Cafe Hitch-hike

2023-10-08

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My cousin Francine is dipping her toe in contact with her father’s side of the family after their long estrangement (her father is my mother’s brother Ray-ray). She is also fascinated with the Native American that we have. Other descendants of the tribe started an organization and she wants to join it. I’ve been helping her and her younger half-sis Fawn with the genealogy, and I was able to find birth dates and names for people. I was able to track the lineage to an Apache in Texas, and his story has appeared in many books about Texas history.

I still find it hard to believe it’s true. It makes me cry (again, the same happy tears I cried in 2010 or so when the family folklore turned out to be true)… I loved hiking and trekking in Central Texas and taking in the views of its prairies, streams, and falls (some were dry in the winter and waterfalls in the spring and summer, and I hiked them both times), even when I was a kid. It touches my heart to think that perhaps I walked in the same areas as those before me.

I saw my one of my great-great grandmother’s naturalization papers from 1952. San Juana was living in L.A. and lived on Wilshire Blvd, according to the record. She did not list my great-grandfather because he was deceased by then.

I discovered my maternal grandmother’s birth name was actually Maria (I laughed at that a little), which I saw on her town birth registry (the names of parents and date of birth matched, so it was her). I also discovered her parents had 3 children before her who did not live past 2 years old. They lived in what was a very poor, rural area near the Rio Grande river valley (known as “The Valley” to the locals). I hear the conditions for many of the towns hadn’t changed much since the 1930s.

My maternal great-grandfather got in a bad car accident and broke his arm. He died from tuberculous in his mid-30s, according to a death certificate.

My geneaology project led me to a newspaper archive. Out of curiosity, I wanted to see if I could find anything on my birth father because he was a semi-pro boxer. The local newspaper did a feature story on him where he gave his life story, starting with him describing what it was like growing up about 45 miles west of where I now live. I have that article from a dive I did my hometown public library microfilm. I then knew of an interesting image of him from before one of his fights, and I really wanted to see it…

I had seen a picture of my birth father from 1980. He was practicing his stance and jabs in a bathroom before the national Golden Gloves boxing tournament. I finally found it in an archive! I could see by the detail in the picture that we have the same skin tone (why I was a weird color compared my mother and most of my siblings), and my facial profile has a resemblance to his. I always thought I was my mother’s mini-me, yet I’ve always known I’ve had an awful lot of him within and on the outside.

I also read clips about his boxing matches in the 1970s. He was described as an aggressive fighter, standing at 5’5 and weighing 185; like a granite block said one reporter. People didn’t believe me when I gave those numbers, so my memory was correct. I also found out that he was left-handed. No surprise that he was neurodivergent, hahahaha.

Avery, Stephanie and I met at the hospital to spend time with their brother Irv. They had bagels, lox and fruit, and Irv happily ate 2 bagels. We were cheerful in our conversations and talked about a range of things. Irv’s eyes were on the TV playing CNN, on us, and then they closed. When his eyes were on us, his attention flickered in and out, so it seemed.

A guy down the hall had been moaning for the last 3 days. Irv muttered, which I guess he had been doing, “grow a pair!”. We laughed when he said that.

The dry-erase patient care board on the wall had basic details: Call him Irv. His nurses are Sabine and Juny. The goal today was discharge (Av said that goal had been on there for quite some time). Something he is grateful for: his loving brother, which Irv said in the few words he speaks. I know the last thing probably lifted Av.

I hope this strange dream ends. I know it’s real and not a dream, but look forward to the conclusion of the bumpiness all around. All I know is I sleep at night but on alert. I sleep better on weekends than I do during the week.

I’ve been trying to get out a little more. Being around people actually makes me feel better.

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