We arrived at my grandparents' farm on the outskirts of the small town of Jerome, Idaho, in December. The farm was fabulous, even in the dead of winter. There were cows, pigs, sheep, chickens, and my grandmother's fluffy cats, Pumpkin and Dinah. I loved sitting on the stile, talking to the cows and seeing how far I could spit. The sheep had been named after us grandkids, which made it devastating to us when we were later told that they'd been sent to slaughter.
Not long after we arrived, we piled into my grandparents' car and drove out to Cathedral Pines, a beautiful Baptist Camp in Central Idaho. There I got to meet dozens of relatives that I didn't even know I had at a huge, week-long, family reunion. I also got to go cross country skiing and snowmobiling for the first time. We had a blast building snowmen and having snowball fights with our cousins and then warming up around the fireplace in the center of the dining hall, while singing songs. I fell in love with the beautiful pine trees and pristine snow, and I've longed to return ever since.
When the reunion was over, we returned to Jerome and moved from the farm into a modern little house in a middle class subdivision in town. My aunt and uncle owned the house, which they had lived in before they built the huge, gorgeous house they now lived in on their huge ranch. Right after we moved in, Mom took us to our new school where we were tested for grade placement. In Honduras, the school year was opposite of the U.S. So, when I had moved to Honduras in the middle of 2nd grade in Utah, it was the beginning of the school year in Honduras. So, I'd started 2nd grade over there. I left Honduras just after completing 5th grade there, but I tested well enough to jump into the middle of 6th grade in Idaho. I owe that to the many hours my mom spent with me at her work, drilling me on English spelling, vocabulary and such.
My first few weeks of school, I was the center of attention. Everyone was fascinated by my accent and wanted me to "say something in Spanish" or tell them all about Honduras. One day someone asked me what kind of music I liked, which totally caught me off guard. I knew little of American music, and nothing about genres. I'd heard of Country music and thought that might be popular around there (most of them did live "out in the country" on farms, after all), so I answered "country". I believe the kid's face almost turned green, like they were gonna puke, and they walked away. After that the novelty of "the girl from Honduras" wore off, and only 3 friends remained: Charlotte, who had gorgeous brown hair and mischievous green eyes, Tiffany, who was a scrawny and rambunctious four-eyes, and D.J. who had long, blonde hair that was so coarse that it reminded me of a horse's maine. Our favorite playground activities were monkey bars and tetherball, which we played very agressively.
I had a lot to learn about rural American culture. I was invited to a sleepover at Charlotte's beautiful farmhouse, and she taught me all about 4H Club and proudly showed me all of her ribbons and trophies. Then D.J. had a sleepover, and I learned that "Let's TP the Jones' tree" meant "Let's cover the Jones' tree in toilet paper at night and then run like hell so that no one catches us." I heard a lot of kids at school hollering "Stick it!" at each other but didn't have a clue what it meant until one day when Tiffany replied to some rude boy "Up yours! It fits better!" When I realized what it meant, I had mixed feelings. I felt embarassed to be hanging with such foul-mouthed kids, since I'd never uttered a bad word because of my solid Christian upbringing. Yet I also admired Tiffany for her witty response.
I struggled some academically that year, trying to get caught up in all subjects. In the process, I made a startling discovery. As I was silently working a math problem one day, I realized that I was actually thinking the numbers in Spanish. So, for example, if the problem was twenty times three, I'd think "veinte por tres" as I worked on the solution of the problem. After that, I started deliberately thinking through math problems in English. Though I didn't do well in 6th grade, I passed.
Sunday, August 25, 2013
Sunday, August 18, 2013
7. Big Changes (age 11)
Alfredo's kids rarely joined us on our excursions. So, when his 2 sons came with us on a long drive to a small town one day, my sister and I were surprised and annoyed that we had to squeeze into the small back seat of the car with these boys. They were having burping contests and making farting sounds with their hands, armpits, mouths, and any other way they could. Their only form of entertainment on the drive was trying to make my sis and me puke, and they nearly succeeded. I think that what saved us was that 100 degree weather and no air conditioning meant that all windows has to be rolled down, giving us fresh air continually.
We made it to a quaint little town that had a gorgeous water fountain at the center of a city park. Mom and Alfredo left us kids to play at the park while they went into a building. As we played at the park, I started to see another side to the boys and started crushing on Ricardo, who was just a few months younger than I. By the time Mom and Alfredo came back out, I was so fixated on Ricardo that I hardly noticed that our parents were acting funny.
On the long drive home, I sat by Ricardo and we eventually ended up holding hands. That night we played hide-and-seek with the neighbors in my huge back yard, and as Ricardo and I hid together in the dark, we kissed. We were 11 years old and hadn't really thought through the fact that our parents were dating. Or maybe we just didn't take them seriously because they'd broken up so many times. All we knew was that we were in love.
So, when we were told the next week that my mother was taking my sis and me back to the U.S., we were devastated. My mom explained that it was becoming too dangerous there, especially for Americans. There had been bombings, and just a week or two after we left, our night watchman was killed in our neighborhood.
So, just a couple of weeks after our first kiss, Ricardo and I said goodbye to each other at the airport, and my Mom and sis and I boarded our plane. I was trying hard not to cry when my mother said, "I guess I can tell you my secret now!" She looked like she would simply bust if she didn't. She said, "Do you remember that little trip we went on a couple of weeks ago with Alfredo and the boys?" We nodded, anxious to find out what she was so excited about. "When we were in that building while you waited for us, we got married!" My stomach did a flip and my heart skipped a beat as I realized that I had kissed my STEP BROTHER!
We made it to a quaint little town that had a gorgeous water fountain at the center of a city park. Mom and Alfredo left us kids to play at the park while they went into a building. As we played at the park, I started to see another side to the boys and started crushing on Ricardo, who was just a few months younger than I. By the time Mom and Alfredo came back out, I was so fixated on Ricardo that I hardly noticed that our parents were acting funny.
On the long drive home, I sat by Ricardo and we eventually ended up holding hands. That night we played hide-and-seek with the neighbors in my huge back yard, and as Ricardo and I hid together in the dark, we kissed. We were 11 years old and hadn't really thought through the fact that our parents were dating. Or maybe we just didn't take them seriously because they'd broken up so many times. All we knew was that we were in love.
So, when we were told the next week that my mother was taking my sis and me back to the U.S., we were devastated. My mom explained that it was becoming too dangerous there, especially for Americans. There had been bombings, and just a week or two after we left, our night watchman was killed in our neighborhood.
So, just a couple of weeks after our first kiss, Ricardo and I said goodbye to each other at the airport, and my Mom and sis and I boarded our plane. I was trying hard not to cry when my mother said, "I guess I can tell you my secret now!" She looked like she would simply bust if she didn't. She said, "Do you remember that little trip we went on a couple of weeks ago with Alfredo and the boys?" We nodded, anxious to find out what she was so excited about. "When we were in that building while you waited for us, we got married!" My stomach did a flip and my heart skipped a beat as I realized that I had kissed my STEP BROTHER!
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
6. More of Honduras (age 8-11)
We caught a flight from Salt Lake City to Miami, but there was no available flight to Honduras until the next day. So, we spent a miserable 24 hours or so living in the airport. We slept on the floor, and the only form of entertainment my sis and I found was hunting for change under vending machines.
When we finally made it home, we were happily reunited with Candy and our cool tomcat, Nacho. Well, I don't know that Nacho was very happy that we came back. We were kind of rough on him. We'd dressed him up and roughed him up, and I even swung him around by his tail once or twice. He had been a gift to us from our former nanny, an attempt on her part to make us like her. Unfortunately for her, it didn't work, and we ran her off by throwing Nacho at her. His claws did enough damage that she gave up the job. We'd hated her from the get go, but the last straw for us was when she tried to make us take showers one night when my mom was out late. She couldn't get both of us at the same time, so she locked me out of the house while she forced my sis into the cold water (there was no hot water in Honduran homes). My sis was screaming, so I climbed up to the bathroom window and broke it. The nanny was so freaked out by the sound of the shattering glass that she let my sis go. She didn't last long after that because we did all we could to get rid of her.
One night when we no longer had a nanny, my sis and I were sitting in my mom's room watching TV while waiting for her to come home from work. When Fantasy Island came on, we got excited because Mom rarely let us stay up late enough to see it. When it ended, we got scared because we realized that something had to be wrong. Mom was never that late. Suddenly every little noise was a burglar or wild animal trying to break in, and we were very aware that we were all alone in a house that was mostly surrounded by monte.
A while later my mom came home. She was visibly shaken and looked like she could fall apart at any moment. At our insistence, she explained that Alfredo's wife had shown up at Mom's office and started a fight. Mom had scratched Sofia's eye in self defense, but the police took her to jail for it anyway. Only after hours of pleading with the officers and begging them to let her go home to her girls, did they finally have compassion on her and let her out. I don't think she told us the whole story, but we didn't really care. We were just glad that she was alive and home with us.
The relationship Mom had with Alfredo was off and on over a span of 10 years. He'd promise her he was working on a divorce. She'd get tired of waiting and break up with him. He'd convince her that the divorce was about to go through, and they'd be back together again. It was a confusing and viscious cycle. When they were off, Mom would get really close to Sis and me. We'd go on Sunday drives along random countryside roads and sing songs and play games together. When they were on again, she'd spend most of her time with him; and even if we were with them, her focus was on him. I grew to despise him, because it always seemed that he was taking her away from us.
I also found myself daydreaming often of living a more comfortable life in the U.S. with my father. In Honduras, we had no air conditioning, though temperatures were generally around 100. We had no washing machines, and did all of our laundry by hand in an outdoor sink. There were no lawn mowers, so we paid a man to chop the grass with a machete. The water was not safe to drink without being boiled, and we actually found a tiny fish in our tap water once. Electricity was unreliable, and we usually lost power a few hours each day. And we had no telephones.
There was some building downtown where you could go to pay to use a phone, and I remember doing that a couple of times to talk to my dad and my grandparents. The only other communication I had with my father was by mail, which was very slow. I remember getting a letter from my dad and not wanting to write him back because I hated writing. But my mom made me write to him, and I was glad she did. I found out years later that my dad didn't want to write to me...not because he didn't like writing, but because it would make him sad that he couldn't see me...but his wife pushed him to keep writing to his daughters, no matter how painful. I love my stepmom for that.
When we finally made it home, we were happily reunited with Candy and our cool tomcat, Nacho. Well, I don't know that Nacho was very happy that we came back. We were kind of rough on him. We'd dressed him up and roughed him up, and I even swung him around by his tail once or twice. He had been a gift to us from our former nanny, an attempt on her part to make us like her. Unfortunately for her, it didn't work, and we ran her off by throwing Nacho at her. His claws did enough damage that she gave up the job. We'd hated her from the get go, but the last straw for us was when she tried to make us take showers one night when my mom was out late. She couldn't get both of us at the same time, so she locked me out of the house while she forced my sis into the cold water (there was no hot water in Honduran homes). My sis was screaming, so I climbed up to the bathroom window and broke it. The nanny was so freaked out by the sound of the shattering glass that she let my sis go. She didn't last long after that because we did all we could to get rid of her.
One night when we no longer had a nanny, my sis and I were sitting in my mom's room watching TV while waiting for her to come home from work. When Fantasy Island came on, we got excited because Mom rarely let us stay up late enough to see it. When it ended, we got scared because we realized that something had to be wrong. Mom was never that late. Suddenly every little noise was a burglar or wild animal trying to break in, and we were very aware that we were all alone in a house that was mostly surrounded by monte.
A while later my mom came home. She was visibly shaken and looked like she could fall apart at any moment. At our insistence, she explained that Alfredo's wife had shown up at Mom's office and started a fight. Mom had scratched Sofia's eye in self defense, but the police took her to jail for it anyway. Only after hours of pleading with the officers and begging them to let her go home to her girls, did they finally have compassion on her and let her out. I don't think she told us the whole story, but we didn't really care. We were just glad that she was alive and home with us.
The relationship Mom had with Alfredo was off and on over a span of 10 years. He'd promise her he was working on a divorce. She'd get tired of waiting and break up with him. He'd convince her that the divorce was about to go through, and they'd be back together again. It was a confusing and viscious cycle. When they were off, Mom would get really close to Sis and me. We'd go on Sunday drives along random countryside roads and sing songs and play games together. When they were on again, she'd spend most of her time with him; and even if we were with them, her focus was on him. I grew to despise him, because it always seemed that he was taking her away from us.
I also found myself daydreaming often of living a more comfortable life in the U.S. with my father. In Honduras, we had no air conditioning, though temperatures were generally around 100. We had no washing machines, and did all of our laundry by hand in an outdoor sink. There were no lawn mowers, so we paid a man to chop the grass with a machete. The water was not safe to drink without being boiled, and we actually found a tiny fish in our tap water once. Electricity was unreliable, and we usually lost power a few hours each day. And we had no telephones.
There was some building downtown where you could go to pay to use a phone, and I remember doing that a couple of times to talk to my dad and my grandparents. The only other communication I had with my father was by mail, which was very slow. I remember getting a letter from my dad and not wanting to write him back because I hated writing. But my mom made me write to him, and I was glad she did. I found out years later that my dad didn't want to write to me...not because he didn't like writing, but because it would make him sad that he couldn't see me...but his wife pushed him to keep writing to his daughters, no matter how painful. I love my stepmom for that.
Saturday, May 18, 2013
5. To And Fro (age 8)
After we had been in Honduras for about a year, my mom agreed to send my sis and me to visit my dad for winter break. It was only our 2nd flight ever and our 1st as unaccompanied minors. I don't think we were scared at all, just excited. Everything went as planned, and my father picked us up at the airport. I was so happy to finally see my dad again. Then I met his new wife and her annoying 2-year-old, and I suddenly wasn't sure I wanted to be there anymore. However, Christmas was days away, and there were dozens of beautifully wrapped gifts under the Christmas tree. So, I figured I'd stick around to see what they had to offer.
While waiting for Christmas to roll around, my sis and I spent many hours enjoying the snow. We built snowmen and huge forts, had snowball fights, and went sledding as often as we were allowed to. I remember my dad making me come inside after I'd been working on our fort for a long time, and pulling my boots off, I discovered that my socks were practically frozen to my feet! I'm lucky that I never got frostbite.
The Christmas loot turned out to be well worth sticking around for. There was a record player, a doll house, a kit for growing crystals, and all kinds of fun toys that I'd never even seen before. After a week or two of being spoiled rotten, my dad and stepmom informed us that they weren't going to send us back to my mom. I was having so much fun at the time that I wasn't much bothered by the news. However, the next time I spoke to my mother on the phone, the sound of her voice reminded me of what I was missing in Honduras: my neighbor, Candy, and our other friends; trips to the beach; valeadas and tajaditas; our big corner lot with huge trees next to the monte. I was suddenly stricken with homesickness and blabbed about my dad's plan to keep us. My mom flipped!
After the phonecall I informed my dad that I wanted to go back to my mom. When he replied that it wasn't an option, I threw my self on my bed and wailed for about two hours. I only stopped then because my stepmom came in and yelled at me, saying that my dad was in his room crying because I was breaking his heart. I didn't want to hurt my dad; but I wanted my mom. I felt so torn and confused. I packed my clothes in a suit case and declared that I was running away. My stepmom just said "OK", and asked what my plan was. I shrugged, so she asked specifically where I was going to go and how I would get food. I proudly announced that I could take care of myself; but when she called my bluff, saying "There's the door. Good luck.", I chickened out.
Within days, Mom was in the U.S. and taking my dad to court to fight for custody. I remember walking up to the gray stone courthouse, feeling nervous about seeing my mom again and overwhelmed with conflicting feelings about my parents. I loved my dad and didn't want to leave him, but I missed my mom and Honduras. I think that was when I developed my first resentment. I blamed my mother for the situation because she was the one who had divorced my dad and taken us away. In my anger, I did something cruel, which I now recognize as my first act of manipulation. Sitting in the courtroom next to my mother, I turned around to say something to my stepmom and called her "Mom". A couple of decades later, my stepmom would remind me of the incident and the fact that I had always called her Tina until that moment.
When it was time for the judge to hear my parents' case, a friend of my mother's took my sis and me outside to walk around. I asked why we couldn't stay inside, and I was told that "sometimes mommies and daddies say things that aren't very nice in situations like this, and it's better for their kids to not hear it." A while later my mom came out and told my sis and me that we were going to stay the night with her at her friend's house. I was happy to be with my mom again, but I was sad that I didn't get to say goodbye to my dad. I didn't worry about it too much though because I understood that we were supposed to be back in court the next day.
I fell asleep quickly that night because I was so emotionally worn out. When I was awakened, it was still dark outside. My mom said, "Hurry and get up. We need to go quickly." I asked where we were going, and my mom just said that she'd explain in the car. Once we were in the car, she informed us that we were going to the airport to catch the next flight to Honduras. I cried out "But I thought you had to go back to court?" She gave me some story about how the judge had winked at her, indicating that this was her chance to go ahead and take us back. I looked out the back window of the car in the direction of my dad's home that I would never see again, and as tears streamed down my face, all I could think was, "I didn't get to say goodbye."
While waiting for Christmas to roll around, my sis and I spent many hours enjoying the snow. We built snowmen and huge forts, had snowball fights, and went sledding as often as we were allowed to. I remember my dad making me come inside after I'd been working on our fort for a long time, and pulling my boots off, I discovered that my socks were practically frozen to my feet! I'm lucky that I never got frostbite.
The Christmas loot turned out to be well worth sticking around for. There was a record player, a doll house, a kit for growing crystals, and all kinds of fun toys that I'd never even seen before. After a week or two of being spoiled rotten, my dad and stepmom informed us that they weren't going to send us back to my mom. I was having so much fun at the time that I wasn't much bothered by the news. However, the next time I spoke to my mother on the phone, the sound of her voice reminded me of what I was missing in Honduras: my neighbor, Candy, and our other friends; trips to the beach; valeadas and tajaditas; our big corner lot with huge trees next to the monte. I was suddenly stricken with homesickness and blabbed about my dad's plan to keep us. My mom flipped!
After the phonecall I informed my dad that I wanted to go back to my mom. When he replied that it wasn't an option, I threw my self on my bed and wailed for about two hours. I only stopped then because my stepmom came in and yelled at me, saying that my dad was in his room crying because I was breaking his heart. I didn't want to hurt my dad; but I wanted my mom. I felt so torn and confused. I packed my clothes in a suit case and declared that I was running away. My stepmom just said "OK", and asked what my plan was. I shrugged, so she asked specifically where I was going to go and how I would get food. I proudly announced that I could take care of myself; but when she called my bluff, saying "There's the door. Good luck.", I chickened out.
Within days, Mom was in the U.S. and taking my dad to court to fight for custody. I remember walking up to the gray stone courthouse, feeling nervous about seeing my mom again and overwhelmed with conflicting feelings about my parents. I loved my dad and didn't want to leave him, but I missed my mom and Honduras. I think that was when I developed my first resentment. I blamed my mother for the situation because she was the one who had divorced my dad and taken us away. In my anger, I did something cruel, which I now recognize as my first act of manipulation. Sitting in the courtroom next to my mother, I turned around to say something to my stepmom and called her "Mom". A couple of decades later, my stepmom would remind me of the incident and the fact that I had always called her Tina until that moment.
When it was time for the judge to hear my parents' case, a friend of my mother's took my sis and me outside to walk around. I asked why we couldn't stay inside, and I was told that "sometimes mommies and daddies say things that aren't very nice in situations like this, and it's better for their kids to not hear it." A while later my mom came out and told my sis and me that we were going to stay the night with her at her friend's house. I was happy to be with my mom again, but I was sad that I didn't get to say goodbye to my dad. I didn't worry about it too much though because I understood that we were supposed to be back in court the next day.
I fell asleep quickly that night because I was so emotionally worn out. When I was awakened, it was still dark outside. My mom said, "Hurry and get up. We need to go quickly." I asked where we were going, and my mom just said that she'd explain in the car. Once we were in the car, she informed us that we were going to the airport to catch the next flight to Honduras. I cried out "But I thought you had to go back to court?" She gave me some story about how the judge had winked at her, indicating that this was her chance to go ahead and take us back. I looked out the back window of the car in the direction of my dad's home that I would never see again, and as tears streamed down my face, all I could think was, "I didn't get to say goodbye."
4. A Whole New World (age 7-8)
My mom had told everyone that we were just going on vacation for a couple of months. My dad never would have agreed to it otherwise. My mom had gotten the house in the divorce and used the money from its sale to have a small brick house built for us in La Colonia Aurora, a subdivision in San Pedro Sula, the second largest Honduran city. While the house was being built, we would check on it at least once a week, which was a welcome break from the tension in our temporary home.
Our house was literally the very last one built in the subdivision. This had some advantages: one of the biggest lots around, only 1 next-door neighbor to deal with, and huge trees along the fence that separated our yard from the "monte" (Spanish for "woods"). Over the next 4 years we would come across all kinds of critters on that lot: snakes, frogs, scorpions, tarantulas, and large black moths the size of an average bird. We even had a buzzard fly into our house one time. The disadvantages to our house were vulnerability to thieves, who burglarized our home almost monthly, and a long walk home from the Spanish Catholic school we went to at the other end of our neighborhood.
While waiting for the house to be built, my sis and I were loathed by our housemates, teased by neighbor kids, and put down by teachers at our first school, where my mom got her first teaching job. She pulled us out of that horrible school as soon as she got a better teaching job at The Centro Cultural Sanpedrano (CCS), where she soon worked her way up to Director of Courses. I remember spending hours there every day after school, studying English vocabulary, spelling, grammar, and punctuation. My mother made sure that we didn't fall behind on English skills while learning all other subjects in Spanish at school. She always had stacks of workbooks for us to work on, and she gave us quizzes weekly.
Though we enjoyed hanging out at Mom's work and munching on the cafeteria specials like valeadas (huge flour tortillas filled with mashed beans and mantequilla crema, an indescribable melt-in-your-mouth deliciousness) and tajaditas (thinly sliced, heavily salted, fried platanos that are eaten like potato chips), we also loved spending all the time we could at our new house. My sis and I quickly became best friends with Candy, the little girl next door. She helped us learn Spanish, and she learned English just by listening to us. One day my mom said "Close the door please", expecting one of her daughters to perform the task. To our surprise, Candy closed the door. She was a fast learner.
From digging out huge forts in the sandy loam in our yard, to playing dress-up or pretending to operate a fruit stand, we always found creative ways to have fun with Candy and our other neighbors. Sometimes our fun would get us in trouble though, like the time we decided to tie rope around someone's neck to play horsie, and galloping around outside the house, she (I think it was my sis) took a corner too fast which somehow caused the rope to get caught on a rock and nearly choked her to death. Another time I pretended to faint dramatically and wound up slamming my lower sternum into the corner of my mom's car. It seemed like an eternity before I could breathe again, but I obviously didn't die. I'll bet my sis wished I would've though, because some time after that we got in a fight and I cornered her in the living room with a sword that my mom had hung on the wall as a decoration. I didn't kill her, but she wailed like she believed I would.
We had many adventures away from home, too. We frequented several beaches: Tela, La Ceiba, and Puerto Cortes. There we always bought pan de coco (sweet rolls made with coconut) sold by friendly little half-naked, barefoot black boys. We didn't think much about sunscreen and usually got so burned that we'd peel for a full week after each trip. There were day trips to historic sites, such as Castillo de Omoa, which was more of an old Spanish fort than a castle, and Las Ruinas de Copan, a large collection of Mayan pyramids and other structures. Alfredo liked to take us to his coffee farm on a mountain along Lago de Yojoa. It was our favorite place to visit because it was such a sensory adventure every time. It would start with a breakfast of fried fish at an outdoor restaurant, followed by a rowboat ride across part of the lake. Then we'd hike up the mountain for what seemed like hours. About halfway up, we'd always stop at a peasant's house for tacos and coffee. That was the only time my mother ever let me have coffee, and I savored every sweet drop. When we got to the top of the mountain, Alfredo would describe the house and swimming pool he planned to build there someday. Then we'd head back down to the peasant's house and take a swim in the creek there. As we'd walk away from the creek, I'd always get a sad feeling inside from having to leave the lush mountain and return to the city.
While waiting for the house to be built, my sis and I were loathed by our housemates, teased by neighbor kids, and put down by teachers at our first school, where my mom got her first teaching job. She pulled us out of that horrible school as soon as she got a better teaching job at The Centro Cultural Sanpedrano (CCS), where she soon worked her way up to Director of Courses. I remember spending hours there every day after school, studying English vocabulary, spelling, grammar, and punctuation. My mother made sure that we didn't fall behind on English skills while learning all other subjects in Spanish at school. She always had stacks of workbooks for us to work on, and she gave us quizzes weekly.
Though we enjoyed hanging out at Mom's work and munching on the cafeteria specials like valeadas (huge flour tortillas filled with mashed beans and mantequilla crema, an indescribable melt-in-your-mouth deliciousness) and tajaditas (thinly sliced, heavily salted, fried platanos that are eaten like potato chips), we also loved spending all the time we could at our new house. My sis and I quickly became best friends with Candy, the little girl next door. She helped us learn Spanish, and she learned English just by listening to us. One day my mom said "Close the door please", expecting one of her daughters to perform the task. To our surprise, Candy closed the door. She was a fast learner.
From digging out huge forts in the sandy loam in our yard, to playing dress-up or pretending to operate a fruit stand, we always found creative ways to have fun with Candy and our other neighbors. Sometimes our fun would get us in trouble though, like the time we decided to tie rope around someone's neck to play horsie, and galloping around outside the house, she (I think it was my sis) took a corner too fast which somehow caused the rope to get caught on a rock and nearly choked her to death. Another time I pretended to faint dramatically and wound up slamming my lower sternum into the corner of my mom's car. It seemed like an eternity before I could breathe again, but I obviously didn't die. I'll bet my sis wished I would've though, because some time after that we got in a fight and I cornered her in the living room with a sword that my mom had hung on the wall as a decoration. I didn't kill her, but she wailed like she believed I would.
We had many adventures away from home, too. We frequented several beaches: Tela, La Ceiba, and Puerto Cortes. There we always bought pan de coco (sweet rolls made with coconut) sold by friendly little half-naked, barefoot black boys. We didn't think much about sunscreen and usually got so burned that we'd peel for a full week after each trip. There were day trips to historic sites, such as Castillo de Omoa, which was more of an old Spanish fort than a castle, and Las Ruinas de Copan, a large collection of Mayan pyramids and other structures. Alfredo liked to take us to his coffee farm on a mountain along Lago de Yojoa. It was our favorite place to visit because it was such a sensory adventure every time. It would start with a breakfast of fried fish at an outdoor restaurant, followed by a rowboat ride across part of the lake. Then we'd hike up the mountain for what seemed like hours. About halfway up, we'd always stop at a peasant's house for tacos and coffee. That was the only time my mother ever let me have coffee, and I savored every sweet drop. When we got to the top of the mountain, Alfredo would describe the house and swimming pool he planned to build there someday. Then we'd head back down to the peasant's house and take a swim in the creek there. As we'd walk away from the creek, I'd always get a sad feeling inside from having to leave the lush mountain and return to the city.
Saturday, May 11, 2013
3. How She Went Astray (age 5-7)
My earliest memories of the man who stole my mother from my dad were the bitter taste of the beer he kept in my mother's fridge, the sweet flavor of gumballs he bought me from the 1¢ bubblegum machine at the mall, and frothy milkshakes we learned to make with bananas, the top export of the latino country he came from. Strangely, many of my childhood memories are closely tied to taste and smell. I also remember his thick Spanish accent and him teaching my mom and sis and me a few Spanish words and phrases.
Maybe that sexy latino accent is what lured my mom away from my dad. Maybe it was the muscle bound arms and legs of that tennis-playing fool. Maybe it was the promise of money and prestige that would come with the engineering degree he was working on. Hell, maybe she just preferred the cologne Alfredo wore over the scent of stinky trash truck driver. Whatever the reason, she wouldn't fully accept that it had been a mistake until 10 years of being on one hell of a roller coaster ride.
The first hint that it might've been a mistake came early. Mom was spending some time with Alfredo at his apartment and happened to notice a paper on the table that said something in Spanish. She'd been learning Spanish, so she decided to try to read it. Then she went into shock as she realised it said something about his WIFE, Sofia. When she confronted him about it, he admited he was married but assured her that he was in the process of getting a divorce.
He graduated from Utah State University, and as he prepared for his return to Honduras, he begged my mom to come live with him there. She trusted him, and love makes people do stupid things sometimes. So, my mom sold everything (except the car, which she spent a fortune on shipping), and we flew to that beautiful little Central American country. Alfredo met us at the airport, as expected. Then he gave my mom the next hint that he had been a mistake.
He'd told my mom that we'd be staying at his house, so when he pulled up to a hotel, my mom gave him a puzzled look. He told her, "I have a surprise for you. I'll explain inside." So, we checked into a hotel room, and my sis and I were left in the hallway to play while they stayed in the room to talk. When my mom came out a while later, her eyes were red and swollen from crying. It was clear that something was horribly wrong.
We stayed in the hotel that night, and the next day we moved into Alfredo's house...with his WIFE and 3 children. For 2 or 3 months we all lived under the same roof...the wife, the kids, the mistress and the mistress's kids. It wasn't until I was an adult that I fully understood why everyone seemed to hate and look down on me...the mistress's daughter.
Maybe that sexy latino accent is what lured my mom away from my dad. Maybe it was the muscle bound arms and legs of that tennis-playing fool. Maybe it was the promise of money and prestige that would come with the engineering degree he was working on. Hell, maybe she just preferred the cologne Alfredo wore over the scent of stinky trash truck driver. Whatever the reason, she wouldn't fully accept that it had been a mistake until 10 years of being on one hell of a roller coaster ride.
The first hint that it might've been a mistake came early. Mom was spending some time with Alfredo at his apartment and happened to notice a paper on the table that said something in Spanish. She'd been learning Spanish, so she decided to try to read it. Then she went into shock as she realised it said something about his WIFE, Sofia. When she confronted him about it, he admited he was married but assured her that he was in the process of getting a divorce.
He graduated from Utah State University, and as he prepared for his return to Honduras, he begged my mom to come live with him there. She trusted him, and love makes people do stupid things sometimes. So, my mom sold everything (except the car, which she spent a fortune on shipping), and we flew to that beautiful little Central American country. Alfredo met us at the airport, as expected. Then he gave my mom the next hint that he had been a mistake.
He'd told my mom that we'd be staying at his house, so when he pulled up to a hotel, my mom gave him a puzzled look. He told her, "I have a surprise for you. I'll explain inside." So, we checked into a hotel room, and my sis and I were left in the hallway to play while they stayed in the room to talk. When my mom came out a while later, her eyes were red and swollen from crying. It was clear that something was horribly wrong.
We stayed in the hotel that night, and the next day we moved into Alfredo's house...with his WIFE and 3 children. For 2 or 3 months we all lived under the same roof...the wife, the kids, the mistress and the mistress's kids. It wasn't until I was an adult that I fully understood why everyone seemed to hate and look down on me...the mistress's daughter.
Monday, May 6, 2013
2. Runaway (age 5-7)
Over the years I would gradually come to understand the turn of events a little better, but at age 5 I felt like the world as I knew it was coming to a senseless end. Just months earlier, my parents had started a business together. It was a Christian bookstore called The Lighhouse. My mother had been running it while my father worked his route on the trash truck each day. One of those days, while my dad was slaving away to support his family, a man with a thick Spanish accent asked my mother for assistance finding a Christian book. Pretty ironic that the married man who wound up stealing my mother from my dad was there allegedly seeking God.
So my father started sleeping in the basement, and my mother started looking for a real job while keeping The Lighthouse open. I continued to get into my usual mischief...pouring water into the TV, flushing screws and other random objects down the toilet, and rearranging merchandise on the shelves of The Lighthouse...and I added 'running away' to my repertoire. For my first disappearing act, as I was playing on the sidewalk with my sister in front of The Lighthouse, I convinced my sister that the place where Dad worked was close enough for us to walk to, and we embarked on a 2 mile journey to the center that the trash trucks worked out of. An hour or so later, my whiny sis and I finally arrived at our destination. I excitedly asked a man there if he knew where my dad was. With a puzzled look and half smile, he explained that Dad was out on his route and wouldn't be back for a while. I guess he must've called the cops as soon as we started back toward The Lighthouse, because we were just a few blocks away when a couple of cop cars pulled up behind us.
As soon as I saw them I started running and yelled at my sister, "Don't let'em catch you! Run!!!" She hesitantly started to walk a little faster, and then she asked "Why?" "Just run!" I said. She didn't, and within seconds a cop caught up with her and redirected her to his car. I ran as fast as I could, but another cop pulled ahead of me, and I was trapped. As he drove me back to The Lighthouse, he asked me why I ran. I said I didn't want to get in trouble. He laughed and said, "Don't you think you aleady were?"
I went solo on my next adventure. Didn't need a little sister slowing me down. My mother had left The Lighthouse to my dad and found a job at The Sweetshop on the college campus, making delicious baked goods which she sometimes brought home as a special treat. While she worked, she left my sis and me with the neighbor across the street after school each day. So, one day I got the idea that my school wasn't all that far away, and I decided to head back to school to see what my teacher was up to. I walked out of my neighborhood, cut through a couple of corn and potato fields, and eventually made it to my school. I walked in and found my teacher making copies of worksheets with a ditto machine. I stood fascinated as she showed me how the gadget worked and we waited for my mother to come pick me up. When she arrived, she asked me why on earth I went back to the school. I just said I was bored.
Not long after that, I went on the last escapade that I remember in that town. My father was now living with some friends, and he would sometimes pick us up on the weekends. When he would drop us back off at home, I'd jump on my Big Wheel with the worn out tires, and I'd follow my dad's car as he drove away, peddling as fast as I could. When his car would disappear around the corner at the end of my street, I'd stop and cry. I missed my dad, and my heart ached. With tears still flowing I'd slowly make my way back home.
So, one day after school I convinced my sis that Dad didn't live too far away and we should go see him. Thus we set out on the long journey through corn fields, potato fields, and God only knows how many other crops. While in the middle of a potato field, I just happened to recognize my mom's car as she was driving home from work. I yelled to my sis, "Quick! Get down!" She asked why, and I said, "Cause Mom will see us!" I crouched down in between the plants, and my sis reluctantly did the same while whining that she wanted Mom to see us. A while later we made it to the house where Dad was living, but the man there informed us that Dad was at work. He made a call and we were headed home again. Shortly after that Dad lovingly gave a little lecture about running away, and I don't think I did again until I was much older.
So my father started sleeping in the basement, and my mother started looking for a real job while keeping The Lighthouse open. I continued to get into my usual mischief...pouring water into the TV, flushing screws and other random objects down the toilet, and rearranging merchandise on the shelves of The Lighthouse...and I added 'running away' to my repertoire. For my first disappearing act, as I was playing on the sidewalk with my sister in front of The Lighthouse, I convinced my sister that the place where Dad worked was close enough for us to walk to, and we embarked on a 2 mile journey to the center that the trash trucks worked out of. An hour or so later, my whiny sis and I finally arrived at our destination. I excitedly asked a man there if he knew where my dad was. With a puzzled look and half smile, he explained that Dad was out on his route and wouldn't be back for a while. I guess he must've called the cops as soon as we started back toward The Lighthouse, because we were just a few blocks away when a couple of cop cars pulled up behind us.
As soon as I saw them I started running and yelled at my sister, "Don't let'em catch you! Run!!!" She hesitantly started to walk a little faster, and then she asked "Why?" "Just run!" I said. She didn't, and within seconds a cop caught up with her and redirected her to his car. I ran as fast as I could, but another cop pulled ahead of me, and I was trapped. As he drove me back to The Lighthouse, he asked me why I ran. I said I didn't want to get in trouble. He laughed and said, "Don't you think you aleady were?"
I went solo on my next adventure. Didn't need a little sister slowing me down. My mother had left The Lighthouse to my dad and found a job at The Sweetshop on the college campus, making delicious baked goods which she sometimes brought home as a special treat. While she worked, she left my sis and me with the neighbor across the street after school each day. So, one day I got the idea that my school wasn't all that far away, and I decided to head back to school to see what my teacher was up to. I walked out of my neighborhood, cut through a couple of corn and potato fields, and eventually made it to my school. I walked in and found my teacher making copies of worksheets with a ditto machine. I stood fascinated as she showed me how the gadget worked and we waited for my mother to come pick me up. When she arrived, she asked me why on earth I went back to the school. I just said I was bored.
Not long after that, I went on the last escapade that I remember in that town. My father was now living with some friends, and he would sometimes pick us up on the weekends. When he would drop us back off at home, I'd jump on my Big Wheel with the worn out tires, and I'd follow my dad's car as he drove away, peddling as fast as I could. When his car would disappear around the corner at the end of my street, I'd stop and cry. I missed my dad, and my heart ached. With tears still flowing I'd slowly make my way back home.
So, one day after school I convinced my sis that Dad didn't live too far away and we should go see him. Thus we set out on the long journey through corn fields, potato fields, and God only knows how many other crops. While in the middle of a potato field, I just happened to recognize my mom's car as she was driving home from work. I yelled to my sis, "Quick! Get down!" She asked why, and I said, "Cause Mom will see us!" I crouched down in between the plants, and my sis reluctantly did the same while whining that she wanted Mom to see us. A while later we made it to the house where Dad was living, but the man there informed us that Dad was at work. He made a call and we were headed home again. Shortly after that Dad lovingly gave a little lecture about running away, and I don't think I did again until I was much older.
Friday, May 3, 2013
1. What's in a name? (Age 0-5)
I'm sure that when my mother named me after the sweet little German girl in the book, she didn't expect me to turn out to be deserving of such a nickname; but she swears I fully earned the name Hurricane Heidi. She even wrote a poem about all my worst misdeeds at the tender age of two...pouring honey all over the furniture, dumping a box of Tide on the carpet, starting a fire under the kitchen table, and pinching a little boy's bottom. I thoroughly enjoyed my job...keeping my stay-at-home mother on her toes. Her toughest task was keeping my little sister, Amy, safe from me.
Amy and I were cute little blondes, growing up in Logan, Utah...just a little too close to the Mormon capital, Salt Lake City, where I was born. It seemed like all our neighbors were Mormon, and some of the kids weren't allowed to play with us unless we went to church with them. My mom says we never did (her father was a Baptist preacher, and we were taught that Mormons weren't Christians and would therefore be going to hell), but I distinctly remember going to the Mormon church with my neighbors once and learning the song "Popcorn Popping On The Apricot Tree". I know, that's weird, so maybe it was just a dream.
The Mormon church was at the center of our neighborhood, just a few blocks from our home. An old red barn had been torn down to make room for our house, which was built when I was a baby. My father worked long, hard hours at multiple jobs to provide for us. They weren't easy or pleasant jobs either. My mother always complained about how bad he smelled when he came home from shoveling manure at the dairy or wreaking of trash as a garbage man. What I remember of him most though are the times he spent with me, rolling around on the living room floor and tickling me until I begged him to stop because I was laughing so hard that I couldn't breathe. I would also follow him around as he worked in the yard, planting trees and a vegetable garden.
Next to the garden, there was a red barn, much like the one that had been torn down, only smaller. My dad had chosen to keep it for storage, and it turned out to be a fun place to play. I remember there being a lot of old rusty garden tools in there, and for some reason there was an old tire in the middle of the floor. One day I dared a bunch of neighbor boys to pee in the middle of that tire. They all did, so I had to, too. I'll bet my dad wondered why the place smelled of urine. Ha!
My parents tried to keep me entertained and out of trouble. They bought me a swing set, but it didn't last long. I wore it out pretty quickly, and then a good wind storm finished it off by knocking it over. I got an Etch-A-Sketch, which I broke open with a rock to figure out how it worked. I got a Big Wheel and rode it until the plastic tires were so worn that the hollow inside was visible. One of my favorite passtimes was playing in the sprinkler. One day Amy and I were doing just that, and a wasp landed on my sister. I told her "Daddy said don't move when a bee lands on you or it will sting you." So, she obeys and starts to cry as the wasp (or maybe it was a hornet...hell, I didn't know) proceeded to inject her with it's pain-inducing venom. We went running to Dad who brushed off the offending critter and explained that it wasn't a bee and would sting whether you held still or not. Lesson learned.
The road in front of our house was flat, but just around the corner was a fabulous hill that we would sled down in the winter. Our neighbors had a really awesome little red wooden sled that we got to use sometimes, but we also learned to make our own sleds out of cardboard and trash bags. Just about anything will work when the hill is steep enough. At the top of that hill lived a family that had horses and an electric fence that I was shocked by at least a few times. There was a small irrigation canal that ran through their property and ours, and it was always teeming with little black snails and skitter bugs...hours of entertainment for me!
My dad sometimes entertained himself...in his limited time off...by having a few friends over to drink beer and shoot pool in the basement. It was no ordinary basement. Dad set up a full bar with an old fashioned telephone on it. I guess he liked old fashioned stuff, cause the lamp over the pool table was also old style, with "Coca Cola" written in cursive in the brownish-red stained glass. There was a gorgeous fireplace, which I remember vividly because I watched as my dad carried each stone to the basement and set it in it's place. I was always fascinated by my dad, and I think my mother envied the attention I gave him...and maybe the attention he gave me.
When my parents sat my sis and me down in the living room one day and tried to explain that Daddy was not going to live with us anymore, I was very confused. We had all lived together for the whole 5 years of my life...which was forever, as far as I was concerned...and I couldn't wrap my mind around any other living arrangement. I was completely blindsided and bewildered.
Amy and I were cute little blondes, growing up in Logan, Utah...just a little too close to the Mormon capital, Salt Lake City, where I was born. It seemed like all our neighbors were Mormon, and some of the kids weren't allowed to play with us unless we went to church with them. My mom says we never did (her father was a Baptist preacher, and we were taught that Mormons weren't Christians and would therefore be going to hell), but I distinctly remember going to the Mormon church with my neighbors once and learning the song "Popcorn Popping On The Apricot Tree". I know, that's weird, so maybe it was just a dream.
The Mormon church was at the center of our neighborhood, just a few blocks from our home. An old red barn had been torn down to make room for our house, which was built when I was a baby. My father worked long, hard hours at multiple jobs to provide for us. They weren't easy or pleasant jobs either. My mother always complained about how bad he smelled when he came home from shoveling manure at the dairy or wreaking of trash as a garbage man. What I remember of him most though are the times he spent with me, rolling around on the living room floor and tickling me until I begged him to stop because I was laughing so hard that I couldn't breathe. I would also follow him around as he worked in the yard, planting trees and a vegetable garden.
Next to the garden, there was a red barn, much like the one that had been torn down, only smaller. My dad had chosen to keep it for storage, and it turned out to be a fun place to play. I remember there being a lot of old rusty garden tools in there, and for some reason there was an old tire in the middle of the floor. One day I dared a bunch of neighbor boys to pee in the middle of that tire. They all did, so I had to, too. I'll bet my dad wondered why the place smelled of urine. Ha!
My parents tried to keep me entertained and out of trouble. They bought me a swing set, but it didn't last long. I wore it out pretty quickly, and then a good wind storm finished it off by knocking it over. I got an Etch-A-Sketch, which I broke open with a rock to figure out how it worked. I got a Big Wheel and rode it until the plastic tires were so worn that the hollow inside was visible. One of my favorite passtimes was playing in the sprinkler. One day Amy and I were doing just that, and a wasp landed on my sister. I told her "Daddy said don't move when a bee lands on you or it will sting you." So, she obeys and starts to cry as the wasp (or maybe it was a hornet...hell, I didn't know) proceeded to inject her with it's pain-inducing venom. We went running to Dad who brushed off the offending critter and explained that it wasn't a bee and would sting whether you held still or not. Lesson learned.
The road in front of our house was flat, but just around the corner was a fabulous hill that we would sled down in the winter. Our neighbors had a really awesome little red wooden sled that we got to use sometimes, but we also learned to make our own sleds out of cardboard and trash bags. Just about anything will work when the hill is steep enough. At the top of that hill lived a family that had horses and an electric fence that I was shocked by at least a few times. There was a small irrigation canal that ran through their property and ours, and it was always teeming with little black snails and skitter bugs...hours of entertainment for me!
My dad sometimes entertained himself...in his limited time off...by having a few friends over to drink beer and shoot pool in the basement. It was no ordinary basement. Dad set up a full bar with an old fashioned telephone on it. I guess he liked old fashioned stuff, cause the lamp over the pool table was also old style, with "Coca Cola" written in cursive in the brownish-red stained glass. There was a gorgeous fireplace, which I remember vividly because I watched as my dad carried each stone to the basement and set it in it's place. I was always fascinated by my dad, and I think my mother envied the attention I gave him...and maybe the attention he gave me.
When my parents sat my sis and me down in the living room one day and tried to explain that Daddy was not going to live with us anymore, I was very confused. We had all lived together for the whole 5 years of my life...which was forever, as far as I was concerned...and I couldn't wrap my mind around any other living arrangement. I was completely blindsided and bewildered.
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