Until now, no one in my family has died since I started writing this blog. For those of you who read it, I mentioned my brother’s struggles. First, with my piece about his brain cancer, “Brain Storm” and more recently, my piece called “5 Pounds.” He died in the wee hours of the morning. His pain and suffering are finally over. May he now rest in peace.

Please take the time to remember who you really are and what you truly love. Live that way. Allow yourself to create the life that brings you peace daily. The glorious gift we call life is too precious to not fully respect it. My brother died in his late fifties. That is young.

I am writing this as the sun rises. Today is my son’s birthday and he is probably rising about now. He lives on the West Coast but he rises early to go to yoga before work. He’s figured out that staying centered helps to balance what life demands of a young provider. He adores his lovely wife and two year old son. With his morning ritual, he honors me.

I am lucky to have this young man as my son. We have a unique bond. Together we weathered an epic six foot snow storm that left our remote mountain home truly isolated for an extended period. We had fun with this inadvertent survival adventure. Together we deliberately adventured while kayaking in the Sea of Cortez, rafting the wild rivers of the West and exploring the exotic Amazon Rain Forest.

We have continued to adventure. With the next generation of children in tow, we continue to lead lives that incorporate exploring the natural world and learning to create places to call home, no matter where life may lead you. We’ve learned that even with the best of plans, you have to be able to adapt.

My morning routine involves walking on the beach. On my walk back home, I pick up trash. It’s my yoga. Bending down to pick up the trash keeps me flexible. Picking up trash gives me peace and purpose.

I am lucky. I still have that mountain house and I have a tiny house close enough to walk to the beach. More than that, I am lucky to have a loving son who honors me enough to honor himself. Lucky me.

Happy Birthday Son!  This is a tiny attempt to honor you today. I’m off to the beach. Adios.

Start with Tinder

The Alfredo Garza Colonia is located on Garza Road in Cameron County, Texas; it was part of what was called Las Yescas Ranch. In Spanish, yescas means tinder. If you need to start a fire, start with tinder.

It’s where my father’s mother; my Grandmother Genoveva Garza grew up. Her father was Alfredo Rocha de la Garza. (GG) Her mother was Marcella Ramirez de la Garza. Sometimes, it was shortened to Garza. This adds another layer of challenges, trying to distinguish actual facts from family legend.

FACT: In 1926, at a local dance in Los Cuates on a hot August night, Alfred Garza shot and killed Fernando de Leon. It was just before midnight. GG’s death certificate says he (GG) was dead at 11:30 pm. The newspaper says GG shot and killed de Leon at 11:00 p.m. Then, a constable shot and killed GG.

By car, with today’s roads the internet says you can get from Las Yescas Ranch to Los Cuates in about half an hour.  By bicycle, just over an hour and by foot about 4.5 hours. Time by horseback is not listed.

I don’t know how he got to the dance to kill de Leon. Every photograph I ever saw showed him on horseback. My Great Grandfather looked at home on a horse; mainly his favorite horse, Paloma. But however he got from the ranch, to the dance, he arrived around 11:00. After the constable shot and killed GG, one of his sons and one of his future son-in-law’s were arrested and jailed. Either they were already at the dance when GG shot de Leon or they were leaving with him when the constable shot and killed GG. For some reason, they were arrested.

When I was a little kid and Veva would drive us out to the ranch, it was so bumpy and dusty that I thought she did it as a test of our character. This would be 1960’s and the night of the murder was 1926. If the roads were that punishing in 1960, I can only imagine how dreadful they had been 40 years prior.

In 1907 it became a State Law that you had to register your car. There were only 20,000 in the entire state with over 3 million residents in Texas; according to the 1900 Census. Out in the middle of desolate Cameron County, it’s hard to imagine many families had car.  Where would you even buy gasoline?

In the 1920 Census, 11,791 people lived in Brownsville. It is the largest city in Cameron County. The entire county population, in an area covering 1,276 square miles. was 36, 662.  It is the southernmost county in Texas. It borders Mexico. The Gulf of Mexico forms its eastern boundary. It is stark and vast.

I just returned from the courthouse in neighboring Willacy County. I had to deal with settling the estate of my Anglo mom’s grandparents. The legal description of the land the estate was developed from lists it located on the San Juan de Carritcitos land grant. That land grant was for 1.5 million acres to the Cavazos family that my father’s father originates from. That is another South Texas/New Spain story.

That trip made me realize I had to know what had really happened to GG. I felt haunted. Again. The histories of my mom and dad both begin in the Valley. Mine too. I was born in Brownsville, Texas.

This is one part of the history of the Hispanic side my family. To try and discover what happened, best practices call for research and interviews. I’m mining the data. Everyone in this story is dead silent. Discussing the shooting was a big taboo. Dad said it was best to leave it in the distant past. Questions would reignite smoldering wounds and restart the fire. He said you don’t ever want to fall into the fire.

I’m haunted. I am a truth seeker. Here’s to tinder. If you want to have a good fire, start with tinder.

One of my daughter’s will have her birthday on Mother’s Day. It happens once in a while. All birthdays are the original mother’s day; you can’t be born without a mother.

She’s my second born child, and she just had her second child. Her birth made that Mother’s Day extra-special for me.

I’ll be doing a volunteer job on Mother’s Day. It’s a perfect way for me to spend the day. My grown children all live over two thousand miles away. Doing volunteer work helps me.

My dear mom died two years ago. She and I would volunteer together for this same cause when she was alive. It’s a tradition that allows me to honor her while helping a worthy cause.

One Mother’s Day, my dad died. That was in 2002. It was the year we skipped the Mother’s Day celebration. And that week, my second child skipped her birthday celebration.

Even at 20, flying out to help your grandfather pass on, is a hard way to spend your birthday. Hospice had said he was waiting to tell one more person goodbye. She was the one. Dad had been close with all my children. He and mom were stellar examples of unconditional love and focusing on the family.

To my amazing daughters and daughter-in-law, I wish you a very Happy Mother’s Day. May this one day in May be filled with enough hugs and laughter to last at least another year. The work you do raising your children is sometimes hard and often thankless.

But I am always thankful for what you do. I want to honor you by blog-bragging about you three:  Lyndsey, Emily and Danielle. Your awesome children have made my life more wonderful than even I; ever dreamed.

To ALL you MOTHERS who may read this out there: HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY !