The beginning of X
2003-10-27 | 1:00 a.m.

My mother was born in March 1951 in western New Mexico. It's very beautiful there in the mountains in the Gila National Forest. Her father worked in a copper mine driving some kind of heavy machinery. At some point, he served in the Korean War. It changed him forever. I know he had to spend some time in a hospital. He couldn't handle the atrocities he had seen and had to be put on antidepressants. He drank heavily. My mom's oldest sister, Norma, was born in April of 1952. So I'm guessing he may have served sometime after she was conceived until the end of the war. He was a handsome man and looked good in his uniform, but he was certainly not a soldier.

He wanted a son but gave up after fathering four girls. Ten years separate my mom from her youngest sister, Gloria. My aunt Yolanda is a little bit older than Gloria, but I don't remember how much older.

I think he tried to be a good dad, as much as his inadequacies would allow. He become an alcoholic and his depression has never left him.

Still Mom tells stories of camping trips and mountain hikes. Her dad loved to camp and he took the whole family. He would dismantle a full size bed, haul it to the campsite, and reassemble it so his girls wouldn't have to sleep on the ground. They woule eat balogna sandwiches and cold pork-n-beans. He also loved pickled pigs feet. *shudder*

They lived in small houses in mining towns. Mom was the oldest so she slept on a couch by herself, and her sisters shared a bed. When there was company, she had to sleep in the bathtub. In case you haven't figured it out by now, they were very poor. On holidays, they would go to my Great Aunt Barbara's (my grandmother's sister) and have the festivities there. Aunt Barbara was married to a very kind, but stern provider who was not saddled with all the problems my grandfather has. Her husband was named Uncle....wow, I forgot his name. He died a few years ago of cancer. Aunt Barbara lived to serve him. She is a very devout Catholic and an amazing cook. So it was up to her to cook the traditional Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners for the family. My grandmother had her hands full with four girls and a deficient husband.

Every spring they would have spring cleaning, which not only meant cleaning but also painting. After a winter of keeping a wood burning stove going and my grandfather's smoking, the walls were usually rather grimey. So they would buy a gallon or two of paint and make everything fresh again.

I don't know if they ever actually owned their own home. I don't think so.

When my mom was 15, she had had enough of life in western New Mexico. She knew it held nothing for her. So she ran away. She packed a bag, walked to the highway, stuck out her thumb, and met my biological father.

And that I will tell you all about later...

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