Graduation is just around the river bend. I couldn’t be more thrilled to close this portion of my Elle Woods experience and start studying for the Bar. However, as I end any journey, I often find that the beginning seems to matter more. But my beginning is not really mine at all. My journey to law school started before I was born, before my parents met, and before my grandparents got married. My accomplishments began with the sacrifices every Figueroa, Salazar, Villareal, Navarro, Medina ever made to rise above the dirt floors they were born into in Mexico. My success is rooted in their sacrifice. This post is the first in a series dedicated to celebrating them, giving thanks, and sharing stories and lessons that they imparted to make me who I am. Des de la parte mas profunda de mi alma—gracias.
Abuelito Alfonso
The sun rises when Abuelito Alfonso gets up. He shaves, combs his hair, puts on his heavy starched button-up shirt, perfectly creased pants, makes his signature papaya and banana smoothie, and then heads out to serve. Like the stained glass of the church he attends, he is a vibrant fixture of the mass, constantly radiating his colorful light to all around him. He was married to my grandmother for over 50 years. A life full of laughter, joy, and true love began when he spotted her on the bus. Eager to court her, my grandfather went door to door to dump all 5 of his then girlfriends. Five slaps later and a long courtship, they got married and lived happily ever after. The wild man who would ride stallions bareback doing tricks on them is the same man who carried his marriage license every day for over fifty years. Yes, you read that right.
I was 20 years old the summer I lived with my grandparents so I could work on South Padre Island. Every morning grandpa Alfonso drove me to work. He would tell me jokes and stories about his youth, but one day on our commute, I saw him tuck a piece of paper in his shirt pocket and asked him what it was. He smiled and handed me the square without another word, grinning in anticipation of my reaction. As I unfolded, the yellowed parchment, the sprinklers in my eyes when off—Certificado de Matrimonio. As we drove over the causeway, he explained how he had been carrying the marriage certificate with him every day since the moment he put it in his suit jacket at his wedding. He had never forgotten to switch it out of his pockets or accidentally run it with the wash. No, he made a commitment to love my grandma Elvia, and this was his way of sticking to it.
Abuelito Baltazar
Abuelito Baltazar is a student of life. An orphaned toddler, he raised himself in the streets of Queretaro, never letting his station determine his destiny. He literally fought his way through life as a boxer, with hands that made lightning look like slow-motion. At the ripe age of 80, he could still catch flies mid-air. This warrior found peace in his battles through faith and dedicated his life to being a student of the Word. Every summer of my childhood was spent in Queretaro, Mexico, at my grandpa Baltazar’s house. Of the hundreds of mornings and evenings I spent in that house, all of them began and ended with grandpa Baltazar at his desk reading the Word. Like the US Postal Service, come rain or shine, there he was reading. This consistency extends to all areas of his life, exercising, ballroom dancing, watching cowboy movies and boxing reruns, and practicing his English. He never fails.
Several years ago, I told my grandpa that I wanted to start collecting marbles again like I had as a little girl. On his next visit, he brought me my first little bag of marbles. “Te traje tus canicas,” he said, smiling as he gently placed the little mesh bag of green and blue glass marbles in my hand. A man who gets less than $75 dollars a month as his retirement pension made a way to get me my marbles, and six years later, he has yet to stop. Those marbles are one of the greatest treasures I own. They emanate the love that is quiet, humble, and everlasting.
From my grandfathers, I learned consistency and love; how to be steadfast, reliable, dedicated, like a Swiss clock, only Mexican; and how to love in a way that is not proud or boastful–love that does not look for praise or reciprocation in deeds but love that endures silently. My grandfathers are not the kind of people that feel the need to regurgitate that they love you every five minutes less you forget how they feel about you. No, you feel their love in everything that they do. They are men of action. Constant like spring follows winter, they carry on, loving quietly without ceasing. These stories are collections of my most treasured memories from the giants whose shoulders I stand on. They have molded my character, my way of being, and I hope that through my life, I have made them as proud as they make me. May these stories bless your day and bring you joy.
With love from the Lonestar,
Isabella
