u00a0 Now I\u2019ll have to stay up all night to get it done and probably fall asleep in school tomorrow.\u00a0 Why do we have to go back to church tonight?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLook,\u201d She said pointing her finger at me and lowering her voice almost to a whisper.\u00a0 \u201cAll I know is that your father is home this weekend, and that I owe to that little church and those people; especially el Reverendo Villa.\u00a0 So don\u2019t go ruining this by making your father angry.\u00a0 He was really mad at you in the car, and I was afraid he was just going to drop us off and go out drinking.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo, now it\u2019s my fault he drinks?\u201d\u00a0 I responded, matching her whisper.<\/p>\n \u201cNo, but I don\u2019t want anything to make him angry enough to take off like he likes to do.\u201d<\/p>\n I didn\u2019t know what else I could say to her so I just shrugged and said, \u201cFine.\u00a0 What time do we have to leave?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo se mijo, but I think maybe around six.\u201d<\/p>\n Well, I thought, that left me with about ninety minutes to see how much of the book report I could punch out.<\/p>\n I heard the screen door close behind me and listened as my mom\u2019s shuffling steps retreated back into the house.\u00a0 \u201c\u00bfOye viejo!\u201d\u00a0 She yelled.\u00a0 \u201cYou want some coffee?\u00a0 I can make some for you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah!\u201d\u00a0 He yelled back from the front room of the house.\u00a0 \u201cBring it out to me in the front yard.\u00a0 I want to take a look at the parking brake on the car before we have to go.\u201d<\/p>\n Great<\/em>, I thought.\u00a0\u00a0Maybe he\u2019ll dick up the car and we won\u2019t be going anywhere after all<\/em>.<\/p>\n Not being in the mood to get into my books right then I decided to sit there and think things over.\u00a0 I had noticed a slight change in my father\u2019s attitude in the last couple of days, and for sure he hadn\u2019t gone on one of his usual weekend benders, but he was still smoking his normal two to three packs of Camels every day, so I couldn\u2019t help but wonder just how long he\u2019d hold out before he succumbed to whatever pleasure he derived from drinking down those bottles of Four Roses Whiskey straight\u2014without the benefit of a glass.<\/p>\n He had displayed an unusually benevolent temperament towards my mother since Friday; actually conversing with her for more than just a few minutes, and not baiting her into one of their knockdown drag-out arguments.\u00a0 But his almost violent reaction to me earlier in the car had taken me by complete surprise.\u00a0 Usually he never had much to do with me or Ricky, as far as discipline was concerned\u2014that was usually my mother\u2019s specialty; and for the most part he was always civil and liked to joke with us more than anything else.\u00a0 He also never seemed too concerned with my performance in school\u2014never asking me anything about my course loads or even what subjects I was taking.\u00a0 While my mother carefully looked over my report cards, scrutinizing every detail and asking why a \u201cB\u201d was not an \u201cA\u201d, and\u2026\u201cthat conduct grade, it should be higher\u2026\u201d he would just casually glance at the card and quickly scrawl his signature on the back.<\/p>\n I had never been afraid of my father in the same way as I was of my mother.\u00a0 Getting on her bad side usually meant that there\u2019d be hair pulling, pinching, slapping, and most of all, yelling.\u00a0 This, by the way, went on all the way through my teenage years but stopped abruptly after I graduated from high school and started working.<\/p>\n For the most part my father had never really displayed a \u201cbad side\u201d to me; so, after an episode of having been disciplined (whipped) by my mother, it was normal for me to tearfully protest my \u201cabuse\u201d to him whenever he came home from work.\u00a0 After hearing me out he would usually just pat me on the head, or (less frequently) give me a little hug and tell me he\u2019d have a talk with her.\u00a0 Those small discussions always made me feel better, probably because I was just looking for some sympathy, but mostly because I actually thought he\u2019d intercede on my behalf and read my mother the riot act.\u00a0 In reality he was just paying me lip service and staying above the fray.<\/p>\n All in all though, and until I left home in December of 1960, my father and I got along pretty well\u2014particularly before times got hard with the medical bills and my mom\u2019s unplanned, and financially devastating, pregnancy.\u00a0 After my brother was born and my mother came down with kidney stones our life went downhill fast, and pretty much stayed there.<\/p>\n Well before those events came to pass there were two particular experiences involving me and my dad that will forever stand out in my memory.\u00a0 The first, pleasant and prophetic; the other, frightening and tragic.\u00a0 So for just a little bit now, and before I continue detailing what transpired that Sunday afternoon and evening, I\u2019d like to digress and revisit those experiences; both of which would end up having a profound effect on me and my future.<\/p>\n Reflections<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n The Airport<\/strong><\/p>\n Hobby Airport, located south of the Houston Metro area off the Old Galveston Road (now I45) and Telephone Road, was the only major airport that served my hometown for many years before the Intercontinental Airport (now George Bush Intercontinental Airport) was built in 1957.<\/p>\n One day, probably around 1949, my parents and I were in our car returning from a day-long fishing trip at the free piers at Galveston Island when I happened to see an airplane flying very low in the sky.<\/p>\n \u201cDaddy, daddy, look at that airplane!\u201d\u00a0 I yelled excitedly from the back seat.\u00a0 \u201cWhere\u2019s he going?\u00a0 Is he going to crash?\u201d\u00a0 I quickly scooted from the right side of the backseat to the left to keep the rapidly descending plane in sight.<\/p>\n \u201cNo mijo,\u201d my dad responded as he craned his neck towards the windshield to find the plane.\u00a0 \u201cHe\u2019s probably just landing at the airport over there.\u201d\u00a0 He pointed out the left window.<\/p>\n \u201cAn airport?\u00a0 Is there an airport over there?\u00a0 Is it close?\u00a0 Can we go see?\u00a0 Please!\u201d<\/p>\n “Yeah, it’s the Hobby Airport, but I don’t know if we have time to go over there.”<\/p>\n “Please daddy? \u00a0Please!” \u00a0I begged.<\/p>\n He looked at my mom and shrugged his shoulders.\u00a0 \u201cWhat do you think, vieja?\u00a0 We can turn left here on Telephone Road and drive by the airport for a little while. \u00a0It’s still early and \u00a0I think they have a little parking area where we can stop and watch the planes take off and land.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, I don\u2019t care.\u201d\u00a0 Mom said off-handedly. \u00a0“As long as we don\u2019t stay too long\u2026I have to go to the bathroom soon.\u201d<\/p>\n “OK.” \u00a0He said. \u00a0“There’s a Gulf station about a block from the airport. \u00a0We can stop there and while you go to the rest room I’ll get us all a Coke. \u00a0Then we can park for a little while and watch the planes. \u00a0What do \u00a0you think, Pancho?”<\/p>\n “Oh yeah!” \u00a0I yelled with glee. \u00a0“And are we really all getting a Coke?”<\/p>\n “Sure.” \u00a0He said, as his eyes smiled at me in the rearview mirror.<\/p>\n And so it was that on day my fascination with airplanes, and aviation in general, began. Practically every weekend after that day, until the drinking finally and permanently ended our trips, I would beg my father to take me to the Hobby Airport where I would sit on one of our old car\u2019s front powder puff fenders and dream of someday piloting one of those beautifully graceful flying machines.\u00a0 I would especially love to see TWA\u2019s red and white Super Connie aircraft, twin tails gleaming in the sun, taxi to the end of the runway and rev up its four powerful piston engines to full take-off power.\u00a0 The resulting turbulent prop wash would wildly whip the tall grass between the end of the runway and the airport boundary fence, causing instant chaos and general panic among the large, and heretofore unseen, resident jackrabbit population hiding deep in their burrows.\u00a0 I would giggle with glee as I watched them leap here and there, scattering wildly in every direction trying to escape the ear-splitting noise coming from the plane\u2019s four engines, and the powerful blast of blustery air generated by the Connie\u2019s large silver propellers.\u00a0 My dad would hang on to his hat and hug me tight\u2014both of us laughing as we watched the graceful giant slowly start its take-off roll, and finally lift off majestically into the sky.<\/p>\n One day, after a particularly long interval between take offs and landings, I noticed a large white oddly shaped building halfway down, and to the right, of the runway. \u201cDad!\u201d I called while pointing straight ahead.\u00a0 \u201cWhat\u2019s that white funny looking building over there?\u00a0 It looks like an ice cream cone but I can see people inside the top part where the green glass is.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, that?\u00a0 That\u2019s the airport tower.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s it for?\u201d\u00a0 I wondered out loud.<\/p>\n \u201cWell,\u201d he explained. \u201cThe people that work inside talk to the airplanes and tell the pilots when they can take off or when they can land.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWow!\u201d\u00a0 I exclaimed.\u00a0 I was absolutely amazed.\u00a0 \u201cDaddy, I think the job those men do has to be more important than the pilots flying the airplanes, don’t you think?\u00a0 Gee, they must be really smart to be able to do that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell,\u201d He said, rubbing his chin.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019m sure they have to have a lot of training to be allowed to make those kind of decisions, I guess. \u00a0You know, a pilot is responsible for his airplane and all of his passengers, but those guys in the tower are responsible for all of the airplanes in and around the airport.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEven when they\u2019re in the air?\u201d\u00a0 I asked breathlessly.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, I think so, but I\u2019m not sure.\u00a0 I know they talk to the planes on special radios.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWow!\u201d\u00a0 I exclaimed, my eyes now glued on the tiny figures moving around behind the green windows.\u00a0 \u201cI think when I grow up that\u2019s what I\u2019d like to do! \u00a0Do you think you can send me to that kind of school when I grow up, daddy?\u201d<\/p>\n He chuckled deeply and gave me a noogie.\u00a0 \u201cWell, let\u2019s get you through high school first and then we can see if you still want to do that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, I know I will.\u00a0 I just know it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, mijo we\u2019ll see.\u201d\u00a0 And then he picked me up and set me down on his lap as he slid up and took my place on the fender.\u00a0 I rested my chin on his arm and held on tightly as he hugged me snugly and securely.\u00a0 I stared at that building for a long time trying to see if I could make out what exactly the men inside were doing. \u00a0Finally, my dad said, \u201cMira mijito, here comes one from behind us ready to land.\u201d<\/p>\n I was so very excited and couldn’t wait to get home to tell Jerry all about the airport tower that I had seen, and the smart people that talked to airplanes. \u00a0I didn’t think I’d tell mom because she’d just say I was being silly. \u00a0She usually said that when she didn’t understand something I was trying to explain.<\/p>\n It was many years later, and long after I earned my pilot\u2019s license, and been hired by the Federal Aviation Administration as an air traffic controller, that the memory of that long lost day was finally recalled.\u00a0 Now, in retrospect, I realize that that occasion was probably my closest and warmest dad and son experience. \u00a0There were so very few.<\/p>\n Of course there were other good times too\u2014especially when he was still coming home on Fridays. \u00a0That’s when he\u2019d ask me if I\u2019d like to go fishing with him early the next day.\u00a0 \u201cSure!\u201d\u00a0 I would always say, knowing that he\u2019d be waking me up very early on Saturday\u2014somewhere between two and three o\u2019clock\u2014so that we\u2019d get to the free pier on Galveston Island before anyone else.\u00a0 \u201cThat way\u201d, he\u2019d explain, \u201cwe\u2019ll get the \u2018best\u2019 spot\u2026\u201d ensuring our success in landing a record haul fish.<\/p>\n Sadly, and more often than not, we\u2019d end up with just a few pitiful looking catfish (he called them “hard-heads”) or a couple of sunfish, or perch that we\u2019d end up throwing away before we\u2019d leave for the long drive home.\u00a0 Worse, the entire day was spent baiting, casting, and mostly reeling in a wet and empty hook.\u00a0 There was very little conversation between us, except maybe for a few repetitive words or phrases such as: \u201cAlmost had him\u2026\u201d \u201cWatch your head, I\u2019m casting out\u2026\u201d \u201cI\u2019m moving over there\u2026\u201d \u201cNot hitting very well today\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n The long day would end with me dozing off in the back seat on the way home, my hands\u00a0stinking\u00a0of shrimp and squid (bait), and gently rubbing my red itchy sunburned shoulders. \u00a0Sometimes, but not very often, \u00a0we’d make a stop at “Prince’s Drive Inn” on Old Galveston Road, and order up some deep fried jumbo shrimp and fries, and a vanilla malt. \u00a0I’d always feel odd eating what I’d been sticking on hooks all day long.<\/p>\n Bill\u2019s Joint<\/strong><\/p>\n By far, the strangest experience that I ever had with my dad occurred when I was about seven or eight, and it didn’t have anything to do with fishing or airplanes.<\/p>\n I was outside playing in my favorite cool spot under the house, when I heard my mother yelling for me to come in the house.\u00a0 Thinking that I had probably done something wrong I took my time crawling out, slowly walking up the back stairs and easing quietly through the screen door.\u00a0 As I padded through the kitchen in my bare feet I saw my dad standing near the front door with my mother holding on to his left arm.\u00a0 They were arguing.<\/p>\n Trying to tug away from her grip he was saying, \u201c\u00a1Te digo, vieja, que voy a volver en unos cuantos minutos!\u201d\u00a0 (I\u2019m telling you, old lady, I\u2019ll be back in a few minutes.) \u201cI\u2019m just going to go around the corner, for God\u2019s sake!\u201d<\/p>\n Agitated, she looked directly at him and said, \u201cNo Bob! \u00a0Whenever you say that I don\u2019t see you for two or three days!\u00a0 You are not doing this to me today!\u00a0 If you really are just running an errand \u201caround the corner\u201d you won\u2019t mind taking Frankie with you, now will you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNO!\u00a0 I will not take him with me!\u201d\u00a0 He yelled back at her.\u00a0 \u201cI won\u2019t, goddammit!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI swear to God Bob, if you don\u2019t take him with you, then when you finally decide to come home you\u2019ll find us gone, and you\u2019ll never see us again!\u201d<\/p>\n Hearing this surprised and scared me at the same time.\u00a0 First, I hadn\u2019t heard my mother ever use this tone of voice ever, half crying and half screaming; but more than that, it didn\u2019t sound like a threat\u2014more like a promise.\u00a0 The thought of leaving home and never seeing my dad again suddenly made me profoundly sad.<\/p>\n \u201cGod dammit vieja, where in the hell would you go anyway?\u201d\u00a0 He asked angrily, still trying to pull away.<\/p>\n Now crying full force, \u201cBueno, you just go, desgraciado! (damned you.) \u00a0But when you get home you\u2019ll see!\u00a0 I\u2019ll…we\u2019ll be gone and you\u2019ll never find us!\u00a0 Never!!\u00a0 I\u2019ll find a way to get as far as I possibly can from you\u2014and me and Frankie will never be seen again!\u201d<\/p>\n Now I really started to worry.\u00a0 She didn\u2019t sound like she was kidding!<\/p>\n \u201cShit!\u201d\u00a0 He spat.\u00a0 Looking out toward the car with a wistful look then turning back toward her he said, \u201cFine, Godammit!\u00a0 But, don\u2019t think I\u2019m taking him because your stupid threat scared me! \u00a0I\u2019m doing it to stop you from screaming your ass off for all the fucking neighbors to hear!\u201d<\/p>\n Ripping his arm away from her he yelled over her head, \u201c\u00a1Pancho!\u00a0 \u00a1Vente, vamonos!\u201d (Come on, let\u2019s go!)<\/p>\n I tentatively moved towards the door and my mother gently pushed me in the direction of the porch.\u00a0 \u201c\u00c1ndale mijo, vete.\u201d (Go ahead son, go.)<\/p>\n Glaring at my dad, and between clenched teeth, she hissed, \u201cListen you!\u00a0 If anything happens to him, I swear to almighty God that I will do my best to kill you, if it\u2019s the last thing I ever do!\u201d\u00a0 For maximum effect, she shook her left fist at him.<\/p>\n Hearing that, I started to think that maybe the safest choice for me was to stay just where I was.\u00a0 But as I began to open my mouth to voice my opinion, my dad said, \u201c\u00a1Vieja estupida!\u00a0 Where do you think I\u2019m going to take him?\u00a0 He\u2019s my son too, pendeja, (idiot (but much worse)), and I know how to take care of him, for Christ\u2019s sake you idiot!\u00a0 And, you better stop threatening me, vieja loca!\u201d<\/p>\n Reaching for my arm he abruptly yanked me away from my mother\u2019s side, and before I knew what was happening I was being dragged down the stairs and out to the car.<\/p>\n \u201cJust mark my words, Bob\u2014JUST\u00a0MARK MY WORDS!\u201d\u00a0 She yelled at the top of her lungs as she stood on the porch, arms folded and head cocked sideways with a look on her face that really scared me.<\/p>\n Pushing me into the front seat, my dad slid in and started the car while his left leg was still hanging out over the running board.\u00a0 \u201cGod, your mother is so full of shit!\u00a0 You know what I mean?\u201d\u00a0 I wasn\u2019t so sure I knew what he meant, but I kept quiet and just shrugged.\u00a0 The old Dodge shook as the engine caught.\u00a0 He slammed the floor shifter into reverse and did a 180 degree backwards turn in the front yard.<\/p>\n The momentum of the car sort of rolled me over the seat and I ended up with my knees on the floorboard facing the back of the front seat.<\/p>\n \u201cGod damn stupid ass woman!\u201d\u00a0 He whispered loudly\u00a0to himself, jamming the shifter into first gear while popping the clutch and spinning the steering wheel.<\/p>\n I flew up onto the seat and grabbed the arm rest on the door.<\/p>\n Daring a quick at him I saw his raw anger.\u00a0 Thinking I might want to get on his good side I asked, \u201cDad, can I shift the gears?\u201d\u00a0 He would let me do that sometimes when he was in a really good mood.\u00a0 This may have not been a good time to ask.<\/p>\n \u201cJust stay over here and be fuc…, be quiet until we\u2019re far away from that maniac.\u201d<\/p>\n Bumping out onto House Street I hung on to the armrest to keep from sliding back onto the floor.\u00a0 Looking up at my dad I saw that instead of looking out the windshield his eyes were glued to the rearview mirror.<\/p>\n Making a left turn onto Liberty Road we headed toward Lockwood Boulevard.\u00a0 \u201cDad?\u00a0 Where we going?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAround the corner.\u201d<\/p>\n Well, by my count we\u2019d already done that a couple of times.\u00a0 \u201cNo, really\u2014where we going?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou know, you ask too many questions, dammit boy!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, OK.\u00a0 Can I shift the gears now?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHuh?\u00a0 Oh, yeah, but not just now. \u00a0Lemme get out of this traffic and get to the light\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDaddy!\u00a0 I know that!\u00a0 We have to stop, and then get ready to go, for the gears to be shifted.\u00a0 So, where we going?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLockwood, Navigation, Telephone Road, and then McCarthy Road.\u00a0 Now, do you know where any of those streets are?\u201d\u00a0 Suddenly he sounded playful and his face looked a bit more relaxed.<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019re on Lockwood now!\u201d\u00a0 I said, as I kneeled on the front seat so I could look out the windshield.\u00a0 \u201cAnd, I know there\u2019s a stop light soon; so when we get there I’ll get to shift the gears. \u00a0Right?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019ll see.\u201d<\/p>\n Stopping at the light he looked over to me.\u00a0 \u201cAlright boy, let\u2019s see what\u2019cha got.\u201d<\/p>\n I slid over and grabbed the floor shifter with both hands trying to remember each gear\u2019s position on the \u201cH\u201d pattern that my dad had taught me.<\/p>\n A few stop lights later, and a few pounds of ground out gears (his clutch work and my gear shifting were a little out of sync), and we cruised out onto McCarthy Road.<\/p>\n From what I remember, this street was pretty much on the outskirts of town on the southeast side of Houston, and was mostly populated with gas stations, trucker restaurants, motels, and\u2014oh yes\u2014a bunch of brightly lit bars and clubs.<\/p>\n The brilliant array of red, blue, green and white flashing neon signs were dazzling.\u00a0 The \u201cDew Drop Inn\u201d, \u201cMac\u2019s Drive-In Lounge\u201d, \u201cTina\u2019s Club\u201d (Ladies Always Welcome), \u201cButch & Bob\u2019s\u201d (Best Burgers N\u2019Beer N’Town), was like eye candy to my young eyes.\u00a0 Soon I had forgotten all about the gearshift and had moved over to the passenger side and cranked the window open to try to read as many of the signs as I could. \u00a0The cool evening air felt great and I opened my mouth wide to see if the wind would inflate my cheeks.<\/p>\n \u201cGet your head back in the car, Frank! \u00a0Jesus!”<\/p>\n I pulled my head back in but kept my right hand out flying it up and down while making nasally airplane noises.<\/p>\n \u201cHey daddy! \u00a0Oh, look!\u00a0 There\u2019re so many nice stores here. \u00a0They’re so lit up!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell,\u201d He chuckled.\u00a0 \u201cI don\u2019t know how nice those…uh, stores are Pancho. \u00a0Know what I mean?\u201d<\/p>\n No, I didn\u2019t.\u00a0 \u201cUh-huh.\u201d<\/p>\n Slowing down we made a left turn across traffic and pulled into a small gravel lot where a small white wooden frame building sat.\u00a0 There were a few cars pulled up to the front of the structure, and my dad picked a place between two cars almost facing the front door.<\/p>\n \u201cBILLS JOINT.\u201d This, written in large black block letters on a swinging white metal sign, hanging on a rusty metal rod over the door and guarded on either side by two small flood lights.\u00a0 No neon here, and I was a little disappointed that he’d picked this dull place over all the other better ones.<\/p>\n There were two little windows on either side of two large screen doors, hung slightly askew, protecting matching solid white wooden doors.\u00a0 Three slightly off-center concrete steps led from the white dirt lot up to the doors.\u00a0 Right away I didn\u2019t like the place because it looked old, cheap, and plain.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019re we doing here, daddy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, I gotta go see a man about a fire.\u00a0 Get it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJesus. \u00a0OK, I\u2019m going in to talk to someone, and I won\u2019t be long. \u00a0So you\u2019re gonna wait here\u2014play with the gear shift if you want\u2014then when I come out we\u2019ll go home.\u00a0 You want me to bring you out a Coke?\u201d<\/p>\n The Coke comment came out just as I was getting ready to protest.<\/p>\n \u201cReally?\u00a0 A Coke?\u00a0 Sure!\u00a0 Can I go in and get it with you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo Pancho, this is no place for little boys.\u00a0 You wait here and I\u2019ll be out with the Coke in a little bit.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDaddy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre you bringing me a bottle of Coke?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOf course!\u00a0 Why?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell,\u201d I put on my \u2018matter of fact\u2019 voice and crossed my arms, business-like.\u00a0 \u201cIf it’s in a bottle then I\u2019ll have to drink it here while you wait, because if you don\u2019t return the bottle right away you won\u2019t get back the nickel deposit.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJesus Christ!\u00a0 You\u2019re just like your mother!\u00a0 Mira Pancho, I\u2019m buying you a Coke\u2014AND I\u2019ll pay the deposit so you can drink it on the way home.\u00a0 Capice?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell then, that\u2019s really good. \u00a0Because then tomorrow I can take the empty bottle to Henry\u2019s store and he\u2019ll pay me back a nickel for the deposit!\u00a0 Then I\u2019ll have a nickel to spend there!\u00a0 Oh, unless you want it back because you paid, uh\u2026Bill (as I looked at the sign) a nickel.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOK, Frankie.\u00a0 I\u2019m done with the talking.\u00a0 Now I\u2019m going in and you\u2019re staying here until I come out.\u00a0 OK?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSure.\u00a0 Uh, Daddy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat, for Christ sake?\u201d He turned as he was getting out.<\/p>\n \u201cPlease don\u2019t forget to bring me my Coke.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJesus!\u201d<\/p>\n He closed the door a little harder than usual and walked around the front of the car heading for the concrete stairs.\u00a0 Swinging open the screen doors he pushed open one of the large wooden doors and started in.\u00a0 Just before disappearing into the darkness of \u201cBill\u2019s Joint\u201d, he quickly turned and pointed his finger at me.\u00a0 (Stay there!)<\/p>\n Spinning\u00a0away from me he pulled the door closed behind him, and just before it completely closed I heard: \u00a0\u201cJambalaya, Crawfish Pie-a, Me-oh-my-o, for tonight I\u2019m\u2026\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n The time ticked by slowly as I sat in the hot car and entertained myself, first with the floor shifter, then by spinning the dial on the non-working radio on the dash, and acting out dramatic mini-scenes when the dial landed on certain frequencies: \u00a0(In my professional radio announcer voice) “Now the news! Frankie won the most famous car race ever by shifting gears faster than anyone else–EVER!\u201d\u2014\u201cIn sports, Frankie’s team beat everyone in the world by hitting one hundred homeruns in their game against the very much hated New York Yankees!\u201d\u2014\u201cToday the FBI arrested a big villain with the help of Special Agent Frankie, who after popping him in the nose, held him down, with the help of his best friend Jerry, until the local cops showed up!\u201d\u2014And on, and on.<\/p>\n Yeah, OK. \u00a0I was a little light on reality, but I did have a great imagination.<\/p>\n My mind games were abruptly interrupted when a big black car pulled off of McCarthy and slowly rolled up and parked next to ours.\u00a0 Leaving the radio I turned my attention to the driver, who after shutting off the engine, just sat there for a while, staring straight ahead at the white building with the slowly swinging white metal sign.\u00a0 With my knees on the seat and chin resting on the open window of our car I wondered why the man was just sitting there, doing nothing.<\/p>\n He looked big, bigger than my father, broad shoulders and a large round face, and he was wearing a gray felt hat pulled partially down over his eyes.\u00a0 Sweat was running down the side of his face, and every once in a while he\u2019d wipe his brows with a large pudgy hand.\u00a0 His stare never wavered.<\/p>\n Finally he pushed open the door and stepped out.\u00a0 Looking at me for the first time, our eyes met, and with my chin resting on the open car window, I smiled, wiggling the fingers on my right hand, saying hello.<\/p>\n He paused momentarily, eyes still locked on mine; then, without a word he slammed the car door and quickly looked away. \u00a0 Pulling his hat down further over his eyes he walked briskly to the back of his car.\u00a0 Once there, he looked slowly around, then bent down and opened the trunk.<\/p>\n Straining my neck, and hanging my arm out, I tried to see what he was doing.\u00a0 No luck.\u00a0 I could barely see his rump swaying slightly as he appeared to be struggling with something heavy at first, and then straightening up while stuffing something into his pants pockets.<\/p>\n When he pulled back and reached up to slam the trunk lid with his right hand I could see that hanging off his left arm was a long black rifle.\u00a0 Walking between our car and his I saw that his pockets were bulging and noticed that his hat was gone.\u00a0 He slowed, turning and glancing at me curiously, then deliberately walked towards the bar\u2014holding the long black gun low and level with the ground.<\/p>\n He took the first step up to the screen door, stopped and rotated the weapon up into a vertical position.\u00a0 Opening the screen door with his right hand he kicked the wooden door open and rushed in to the blackness of the bar.<\/p>\n I heard:\u00a0 \u201c\u2026cheating heart, will tell on you\u2026I cried and cried, the whole night through\u2026\u201d\u00a0 \u201cBOOM, BOOM!!\u201d\u00a0 My ears rung and my mind stopped.<\/p>\n \u201c\u2026HOLY SHI\u2026\u201d, a scream from inside the bar\u2026\u201cBOOM, BOOM!!\u201d\u00a0 These louder, and closer together.<\/p>\n I dropped to the floor of the car, but not knowing exactly why I did.\u00a0 \u201cCRACK, CRACK, CRACK, CRACK!!!\u201d\u00a0 Then\u2026nothing but silence for what seemed like a very long time.\u00a0 I don\u2019t recall breathing.<\/p>\n A rush of cool air flooded into the car and I looked up as my dad flew in and pushed the button that started the car.\u00a0 With his door still open and throwing the floor shifter into reverse he yelled, \u00a0\u00a0\u201cSTAY DOWN FRANKIE, STAY DOWN!!!\u201d<\/p>\n The engine caught and I was thrown forward onto the front of the floorboard and under the dash as I felt the car violently sliding backward\u2014the engine screaming.\u00a0 Shifting, steering wheel spinning wildly, the car lurched forward and I was again thrown, this time onto the bottom of the front seat.<\/p>\n \u201cGODAMMIT, GODAMMIT, GODAMMIT!\u201d\u00a0 My father shouted in a voice that I\u2019d never heard before.<\/p>\n \u201cDaddy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSHUT UP, GODAMMIT!\u00a0 STAY DOWN!!\u00a0 SHUT UP!! \u00a0SHUT UP!!\u201d<\/p>\n I wanted to cry.\u00a0 I wanted to pee.\u00a0 I was scared.\u00a0 I wondered where my Coke was.<\/p>\n Bouncing savagely, the car\u2019s back wheels spinning, I smelled burnt oil and rubber.<\/p>\n Starting to get a little dizzy, I whispered loudly, \u201cDaddy, can I get up on the seat now?\u00a0 Please?\u201d\u00a0 I chanced a look up to my father.\u00a0 Mouth open, eyes darting wildly from the windshield to the rearview mirror, he said, \u201cNO!\u00a0 Dammit, hold on, I\u2019ll tell you when to get up!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOK.\u201d\u00a0 I closed my eyes, and I felt a warm bitter taste of bile at the back of my tongue.\u00a0 Curled up on the hot rubber floorboard under the glove compartment I tried not to breathe in the acrid smell of grease and hot oil seeping\u00a0in through the firewall.\u00a0 The inside of my head spun crazily and I thought I would surely\u00a0have to throw up soon.<\/p>\n After an eternity of lying on the floor holding back the bubble of vomit wanting to explode from deep in my throat, I heard my father say, \u201cOK Pancho, you can get up on the seat now.\u201d\u00a0 Grabbing for the frayed arm rest on the passenger side door I drunkenly pulled myself up onto the worn felt seat.\u00a0 A cool rivulet of sweat ran down my neck, soaking into the collar of my shirt as I pushed my back into the seat.\u00a0 I slowly turned to look at my dad.<\/p>\n His driving had settled back down to normal and I saw that we were in a part of town I didn\u2019t recognize.\u00a0 \u201cDaddy,\u201d I was finally able to say without fear of gagging, \u201cwhere are we?\u00a0 What happened?\u00a0 Are we going home now?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSettle down boy.\u00a0 We\u2019re on our way home now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat happened?\u00a0 I heard some really loud noises coming from the building.\u00a0 What were those?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNothing, they were nothing.\u00a0 Now stop asking questions.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOK.\u201d\u00a0 I wanted to ask a lot more questions, but I sort of knew there would be no answers.<\/p>\n \u201cListen!\u201d\u00a0 He suddenly blurted out.\u00a0 \u201cWhen we get home don\u2019t tell your mother anything\u2014you hear me? \u00a0NOTHING!!\u201d\u00a0 His eyes were squeezed down to sharp slits as he glared at me, and I noted how terribly pale his face was.<\/p>\n \u201cOK.\u00a0 But can I at least tell her about the loud booms I heard?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNO!!\u00a0 Godammit!!\u00a0 What did I just say?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t tell her nothing?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNOTHING!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOK.\u201d\u00a0 My stomach was still queasy.\u00a0 \u201cDaddy, can I get a Coke?\u201d<\/p>\n A long pause, then he finally said, \u201cOK, we\u2019ll stop at a drug store before we get home and I\u2019ll get you a Coke, and maybe some peanuts.\u00a0 Would you like that?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSure.\u00a0 But I\u2019d rather have Cracker Jacks; they have prizes in the box.\u00a0 Oh, and can we go to Mobley\u2019s for them?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFine, Cracker Jacks!\u00a0 Just remember not to say anything to your Mom.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll remember.\u00a0 But what will I say if she asks what we did?\u201d<\/p>\n He wrinkled his brow and scratched his head; then he looked down at the floor then craned his neck to look at the back seat.\u00a0 \u201cShit.\u00a0 Where\u2019s my hat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d I responded, not really concerned about his hat.\u00a0 \u201cHuh, Daddy?\u00a0 What if she asks?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHell, I don\u2019t know.\u00a0 Just tell her we went around the corner and stopped at the airport for a while.\u00a0 Then we went somewhere and we ended up getting you got a Coke and Cracker Jacks.\u201d\u00a0 \u201cCapice?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOK.\u00a0 Mobley\u2019s\u2026that\u2019s where we\u2019re going now, right?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, Mobley\u2019s.\u201d<\/p>\n The drive home after a stop at Mobley\u2019s Drugstore for my treats was strangely and uncomfortably quiet.\u00a0 Even the old car\u2019s rattily engine sounded subdued.<\/p>\n We pulled into our front yard and I opened my door.\u00a0 Tightly holding my booty I ran in the front door of the house anxious to show my mom what I\u2019d gotten. \u00a0My dad stayed behind, lifting the hood and inspecting the Dodge\u2019s tortured engine.\u00a0 Walking to the back of the house I found my mom sitting in the kitchen with her head in her hands.<\/p>\n \u201cHi mom!\u201d\u00a0 I greeted her while inspecting my Cracker Jacks prize\u2014a secret decoder ring.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, hi mijito.\u201d\u00a0 She said, a little sadness in her voice.\u00a0 \u201cWhat did you and your daddy do?\u00a0 You were gone so long.\u201d\u00a0 She sniffled and rubbed her nose with a tattered dish towel and reached out to pull me to her.<\/p>\n \u201cNothing.\u00a0 Dad took me to Bill\u2019s Joint on McCarthy Road, and I waited in the car until he ran out. Then we went to Mobley\u2019s for this.\u201d\u00a0 I held out the box and continued munching on a handful of Cracker Jacks.<\/p>\n \u201cBills what? WHAT?\u00a0 BILL’S JOINT?!\u201d\u00a0 Her eyes bulged and she leaped out of her chair.\u00a0 \u201cBOB!!\u201d\u00a0 She lurched out of her chair and literally flew out of the kitchen.\u00a0 I heard the screen door bang open and heard her saying some really angry and loud words. I couldn\u2019t make them out, but really didn\u2019t care too much since they weren\u2019t directed at me.<\/p>\n Admiring how cool the purple plastic decoder ring looked on my hand I wondered briefly what had upset her so much.\u00a0\u00a0<\/em>Heck<\/em>, I thought,\u00a0<\/em>I hadn\u2019t even had a chance to tell her about the loud booms and about how fast daddy came running out of the place afterwards. \u00a0Oh, and his hat! \u00a0I should tell her that he lost his hat. \u00a0I’ll tell her that when she comes back in.<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0Tipping my head back and letting the last few kernels of sweet popcorn and peanuts roll into my mouth I thought,\u00a0But<\/em>\u00a0I\u2019ll just wait for her to cool off a little before I tell her anything else<\/em>.<\/p>\n Enlightenment<\/strong><\/p>\n In November of 1962, I was home on leave, having driven from my Air Force assignment in Winnemucca, Nevada.\u00a0 It was a typical Houston winter day, mid 40\u2019s with a stiff wind out of the north and a light chilly drizzle that swirled about coating and soaking everything with its shiny wetness.\u00a0 Before leaving Nevada I had bought a decades old Chevrolet Bel-Air for the long trip back to Houston, and within thirty miles from reaching home, and late at night, the engine had died due to a clogged fuel pump.\u00a0 A passing tow truck driver took pity on me and towed the car free of charge, dropping me off at my parents\u2019 house well after midnight.<\/p>\n The next day I was up early and asked my mother if I could borrow their car to go to find an auto supply store to purchase a new fuel pump.\u00a0 Returning later in the morning I found both my folks at home and sitting at the kitchen table.\u00a0 By then my dad had been \u00a0retired from Younger Brothers for a few years, and was now heavily involved in the Pentecostal Church, mostly as a traveling lay minister.\u00a0 They had moved from the old house on House Street, (now renamed Kashmere Street), and were living in a small rental that the church leadership had provided in exchange for his ministry.\u00a0 It was old, and not much larger than the old house, but it was conveniently close to the church where he preached regularly.<\/p>\n Having a cup of coffee and reading the paper, my father asked, \u201cSo, did you find the fuel pump at the parts house OK?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, now I just need to find the energy to get off my butt and brave this crap weather to change it out.\u00a0 You know, I just don\u2019t understand.\u00a0 I\u2019m stationed in Nevada, and the temperature there can be twenty degrees, and I still find it possible to work outside in shirtsleeves.\u00a0 Here it\u2019s forty degrees and I start shivering within five minutes of going outside.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEs la humedad, mijo.\u201d\u00a0 (It\u2019s the humidity.)\u00a0 He said turning to the sports page.\u00a0 \u201cYou\u2019re just not used to it anymore.\u00a0 Here, sit down and let me finish my coffee, then we\u2019ll go out together and get that thing changed out in no time.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOK, thanks.\u201d\u00a0 I sat down at the table.<\/p>\n \u201cOh,\u201d he quickly said.\u00a0 \u201cHow much was the fuel pump?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTwelve dollars and some change, why?\u201d<\/p>\n He reached into his pocket and pulled out a hundred dollar bill.\u00a0 \u201cHere, some gas money for when the car\u2019s fixed.\u00a0 You still gotta drive it back, right?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDad.\u00a0 I don\u2019t need any money.\u00a0 I drew an advance on my check before I left so I should have enough to last me for the trip back.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNonsense!\u201d\u00a0 He said.\u00a0 \u201cTake this, put it in your pocket and use it for traveling money back.\u00a0 You never know what can go wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n Then my mother chimed in.\u00a0 \u201cSi mijo, take the money.\u00a0 We don\u2019t spend too much nowadays.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo!\u201d\u00a0 I insisted.\u00a0 \u201cYou both need the money more than I do.\u00a0 I\u2019m not going to take it.\u201d<\/p>\n Putting the bill back into his pocket, he said with a little disappointment in his voice, \u201cSuit yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou want some coffee, mijo?\u201d\u00a0 My mother asked, as she cleaned around the small gas stove.<\/p>\n \u201cNo thanks Mom.\u00a0 I know what real coffee tastes like now.\u00a0 I really can\u2019t believe you still just boil the grounds in a pan.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, mister delicate!\u201d\u00a0 She chided.\u00a0 \u201cYour dad\u2019s been drinking it like that all his life and he\u2019s still alive.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, I know\u201d I said.\u00a0 \u201cAnd I still don\u2019t know how he doesn\u2019t choke on the grounds.\u201d<\/p>\n Sucking down the last of his coffee and smacking his lips as he put the cup down.\u00a0 \u201cYou just gotta know what you\u2019re doing.\u00a0 Your mom\u2019s coffee is not for amateurs.\u201d\u00a0 He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows, Groucho style.<\/p>\n I threw on a coat and we went out into the light drizzle.\u00a0 After a few minutes of tinkering with the fuel hose and loosening the retaining bolts I said, \u201cDad, can I ask you something about something that happened when I was a kid?\u201d<\/p>\n Peering into the dark engine housing through his worn and slightly bent turtle shell glasses he said, \u201cSure, and I\u2019ll answer truthfully as long as the statute of limitations on the subject has expired.\u201d\u00a0 Looking over the top of the scratched up lenses he winked.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, I don\u2019t know, maybe not.\u201d\u00a0 I said cautiously.<\/p>\n \u201cShoot then.\u201d\u00a0 He quipped.<\/p>\n \u201cOK, when I was little\u2014I don\u2019t know, maybe seven or eight\u2026before my brother was born, for sure\u2026one day you took me with you to some bar over on McCarthy Road because mom made you take me.\u00a0 Remember?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSure I remember.\u00a0 I\u2019m old, not senile. That, good buddy, would be your mom.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSeriously, dad.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOK, yeah, I remember.\u00a0 Bill\u2019s Joint.\u201d\u00a0 He added, as he pushed up his glasses.\u00a0 And you spilled the beans when we got home.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cRight!\u201d\u00a0 I looked up to see him shaking his head.\u00a0 \u201cYeah, sorry about that, but I remember you went in and were there for a while\u2014then some guy pulled up in a car next to ours and took a rifle out of his trunk.\u201d<\/p>\n He pushed himself out from under the hood and took off his glasses. \u201cShotgun.\u00a0 It was a shotgun. \u00a0You saw it, huh?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYup.\u00a0 I remember thinking how big and black that thing looked as he walked between the cars then went into the bar.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHmm, I guess I should\u2019ve asked you if you saw anything when I came out.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, as I recall, you were in a bit of a hurry.\u00a0 Anyway, as he was going in the door I heard the jukebox playing what I now know was a Hank Williams song, and then I heard a lot of loud booms.\u00a0 I assume now that he shot up the place.\u00a0 Right?\u201d<\/p>\n He looked around as if there may be someone hiding in the bushes with a recording device.\u00a0 \u201cOK look, I caught hell from your mom that day because you told her where I took you.\u00a0 But if she\u2019d ever found out what really happened that day in that bar she would\u2019ve left me for sure.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, I remember she was really pissed anyway.\u00a0 Okay, so what happened?\u00a0 I assume it wasn\u2019t good.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOK, but you have to promise me, man to man, that you\u2019ll never breathe a word of this as long as I\u2019m still alive.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDad,\u201d I reached over to pat him on the shoulder, \u201cI know a lot of stuff that I saw when I was growing up that I\u2019ve never told anyone.\u00a0 So I\u2019m not about to start now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHmmm,\u201d he mused.\u00a0 \u201cWe\u2019ll have to discuss that subject at length one of these days.\u00a0 But anyway, I went in to Bill\u2019s to have a beer, but mainly I was there to try to collect on a gambling debt that Bill\u2014that\u2019s the owner\u2014owed me.\u00a0 He was behind the bar when I walked in.\u201d<\/p>\n He paused to clean his glasses on his shirttail and held them out to make sure they were clean. \u201cWhen I sat down on a stool,\u201d he continued, \u201cI noticed there were two other guys sitting a couple of bar stools away on either side of me, nursing their beers.\u00a0 Call it a sixth sense, but as soon as I took my seat and looked around I got a case of the heebie-jeebies\u2014you know?\u201d\u00a0 He perched his glasses back on his nose and rested his right foot up on the front bumper.\u00a0 Crossing his arms over his knee, he leaned forward and focused his eyes somewhere very far away.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t think you remember, but the place was tiny; really just a rectangular wood frame building, the long side running left to right. \u00a0I think had been someone\u2019s house a long time before.\u201d<\/p>\n He paused, his face passive and his eyes narrowing and searching for that long forgotten visual memory.\u00a0 \u201cAnyway, Bill had gutted the place and built the bar so that when you sat on the stools your back was to the double doors, and the little windows that were on either side.\u00a0 You know that I have never liked to sit anywhere with my back to the door.\u201d\u00a0 He shook his head negatively and rubbed his neck, slowly.\u00a0 \u201cBut, there I was.\u201d<\/p>\n He shot a nervous glance toward the house, and then continued.\u00a0 \u201cSo Bill and I were chatting about how he was on a bad luck run, losing a couple of hundred dollars in just over a week when the door behind me suddenly opened.\u201d\u00a0 He started to get really nervous now; taking off his glasses again and cleaning them on his shirt-tail, and putting them back on repeatedly.<\/p>\n He continued, \u201cBill glanced up and I looked over my right shoulder.\u00a0 All I saw was the shotgun that this guy was bringing it up to his shoulder.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShit.\u201d I said without thinking.<\/p>\n “Now if you were to ask me what this guy looked like, I could never tell you.\u00a0 I never saw his face.\u00a0 But I could sure tell you volumes about that gun.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe didn\u2019t point it at you, did he?\u201d\u00a0 I asked.<\/p>\n \u201cHa, I didn\u2019t wait long enough to find out.\u00a0 Without even thinking, and with all my strength I grabbed the backside of the bar and pulled myself up and dove head first over the bar\u2026right into Bill\u2019s stomach.\u00a0 I guess he must\u2019ve be frozen because apparently he hadn\u2019t moved an inch.\u00a0 I hit him square in the gut, wrapped both my arms around him, and we both went down like sacks of potatoes onto the floor behind the bar.\u00a0 He rolled over on top of me and that\u2019s when I felt\u2014didn\u2019t really hear\u2014the first two volleys.\u00a0 I remember looking up and seeing a sheet of red spray raining down, mostly on Bill.<\/p>\n \u201cGod Dad, the guy shooting never said anything?\u201d\u00a0 I asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t think so, but I couldn\u2019t hear so good then because the first volley blew my hearing out a bit.\u00a0 I started crawling away from where I thought the guy was when I noticed that Bill was crawling the other way.\u00a0 Then I heard the next two shots.\u00a0 In my mind I remember thinking how funny they sounded: like loud metallic clangs\u2014not booms at all.\u00a0 I guess it was because we were inside a building and not outside where the sound could quickly dissipate.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWas the guy shooting at Bill?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s what I thought, but apparently having taken out the first guy, he\u2019d quickly jammed two more cartridges and leveled on the second guy at the bar.\u00a0 That guy was probably scared shitless, oh, sorry; anyway, he didn\u2019t think to jump or run.\u00a0 He just sat there, frozen.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cChrist!\u201d\u00a0 I\u2019d forgotten how unpleasant the cold drizzle was.<\/p>\n \u201cBy then,\u201d he continued, \u201cI was crab crawling as fast as I could to try to get behind a beer cooler near what should\u2019ve been a back door.\u00a0 Well, there was a door but it was blocked with four beer kegs, stacked two by two.<\/p>\n \u201cSo,\u201d he continued. \u201cMaking myself as small as possible I squeezed down between the kegs and the cooler and finally took a chance to peek out to see where the shooter was.\u00a0 That\u2019s when I saw Bill at the far end of the bar starting to stand up with a pistol in his hand.\u00a0 He must\u2019ve had it stashed somewhere behind the bar and waited \u2018till the guy blew off the second two rounds.\u00a0 Almost dreamlike, I saw flame come out of the barrel and saw the recoil.\u00a0 I don\u2019t recall hearing the gun go off.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid he hit the guy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPut four rounds square in his face while he was trying to reload.\u00a0 I felt the floor vibrate under me when the guy hit the floor.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid Bill tell you to get out at that point?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, if he did I couldn\u2019t hear him anyway.\u00a0 No, I scooted around the end of the bar and tried to look out to find the shooter.\u00a0 Then I saw him. He was on the floor, on his back with one leg under him, still holding the shotgun in one hand.\u00a0 Half his forehead was split open and one of his eyeballs was hanging down by his cheek.\u00a0 A geyser of blood was slowly pumping out of where his forehead used to be, and he was twitching a bit.<\/p>\n \u201cI couldn\u2019t believe the bastard was still holding the shotgun, broken open, and there were two live cartridges rolling on the floor.\u00a0 He was planning to jam those into the breach and keep shooting.\u00a0 Jesus, smoke was still curling out of the damn barrels.\u00a0 That\u2019s when I got up on all fours and baby crawled as fast as I could to the door.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat about the two other guys?\u00a0 Where were they?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t know, and at that time I didn\u2019t care.\u00a0 I got up and ran through the doors as fast as I could.\u00a0 Took the screens right off their hinges as I went out, and got into the car as fast as I could.\u00a0 I just wanted out of there.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDo you remember what you told me when you got into the car?\u201d\u00a0 I asked, curious.<\/p>\n \u201cYou know, I don\u2019t remember very much until we got to Mobley\u2019s Drug Store.\u00a0 I don\u2019t know why we were there, to tell you the truth.\u00a0 But I remember you wanted some popcorn or something.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCracker Jacks.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI wanted Cracker Jacks\u2026and a Coke, so I asked you to take me to Mobley\u2019s Drug store.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOK.\u201d\u00a0 He was sweating a little bit now, or maybe it was just the drizzle.<\/p>\n \u201cJesus Dad, did the cops ever call to question you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBill never admitted to anyone else being in the bar.\u00a0 For sure, aside from Bill, there were no witnesses left.\u00a0 The crap part was that he never paid me my money, but I sure as hell wasn\u2019t about to go back and ask him for it either.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid Bill get in trouble with the law?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, he was no-billed by the Grand Jury a couple of months later and the case was closed.\u00a0 It was a clear case of self-defense.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat about the shooter?\u00a0 Why did he go in like that?\u201d\u00a0 That was the question that I really wanted to have an answer to.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, I really never found out for sure, but the talk around town was that one of the guys he gunned down had been messing with his wife.\u00a0 I found out later that he’d killed her first at their house before he drove out to the bar.\u00a0 Guess he knew where his wife\u2019s boyfriend did his drinking. \u00a0Then after having done him, I guess he decided he couldn\u2019t leave any witnesses.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHoly crap!\u201d\u00a0 I exclaimed.\u00a0 \u201cThis sounds like a movie.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, I thought that maybe I should stay close to home a bit more after that, but that didn\u2019t last too long.\u00a0 I went back to drinking a couple of weeks later.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHave you seen Bill since then?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, about a year after the shooting he sold the bar and we lost touch.\u00a0 Then I heard he died of cancer\u00a0a couple of years later.\u00a0 He was only forty-eight.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, that was a hell of an experience.\u201d\u00a0 I said, quite amazed.<\/p>\n He ran his hand through his thinning hair, took a deep breath, and said, \u201cYeah, so just remember, don\u2019t ever sit anywhere with your back to the door.<\/p>\n \u201cHey, this fuel pump ain\u2019t getting fixed by itself!\u201d\u00a0 Rubbing his hands together vigorously he said, \u201cLet\u2019s finish up, I\u2019m getting cold.\u201d<\/p>\n Funny, I had forgotten all about the weather.<\/p>\n Call me crazy, or call me superstitious; but to this day I never sit with my back to any door, anywhere. \u00a0Not if I can help it.\u00a0 Ask anyone.<\/p>\n ***<\/p>\n There are two major things that make these previous recollections so extraordinary.\u00a0 One, is that before I left home for the Air Force, my dad and I never had much of a speaking relationship.\u00a0 Early on, most of the time he was either off working, out with his buddies drinking, and later on fraternizing with the church brothers and other reverends.\u00a0 Whenever he was at home I remember him mostly sitting at the table drinking coffee (or buttermilk if he was nursing a hangover) and reading a newspaper.\u00a0 Our usual communication would pretty much go like this:<\/p>\n Me:\u00a0 \u201cHey dad, what\u2019cha doing?\u201d<\/p>\n Him: \u201cReading the paper, why?\u201d\u00a0 (Eyes still glued to the paper)<\/p>\n Me:\u00a0 \u201cOh, nothing.\u00a0 What\u2019cha gonna do today?\u201d<\/p>\n Him:\u00a0 \u201cI don\u2019t know.\u00a0 Go bother your mother, or go outside and play.\u201d<\/p>\n And off I\u2019d go.<\/p>\n Even right up to the day before I left for the Air Force in 1960, and after asking my mom to leave the room, he asked me to sit with him because he said he needed to tell me something very important.<\/p>\n \u201cYou know,\u201d he started, tentatively, \u201cyou\u2019ll be meeting women now that you\u2019re going off on your own.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo, you\u2019ll have to be careful\u2026you know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAbout what?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWomen!\u201d He started to tense up and I noticed a small tic working his upper lip.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat about them will I have to be careful of?\u201d\u00a0 I asked curiously.<\/p>\n \u201cYou know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo\u2026I don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSome of them are dirty.\u201d\u00a0 He quickly spit out.<\/p>\n \u201cUh, dirty, like what?\u00a0 Like some of them don\u2019t take baths?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo Pancho!\u00a0 You know\u2026down there.\u201d\u00a0 He nodded his head slightly downward.<\/p>\n I looked at the floor, then looked up at him.\u00a0 \u201cTheir feet?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLook Frank,\u201d he said, a bit exasperated.\u00a0 \u201cSome women carry sicknesses down there between their legs\u2026so you have to be careful\u2014that\u2019s all.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat kind of sicknesses?\u201d\u00a0 This was starting to be fun.<\/p>\n \u201cClap!\u201d\u00a0 He blurted out.\u00a0 \u201cAnd\u2026and\u2026bugs, like fleas, but worse.\u201d<\/p>\n He was getting real pale now and was doing his best to avert my gaze.<\/p>\n “Crap?” I asked.<\/p>\n “Jesus.” \u00a0He mumbled, staring at the floor.<\/p>\n \u201cLook dad,\u201d I finally said.\u00a0 \u201cGonorrhea, syphilis, and crabs.\u00a0 Does that about cover it?\u201d<\/p>\n He slowly looked up at me and stared for a bit; nervously pursing and licking his lips, finally saying, \u201cOK, so I want you to be careful and go out with women that are clean\u2014OK?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSure dad.\u00a0 I\u2019ll be sure to check them out before I take them out. We done?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYup!\u201d\u00a0 This as he was anxiously getting up from the chair and escaping out the back door presumably to go tinker with the car.<\/p>\n The second extraordinary thing was his offering me money.\u00a0 In all my life, previous to my leaving home that is, my father had never, ever, offered me, or my mother, any money\u2014for anything!\u00a0 No money on birthdays, none (of course) for my high school graduation, and certainly none for any kind of allowance. Even when he was making good money prior to going to work for Younger Brothers, he\u2019d stop by the house on payday (usually Friday) and give my mother a twenty dollar bill.\u00a0 \u201cThis is for groceries.\u201d\u00a0 He\u2019d say, as he was walking back out the door and to his car not to be seen again until maybe Sunday.\u00a0 By then he was broke.<\/p>\n A Discovery and the Brothers<\/strong><\/p>\n The Sunday night service we attended that evening didn\u2019t end until well after ten o\u2019clock.\u00a0 My brother had fallen asleep halfway into the service and when the final hymn and dismissal prayer had concluded he lay sprawled face down on the pew, mouth open, a small puddle of spittle slowing pooling where the back rest and seat met.<\/p>\n As I got up, slowly flexing my stiff back muscles and lightly stamping the prickly pins out of my numb right foot, I saw that Reverend Villa had left the stage and was making his way towards us\u2014glad handing and smiling broadly at some of the members who had migrated up to the pulpit area.\u00a0 He raised his left hand in our direction while seemingly ignoring Sister S\u00e1nchez as she hurried up to him, her pudgy little hand extended\u2014probably hoping for a warm handshake and a willing ear.\u00a0 Brushing quickly past her and still waving his arm and hand directly at my dad he yelled, \u201c\u00a1Se\u00f1or De Le\u00f3n!\u00a0 Un momento por favor.\u201d\u00a0 He slowed his pace as he caught my dad\u2019s eye.<\/p>\n Acknowledging the reverend\u2019s calls my dad looked over to my mom. \u201cEvelyn, get Ricky up and wait for me outside.\u00a0 The reverend wants to talk to me.\u201d\u00a0 He then moved down the pew toward the right side exit next to the wall.<\/p>\n Before my mom could respond, Mrs. Villa, who had been chatting with a couple of sisters on the pew in front of us, turned and said, \u201cSe\u00f1ora De Le\u00f3n, I\u2019ll help you with the boy.\u00a0 Just let me come around.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPancho, ay\u00fadame con tu hermano.\u201d\u00a0 (\u2026help me with your brother)\u00a0 Mom asked as she tried to pick him up off the pew.\u00a0 Mrs. Villa made it around the pew and grabbed my brother\u2019s legs as my mom wrestled with his head and upper body.<\/p>\n \u201c\u00a1Aye, que pesado es este ni\u00f1o!\u201d\u00a0 (\u2026this kid is heavy!)\u00a0 Mrs. Villa exclaimed.<\/p>\n \u201cS\u00ed, ya se.\u201d (Yes, I know.) My mom responded.\u00a0 \u201cEs muy comel\u00f3n.\u201d (He\u2019s quite the eater.)<\/p>\n Together, they managed to push my brother\u2019s chubby limp body up to where my mom could cradle his bottom with one arm while his head lolled over her shoulder.\u00a0 As she made her way to the side exit door I saw that my brother, mouth open and head bouncing with my mom\u2019s every step, had resumed his spittle production and a bit of it was running down\u00a0the back of her dress.<\/p>\n Following at a safe distance I paused just before I got to the door and looked to my left where the musicians were busily packing up their instruments.\u00a0 Joni was standing there, one knee on the piano bench, talking to a guy whom I\u2019d never seen before.\u00a0 He was tall, sported a dark complexion and wore his hair in a greasy Elvis-style pompadour. \u00a0For just a moment they both stopped talking and shot a glance over in my direction.\u00a0 I thought about waving to her, but then thought better of it since the guy might think it was him that I was waving to.\u00a0 Before I had a chance to finish the thought they both turned away continuing their conversation.\u00a0 Watching for a few more seconds I saw that she was very relaxed and was smiling widely and nodding enthusiastically at whatever he was saying.\u00a0 Feeling a bit dejected I turned away and walked out into the dark parking lot breaking into a little sprint to catch up with my mom and brother.<\/p>\n After Mrs. Villa and my mom shoved Ricky into the back seat of the car, my mother opened the trunk, pulled out an old thin flannel blanket, and covered my brother from head to toe.<\/p>\n \u201cPara los mosquitos\u201d.\u00a0 She quietly explained to no one in particular.<\/p>\n After quietly closing the door and looking in the window to make sure my brother was still sound asleep, my mother asked Mrs. Villa, \u201c\u00bfBueno, y entonces a donde vamos?\u201d\u00a0 (OK, where to now?)<\/p>\n \u201cVamos al comedor.\u201d\u00a0 Mrs. Villa instructed. \u201cAll\u00ed podemos platicar acerca de la Sociedad de Hermanas en nuestra iglesia.\u201d\u00a0 (Let\u2019s go into the dining room.\u00a0 We can talk there about the Sisterhood in our church.)<\/p>\n I wasn\u2019t sure I\u2019d heard her correctly when she mentioned a \u201cdining room\u201d.\u00a0 We were outside in the parking lot, and as far as I could remember the Villa house was not anywhere within walking distance.<\/p>\n \u201c\u00bfEl comedor?\u201d\u00a0 My mom asked, with a puzzled look on her face.<\/p>\n \u201cSi.\u00a0 All\u00e1 est\u00e1 al otro lado de la iglesia.\u201d (Yes, it\u2019s on the other side of the church.)\u00a0 Mrs. Villa said as she began to walk behind the church.<\/p>\n Rounding the back side of the church I saw that there was actually a small square wooden building that was hidden away from the street and parking lot view.\u00a0 It was dimly illuminated by a couple of light bulbs hanging from metal fixtures guarding both sides of a small screen door.\u00a0 Through the brightly lit windows I could see several people inside milling about and talking loudly amid the sharp din of clanging tin spoons and the rattling of cups and saucers.<\/p>\n I followed as the two women climbed the sagging wooden steps, and once inside I was overwhelmed with the pungent aroma of brewing coffee and the sweet smell of warm bread.\u00a0 I recognized a few of the church members I\u2019d seen in church, and couldn\u2019t help but notice the large old man who played the bajo sexto\u2014smooth brown skinned bald head shining brightly\u2014leaning on a small counter where a large commercial sized coffee pot bubbled noisily away.\u00a0 Next to his elbow I spotted a nice variety of pastries that sent my saliva glands into rapid overdrive.<\/p>\n There were probably a dozen, or so, people there, standing around in small groups balancing coffee cups, saucers, and morsels of sweet Mexican pastry, while merrily conversing and laughing raucously.\u00a0 Once Mrs. Villa was spotted, the conversations quickly died away and all eyes turned to acknowledge her presence.<\/p>\n Sporadically, \u201cBuenas noches, hermana\u201d, \u201cHola Se\u00f1ora Villa\u201d, \u201cDios la bendiga, Hermana\u201d, rang through the small room.<\/p>\n \u201c\u00a1Hermanos!\u201d Mrs. Villa said\u2014raising her voice slightly to attract the attention of those few who had missed her entrance and had continued their conversations.\u00a0 Clearing her throat, she announced, \u201cYa conocen a la Se\u00f1ora De Le\u00f3n y su hijo, Frankie.\u201d\u00a0 (You all already know Mrs. De Le\u00f3n and her son, Frankie), magnanimously delivered with a sweep of her arm. \u00a0\u201cY, por favor, contin\u00faen con sus refrescos y postres.\u201d (And, please, continue with your refreshments and pastries.)<\/p>\n Turning around she put her arm on my shoulder and said, \u201cGo!\u00a0 If you want some coffee, the cups are over there and the pastries are on the counter.\u00a0 One of our members works in a Mexican panaderia (bakery) and he\u2026well, he brings us what they don\u2019t sell.\u201d<\/p>\n I didn\u2019t need a second invitation so I made a charge towards the sweets.\u00a0 Working my way around the large bass playing brother I grabbed a yummy looking pan de huevo (egg bread: fluffy soft and sweet), and looked to find a cup.<\/p>\n \u201c\u00bfTe llamas Panchito, eh?\u201d (Your name is Frankie, eh?) The bass player asked, rubbing his head.<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u00a0 Donde est\u00e1n las copas?\u201d\u00a0 (Where are the cups?)<\/p>\n \u201cAqu\u00ed, mijo.\u201d\u00a0 He pointed to a shelf beneath the counter on which the large coffee maker and pastries were sitting.<\/p>\n After pouring myself about a half a cup of coffee and adding plenty of cream to help wash the sweet bread down, I looked around the \u201ccomedor\u201d and wondered how I\u2019d never seen it before.\u00a0 Stepping out to escape the stuffiness of the small building, I saw that at night if the lights were off, the building\u2014tucked away in a corner of the lot behind the church\u2014would be almost invisible.<\/p>\n When I had attended daytime services I hadn\u2019t seen it because there was never a need to go exploring behind the church.\u00a0 I would later learn that el comedor was where several of the more senior sisters of the church (the best cooks, no doubt) would spend most of the day preparing and serving breakfast, lunch, and dinner to the members and guests attending church conferences (always scheduled on Saturday); and cooking and serving the membership and guests attending evangelical revivals.<\/p>\n Seeing that my mom was surrounded by several other sisters, seemingly talking to her all at the same time, I decided to step out into the cooler night air.\u00a0 Nursing my coffee I walked slowly back to my car and peeked into the car through the passenger side window to check on Ricky.\u00a0 He was still under the blanket sound asleep.<\/p>\n As I turned around to make my way back to the dining room I was startled to see that Joni\u2019s two brothers were standing quietly, arms crossed, staring directly at my face.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, hi!\u201d\u00a0 I said, maybe a little too loud.<\/p>\n \u201cHey.\u201d The bigger and older of the two responded.\u00a0 \u201cWhat\u2019s your name?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cUh, Frankie\u2026Frank.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh yeah,\u201d the big one said to the smaller one.\u00a0 \u201c\u2026he\u2019s the new kid\u2026De Le\u00f3n, right?\u201d Turning back to face me.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, that\u2019s right.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWord of advice.\u201d\u00a0 Big boy sneered.\u00a0 \u201cOur sister is not interested in you.\u00a0 So back off, ese.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah,\u201d said the little one.\u00a0 \u201cNot at all.\u00a0 She likes Gilbert.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c\u00a1C\u00e1llate pendejo!\u201d\u00a0 (Shut up, stupid!)\u00a0 The big one spit out, glaring at his brother. \u201cHe don\u2019t need to know our business, or hers.\u201d\u00a0 The younger one looked down at his shoes.<\/p>\n \u201cI..ah..I\u2019m not interested in your sister\u2014not in that way, I mean.\u201d\u00a0 I lied.\u00a0 \u201cI just thought we could be friends.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe doesn\u2019t have friends, ese\u2026not boyfriends.\u00a0 Not like you.\u00a0 Get it?\u201d\u00a0 The big guy whispered loudly, as he took a step closer.<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s fine.\u201d\u00a0 I managed to wheeze out.\u00a0 \u201cNo problem.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo long as you understand.\u201d\u00a0 The smaller one added.<\/p>\n \u201cSee,\u201d his brother continued, \u201cshe\u2019s never going to end up with some mojado (wetback) who can\u2019t support her and ends up kicking her ass every weekend.\u00a0 Or some loser like some of the pendejos that go to this church.\u201d<\/p>\n Now, this was really going quite a bit further than I had imagined because I had never entertained the thought of dating anyone, much less marrying someone.\u00a0 And now I\u2019m being accused by a couple of red headed bullies of moving in on their sister.\u00a0 I was beginning to get a bit agitated about their attitude; to say nothing of the language the sons of the mighty Reverendo Villa were using.<\/p>\n Stupidity suddenly took over and I heard myself saying, \u201cLook guys, I\u2019m not looking to find a girlfriend or anything like that.\u00a0 I just liked your sister and talked to her because she seemed nice and she plays the piano really well.\u00a0 That\u2019s all.\u00a0 But truly, I don\u2019t need to hear this bullshit from either of you.\u00a0 And, especially you being reverend\u2019s sons.\u00a0 So, let\u2019s just drop this now.\u201d<\/p>\n The world turned very quiet, and got very small\u2014and I felt as if I had suddenly been thrust into a vacuum.\u00a0 Time stopped, and I marveled at my foolhardiness.\u00a0\u00a0Where in the hell had all those words just come from?\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n Just then\u2026<\/p>\n \u201cOye.\u201d\u00a0 (Listen.) The big one said to the smaller one; his voice reaching my ears like an echo.\u00a0 \u201cHe\u2019s Robert\u2019s fucking little friend.\u201d<\/p>\n The world reappeared.<\/p>\n Instead of a right hook to the face or a kick to the groin, the brothers simultaneously put their hands out for a shake.\u00a0 \u201cTienes cojones, vato.\u201d\u00a0 (You got balls, dude.)\u00a0 Said the big one.\u00a0 \u201cWe were just fucking with you, ese.\u201d\u00a0 \u201c\u00bfVerdad?\u201d\u00a0 He affirmed with his brother.<\/p>\n We shook all around.<\/p>\n \u201cPeter!\u201d\u00a0 Said the older brother.<\/p>\n \u201cEddie!\u201d Said the younger one.<\/p>\n \u201cFrank!\u201d I announced boldly, while shaking their hands.<\/p>\n \u201cHey, ese!\u00a0 I like this little fucker.\u201d\u00a0 Eddie said, looking up at Peter.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah.\u201d Peter said, nodding his head and stretching the word out. \u201cBut we\u2019re not fucking kidding about Joni.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t worry, I\u2019m not interested.\u201d\u00a0 With that I decided that I had skated on thin ice long enough and pushed between them heading back to the dining room.\u00a0 Looking up I saw my mother coming out, accompanied by Mrs. Villa and a couple of other sisters.\u00a0 Looking to my left I spotted my dad stepping out the church\u2019s side door while Reverend Villa held the screen door open.\u00a0 I veered over towards my dad and the reverend.<\/p>\n \u201cHey boy!\u201d\u00a0 My dad shouted cheerfully.\u00a0 \u201cReady to go home?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYup.\u201d\u00a0 I answered, wondering why he was in such a good mood.<\/p>\n \u201cWhere\u2019s your mom?\u201d<\/p>\n Pointing in the direction of the dining room I said, \u201cOver there.\u00a0 She\u2019s with Mrs. Villa.\u201d<\/p>\n Closing the screen door behind him, Reverend Villa said, \u201cAll\u00e1 est\u00e1 el comedor, hermano; como le dije.\u201d\u00a0 (The dining room is over there, brother; just as I said.)\u00a0 As he tapped my dad\u2019s shoulder while pointing the small rectangular building out.<\/p>\n \u201cOh yeah, you know I could sure use some coffee.\u201d\u00a0 My dad said as the reverend came around to my dad\u2019s side.\u00a0 \u201cThen we gotta go\u2026Frank has some homework he needs to finish tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo te preocupes, hermano.\u201d\u00a0 (Don\u2019t worry, brother.)\u00a0 The reverend said.\u00a0 Then in a loud voice directed to his wife, \u201c\u00a1Querida!\u00a0 Tr\u00e1ele una copa de papel con un cafecito para que el hermano se lo lleve a la casa.\u201d\u00a0 (Sweetheart! \u00a0Bring some coffee in a paper cup so brother can take it home.)<\/p>\n Mrs. Villa waved and turned back toward the dining room.\u00a0 My mom, still escorted by the other two sisters, continued to head to our car.<\/p>\n I stopped to see if Peter and Eddie were still standing by our car, but saw that they\u2019d walked away and were now standing behind their new Buick.\u00a0\u00a0Well<\/em>, I thought.\u00a0 I didn\u2019t feel like introducing them to my parents anyway.\u00a0 I don\u2019t particularly like them.<\/em><\/p>\n On the trip home I was a bit mystified by the good mood that both my parents were in.\u00a0 My dad was whistling a catchy tune and my mom was trying to hum along with the melody\u2014badly.\u00a0 It took me a while, but shortly before pulling into our yard I realized that they had been intoning one of the cheery little \u201ccoritos\u201d that Joni occasionally launched into to keep the congregation\u2019s spirits high.<\/p>\n ***<\/p>\n My mother was the first to surrender to the Pentecostal religion.\u00a0 That event occurred after a particularly fiery sermon had been delivered during a Thursday night service by a visiting, and very charismatic, female preacher.\u00a0 The following morning, as I was getting ready for school, I heard her praying in a shaky teary voice, begging God and all His angels to help her by somehow also bringing her husband to Jesus.<\/p>\n Ever since that Sunday night service when they had gone off to speak in private, the Reverend Villa had been working hard on my father.\u00a0 And whenever my father failed to attend any service we could surely count on the little caravan of Villa\u2019s disciples faithfully paying us a home visit the very next day; most of the time led by the man himself. \u00a0I began to sense a change in my father and his well-known habits. \u00a0He’d suspended his usual Friday night forays, instead packing us up and dragging us to church. \u00a0On Saturdays, instead of butter-milking away a dreadful hangover he worked on our car or sat on the porch leafing through a bible that he’d somehow mysteriously acquired. \u00a0Sundays? \u00a0Well, you know where we spent most of the day. \u00a0The magic that Reverend Villa and his minions were working on my dad finally took hold.<\/p>\n One Sunday evening about two months after my mother took the dive, my father, deep in the throes of religious fervor and crying like a baby, was all but carried to the altar by a group of brothers; and within the hour, surrounded by a sweaty and teary-eyed throng of the church\u2019s most devout members, confessed that he\u2019d been a terrible sinner and declared Jesus as his personal savior. \u00a0On his knees, tears flowing like water down his cheeks and body shaking uncontrollably, he sorrowfully traded in his wayward life for a shiny new calling.<\/p>\n Reverend Villa, seeing his efforts finally rewarded, lifted his sweat drenched head and bellowed to the very heavens:\u00a0 \u201c\u00a1Se\u00f1or!\u00a0 \u00a1Te amos entregado la alma de este pecador mundial, y Usted nos ha devuelto un soldado de Jesucristo!\u00a0 \u00a1Gloria a Dios! Y gracias por el sacrificio que Su Hijo nos ha dado! \u00a0Le has lavado los pecados con la sangre sagrada de Tu Hijo. \u00a0\u00a1Aleluia y aleluia!\u201d (Lord, we have delivered unto You the soul of an earthly sinner, and You have returned to us a soldier for Jesus Christ!\u00a0 Glory to God!\u00a0 And thank You for the sacrifice your Son has given for us! \u00a0You have washed away his sins with the sacred blood of your Son! )<\/p>\n Sitting uncomfortably on the hard pew with my sleeping brother\u2019s head in my lap, I watched as my mother went down on her knees crying and thanking God for the miracle she was seeing.\u00a0 I was nervous and confused, and as I watched my brother sleep peacefully, I wondered what all of this meant for me\u2014for us.<\/p>\n After having smoked two to three packs a day since he was a teen and drinking the equivalent of two fifths of hard whiskey just about every weekend for years, my father quit everything cold turkey overnight.\u00a0 To my knowledge he never did smoke another cigarette, and it was decades later that I actually saw him drink alcohol\u2014a margarita, while having lunch at a Mexican restaurant in Houston with me and a girlfriend in the early 1990\u2019s.<\/p>\n With both my parents now fully entrenched in the Pentecostal religion, and proselytizing to anyone who would listen (and even those who wouldn\u2019t) about their faith, I truly began to believe that our pitiful and poverty-stricken family life would now take a positive turn and come to be more peaceful, predictable, and most of all, financially stable.<\/p>\n I was sadly mistaken.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" From Sinners To Saints\u2026Part III \u00a0 A Hint of Things to Come \u00a0 After returning home from our having lunch at the Mexican restaurant I quickly changed clothes and went out into our little back yard to sit quietly on the steps leading out from the back door.\u00a0 I was trying to decide if I … Continue reading From Sinners To Saints…Part III<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-386","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-general"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/386","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=386"}],"version-history":[{"count":16,"href":"https:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/386\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":403,"href":"https:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/386\/revisions\/403"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=386"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=386"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=386"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}