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{"id":419,"date":"2014-11-10T08:12:42","date_gmt":"2014-11-10T14:12:42","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/?p=419"},"modified":"2014-11-11T08:58:34","modified_gmt":"2014-11-11T14:58:34","slug":"the-beginning-of-the-end","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/?p=419","title":{"rendered":"The Beginning Of The End"},"content":{"rendered":"The Beginning Of The End <\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n Holy Merry-Go-Round<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n When 1958 rolled around the DeLe\u00f3n family had become faithful and ever present members of the Nueva Jerusal\u00e9n Pentecostal church.\u00a0 We attended just about every service that was offered, in addition to traveling a couple to three times a month to churches that were members of our Council (Latin American Council of Christian Churches) in south and east Texas.\u00a0 Being groomed to someday become a licensed reverend, Villa put my father on a fast track, taking on the role of his personal envoy and being sent to represent him at church services in such exotic locales as Sugar Land, Rosenberg, Alvin, Alice, Edna, Galveston, and El Campo.<\/p>\n With a couple of exceptions, most of these churches were very small, having no more than twenty or thirty regular members, and they were located in mostly rural areas where the male and juvenile membership labored in the cotton fields, factories and cattle ranches.\u00a0 The wives, moms, and daughters took in washing, ironing, or worked as domestic help in homes belonging to well to do ranchers and local businessmen.<\/p>\n The pastors, for the most part either very old or very young\u2014and in either case not very well educated\u2014could not possibly support themselves or their families on the tithes of their membership, so they supplemented their pastoral salaries by holding down menial minimum wage Monday through Friday jobs, or selling fruits and vegetables grown in small plots on their church property.\u00a0 But in spite of their hand to mouth existence they, and their congregations, were all extremely gracious and unaffectedly sincere.\u00a0 There would always be a special dinner, usually prepared at several of the members\u2019 homes (due to the lack of a church kitchen) and served to us and the pastor prior to the beginning of the service; and the entire proceeds of the night\u2019s offering was always given to my father before we left.<\/p>\n For a while I was confused as to why the pastors and congregations treated us so well, but finally decided that it probably had to do with the pastors\u2019 fear that we were there to keep book on their church operation and would be reporting everything back to HQ.\u00a0 I later discovered that the reason these sorties were arranged by Villa were to provide my father with some face time with the outlanders.\u00a0 The more familiar he was with these country churches the easier it would be for him to transition from lowly church official to future reverend status.\u00a0 Plus, once ordained he would probably be assigned to one of these churches in order to begin his ministry, and thus his familiarity with the folks would ease his acceptance by the congregation.<\/p>\n After arriving at the church and prior to the beginning of the service my father would be introduced as an honored guest for that evening and offered seating on the stage or altar in a place usually reserved for the pastor.\u00a0 My mother and brother would be ushered to one of the front pews and I would be escorted up to where the pianist (if they had one) or other musicians were seated so I could join in with my guitar.\u00a0 This I didn\u2019t mind so much because sitting on the stage looking out to the congregation gave me a great vantage point to check out the local female talent.\u00a0 One very endearing and, in the end, heart rending romantic liaison resulted from these trips\u2014but more on that later.<\/p>\n These constant and never-ending excursions to the outlying churches, in addition to our nightly attendance at our own church, took up the majority of any free time I may have had after school and on weekends.\u00a0 Consequently, and in addition to putting me under heavy pressure to complete homework assignments and class projects, I was forbidden from participating in any type of social activity that normal teens my age were enjoying.\u00a0 Dating, attending school activities such as sporting events, dances (prohibited by our religion), hanging out with friends, or just laying around listening to rock and roll on the radio (also prohibited), were completely out of the question.\u00a0 The mere mention of my wanting to attend some other-than-church activity would guarantee a huge butt chewing by both of my parents\u2014and would always end with a sermon promising me that my sinful and worldly desires would result in my spending eternity in the pits of Hell in the company of Satan and his demons<\/p>\n Struggling to maintain my grades I was forced to complete my school work late at night in the dimly lit kitchen usually right after returning from church services; fighting sleep and fatigue while my parents and my brother were sound asleep in their beds.\u00a0 My memory of school days at Jefferson Davis High School are mostly a blur as I remember constantly falling asleep on the bus to and from school, and fighting to stay awake during class.\u00a0 It was not uncommon for me to ask my teachers for bathroom breaks then spending five or ten minutes with elbows on my knees, my hands supporting my head while at the same time trying not to slip off the pot while I caught a few winks.<\/p>\n At our church I was now considered a regular member of the band.\u00a0 Keeping my promise to Marcelo, I swallowed my pride during a couple of Sunday night services and performed by singing a hymn solo during the \u2018special hymns\u2019 section of the service while accompanying myself on the guitar.\u00a0 To my surprise Joni began to warm up to me again, although in a strictly platonic manner, and even her brothers, who by now had decided that I didn\u2019t pose a threat to their sister, began to seek me out before and after church to chat and joke around.<\/p>\n At the end of each service, and long after the congregation went home, my father and Reverend Villa would retire to one of the side offices while we just sat around in the dining room waiting.\u00a0 To pass the time during these long meetings, and since there was no one around, I would sneak back into the empty church and began to experiment with the piano.\u00a0 Transposing my knowledge of guitar chords to the piano keyboard I quickly discovered that I was able to put chords together with my right hand (majors, minors, 7ths and 9ths) while sounding out the bass equivalents with my left.\u00a0 It certainly wasn\u2019t actual piano playing\u2014that is, melody carried by the right hand and chord support with the left, but then again my audience was not that music savvy either.\u00a0 Further, the majority of our hymns, and all of the coritos, were in major keys and structured in easy three chord progressions.\u00a0 In the end my voice carried the melody and both of my hands banged out the supporting chords.<\/p>\n Continuing his quest for a coveted reverend-ship my father decided to give up his post as president of the Sociedad De Hermanos and run in a special election for church treasurer.\u00a0 The previous treasurer had resigned his position and suddenly moved to McAllen, Texas, to be with his family after being diagnosed with terminal cancer.\u00a0 My dad was a shoo-in and was elected unanimously with only a voice vote.\u00a0 Things were really looking up and it looked like all the stars were aligned for his eventual promotion to reverend.<\/p>\n Then the bottom fell out.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n That\u2019s All Folks<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n During an especially well attended Sunday night service there seemed to be an intensely pervading sense of anticipation among the church leadership.\u00a0 Earlier that day, during the morning\u2019s Sunday school class, the young brother teaching us about Solomon and the horrendous decision that God had forced him to make, seemed oddly distant and distracted\u2014repeatedly losing his train of thought and often giving rambling and disjointed answers to questions posed by his students.<\/p>\n The \u201cafter Sunday school lunch\u201d, which had become a regular event since moving into the new church, was particularly extravagant that day.\u00a0 The usual fare of bean tacos, spicy cheese enchiladas and crispy tostadas had instead been replaced by heaping platters of flour coated deep fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and several different choices of boiled green vegetables.\u00a0 Hot steaming stacks of freshly made soft flour tortillas were covered in white and blue-checkered cloth towels and were evenly spaced along the center of the picnic-style tables. For dessert, someone had even donated several fruit pies along with a couple of large bags of Mexican pastry.<\/p>\n Sitting with my family at one of the long wooden tables I noticed that my dad had barely touched his plate and seemed quietly pensive during the meal; his fingers absently caressing his shirt\u2019s breast pocket unsuccessfully searching for that non-existent pack of unfiltered Camels.\u00a0 Finally, looking quickly at his watch he gulped down his cup of black coffee and abruptly stood up.\u00a0 \u00a0Easing in behind my mother he bent down and whispered to her that he would be in a meeting with Reverend Villa and we should wait for him on the church steps.\u00a0 Before she could manage an answer he stepped away and hurriedly walked out of the dining room and back into the main auditorium.\u00a0 Never letting a food chance slip away, my brother carefully watched as my dad left, and then hastily reached across the table.\u00a0 He grabbed my father\u2019s still full plate with his left hand and placed it in front of him, while at the same time he pushed his own bone filled plate to where my dad\u2019s had been.\u00a0 I shot him a glance indicating my disgust, which he returned with a leering grease ringed smile.<\/p>\n The meeting lasted so long that when my father finally emerged he announced that we only had enough time to drive directly home, change clothes, and return to the church in time for the start of the evening service.\u00a0 On the trip back to the church Ricky kept asking my mother if we were going to have enough time for him to have dinner before the evening service started.\u00a0 He piped down when my mother assured him that once we got back to the church she\u2019d ask the cooking sisters to see if they could scrape up a leftover tortilla or two.<\/p>\n The service that evening, normally directed by one of the senior church members of our congregation, was instead officiated by a loyal member of Villa\u2019s inner circle, Reverend Juan Rocha, a pastor from one of our sister churches in Galveston, Texas. \u00a0Taking the pulpit as the pre-service music was finishing up he asked the congregation to stand and join him in prayer dedicating this service to the Lord.\u00a0 Just a few minutes into the prayer, and before anyone could really get too possessed by the Holy Spirit, he motioned to Joni to begin the next hymn.\u00a0 She turned to us, mouthing the title of a particularly solemn hymn, and softly sounded out the key in which it was to be played.<\/p>\n The first few chords of the hymn, accompanied by Joni\u2019s soft alto voice, had the desired effect on the crowd and their prayers and supplications slowly began to subside.\u00a0 Reverend Rocha began verbalizing \u2018amen y amen\u2019, one right after the other, further quieting the people down, and as the last \u2018gracias a Dios\u2019 was sounded he motioned everyone to take their seats.\u00a0 The odd beginning to the service, along with the abbreviated prayers, made the evening service seem more businesslike and less spiritual.<\/p>\n The reverend continued to direct the service in a strangely clipped and truncated manner until it was time for the offering to be collected.\u00a0 After a short prayer, dedicating the offering to God, he called on a couple of young female members of the J\u00f3venes De Cristo <\/em>[Youths for Christ] to come to the front and begin passing the baskets around.\u00a0 While this was going on Joni led us in a rousing \u201cnorte\u00f1o\u201d style hymn.\u00a0 This seemed to awaken and draw the congregation back into their normal spiritual rhythm, and for the first time that evening the tambourines came out in full force.\u00a0 It was during this hymn that I saw Reverend Villa slip quietly onto the altar area through one of the side doors and almost tip-toe across the stage; all the while singing along to the rousing hymn.\u00a0 He paused, smiled at Reverend Rocha and took his place in front of an empty chair next to my father.\u00a0 They shook hands and Reverend Villa patted him gently on the shoulder.<\/p>\n As the baskets, now filled with gleaming coins and crumpled bills, made their last pass through the congregation, Reverend Rocha signaled the hymn\u2019s end and waved everyone back down into their seats.\u00a0 Staring stoically into the crowd he patiently waited for the shuffling, coughing, and throat clearing to finally subside.<\/p>\n Holding tightly to each far upper corner of the pulpit he looked deeply into the congregation and began to speak softly.\u00a0 He started out by reminding everyone that the church we were now attending existed not only because of a lot of prayer and a lot of sacrifice, but also because of the guidance and vision that Reverend Villa had maintained during his tenure as pastor of the church.\u00a0 No one, including himself, had ever dreamed that they would ever be worshiping in such a grand place, and they had God first, then the good reverend to thank for this honor.<\/p>\n A loud chorus of holy affirmations came flooding up from the crowded auditorium as Reverend Rocha stepped away from the pulpit.\u00a0 Villa slowly stood up from his chair, and holding his ever-present white leather bible close to his chest, turned to the officials sitting to his left and smiled broadly.\u00a0 They all suddenly stood up and began to applaud.<\/p>\n Like a wave that began as a slow ripple, rolling rhythmically from the first row and growing until it reached the very last one, the entire congregation stood and joined in the applause.\u00a0 Unexpectedly feeling out of place sitting down, I saw Brother Cant\u00fa, then the trumpet boys, followed by the drummer and finally Joni, stand.\u00a0 Putting my guitar down I also stood up.\u00a0 The adulation went on for two or three long minutes until Villa, arms raised as in surrender,\u00a0slowly began to motion them all to sit back down.<\/p>\n Ten or fifteen seconds after the last of the congregation sat down Villa began to speak.\u00a0 A few words in, and large tears started rolling down his cheeks as the news that we all somehow knew was coming was revealed.\u00a0 He tearfully explained that he would soon be leaving our church to become the special assistant to the president of the Latin American Council of Christian Churches in Kingsville, Texas.\u00a0 I later found out that the president, a fellow named Francisco Guillen, already in his mid-eighties, was expected to retire (or die) soon, and that Villa, having been groomed for this position for years, would be in place as special assistant to eventually inherit the mantle of leadership.\u00a0 This was a move that had not been decided on in haste.<\/p>\n As Villa\u2019s words hit the audience most of the women in the audience gasped, some fell on their knees violently shaking their heads back and forth, and others just stared in frozen shock.\u00a0 Men gaped like zombies, and children, probably sensing the strange and uncomfortable atmosphere, scurried up onto shaking laps.\u00a0 Handkerchiefs flew out of pockets and purses, and a restrained and painful wailing began to emanate from the hall.<\/p>\n My father, shoulders drooping, head hanging down and supported by his right hand\u2019s thumb and forefinger had joined his chair-mates on the stage and was crying like a baby.\u00a0 I began to feel a bit uncomfortable watching him like that so I averted my gaze and settled in on Joni.<\/p>\n She, on the other hand, was the picture of calmness.\u00a0 Sitting comfortably on the piano bench, arms and legs crossed she looked calm\u2014no, bored; right leg over left\u2014swinging up and down.\u00a0 Not sure of what I should be feeling or doing, I sat back down and lifted my guitar back onto my lap, running through some chords in my mind.<\/p>\n Reverend Rocha by now had somewhat composed himself and was blowing his nose mightily into his yellowed hankie.\u00a0 After examining his deposit he folded the handkerchief and stuffed it into his front coat pocket.\u00a0 Shooting a glance toward us he did a little figure eight with his index finger.\u00a0 Joni immediately uncrossed her legs, turned to us and softly said \u201cG\u201d.\u00a0 Without further hesitation she launched into a cheery and bouncy little corito that in the past had never failed to lighten the congregation\u2019s mood and raise their spirits.\u00a0 Soon, everyone was clapping in time, the tambourines were trilling and the crowd was back in their Holy Roller mood.\u00a0 Even my father, nose red and eyes a bit swollen, was clapping in time to the music, singing away, and looking to the heavens.<\/p>\n With everyone back in Pentecostal mode Villa took the pulpit for the Sunday evening sermon.\u00a0 He didn\u2019t disappoint.\u00a0 In high gear, midway through his oration he loosened his tie and went for the home run.\u00a0 It was righteous chaos and the Holy Spirit descended upon the crowd with a vengeance.\u00a0 Fiery foreign tongues were shrieking from the three-deep throng at the altar and the reverends and reverends-in-waiting were circulating amongst the devoted encouraging all to greater heights.\u00a0 We were cycling through every lively corito we knew to the point that the trumpet boys finally blew themselves completely out.\u00a0 Blowing the spit out of their trumpets they finally just collapsed on their chairs\u2014and mopping the sweat off their faces sat exhausted, legs akimbo looking up at the ceiling.<\/p>\n The service went well past midnight and I knew that I\u2019d be suffering for it all next day at school.\u00a0 In the car, on the way home I asked my dad if he knew when Villa was leaving.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, maybe in a month or so.\u201d He said.<\/p>\n I wondered out loud who was going to replace him.<\/p>\n \u201cSome guy\u2026Puerto Rican, I think\u2026from New York.\u201d\u00a0 He answered, a little detached.\u00a0 \u201cRodriguez\u2014Sergio Rodriguez.\u00a0 He\u2019s been pastoring a church there from our council, and they say he lives somewhere they call The Bronx.\u201d<\/p>\n How odd.\u00a0 <\/em>I thought.\u00a0 I\u2019ve never met anyone from New York, and never even imagined we had a sister church there.\u00a0 Further, what\u2019s a Bronx, and what in the world is a Puerto Rican doing living there anyway?\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n Yeah, I was that clueless.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Just A Little Case of Embezzlement<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n The Reverend Villa\u2019s eminent departure turned out not to be so eminent after all.\u00a0 As one month rolled into another no further mention was made of his reassignment to South Texas and the church-going settled into an unsettled routine.\u00a0 My dad, anticipating a surprise announcement naming him as a reverend any day now, began to cut his hours down at Younger Brothers; taking half days off here and there, and every once in a while entire days, or sets of days, off.\u00a0 Those he used to hob-nob with, and accompany Villa, and a couple of other reverends, on day trips to various outlying churches.<\/p>\n On more than one occasion he would be gone for a couple or three days, and upon his return would explain to my mom that having finished their business in one town, Villa had decided to press on to Dallas, or McAllen, or San Antonio\u2014or wherever. \u00a0Anyway, he told her impatiently, he was doing God\u2019s work, and it was not proper to question that.<\/p>\n Problem was, God\u2019s work didn\u2019t pay as well as Younger Brothers work, and so we gradually started to regress back into the lean years of old.\u00a0 My dad\u2019s paychecks, pitifully small due to his many absences, began to fall ruefully short of our household expenses and we began to fall behind in almost all financial categories.\u00a0 The bitter arguments about money, or the lack thereof, started up again after having been almost non-existent since my parent\u2019s conversion to Pentecostalism.<\/p>\n During one particularly nasty quarrel my mother confronted my dad after learning that he\u2019d not only given Reverend Villa an expensive shotgun for his birthday, he\u2019d also hosted a lavish birthday dinner at an upscale Mexican restaurant for his family and a large group of Villa\u2019s entourage.\u00a0 The event had occurred while my mom, brother and I were attending a bible study class one Saturday afternoon.\u00a0 Her sources had informed her that the bill for the meal alone had exceeded well over a hundred dollars; that being even before my father had generously tipped the entire restaurant staff.<\/p>\n Her voice breaking and her eyes brimming with angry tears she demanded over and over for him to reveal the source of the money that he\u2019d so recklessly spent on someone other than his own family.\u00a0 At first he insisted that all of this was none of her business and that she had no right to demand anything from him.\u00a0 He kept insisting that he was performing God\u2019s will and being guided by the Holy Spirit; and having been shown the righteous path he must take, no one on this earth had the authority to question his actions.<\/p>\n Several times during the vicious row he tried to disengage by turning and walking away from her, but like a mad bulldog locked in on her quarry she followed him closely, fists clenched and jaw jutted, matching every step of his retreat with one of hers in her advance.<\/p>\n She cornered him in the kitchen yelling at him at the top of her lungs, berating him, and demanding to know how he could afford to give gifts to his friends; and worse, feed them at swanky restaurants, while blatantly ignoring the welfare of his own family.\u00a0 Finally giving in to her, he turned to face her and made a startling confession.<\/p>\n He said he was using his own paychecks, not to entertain anyone, but to try to stay up with the household bills as best he could.\u00a0 The money he was spending for the gifts and such was coming from the church treasury that he\u2019d been elected to oversee.\u00a0 When he found himself long on personal church related entertainment expenses and short on money he found it easy to turn to the treasury and reach into its deep pockets.\u00a0 So, for some time now he\u2019d been skimming some of the church\u2019s funds to use for these expenses, and since he didn\u2019t have anyone overseeing him directly he wasn\u2019t too worried about getting caught.\u00a0 But not to worry, he assured her, it was not his intention to use the funds and not ever replace them.\u00a0 Just as soon as we were back on our feet, and prior to the quarterly conference when the books were audited by the council leadership, he would make good and fully replace the squandered funds.<\/p>\n \u201cBob!!\u201d My mother said, fear deeply woven into her trembling voice.\u00a0 \u201cWhat are you thinking?\u00a0 And just how much have you taken?\u201d<\/p>\n My father looked up over my mother\u2019s head and saw me standing just outside the kitchen entrance.\u00a0 \u201cPancho!\u00a0 Get back into your bedroom or go outside!\u00a0 And take your brother with you!\u201d\u00a0 He suddenly looked and sounded very angry.<\/p>\n \u201cOK.\u201d\u00a0 I responded quickly walking backward and bumping into Ricky and knocking him on his butt.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s going on?\u201d\u00a0 Ricky asked as he got to his feet.<\/p>\n \u201cNothing!\u00a0 Let\u2019s go outside and shoot some baskets.\u201d\u00a0 I pulled him by the arm and headed out the back door.<\/p>\n Even out in the back yard I could still hear their voices, rising and falling\u2014sometimes talking over each other\u2014but always very angry.\u00a0 As I bounced my ball and took free throw shots on my self-built backboard constructed with some old lumber that I\u2019d found in the garage, I tried to make sense of the words I\u2019d heard my dad say.<\/p>\n Taking money from the church funds?\u00a0 Well, I knew that since he\u2019d been elected treasurer the proceeds of every offering, after having been counted in the back room of the church, had been put into a locking metal box that was subsequently put into and locked in the trunk of our car.\u00a0 A couple of times, when he had to stay behind to talk to Villa about something or other, he\u2019d asked me to carry the box out and lock it in the trunk.\u00a0 It was heavy and the thin steel handle hurt my fingers as I lifted it up and put it into the wheel well that had not held a spare tire for years.<\/p>\n \u201c\u2026told you I\u2019ll put the money back\u2026.when\u2026\u201d\u00a0 The words floating out through the kitchen window as my old basketball popped the strings at the bottom of the yellowing net.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat if\u2026with the new pastor\u2026he\u2019ll know\u2026\u201d all in a quivering voice.<\/p>\n Not wanting to hear more I started running a series of layups followed by some fade-away jump shots; but my brain kept asking me questions.<\/p>\n After shagging of few of my errant shots Ricky had retreated under the house and had probably fallen asleep on the cool bare earth.\u00a0 Deep in the pit of my stomach I felt an uncomfortable gnawing sensation, and the concentration I was trying to maintain on my jump shot execution began to waver.\u00a0 The voices that were coming from the house had stopped.<\/p>\n Running to retrieve the ball after it had clanged off the rim and bounced sideways and away from me, a strange new and very unsettling thought seeped into my brain:\u00a0 I don\u2019t want to live here anymore!<\/em><\/p>\n Arriving home from school one Friday afternoon I was surprised to see a Younger Brothers pickup truck in the driveway.\u00a0 Worse, upon entering the house I was shocked to see our meager belongings haphazardly packed into cardboard boxes.\u00a0 I ran into the kitchen where my mother was standing in front of the sink looking out the window.\u00a0 Her back to me it seemed as if she\u2019d not heard me, in spite of the noise I had made throwing my books on the floor and calling her as I ran to find her.<\/p>\n \u201cMom!\u00a0 Why are there boxes in everywhere with our stuff in them?\u201d<\/p>\n She continued to stand there, stock-still.<\/p>\n \u201cMom?\u201d\u00a0 I called to her, and then I noticed a very small tremor pass between her shoulders.<\/p>\n \u201cMom?\u00a0 What\u2019s happening?\u201d<\/p>\n She turned around slowly, and I saw the tears streaming down her face.\u00a0 At that moment I thought that I\u2019d never ever seen her so sad.\u00a0 \u201cWe\u2019re moving, mijo.\u00a0 Pack your things in the boxes I left in your bedroom.\u00a0 Hurry, so we can load them up for the next trip to the house.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhere are we going, Mom?\u00a0 Am I going to have to change schools?\u201d\u00a0 No answer.<\/p>\n Her eyes, brimming with tears slowly looked downward, and the tears spilled out onto her cheeks\u2014then off, and made little splashes on the linoleum floor.\u00a0 Her chest shuddered and she made a small mewing sound.\u00a0 \u201cOh\u2026mijito.\u00a0 I don\u2019t know.\u00a0 No se.\u00a0 Dios mio.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMom\u2026I don\u2019t understand.\u00a0 Why are we moving?\u00a0 Where are we going?\u00a0 Mom?\u201d\u00a0 I felt a lump growing in my throat.<\/p>\n \u201cMijito,\u201d she said sadly.\u00a0 \u201cI don\u2019t know, I just don\u2019t know.\u00a0 Please go put your clothes and things in the boxes and help Ricky too.\u201d<\/p>\n By eleven that night we had finally made the last of countless trips, carrying and stacking boxes at the rental house that my dad had apparently contracted without my mother\u2019s knowledge.\u00a0 It was a small \u201cshotgun\u201d three room house, in a run-down neighborhood in southeast Houston.\u00a0 About a block and a half east what is now called the La Porte Freeway, it was in a completely different school district that would require my transferring out of Jeff Davis High School.<\/p>\n My brother and I would again be sleeping in the kitchen on our old rollaway beds and keeping our clothes in cardboard boxes.\u00a0 Because the house was so small my mother\u2019s wringer tub washing machine had to also be stored in one corner of the tiny kitchen; and before we could drag and set up our beds at night the washer had to be rolled out into the middle of the room blocking any possible access to the bathroom.\u00a0 That made for a few stubbed toes in the middle of the night when our bladders needed relief.<\/p>\n Since I already had my driver\u2019s license I drove our 1955 Ford Fairlane that last moving night with my brother while my dad, accompanied by my mother, drove the Younger Brothers pickup.\u00a0 As I kept up with the green and white truck, bed filled with our final load, Ricky asked, \u201cFrankie, why are we moving?\u00a0 I liked that house a lot.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know Ricky.\u00a0 Mom wasn\u2019t able to tell me and dad wasn\u2019t talking.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell,\u201d he continued, \u201cam I going to go to the same school?<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t think so.\u00a0 I know we\u2019re in a new district now, but I don\u2019t know what schools are here.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh man, I liked my school too.\u201d\u00a0 He said, a little sadly.\u00a0 Yawning, he drew his legs up onto the seat and laid his head on my lap.\u00a0 \u201cYeah, I did, Frankie.\u00a0 I liked my teacher too.\u00a0 \u00a0I really did.\u201d\u00a0 He sighed deeply and in less than a minute he was sleeping soundly, leaving me to ponder his questions, and mine.\u00a0 On the radio, Conway Twitty was telling me that \u201cIt\u2019s Only Make Believe.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Puppy Love<\/strong><\/p>\n The arguments between my parents over my father\u2019s use of church money intensified over the next few weeks, and it seemed the only time they weren\u2019t at each other\u2019s throats was when we were attending one of the services in our church, or visiting some other outlying church.\u00a0 The car trips to and from the services were conducted in total silence, with my mother usually just looking out the window, face stern with her bottom lip permanently pooched out.\u00a0 My brother and I could sense the tension between them so we kept quiet, mostly communicating with each other in the back seat with hand signals and silently mouthed words.<\/p>\n My father had stopped talking to not only my mother, but to my brother and me as well.\u00a0 If I dared ask him a question around the house, about anything, he would just mumble, \u201cGo ask your mother.\u201d<\/p>\n Once arriving at a church, and as soon as they exited the car, they would both shift into normal Holy Roller mode and revert back to their \u201cborn again\u201d personalities\u2014that is, as long as they didn\u2019t have to talk to each other.\u00a0 Leaving the car they would drift off in different directions; he, seeking his reverend-bound male compatriots, and she, her gabby sisters in Christ.\u00a0 That would leave me, struggling to retrieve and lug my guitar and amplifier from the trunk of the car into the church, and Ricky mostly to his own devices.\u00a0 More often than not he would just sit in the car by himself until my mother called him to join her because the service was about to start.<\/p>\n One Sunday evening after a long drive to one of our churches in Alvin, Texas, where my dad, now in serious training for his reverend\u2019s license, was scheduled to deliver a sermon.\u00a0 The little church was pastored by a very young man with a wife and a couple of kids.\u00a0 Word was that he\u2019d caught the Reverend Guillen\u2019s attention while he was visiting Mexico, and the old man had recruited him on the spot to lead the little church.\u00a0 I assumed he was illegal, or maybe on a worker\u2019s visa, because he was installed as pastor just a few weeks after arriving in Alvin.\u00a0 Because he had no car for transportation he and his family had to depend on the generosity of his congregation for the first few months of his assignment; and worse, neither he, nor his wife and kids, spoke a word of English.<\/p>\n On that day I had been sitting up on the stage tuning my guitar when I glanced up to see a small group of people coming through the front door.\u00a0 They immediately attracted my attention because of the way they were dressed, and in the way they carried themselves as they entered through the front door.<\/p>\n For the most part, the membership of these outlying churches, usually located in small rural towns surrounding the Houston metro area, could all be lumped into one demographic: Hispanic, distressingly poor, uneducated, and upper middle-aged and older.\u00a0 For the most part his or her general demeanor could be described as subservient, with an inborn willingness to blindly follow anyone who displayed any modicum of leadership.\u00a0 They had probably entered the country illegally at one time or another and seemed satisfied to quietly melt into the local population, finding work in accustomed settings such as farming, ranching, or domestic labor.<\/p>\n The family entering through the front door bore no resemblance to any of the aforementioned characteristics.\u00a0 Three females, two of them teens, and an adult who I assumed was their mother were led by a tall dark-skinned adult male.\u00a0 He was dressed in a stylish tan western suit set off by glossy black boots, and was carrying an expensive looking beige Stetson hat in his left hand.\u00a0 His wife, looking about twenty years younger, and much lighter skinned, was resplendent in a classy black dress, a black silk shawl draped casually over her carefully coiffed jet black hair and crossed fashionably at her waist. Wearing black high heel patent leather shoes, that were probably better suited to a classy night club rather than a plain wood framed church, she seemed to float\u2014left arm hooked to her husband\u2019s right\u2014as they slowly made their way into the small auditorium greeting the earlier arrivals.<\/p>\n But what had really caught my attention was one of the two girls who was following closely behind the adults.\u00a0 Walking just to the right, and about half a step behind them, a stunningly beautiful young girl was leading her much younger sister by the hand.\u00a0 Her hair was somewhere between a deep red and chestnut, and had been pulled back into a long ponytail.\u00a0 A precisely cut set of bangs rested artfully on her forehead that set off her perfect almond-shaped dark eyes and finely chiseled cheekbones.<\/p>\n \u201c\u00a1Pancho!\u201d\u00a0 Came from behind me and startled me back to reality.<\/p>\n I turned my head to see my dad walking up to me from where he\u2019d been sitting on the stage.<\/p>\n \u201cOh,\u201d was all I could think of to say. \u201cUh, just tuning up my guitar.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMira, come with me.\u00a0 I want to introduce you to los hermanos Ram\u00edrez.\u201d\u00a0 He said, as he put his hand on my back urging me off my chair.<\/p>\n \u201cWho?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPut your guitar down.\u00a0 I met Brother Ram\u00edrez some time back at another church and I think you\u2019ll like them.\u00a0 Come on, let\u2019s go say hello.\u201d He sounded insistent.<\/p>\n Why I needed to know them was beyond my comprehension, and why my dad had to do with these people was a mystery, but if meeting them meant getting closer to that girl who was I to argue.\u00a0 I set my Gibson down and quickly followed my dad down the two steps at the side of the stage onto the floor.<\/p>\n \u201c\u00a1Hermano y hermana Ram\u00edrez!\u00a0 Dios los bendiga.\u00a0 \u00bfComo han estado?\u201d\u00a0 [\u2026God bless you.\u00a0 How\u2019ve you been?]<\/p>\n Rigorously shaking first the man\u2019s hand, then his wife\u2019s, he turned and said, \u201cEste es mi hijo Frankie.\u201d\u00a0 [This is my son, Frankie].<\/p>\n I would\u2019ve preferred \u201cFrank\u201d, but I was willing to let it pass.<\/p>\n \u201cHi.\u201d\u00a0 I managed, while shaking their hands and trying to keep my eyes off their older daughter.<\/p>\n \u201cMucho gusto,\u201d the man said in richly accented English.\u00a0 \u201cSo you\u2019re the young man that plays the guitar and sings hymns at your father\u2019s church in Houston?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, sometimes.\u00a0 I\u2019m still trying to learn to play the guitar a little better.\u201d\u00a0 I responded, feeling a little bit self-conscious.\u00a0 I kept wondering when my dad would\u2019ve had the opportunity to spend enough time with these folks to have brought my name up\u2014as they seemed to know a lot about me.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd a beautiful guitar it is.\u201d\u00a0 He said, pointing to my gleaming Gibson resting on its side by my empty chair by the piano.\u00a0 \u201cFrankie, let me introduce my wife Yolanda, and my daughters\u2014Estela y Rebecca.\u201d<\/p>\n I had already shaken his wife\u2019s hand, but I did it again anyway, struggling to keep my eyes on her instead of her daughter.\u00a0 Estela, <\/em>I thought.\u00a0 What a beautiful name.<\/em><\/p>\n Releasing Mrs. Ram\u00edrez\u2019s hand I looked to her left and my eyes locked onto Estela\u2019s.<\/p>\n \u201cHi Frankie, it\u2019s so nice to meet you.\u201d\u00a0 Her right arm reached out, dainty hand palm down, exquisitely delicate fingers slightly curled and trembling ever so slightly.\u00a0 Time all but stopped and as I willed my hand to reach for hers I recall\u2014first anticipating, then wondering\u2014what the touch of her hand on mine would feel like.\u00a0 Our fingers touched, and at that precise moment everyone and everything around us disappeared.\u00a0 I felt as if I was floating and remember having no sensation of what was up or what was down.\u00a0 My entire being was now focused on Estela and for that brief moment nothing else in my life mattered.\u00a0 I was smitten for the very first time in my life.<\/p>\n \u201cUh, yes me too.\u201d\u00a0 Was my pathetic response, but it was the best I could do under the circumstances.\u00a0 Her hand in mine felt magical and my heart was racing.\u00a0 Suddenly I worried that maybe my hand was sweaty, so I slowly disengaged but continued to stare into her dark brown eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cAre you going to sing a hymn for us during the special hymn section of the service?\u201d She sweetly asked.<\/p>\n My God, <\/em>I thought, her voice is wonderful!<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cUm\u2026No\u2026I don\u2019t think so.\u201d\u00a0 Stammering a little, and starting to re-enter reality I realized that her sister, mother, father, and my dad were all staring strangely at me.\u00a0 I stepped back half a step and unconsciously put my right hand into my pocket.\u00a0 \u201cWell, maybe\u2014if there\u2019s time.\u201d<\/p>\n A shockingly stiff slap on my right shoulder and my dad answered, \u201cSure he will!\u201d\u00a0 And that settled it.<\/p>\n As my listening comprehension returned I realized the adults were now chatting with one another\u2014leaving me, Estela, and her sister slightly isolated and staring at one another.<\/p>\n Racking my newly emptied brain for something to say to keep Estela engaged and looking at me, the moment was shattered when Rebecca abruptly asked, \u201cAre you saved?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat? Me?\u201d\u00a0 I responded, a bit shocked.<\/p>\n \u201cBecca!\u201d\u00a0 Estela said with more than a little annoyance in her voice.\u00a0 \u201cYou just can\u2019t go around asking people that you don\u2019t know things like that!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy not?\u201d She persisted, crossing her arms over her chest.\u00a0 \u201cDaddy says we shouldn\u2019t get familiar with people who aren\u2019t saved; they\u2019ll lead you to the devil.\u201d\u00a0 Hmm, she had no idea.<\/p>\n \u201cWell Becca,\u201d I said, with a little grin, \u201cI promise I won\u2019t lead you to the devil, OK?\u201d<\/p>\n Estela let out a little chuckle, and my heart soared as I realized just how beautiful her smile was.\u00a0 She wore no makeup and didn\u2019t need to.\u00a0 Her skin was smooth, just a shade up from what could be described as an olive complexion, and not a hint of acne.\u00a0 Her upper lip was slightly shaded with a delicate growth of fine facial hair, framing her delicate mouth around perfect white teeth.\u00a0 She had large expressive brown eyes, and when she smiled she crinkled her nose and tilted her head ever so slightly giving her a pixie-like look.\u00a0 She seemed to favor wearing her long brown hair in a ponytail or up in a bun; and much like her mother, commanded the attention of any room she entered.\u00a0 Truly, I had never seen such a dazzling female in all my short life\u2014and that included Joni.<\/p>\n Prior to this time in my life I had not had any real (or unreal) romantic contact with females.\u00a0 In school, I found that I got along better with girls than I ever did with boys, but all those relationships were always strictly platonic.\u00a0 For example, during my high school years I found myself always having lunch with about four or five of girls, rather than spending the time with guys.\u00a0 The jocks and the nerds would always sit at their own tables or gathering in back-slapping and loud groups; and having nothing in common with either I soon found myself gravitating towards girls who were also neither cheerleaders, bimbos, nor future class presidents.<\/p>\n Our little lunch group found that we were not interested in the latest gossip: who was dating whom, or whose heart the quarterback of our school\u2019s football team was currently breaking; and during our thirty minute lunch break we would usually meet at a predetermined spot on the front campus lawn and spend the time chatting about anything other than school.\u00a0 Because of my fear that even this affable group of friends would not understand the craziness that the Pentecostals considered as normal behavior, I shied away from discussing the subject.\u00a0 They seemed to be satisfied when I explained that my parents were members of a very religious order and that I was expected to obey every tenet of that religion.<\/p>\n If I had ever found any girl in school that I may have wanted to pursue I could never have done so because of the restrictions that the church and its lifestyle had placed on me.\u00a0 How could I have ever maintained any kind of romantic relationship with a girl outside of our church when I was prohibited from any kind of dating, dancing, or un-chaperoned involvement with the opposite sex?<\/p>\n In church Joni had been a pleasant distraction for me, but from the beginning I think I understood that because of the position her father held in our church, and her two hovering brothers, she would forever be completely out of my league and utterly unattainable.\u00a0 I would have to satisfy myself with just enjoying the view.<\/p>\n Estela, on the other hand presented me with a completely different set of alternatives.\u00a0 Belonging to the Pentecostal religion she was an accepted member of the overall congregation, and her parents, although devout and tithe-paying members of an outlying church, were not installed in leadership positions and thereby politically non-toxic.\u00a0 It offered me the best of all worlds.\u00a0 Now all I had to do was to try to win her heart.<\/p>\n After the service, and while I was putting up my guitar, my dad walked over and told me that the pastor had invited us to stay awhile and join him and his wife for some coffee in their pastoral house.\u00a0 I was a bit annoyed because this development put a huge crimp in the plan that I had been formulating all night during the service that I thought may help me get to know Estela a bit better.<\/p>\n My plan included hurrying up packing my guitar and amplifier, and then quickly melting into the departing crowd.\u00a0 Once outside I could possibly catch up with her somewhere in the church\u2019s parking area before she left with her family.\u00a0 If I could somehow separate her from her sister and mother on the way to their car, I could maybe get some valuable information from her: like her phone number.\u00a0 Now with the invite there was no use in my hurrying since I\u2019d be expected to put my instrument in the car right away and hurry to join my mom, dad, and brother at the pastoral house.<\/p>\n As I walked to our car I tried to see if I could spot the Ram\u00edrez family; but since I had no idea what kind of vehicle they drove, the odds of my finding them were pretty scarce.\u00a0 Since there was no real parking lot\u2014everyone just pulled up to the front of the church and parked on the front lawn\u2014the headlights from the ten or twelve cars that were all trying to back up and pull out onto the main road at the same time blinded me just enough to where all I could really make out was our own car.<\/p>\n Slamming the trunk lid on our Ford I put my head down and headed in the direction of the pastor\u2019s house located just to the back of the church.\u00a0 In a rather dark mood from having my plans ruined I neglected to see the nice new Pontiac Chieftain parked behind and to the right of our car.<\/p>\n The pastor\u2019s house was small (but still larger than the one we now lived in) and had a fairly large kitchen in the back.\u00a0 There seemed to be quite a little group gathered in there as I heard my father\u2019s laugh and a few other voices I didn\u2019t recognize.\u00a0 Head down, I walked up the steps and pulled open the screen door.\u00a0 Stepping into the warm kitchen I was a little overwhelmed with the nutty aroma of Mexican coffee and the tinkling of coffee cups on saucers.\u00a0 Looking up to try to find my parents I suddenly found myself staring directly at Estela\u2019s angelic face.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s about time you got here,\u201d she said with a smile.\u00a0 \u201cI almost went out to look for you but then I remembered that you probably had to put your guitar in the car.\u00a0 Took you long enough though.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell\u2026\u201d I sputtered, \u201cI didn\u2019t know\u2026you know\u2026that everyone was going to be here.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell,\u201d she replied while handing me a small cup of coffee on a saucer, \u201cnot everyone, of course.\u00a0 Only us important people.\u201d\u00a0 Tilting her head down and looking up at me she gave me the most deliciously mischievous smile.\u00a0 \u201cGet it?\u201d\u00a0 Then she threw her head back and snickered in the cutest way.<\/p>\n Standing there with one hand holding the saucer and the other hand holding the cup, I could do nothing but just look and her and smile.\u00a0 I wasn\u2019t sure if the surge of pressure that was welling up in my chest was because I wanted to laugh or because I may want to cry.<\/p>\n Making an effort to sound normal I said, \u201cYeah, I get it.\u201d\u00a0 That was about all I could manage at that moment.<\/p>\n There was a little table with two chairs set up against one wall that was probably used by the pastor\u2019s small children.\u00a0 Estela pointed to it and without a word walked over pulled out one of the chairs and sat down.<\/p>\n As I moved towards the table I looked around for the first time since I\u2019d entered the kitchen and saw my dad, the pastor and Mr. Ramirez in deep conversation.\u00a0 Mrs. Ramirez had engaged my mom, and Ricky and Becca were hanging out by the small counter where some pastries were stacked on a small tray.\u00a0 I set the cup and saucer down on the table and sat opposite Estela.<\/p>\n Elbows on the table and hands framing her chin she said, \u201cWell, we don\u2019t have too much time so tell me all about yourself in about thirty seconds then I\u2019ll tell you all about me.\u00a0 Deal?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019ll I do with the other twenty seconds?\u201d\u00a0 I joked.<\/p>\n \u201cHa!\u00a0 That was supposed to be my line, you sneak!\u201d\u00a0 We both laughed a bit too loud, and I sensed her mother\u2019s eyes on us.<\/p>\n We both talked briefly about our schools and she wanted to know how I learned to play guitar.\u00a0 I asked how long her family had been attending\u00a0that church (two years), since I hadn\u2019t seen her in my previous visits.\u00a0 She looked at my brother and asked if it was just the two of us\u2014and I asked the same of her and Becca.<\/p>\n Then my father called my name.\u00a0 \u201cPancho!\u00a0 Let\u2019s go.\u00a0 You have to get some sleep.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPancho?\u201d\u00a0 She asked, tilting her head sideways.\u00a0 \u201cThat\u2019s cute.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, I don\u2019t think so, but that\u2019s what they call me sometimes.\u201d<\/p>\n I reluctantly pushed away from the table.\u00a0 \u201cGuess I\u2019d better get.\u201d\u00a0 I said, as my dad, followed by the pastor, then her dad, went through the door and out onto the small porch.<\/p>\n \u201cWhen will you be back?\u201d\u00a0 She asked, suddenly serious.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know.\u00a0 I really don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf I gave you our phone number would you call me\u2026I mean, just to talk?\u00a0 Oh, but you live in Houston so it would be long distance\u2026\u201d she trailed off, suddenly pensive.<\/p>\n It was more that I had ever imagined and I was elated.\u00a0 \u201cYes, I promise I\u2019ll call.\u00a0 But I don\u2019t know when.\u00a0 I mean, what would be a good time?\u201d<\/p>\n Placing a finger on her lower lip, she said, \u201cWell, maybe any time after three in the afternoon.\u00a0 Becca will probably answer\u2014she always runs and gets the phone when it rings.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, OK.\u201d\u00a0 I replied.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019ll just ask for you, right?\u00a0 But what if your mom or dad answer?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJust tell them who you are.\u00a0 I think they like you anyway\u2026I can tell.\u201d<\/p>\n My chest was starting to hurt and my throat was closing down fast.\u00a0 Mercifully, she pulled what looked like a little two-inch pencil out of her tiny purse and dug around for a scrap of paper.<\/p>\n \u201cAh, here we go.\u201d\u00a0 As she spread the paper across her palm and wrote her number.<\/p>\n She folded the scrap several times and held it out to me with her thumb and forefinger.\u00a0 \u201cThere!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou want mine?\u201d\u00a0 I asked, almost as an afterthought.<\/p>\n \u201cNo, not now.\u201d\u00a0 She replied.\u00a0 \u201cWhen we talk for the first time you can give it to me then.\u00a0 Anyway, good girls don\u2019t go around calling boys, you know.\u201d\u00a0 She gave me a charmingly silly grin.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, right.\u201d\u00a0 I agreed.<\/p>\n I shoved the little scrap of paper into my pants pocket.\u00a0 \u201cWell, I guess I\u2019ll see you next time.\u201d\u00a0 I said\u2014not knowing what else to say.<\/p>\n \u201cNot if I see you first, silly boy.\u201d\u00a0 With that she walked quickly by me\u2014so close I thought we\u2019d actually touched.\u00a0 Then she was gone through the door.<\/p>\n My mother, Mrs. Ramirez and the pastor\u2019s wife were slowly walking towards the door when my mom looked around to see where Ricky was.<\/p>\n \u201cOye, Frankie.\u00a0 Where\u2019s your brother?\u201d\u00a0 She asked, eyes darting.<\/p>\n \u201cUmm, he was over there by the cookies when I last saw him.\u00a0 Maybe he went out to the car.\u201d<\/p>\n I pushed the screen to allow the ladies to exit before me.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019ll run out to the car; he\u2019s probably there.\u201d<\/p>\n Hurrying to our car I caught a glimpse of Estela as she was getting into the back seat of that shiny new Pontiac.\u00a0 I quickly waved, and getting a bit concerned about my brother looked to see if I could see him in the back seat.<\/p>\n Reaching the car I saw him curled up on the back seat.\u00a0 \u201cHe\u2019s here Mom!\u201d\u00a0 And I walked around to the other side to get in.<\/p>\n The ride home was quiet, the same as it had been for a few months until my dad finally broke the silence.<\/p>\n \u201cYou like that little Estela, don\u2019t you, Pancho?\u201d\u00a0 He asked, as I caught his eyes in the rearview mirror.<\/p>\n \u201cShe\u2019s OK.\u201d\u00a0 I responded, feigning disinterest as well as I could.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, well I think you think she\u2019s more than OK, you rascal.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLeave him alone Bob!\u201d\u00a0 My mother snapped, sounding very angry.\u00a0 \u201cStop embarrassing him!\u00a0 That\u2019s what you do best, criticize and embarrass us!\u00a0 And you, of all people!\u201d<\/p>\n My dad shot a vicious look in her direction.\u00a0 \u201cWhat do you mean by that?\u201d\u00a0 He asked angrily!<\/p>\n \u201cHa, act like you don\u2019t know!\u00a0 Acting so holy when you\u2019re with your pals.\u00a0 If they knew that you\u2019re sneaking around taking money that doesn\u2019t belong to you, I wonder what they\u2019d think?\u201d<\/p>\n Well, that did it, and the war started.\u00a0 For the rest of the car ride home, and for at least an hour afterwards they argued\u2014yelling abuses at each other.\u00a0 Inevitably, the subject of the church money came up and the now familiar insults and accusations took flight.<\/p>\n They continued to fight well after getting home and while my brother and I set up our beds in the kitchen.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy do they have to fight so much?\u201d\u00a0 My brother sighed quietly as he crawled into his small bed.\u00a0 \u201cIt makes me so sad.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMe too.\u201d I agreed.\u00a0 \u201cBut, at least they\u2019re not yelling at us.\u00a0 Be thankful for that.\u201d\u00a0 I added.<\/p>\n Finally, after the lights had been out for some time and I had dozed off only to be awakened several times by their bickering, they\u2014probably exhausted by the intensity of the disagreement\u2014finally quieted down.\u00a0 Soon I heard my mother\u2019s soft and regular snoring.\u00a0 I lay there wondering why they, after claiming to having been saved and professing their love for Jesus, could still show such hatred toward each other.<\/p>\n Burying my head under the pillow and squeezing my eyes shut as hard as I could, I tried to picture Estela.\u00a0 And, on the rollaway next to mine, my brother, oblivious to our parents\u2019 loud threats and hurtful accusations, slept peacefully.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Betrayal<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n Returning home from school few days after our trip to the Alvin church I saw that my mother was in a particularly good mood so I decided to ask her if I would be allowed to use the phone occasionally to talk to Estela.\u00a0 After putting my books down and walking into the kitchen I found her standing by the stove stirring a pot of beans and getting ready to roll out some of her fat little tortillas.\u00a0 She was humming some tuneless melody as I pulled out a chair and sat at the kitchen table.<\/p>\n \u201cHi mom.\u00a0 What\u2019cha doing?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHi mijito\u2014oh, just making some beans and getting ready to cook some tortillas.\u00a0 \u201c\u00bfQuieres poly-pop?\u00a0 I just made some and it\u2019s in the ice-box.\u201d\u00a0 She asked cheerfully.<\/p>\n \u201cNot now, but maybe later.\u00a0 Where\u2019s Ricky?\u201d\u00a0 I wondered out loud.<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s home somewhere\u2026probably under the house.\u00a0 You know how he likes to play down there.\u00a0 I had to make him a tortilla because he was hungry when he got home from school.\u201d\u00a0 She said wiping her forehead with the top of her hand.<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s always hungry!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSi, he\u2019s not skinny like you, that\u2019s for sure.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMom, do you think I could use the phone to call someone a couple of times a week?\u201d\u00a0 I thought I\u2019d go ahead and ask while she was still in good spirits.<\/p>\n \u201cWho, mijito?\u201d\u00a0 She\u2019d stopped stirring and was looking at me with a curious little smile on her face.<\/p>\n \u201cUh, just a friend, you know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c\u00bfDe veras, mijo?\u00a0 \u00bfQui\u00e9n?\u201d [Really?\u00a0 Who?]<\/p>\n \u201cOK, mom!\u00a0 Estela! \u00a0I want to call Estela!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAh, Estela.\u201d\u00a0 She said, pointing the wooden spoon at me.\u00a0 \u201cBueno, I think that should be OK\u2014pero not for a long time, mijo\u2014I think Alvin\u2019s long distance.\u201d<\/p>\n And so, for the next few weeks Estela and I began our relationship via the newly installed big black rotary phone in the front room.\u00a0 Since we really didn\u2019t know each other very well, had virtually no friends in common, and lived in different cities, our conversations usually ran out of steam two or three minutes in.\u00a0 After that we\u2019d just be content in asking each other where in the house we were, or what our parents and\/or siblings were doing, or asking if we missed each other when we attended services at our different churches.<\/p>\n I asked her about her family and learned that her dad was a ranch foreman for one of the large ranches owned by a wealthy auto dealer and was located on the outskirts of Alvin.\u00a0 Since most of the ranch\u2019s employees were Mexican, Mr. Ram\u00edrez pretty much ran the whole show.\u00a0 Sometimes, when the cattle and horses were herded into the Houston stockyards for market he would spend a week or so away from home.<\/p>\n When she asked me about my family I gave her the abridged version, avoiding any mention of the violent arguments my parents seemed to relish\u2014both \u201cpre\u201d and \u201cpost\u201d salvation.\u00a0 After running out of things to say we would have long periods of breathy silence that should\u2019ve made us uncomfortable, but didn\u2019t.\u00a0 Then during one of those many stretches of silence, and for the first time ever, she said, \u201cOh Frank, I miss seeing you so very much.\u201d \u00a0I thought my heart would burst\u2014and before I thought it, I heard myself saying, \u201cMe too, Estela\u2014me too.\u201d<\/p>\n As part of the agreement I\u2019d made with my parents, I promised that I\u2019d reimburse them the accumulated long distance charges with the proceeds of a little part time job that I\u2019d managed to land at a Mexican restaurant.\u00a0 So as not to interfere with church services I\u2019d agreed that I\u2019d only work on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays\u2014from five until nine in the evening.\u00a0 Also, my mother had insisted that I give her twenty-five percent of my earnings every payday to \u201ccompensate\u201d her for all the past expenses she had incurred by raising me.\u00a0 Although I thought that grossly unfair I reluctantly agreed.<\/p>\n Working at the restaurant was grueling work, bussing messy tables and occasionally running a giant automatic dish washing machine\u2014and all for one dollar an hour.\u00a0 Because of its distance from our house I had to take a bus to and from, and by the end of my shift I would board the homebound Rapid Transit smelling like a giant greasy taco and nursing my scalded fingers.<\/p>\n But the thing I hated the most about the job was what the restaurant manager insisted on calling me.\u00a0 When I was hired he told me that there were already three other employees there named Frank, and so to differentiate among us all he created different nicknames for each us.\u00a0 From there on out I was to be known as \u201cLeon\u201d.\u00a0 So every night that I worked I was supposed to respond to \u201cLeon\u201d; but for the life of me I just couldn\u2019t get used to it.\u00a0 After calling out \u201cLeon\u201d several times, and me not responding, he\u2019d come racing over to wherever I was and berate me for not listening.<\/p>\n \u201cLeon!! I need table seventeen bussed NOW!\u201d\u00a0 Or, \u201cLeon!!\u00a0 Paco has to take a smoke break so I need you to run the dishwasher! HURRY!\u201d\u00a0 To this day I hate the name Leon.<\/p>\n But, after all was said and done, I understood and accepted that these unpleasant experiences were small sacrifices that I had to endure to make it possible for me to stay in touch with Estela.<\/p>\n For the next few months we visited their church about every two weeks, or so\u2014and usually on Fridays\u2014and I recall literally tingling with anticipation as the day came closer.\u00a0 Once there, and when not concentrating when playing accompaniments to the hymns and coritos, my time would be spent stealing glances at Estela as she sat with her family.\u00a0 After the services the pastor would always invite us and the Ramirez family to his little home for coffee, and I would cherish the few minutes that I would be allowed to share with Estela.\u00a0 Obviously, all we could do was talk to one another, and other than a very brief handshake, no physical contact ever occurred.\u00a0 But for us, it seemed quite enough.<\/p>\n During one of our mostly silent phone calls, I suggested to Estela that maybe she could talk her parents into attending a few of our church\u2019s Sunday night services, and that way we could see each other more.\u00a0 She agreed to talk to her mother.\u00a0 The following Sunday night as I was setting up with the other musicians on the stage, I looked up to see the Ram\u00edrez family enter our church and take their seats near the front.\u00a0 When my father noticed them he waved to me to join him as he walked over to greet them to the service.\u00a0 I was more than willing.<\/p>\n As time went on I began to notice a change in Estela\u2019s parents toward me.\u00a0 Instead of ignoring me and speaking only to my mom and dad, they made sure to greet me warmly and seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say.\u00a0 So, I was just a little surprised when, during one of our visits to their church, they both hugged me warmly and called me \u201cmijo\u201d [my son].<\/p>\n Even with all the arguments still going on at home between my parents, the physical demands that my part time job was making of me, and the pressure of completing my school assignments to keep my grades up, I recall those days as some of the happiest I have ever experienced.\u00a0 I now believe that I had truly fallen deeply in love with Estela, and she with me.\u00a0 Even without seeing each other very often we spoke of the existence of an invisible bond that had developed between us; and that bond grew stronger as the weeks and months wore on, and 1958 came to an end.<\/p>\n ***<\/p>\n In March of 1959, our council of churches decided to hold their quarterly conference at one of our larger churches in Houston.\u00a0 Templo Bethel was located in a neighborhood called Magnolia Gardens, and was pastored by an elderly reverend named Andr\u00e9s Guerrero, who had been there for many years.\u00a0 In fact, a couple of times my father had mentioned that if Reverend Guerrero kicked the bucket anytime soon, he felt that because of his loyalty (and no doubt bribery), the council may see fit to install him as pastor there.\u00a0 All he needed now was to somehow expedite the date of the coveted promotion to reverend, so that he\u2019d be ready to take over.<\/p>\n Being the pastor of an established church like Templo Bethel, being just a bit smaller than Templo Jerusal\u00e9n, would not only be a godsend but it would pretty much put an end to our stretched-to-the-limit financial condition.\u00a0 In fact, we would sitting pretty for many years to come.\u00a0 I assumed that my father would be doing a ton of politicking during the conference.<\/p>\n The quarterly conferences, held during an entire weekend within each quarter, was mandatorily attended by all the pastors and church officers assigned to the churches in our region.\u00a0 It usually kicked off on a Friday evening and concluded Sunday night with a giant evening service.\u00a0 This particular church, almost as large as ours, had a big detached kitchen and dining room\u2014so breakfast, lunch, and dinner would be served on Saturday, and breakfast and lunch on Sunday.<\/p>\n The main purpose of the quarterly conferences was for Reverend Guillen, and his inner ring of confidantes, to scour the financial books of every church to ensure that all the tithes and offerings were properly documented; but more importantly, to ensure that he was receiving a full ten percent of each church\u2019s income.\u00a0 This \u201ctithe\u201d was in addition to the council\u2019s payment for his yearly salary, his monthly stipend to maintain his large residence, complete with domestic help, in Kingsville; and of course, his new Cadillac which was replaced yearly.\u00a0 His children, grandchildren, and various other relatives also had their formal education funded, and while in college had their living expenses taken care of.<\/p>\n Although worship services were held on Friday night, Sunday morning, and Sunday evening\u2014Saturday was reserved for the public airing of each of the church\u2019s financial books.\u00a0 In turn, each church\u2019s treasurer, or pastor in the case of the very small churches, would take the pulpit\u2014green and red ledgers in hand, and read aloud each financial entry entered for each day of the quarter.\u00a0 The church council\u2019s treasurer, a licensed CPA, would then compare each entry as it was read aloud with the entries that he had personally logged at the time of receipt.<\/p>\n All this check and cross check financial business, instead of being conducted by the primaries in private\u2014or at least in a room by themselves\u2014was instead conducted in the open church with a full congregation in attendance.\u00a0 This, I was told, was mandatory so that the membership could see that all the church\u2019s business was open and transparent and not conducted in secrecy.\u00a0 To say that this was mind-numbingly boring would be a gigantic understatement.<\/p>\n The sessions were conducted in two-hour segments with a thirty-minute break in between, but even so it was pure torture to sit there with nothing to do but listen to dates and numbers for two solid hours.<\/p>\n The week before the conference I asked Estela if her parents were planning on attending.\u00a0 She said she didn\u2019t think so, as neither her father nor mother were church officials; and besides, the church membership was so small that their pastor would be able to handle their short financial disclosure in less than ten minutes.\u00a0 I explained to her that my interest was not in their financial statements but in my being able to see and spend a little time with her.\u00a0 She promised she\u2019d talk to her folks again and let me know not later than that Friday.<\/p>\n At home during the week prior to the conference, my father seemed extraordinarily preoccupied with reconciling our church\u2019s books.\u00a0 The tension between my mother and father was so thick you could cut it with a knife, and Ricky and I concentrated on staying out of their way whenever my parents were in the house together.<\/p>\n What I didn\u2019t realize then, and only came to understand many years later, was that because of my father\u2019s constant dipping into the church treasury, he was having great difficulty making the books balance.\u00a0 And my mother, never a shrinking violet, was making life hard for him by constantly reminding him that if anyone from the church ever found out, not only would we be excommunicated, it was very likely he would go to prison.<\/p>\n It is greatly ironic that before we became a family of devout Christians we had little or no money because my father was spending the majority of his paychecks on drinking and entertaining his friends.\u00a0 Now, after divine salvation, we found ourselves in the same financial predicament due to my father\u2019s habit of using church money to wine, dine, and buy expensive gifts for his church buddies.\u00a0 Either way, we\u2014his family\u2014seemed to always be getting the short end of the stick.\u00a0 In the end, I don\u2019t know how he pulled it off, (although I suspect my uncle Frank must\u2019ve come through with a huge loan), but come Saturday our church\u2019s books were balanced.<\/p>\n The Friday night service preceding the conference at Templo Bethel was so well attended that after all the pews had been filled and standing room had run out, a large group of mostly latecomers actually participated in the service while standing outside.\u00a0 To facilitate their participation, the reverend leading the service asked that all the windows and doors be left open so that the throng gathered outside in the front, and along the sides of the church, could partake in the service.<\/p>\n Since I was part of the church band my seat was guaranteed on the stage, and my father, being a church official, was seated behind the pulpit with all the other church council dignitaries.\u00a0 My mother and brother were seated on one of the front pews accompanied by Mrs. Villa and her family.<\/p>\n During the prayer prior to collecting the offering I casually looked up and while scanning the large congregation thought I saw a familiar face.\u00a0 Bowing my head down for a few seconds so as not to attract too much attention, I looked back up and saw Estela\u2019s father standing against the wall next to the open front door.\u00a0 Next to him was his wife, but as hard as I tried, I could not find Estela or Becca.\u00a0 Then once everyone sat back down during the offering I saw the girls standing a few feet away from their parents.\u00a0 Despite the distance from the stage to the front door Estela must\u2019ve seen that I\u2019d found her and, raising her hand discreetly, wiggled her fingers and gave me a beautifully big smile.\u00a0 My heart swelled and suddenly the service became much more interesting.<\/p>\n After the service I didn\u2019t bother putting my guitar in its case\u2014just leaving it leaning on my chair.\u00a0 I hurried out the side door hoping to find Estela in the large and milling crowd.<\/p>\n \u201cFrankie, Frankie!\u201d\u00a0 I heard from behind me.\u00a0 Looking over my shoulder I saw that it was Becca calling my name.<\/p>\n \u201cHey, kiddo!\u201d\u00a0 I cheerfully said.\u00a0 \u201cWhere\u2019s the rest of your family?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou mean, where\u2019s my sister, don\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell\u2026that too.\u201d\u00a0 I answered, with a little snicker.<\/p>\n \u201cMom and Dad are in the car waiting for us.\u00a0 Estela told them she had to go to the bathroom.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAh, OK.\u201d<\/p>\n Becca tipped her head a little and glanced behind me.\u00a0 \u201cThere she comes.\u00a0 I\u2019ll leave you two lovebirds alone.\u201d\u00a0 She laughed out loud\u2026proud of her little comment.<\/p>\n \u201cBecca!\u00a0 Stop it!\u201d\u00a0 Estela said with a little irritation in her voice.<\/p>\n I turned, and Estela was walking toward me, at the same time grimacing at Becca.<\/p>\n \u201cMake yourself useful and go tell Dad I\u2019m on my way.\u201d\u00a0 Estela ordered.<\/p>\n \u201cOK, but don\u2019t kiss too much!\u201d\u00a0 With that, Becca let out a loud childish giggle and ran off, elbows flying, towards the street.<\/p>\n \u201cShe\u2019s so annoying!\u201d\u00a0 Estela said, exasperated.<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s what little sisters are for.\u201d\u00a0 I answered, smiling.<\/p>\n She waved her hand in front of her face, as if to shoo a mosquito.\u00a0 \u201cOh, I know.\u00a0 But, look.\u00a0 I don\u2019t have too much time since mom and dad are waiting.\u00a0 OK, dad took off from the ranch for this weekend, after I nagged him so much, so we\u2019ll be here tomorrow and Sunday.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cReally?\u201d\u00a0 I said, trying to hold in my excitement.\u00a0 \u201cThat\u2019s great.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know.\u00a0 It\u2019s just not fair that we live so far apart and can\u2019t see each other more.\u201d\u00a0 She lamented.<\/p>\n I wanted so much to reach out and touch her face.\u00a0 Instead, I forced myself to cross my arms.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah,\u201d I said softly, \u201cbut thank God we can talk during the week.\u201d<\/p>\n She looked behind me to my left and said, \u201cOh, oh.\u00a0 Here comes your dad.\u00a0 I\u2019d better go.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSee you tomorrow\u2026\u201d Was all I could say before she quickly turned on her heel and headed away from me.<\/p>\n Trying not to look too disappointed, or too interested in her receding figure, I turned to see my dad walking toward me accompanied by Villa.<\/p>\n \u201cHi dad.\u00a0 Reverend Villa.\u201d\u00a0 I quietly said.\u00a0 \u201cDad, do I have time to get some chocolate from the comedor [dining room] before we go?\u00a0 Oh, and I gotta get my guitar, too.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSure!\u201d\u00a0 My dad answered.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019ll see you at the car.\u201d<\/p>\n As I walked by them I heard my dad continue his conversation with Villa, and I noticed Villa looking curiously at something over my shoulder.<\/p>\n We arrived at the church the next day at seven in the morning, even though the \u201caccounting service\u201d wouldn\u2019t start for another two hours.\u00a0 After having some tamales and menudo for breakfast I went into the near empty church to tune my guitar and practice a bit on the piano.<\/p>\n I\u2019d been on the stage for about fifteen minutes when I looked out one of the side windows and saw Estela, Becca, and her parents walking into the comedor.\u00a0 My heart jumped and I decided that maybe a nice cup of hot chocolate would be great right about then.<\/p>\n By the time I got my guitar put up and had walked out the door, I saw Estela come out of the comedor by herself holding a steaming cup of chocolate.<\/p>\n \u201cHi!\u201d\u00a0 I said excitedly.<\/p>\n \u201cHola, guapo.\u201d\u00a0 [Hello, handsome.]\u00a0 Her answer accompanied with a loving smile.<\/p>\n I decided that I really didn\u2019t need anything else to drink so we just stood right outside of the comedor talking quietly.\u00a0 During our conversation several reverends and church members that I knew from other churches walked by and greeted us warmly.\u00a0 But unbeknownst to me, there was someone inside the comedor who was watching us intently.<\/p>\n In what seemed too little time Estela said she should go and join her family in the church as the service was just about to begin.\u00a0 She turned, walking to the front of the church, and I popped into the comedor to grab a polvor\u00f3n [Mexican sugar cookie].<\/p>\n A few minutes later I was up on the stage with the rest of the band, having finished warming up the congregation with a rousing hymn.\u00a0 After the congregation took their seats I expected one of the reverends sitting behind the pulpit to start the proceedings by first introducing the church council\u2019s CPA, then calling for the first church\u2019s treasurer in the queue to come up and put us all to sleep with an endless set of droning numbers.\u00a0 Instead, he announced that Reverend Villa had a very important message to share with the congregation.<\/p>\n As Villa stood up from his chair and ambled toward the pulpit, white leather bible in hand, he shot a quick look in my direction.\u00a0 I smiled\u2014he didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n He stood there, almost hugging the pulpit with both hands.\u00a0 Then he started:<\/p>\n (Reverend Villa made the following comments to the congregation that morning in Spanish.\u00a0 But, because I do not remember everything he said word for word, I will instead paraphrase what I do remember, in English).<\/p>\n \u201cMay the Lord bless you and yours this morning; and may He continue to bless our council of churches.\u00a0 What we do today, and everyday, is dedicated to God, and the Son he sent to us to die on the cross for our wicked sins.<\/p>\n \u201cBrothers, I have often spoken to the constant battle that rages every second of each day between those of us who have been saved by the blood of Jesus and baptized by the Holy Spirit, and the enemy of all that\u2019s good and holy\u2014Satan.<\/p>\n \u201cAlthough we sometimes forget that he watches our every step, looking for any crack in our holy armor that he may penetrate and enter our hearts, he never rests nor does he tire.\u00a0 If he sees even the smallest fault in our devotion he will breach that weakness and plant his vile seed.\u00a0 And if we do not have the Lord as our constant protector, that seed will grow and darken our souls until we wither and fall to temptation and finally to eternal fiery oblivion.\u00a0 Then, our souls are lost forever.<\/p>\n \u201cAs one of God\u2019s chosen shepherds here on Earth, brothers, it is my responsibility to search for and root out those vile seeds of sinfulness.\u00a0 Yes, it is a heavy charge, but I bear it because I am committed to protect the flock that Jesus has given me.\u00a0 I am constantly on the lookout for those within my flock that would stray\u2014first a short way, then after accepting Satan\u2019s temptation, far away into sure danger and possible death.<\/p>\n \u201cToday, my beloved brothers, I have seen Satan pulling one of our young lambs away from the safety of the fold.\u00a0 And, in his wickedness, not satisfied with taking just one, the dark force laid his tempting trap for yet another.\u00a0 This\u2026 brothers and sisters, I cannot allow.\u00a0 I must act; I must raise the alarm; and finally, I must punish so that Satan\u2019s future trickeries are not so tempting to these young souls.<\/p>\n Then, turning to face me, he solemnly said, \u201cLittle brother DeLe\u00f3n, please stand.\u201d<\/p>\n My heart stopped, and my legs turned to rubber.\u00a0 Somehow, I stood and a deep throbbing pain began pulsing deep in my guts.<\/p>\n He continued:\u00a0 \u201cThis young brother is someone I love so very much\u2026almost as much as I do my own sons.\u00a0 And because I love him and the Lord loves his soul, I must do what I have to do.<\/p>\n Then he looked out into the congregation.\u00a0 After a few seconds he said: \u201cLittle sister Estela Ram\u00edrez, please stand.\u201d<\/p>\n I was shaking like a leaf and I felt the bile rising in my throat. \u00a0I ventured a look into the audience and found my mother.\u00a0 Her face was a mask of terror\u2014her handkerchief held to her mouth and her eyes wide and brimming with tears.<\/p>\n Although the church was filled to capacity not a sound escaped the crowd.<\/p>\n A shuffle of skirts and Estela rose from her seat near the back of the auditorium.\u00a0 She was sobbing and her mother and father sitting next to her had their heads down.\u00a0 Becca was holding her hand over her mouth and crying softly.<\/p>\n Villa continued:\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cThe church is hallowed ground, so sayeth the Lord.\u00a0\u00a0 It is not a place for chicanery, nor is it a place for fornication\u2014physical or mental.<\/p>\n \u201cThis, my holy brethren, is what Satan has tempted these two people to do.\u00a0 And this is what these two young people are guilty of.\u00a0 I have seen it with my own eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cPerhaps the dark prince has convinced them that what they are doing is innocent.\u00a0 It is not!\u00a0 Surely, given enough time, and without holy intervention, Satan will eventually lead them from what they \u2018innocently\u2019 do today on the grounds of our holy place of worship, to eventual acts of depravity and debauchery.\u00a0 This, I will not allow.\u00a0 And I, as the ordained shepherd of this holy flock hereby step in between them and the great Satan.\u00a0 He will not take their souls!<\/p>\n \u201cNow brothers, let us all rise and pray for these two innocents.\u00a0 Let us grab the devil by his very horns and throw him out!\u00a0 For these souls belong to the Lord and they will not be sullied.\u201d<\/p>\n As if they were puppets on strings, the entire congregation rose as one.\u00a0 I felt as if I was going to faint, and in the space of those few minutes my shirt was soaked with sweat.\u00a0 A great howl sprang from the congregation as all their voices combined to yell the devil out of the church.\u00a0 I couldn\u2019t move.<\/p>\n Unexpectedly I felt a hand touch my neck.\u00a0 I turned, frightened and expecting to see Satan grabbing me and pulling me down into his fiery pits.\u00a0 Instead I saw brother Cant\u00fa.\u00a0 On his face was a kindly smile.\u00a0 A tear rolled down his puffy cheek as he pulled me close to him.\u00a0 In his deep gruff voice he said, \u201cDon\u2019t listen to any of this my little friend.\u00a0 In the eyes of the Lord you have done nothing wrong.\u00a0 Truly, you have done nothing wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n He pressed his brown forehead onto mine and whispered, \u201cThat evil man will pay in hell for what he\u2019s done to you and that little girl here today.\u201d<\/p>\n As much as I wanted to answer, I could not.\u00a0 My throat was clamped shut.\u00a0 I pulled away from his grip and somehow took the steps off the stage and ran out the side door.<\/p>\n In the back seat of our car I was finally able to breathe.\u00a0 A deep and bitter sob finally fought through and found its way from my broken heart, thundering out in the hot locked car.<\/p>\n ***<\/p>\n I never saw or heard from Estela ever again.<\/p>\n Years later someone told me that the Ram\u00edrez family had moved out of Alvin, and had never returned to the little church.\u00a0 No one seemed to know, or maybe they didn\u2019t want to say, where they had gone.<\/p>\n In December of the following year I kept the vow that I had made to myself that fateful day sorrowfully locked away in that hot car at Templo Bethel.\u00a0 Six months after high school graduation, and against my parents\u2019 wishes and supplications, I left home and joined the United States Air Force.<\/p>\n I would never set foot in another Pentecostal church again.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The Beginning Of The End \u00a0 Holy Merry-Go-Round \u00a0 When 1958 rolled around the DeLe\u00f3n family had become faithful and ever present members of the Nueva Jerusal\u00e9n Pentecostal church.\u00a0 We attended just about every service that was offered, in addition to traveling a couple to three times a month to churches that were members of … Continue reading The Beginning Of The End<\/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-419","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-general"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/419","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=419"}],"version-history":[{"count":9,"href":"https:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/419\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":432,"href":"https:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/419\/revisions\/432"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=419"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=419"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=419"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}