He would get much better schooling in town than in the little country school where all the grades were in just two rooms. It was time for Junior, that was me, to use English as his main language. It wasn't just being nearer to work, Papa said, but he couldn't tell the family because they wouldn't understand. Grandma cut Uncle short, "Enough!"Īs we bumped along the dirt of Rafas Road toward home in the slightly used Ford we were all so proud of, Papa and Mama talked some more. It belonged to Papa and everyone expected him to build a house there someday. He was going to say orchard next to Grandma's house. Grandma blew out a puff of cigarette smoke in exasperation. "It's much closer to work," Papa repeated.īefore Uncle Luis could shout again. Her chair started to rock faster, and I knew that in a moment she was going to scream at them both. She was blind and couldn't see the anger on the men's faces, but she wasn't deaf. My aunt tried not to look at either him or Papa, while Grandma sat on her rocking chair smoking a handrolled cigarette. "I'll be much closer to work, and Josie can have the car to shop once in awhile. But even when angry, he was polite to his older brother. Papa stood with his cup and saucer held tightly in his hands, his knuckles bleached by the vicious grip as if all the blood had been squeezed up to his bright red face. If New Mexico country was good enough for them-"
Our parents and grandparents grew up in the country.
"You think you're too good for us," Uncle Luis shouted at Papa in Spanish, "just because you finished high school and have a job in town! My God! We grew up in the country. It created a family uproar that left hard feelings for a long time. Just before I started the first grade we moved from Los Rafas into town.
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