Follow-up to Not a Good Day

I wonder if this "not-so-good-day" was connected to the day that followed.

The next day, my aunt was lethargic and could barely keep her eyes open. At breakfast hand to mouth was not easy. Her grip on the fork was weak, fork dangling. After breakfast, she went to her recliner as usual and napped. She was in deep nap state at lunch and I decided to let her sleep. After consulting with my sister (retired nurse), I woke her and found her almost back to her normal state.

My sister enlightened me and told me that what I had witnessed was a T.I.A. (Transient Ishchemic Attack).   This is commonly referred to as a "mini-stroke." My sister told me that she has had them before. These states are short-lived and my aunt exhibited all the symptoms mentioned on the Mayo Clinic website.  These TIA are precursors to a major stroke, but do not predict when one will occur.

I will be on the look-out for a repeat of these two days. Is there a connection?

On a related medical issue, I have been in a state of stress, fearing another fall. To be more correct, it is not the fall that I fear, it is the inability to pick her up that bothers me. Today we received the mechanical lift device that I had requested, the Hoyer Lift.  With this device, I can easily pick her up from the floor and cary her to the chair of the bed. I am sure that she will not appreciate dangling as she will, but I will be smiling through the process.

Later.

Joe

Not a good day!

Although she did not fall, and has not fallen all week, today was not a good day for my aunt. Her mind was otherwise occupied. Also today, she seems to be having more trouble getting up from a chair and having more trouble walking.

I decided to keep the bed rails up all week, keeping her "locked in." She may have forgotten how she got out years ago. (She would scoot to the end of the bedrails and get out of bed.) Now she wakes in bed and will probably be wet. But, this is better than wet and on the floor.

Before she was awake, I heard her talking in her sleep. This was unusual, because I don't remember hearing her before. The conversation was not in a jumble, but coherent sentences. Around 10 a.m. she was telling about a dream she had. She says that she rarely remembers dreams. Later in the morning when she was alseep in the recliner, she was talking again.

From her naps she wakes almost startled and is quick to get up. As soon as I hear her I go to her room and ask where she is going. The first time she said that she heard my mother returning. She could not tell me where o with whom this was happening. The second time, she got up in a hurry to make the bread. This was a dream or something else. Later in the day she asked if there were cokes for my mother. The final comment was around 4 p.m. when she came out of the bathroom and asked me if my mother was asleep.

 Today we also had a "change-your-clothes" marathon. There are three items to take off and put on, the underpants, the slip, and the robe. Because her modesty and sense of decency prohibit it, I cannot help her directly. I stand outside the bathroom door and try to direct her. I say, "Take this off and put that on. Tell me when you are done." After a while she says that she is ready. The dirty slip is half way off and the clean one is on. And so it goes with the other items. The care providers, both women, do this task for her, when they are here.

At the end of the day, her brain was still working randomly. She talked about a bag of photos, asked about her bank account, and referred to my mother again, in the present. I can only hope that tomorrow will be a  better day.

Joe

Good Days - Bad Days: To Be or Not To Be

Bad days 
       Wednesday was not a good "Tia Day."  She was on the floor when I went to check on her this morning. She was disoriented and did not know that she was on the floor.  At breakfast, the coffee cup, her usual, seemed to be to heavy for her and she spilled some on herself, but did not seem to notice. I sequestered her in her room because workers were laying new floor to the hall outside her room. She was also told that the bathroom was off limits because there was work there too. I told her that she needed to use the bedside commode. She sees the bedside commode as something for use at night, or during the day.  When I went to "unsequester" her, I found her on the floor by the bed. She was grabbing for a rail and missed. Why does she fall?
         There are elements of dementia for sure. However, there are elements of stubbornness. A couple of times a week, in the morning, I find her walker against the door as if to block entry. Of course she cannot do that. But, if the walker is by the door, this means that she had to traverse across the room without the walker with only a night-light to show her the way. This afternoon, the walker again was not by her side or near by when I found her. She likes to park the walker outside the bathroom and navigate without. I yell out, "Don't forget the walker." She will grab it with one hand and drag it in behind her. Questions about not using the walker properly result with her response of, "I was just going to..." and "Yes, but ...."
          This morning I realized that I cannot pick her up by myself. In all the prior falls, I could tell her to grab my arm and to anchor her legs to my foot. It was a struggle but up she went. Today, She could not hold on and when she begins to pray, "Oh, my God I am going to fall." She is on the floor again. This afternoon, one of the floor workers helped me get her up. With two people, it is an easy task. At 7 p.m this evening she did not know she had fallen. She did not know that she had lunch and was asking for it. She was holding her coffee cup at 5:30 p.m. and asked if she should put on the coffee. Reacting to the workers in the house, she said, "When your mother gets here, she will be surprised by all the changes." I responded with, "If she shows up, I will be surprised and out door." It did not register. These "bad days" alternate with good ones.

Good days
       Although she awoke on the floor yesterday, again, it was a good day. Tia was alert and able to carry on a conversation. She did a good job with her bathroom activities. She was aware of the time. Some days she will say that she does not know what time it is and does not check the clock in her room. Last night she had dinner and went to her room. She came back out saying it was too early for bed, and stated the time. She was going to stay up a bit longer. At bedtime, I told her that I would be raising the bed rails. She said okay. (We have experienced bed rails before without success. We quit using them because she would "escape" by making her way to the foot of the bed.) However, this morning all was good. She was in bed and not on the floor.

To Be or Not to Be
          The psychologist in me wants to delve into her mind and show her a better way. I would like to teach her survival skills at her age. What is it like to "be" and "not be?" Observing her  and wondering how she experiences life, I question mine. If I fall asleep watching TV some afternoon, how do I know that I fell asleep? I can look at the clock. I would have to remember what I was watching that I am not watching now. I would be aware of the body sensations that connect with sleep. All of these things require awareness and cognition.
        Tia will wake from a nap, not aware of the passing of time or that she was even asleep. What happens inside her mind when I confront her with reality? She may be adamant that she has not had lunch and is asking to eat. I correct her and show her the unwashed dishes and give her a detailed account of the meal she had 20 minutes ago. Sometimes she says nothing and other times she will say, "If you say so." But what is happening on the neuron superhighway? Did her thought of not having had lunch just go off a mental cliff, or does the thought ruminate for a while? In grad school a professor once asked us to think about your thinking. I can't ask her to do that.
         Before her mental abilities deteriorated, my aunt led her life without any questions. Her ways, customs,  and beliefs existed. So ingrained were these ways, that in her current mental state, these surface instinctively. This is her "being." When I am trying to help her get up off the floor, or when I am lifting her legs onto the bed, or when I am rubbing ointment on her knees, her primary concern is to keep her skirt down. I will tell her to not worry about the skirt when she is being trampled by elephants, and pull her hand away, but instinctively, her hand goes back to the skirt hem. This reaction occurs both on her good and bad days. A similar explanation could be offered for her objection to using the bedside commode only at night. It does not make sense; it just is.
      I have come to accept my limitations in trying to help Tia. If she falls and there is no help readily available to get her up, I will try to make her comfortable and wait. If she is having a bad day, I am unable to make it good. When there was more hope for reason, her old, ingrain ways were unchangable  They are impossible to change now.

It is what it is.

Joe V

Weslaco - Hometown

     Most of those living outside the Lower Rio Grande Valley do not know Weslaco. They have a hard time understanding the word, as well as writing it. They seem to hear "West -" something or other. Most in Texas know the Rio Grande Valley.

     Weslaco was founded in 1919. The name comes from the title holder of the land, the W.E. Stuart Land Company. The 2000 census listed 26, 900 residents. It is estimated that the new numeber will be around 34, 000.

I spoke before of the segregation that was in place, but unkown to me. Here is an excerpt from the University of Texas ______:

         "...A municipal ordinance of 1921 provided that the land north of the railroad tracks be designated for industry and Hispanic residences and businesses. The area to the south of the tracks was reserved for Anglo residences and businesses. This segregation was a consequence of the farm culture that had introduced the railroad. Weslaco developed as two cities. "El pueblo americano," as the Anglo side of town was called, consisted of well-built frame houses; it had paved streets and enclosed sewers. The Mexican side featured corrugated tin shacks, unpaved roads, and outhouses. Mexican women were supposed to shop on the Anglo side of town early on Saturdays only, and be back in "Mexican Town" by sunset. Streets north of the tracks had Spanish names, business was conducted in Spanish, and schools were established for Mexican children. In "American Town," streets were named for northern states...."

The Valley

       The towns of the Rio Grande Valley were established along US 83. Between McAllen and Harlingen, Weslaco is approximately in the middle.

When I moved to Washington's Yakima Valley, I thought I was living in a parallel universe. Although the Rio Grande Valley is not really a valley, the set up is the same - towns a few miles apart, along a main highway, in a rural agricultural area. Weslaco is about 4 miles from Donna to the west and Mercedes to the east. Alamo is 4 miles east of Donna and La Feria is 5 miles east of Mercedes, and so on. In Washington I was surprised to hear phrases familiar to my ears, "Valley Ready Mix, Largest Ford Dealer in the Valley, stop by and see us in the lower Valley."

Where it all began, The Cortez Hotel

The hotel is located at the intersection of Business Hwy 83 and Texas Blvd, Weslaco's main street. I heard that the sale of lots happened from a wagon at this intersection. Although I don't think it looked like this, the hotel housed people from the north looking for land deals.

The Cortez fell on hard times and stopped being a hotel. I remember a time when I could see windows broken and old curtains blowing in the breeze. It was later rennovated from top to bottom. The Cortez is now an event center and office complex. The bottom level has a restaurant, a formal-wear rental, and other businesses. The courtyard and the the lobby were the site of my last high school reunion. Yes, there is a bar.

Texas Blvd

The picture on the left was taken early Saturday, so the traffic is light. The one one the right is listed as a 1925 photo, but I think it was later. I think the smaller,older one may have been in 1925.

Because of its location and size, Weslaco is the shopping center for the surrounding towns. A new Lowes, JC Penney, and TJ Max opened recently. There is a12 screen cinema, Denny's, Chili's, and much more. The larger cities of McAllen (110,000) and Harlingen population 55,000, (2000 census), are other places people shop.

Old City Hall

 

Built in 1928, it used to house all of the city offices as well as the fire station. Now all of the city offices have moved to a much larger building. The EMS and Fire Station #2 remain. I could not find out who was depicted on the wall. They resembe the images of Columbus and Cortez.


Weslaco Hero

     In this iconic image of the raising of the flag at Iwo Jima, one of the six men was from Weslaco. He was Harlon Block, the soldier holding the base of the flag, crouching.  For a time he was buried in Weslaco and then his remains were relocated to the Iwo Jima Monument in Harlingen, Texas.

The rest of the story is that Harlon Block was not the only soldier from Weslaco in WWII. He and 12 of his high school classmates enlisted together. They were given an early graduation ceremony so that they couild join themilitray ranks. Harlon was not the only one to die during the war.

The Iwo Jima Memorial in Washington D.C. is not the original. To cast that bronze statue, there needed to be a "cast" made. The sculptor decided to donate the "original" to the Marine Military Academy in Harlingen, Texas. The MMA is a military school for young men under 18 years of age. On a saturday you see groups of boys dressed in Marine "green," at the mall or the movies.

Water Tower

     The water tower is a landmark. It is unique in that it is a concrete structure and does not look like any other in the Valley. The building of the water tower was begun in 1938 as one of the WPA projects. It was completed in 1941. In the Valley the tower also has a reputation connected to football. When the local team wins, the light on the tower are lit. When the radio announcer says, "There will be no lights on the tower tonight," I know our team lost.
    At the base of the tower is a community theater in the round. This was the original water reservoir before the tower was built.

Football

    What can I say about football in Texas? When I was in Washington, it was a shock for me to see "one-sided" football stadiums. There were no bleachers for the visiting team. I know that the area towns in Washington were smaller then those around here, but the smallest towns here have bleachers for the visitors.
In Texas, one travels to out of town games and support the team, whether it is a winning season or not. I remember going to a Prosser Mustang (WA) out-of-town game and seeing very few Prosser fans there. As small as that one-sided stadium was,  the bleachers were not full. Also there was no half-time band performance. This I considered the greatest sin.

 This is the recently renovated football stadium. I read that total capacity was around 15000, home and visitor sides. Weslaco now has two high schools and both schools use this stadium.

      

Although the giant billboard at the stadium features the football teams (both sides), one of the good things that the school does is to feature the honor graduates on the billboard at the end of the school year.

Weslaco High School

     The gym is the only remnants of the old high school. About four years ago, the building was gutted and converted into a missle school. This is the only building that I could identify from the past.

Junior High

The Junior High building, across from the high school, was also remodeled but the exterior was preserved. I was here for 7th and 8th grades.

TEXSUN

If you have ever eaten a grapefruit, especially Ruby Reds, or had grapefruit juice, you have probably had fruit processed by the Texsun company. Texsun was billed as the "largest grapefruit juice canning plant in the world." It was a major economic force in the 20' and 30's. There some great images on the company, processing, and Weslaco at the following website:
http://books.google.com/books?id=3EPvwdz_6k0C&pg=PA93&lpg=PA93&dq=texsun+in+weslaco+texas&source=bl&ots=RxDWbRRYDS&sig=BC2xsJoaQP7k43f0U0YkmBUnuMQ&hl=en&ei=aY6PTOjJKoKBlAfGhPy4DQ&sa=X&oi=book_result&ct=result&resnum=6&ved=0CDEQ6AEwBQ#v=onepage&q=texsun%20in%20weslaco%20texas&f=false

The Texsun building exterior is still in Weslaco, but has been remodeled and is now part of the South Texas College's Mid-Valley Campus.

Wells of Weslaco
       This store has been in Weslaco as long as I can remember. However, I have never been inside. The sign has changed little. I and others always considered this store to be expensive, high class, and where Anglos shopped. Maybe I will walk in there, now that I am retired and report back to this site.

The Keno Cafe

 If you live in the Mid-Valley, you know that this is where you come to get a "quickie." Although the Keno's interior has seen changes, the exterior remains unchanged.

The "quickie" was a plate lunch - chicken fried steak, some salad, fries, and a dinner roll. It was something that was served quickly. Since there was little money for such luxuries as eating out, we would go to the Keno and order a roll and a glass of water.  

As I think of other things to show you about Weslaco, I will take some pictures and post them ASAP.

Joe V

San Antonio on my mind

I was in San Antonio this past weekend. This was my substitute trip when I cancelled my trip to New York.     

Although I had been to San Antonio for conferences, I did not know the city until I started working and living there. Before I finished my doctoral degree, read this as "dissertation," I got my first professional job as a counselor at Trinity University. Throughout the Masters and Doctoral degree work I had worked at the university counseling center as a Grad. Asst. At Trinity I was getting a real paycheck.

Trinity University


Trinity University is a private, liberal arts school. The school prides itself on being very selective and its high standards. There are about 3000 students enrolled. Most of the undergrads live on campus. Of course the first two years, the students MUST live on campus, even if your house is two blocks away. The school's thinking is that they want the students to have a sense of belonging and loyalty. I had never worked with such a student population.
       The incoming Freshmen had an average SAT of 1250, when I was there.  This is when the perfect score was 1600. I think the state average was 800. The Freshmen class was 600, with half of the students coming from Texas. There was an 15-18% enrollment of minority students. Trinity students were led to believe that their wishes and expectations would be met by the faculty and staff. These students were stereotyped to be from wealthy families. Indeed some were. Notable from my time was Ted Koppel's son (dropped out) and recently Karl Rove's son. This young man and his fraternity was prohibited from having a "slave sale." He did not know what was wrong with this.
       The housing and eating facilities were great, compared to other schools'. I especially enjoyed the end of the semester. Since most of the students had money to eat out of order in, their food cards went unspent. At the end of the semester, the money would not roll over into the next semester, but return to the University's general fund. The students would be happy to buy my lunch, by a cake, or a box of chips, in order to zero out their cards.
      Trinity was fortunate to have wealthy benefactors and an eager group of students who worked the phones asking for money. Each building is named after the individual or family who started the project/ gave the most money - Parker Chapel, Coates Center, etc. The incentive for students to work the phones was usually a trip - to Hawai'i, Europe, or Caribbean.
       I enjoyed working at Trinity. I had a chance to do many programs at the residence halls. I enjoyed my job at the counseling center and my colleagues there. However, my duties started to diverge from my title of counselor. These changes were always announced at the start of the new year and I was never part of the discussion about these new responsibilities. One year I became what I called, "Drug Czar." I was in charge of alcohol abuse education programming and making sure that the university was following federal rules and regs concerning alcohol use and abuse. Because the University did not want to offend the students or the parents/ donors, consequences were rarely enforced for breaking the rules.
       The new job assigned to me that led me to start looking for a new job was Coordinator of Disabled Student Services. I still don't know why I was picked to do this. Regardless, I took it seriously and tried to make changes. This campus is on the site of a former gravel pit - a cliff and multiple levels. There were no curb cuts, or ramps. The restrooms in the administration building were not accessible. The ramp, from lower to upper campus, would cost about $60K. The President did not approve it. It was said that he had approved the library's new landscaping ($70K) because he did not like how it looked. He also had the landscapers spray paint dried grass patches. During "awareness week," I suggested the the Dean of Students that we could have a person in a wheel chair go to the registrar's office and ask for directions to a restroom. The person would return to report that the wheel chair could not get in, and ask for directions to an accessible restroom. This idea was nixed because it would be embarrassing to the staff person. It was also a struggle to get a professor to relocate his class so that a student in a wheel chair could attend. This job assignment was a struggle all around. I knew it was time to look for something else, and I found Yakima Valley Community College.

San Antonio History
     "Remember the Alamo!" is what most people know of San Antonio. I may have been one of them. When I moved to San Antonio, I reconnected with my heritage roots. As I learned about the city and the history, I became upset that I did not know more and upset that we were never taught the real history of Texas and San Antonio.
       The Spanish were eager to settle their large land holdings because the French were not too far away in Louisiana and all of that territory. In 1691, Spanish settlers and Franciscan monks came through the area and named it San Antonio. The Spanish King gave the Franciscans permission to set up a series of  missions in the mostly unsettled territory. Land grants were also given to individuals to encourage the population and settling of what is now Texas. Very quickly, the new immigrants from the United States outnumbered the native Texicans. (Texicans are of Mexican decent living in Texas). This was all good until Spain lost control and Mexico gained independence. Around 1824, the new government in Mexico set up some laws that the residents on Texas did not like. In 1836 the conflict reached a boiling point and Mexican soldiers marched from Mexico City to San Antonio and we get "Remember the Alamo!" I skipped the stories of Davy Crockett, Jim Bowie, and John Wayne.

     San Antonio Today
San Antonio is 250 miles north of the Rio Grande Valley. Although the ride is easy at 70 miles an hour all the way, it is still close to 4 hours away. San Antonio is a city of close to 2 million people. It is home to 4 military bases. Related to these is BAMC - Brooks Army Medical Center- and it world renown burn unit. San Antonio is also a convention city. It has the meeting facilities for the largest of groups, along with the needed hotel space. The following pictures are of three of the most popular tourist attractions - The Alamo, The Riverwalk, and the Missions.

                           The Alamo

The Daughters of the Republic of Texas are in charge of the Alamo. They take their charge very seriously. You will be asked to take off your sunvisors and caps. You will be told to speak in low voices. You will be surprised at the size of the building and its location - in the middle of downtown, with souvenir shops and a Ripley's Believe It or Not across the street. The tour of the artifacts and the building may not take too long. Take time to walk the grounds and enjoy the gardens and the huge live oak trees. 

    

The Riverwalk
    The San Antonio River was diverted and developed in the 60's around the time of the HemisFair. The water levels are controlled and although it seems as if the water does not flow, it does. The water is not crystal clear, but it does not smell. The banks of the river are lined with restaurants, shops, and bars. A "must-do" for visitors is to take a boat ride. Some restaurants offer dinner rides. These pictures were taken around 10 am on a Sunday, so not many people are seen. There were several restaurants that were busy serving breakfast/brunch. The river is pretty much in the shade of giant trees. My favorite time of the year for the riverwalk is from Thanksgiving to New Year's Day. The trees are draped with lights and the edge of the river is lined with luminaries.
     

The Missions
      There are 5 missions in San Antonio, the Alamo, San Jose, Concepcion, San Juan, and Espada. These missions showed the world the presence of the Spanish. They served to "reform the savages" to Catholicism. They also served as a base for incoming settlers from Spain.
     The missions were large walled compounds. These walls protected the church and priests' residence, the granary, a cemetery, and maybe a convent. Along the walls were small living quarters for some of the Indians.

      San Jose Mission (1720s)
       This mission was restored in the 1930s with the help of stimulus money during the Great Depression.

It is hard to get a wide shot that includes the walls and the Indians' living quarters.

This was a Sunday and Mass was in progress.

The arched spaces were the residences of the priests and the convent.

The wall residences for the Indians and an oven in the foreground. These ovens were seen at spaced intervals along the wall.

Beware that these cacti will grow anywhere and are almost impossible to destroy. The cactus fruit, and the cactus pads are eaten today by many people of Mexican decent, including my aunt. I do not like them.

Another view of the arches.

          
       Mission Concepcion
             The only thing that is at this site is the church. The grounds include a few ruins, but it has not been restored like the San Jose.

 Conclusion
     When I think of San Antonio I think of American history. In public school history we learned about the pilgrims and Washington crossing the Delaware. We were never told that 250 miles of us, a very different world existed. I learned that there is an aqueduct at one of the missions that dates to the mid-1600s. Where were we on the American History timeline in the 1600s?

New York on my mind

I had plans to be in New York over the Labor Day Weekend. I would meet a tennis buddy from San Antonio an go to the US Open. The hurricane heading up the east coast changed my plans. I have been en route to New York during a storm. The airports in NY get congested and no flights get in. The airlines have told me that since my flight was cancelled/delayed, that they would get me on the next available flight. At some point I realized that I was not the only traveller waiting for the next available SEAT. Because there was also a chance that the hurricane would wander closer to NY, I decided to not lose out on tickets and hotel room and cancelled my plans. I decided to share my thought on NY, NY.


It is the city that never sleeps, New York City. It is exciting, fast, and humbling. The talk of New Yorkers is that they are rude and will walk all over you. I think that if I lived there that I would be the same.

My first trip to New York was in 19_?_. I was at a cafeteria and observed that a man was having some medical difficulty. Very quickly, someone went over and offered to help. Another said, "I think he is having a heart attack." Another said, "I think he is diabetic. Give him sugar." Ultimately an ambulance was called and the man disappeared into the City. These New Yorkers may have been way off in their diagnoses, but they were certainly caring.

New Yorkers are in a hurry. I have yet to figure this out. On many occasions, when I don't have anywhere to go or a timeline, I have found myself hurrying there. Since they are in a hurry, they get upset when something or someone gets in their way. I remember the scene from "Midnight Cowboy," when Dustin Hoffman is crossing the street and is almost hit by a cab. He hits the hood of the cab and yells, "Hey. I'm walking here." I have seen similar examples in the City. It seems that each person has to carve out a small personal space and protect it.

Here are some of my favorite images of the city.

This shot is taken from Brooklyn, under the Brooklyn Bridge. There is a park there that offers this great site. You have probably seen this in film.

I have been to the Statue and Ellis Island more than once and am still in awe.

The Brooklyn Bridge is a must see. Thousands of people cross it to get to Manhattan. FYI. The yellow line is suppose to divide the pedestrians and the bikes.

What trip to NYC would be complete without a trip the Empire State Building. Even if you did not go up to the observation decks, you could enjoy the art deco interior.

In the movie, Independence Day, they show the Building facing a street. It actually does not have a side to any street. You could say that it is in the middle of the block but it takes up the entire block.

The Flat Iron Building

I doubt that anyone of today's generation would know a "flat iron." I did not look it up but I think it was the beginning of the skyscraper.

I could not find my pictures of the Guggenheim Museum or the Metropolitan Museum of Art, but I will post them later.

Joe

Things I've Learned: Segregation, Privilege, Luck and the stigma of eating tacos

       Discrimination and segregation:
(Clarification:  Up until the late 1800s the Rio Grande was a feature of the terrain, not a border. Here in South Texas the general population is 95% Hispanic/ Mexican American. Depending on how and when one was raised, the lable of Hispanic, Mexican American, or Mexican was adopted. On the other side of the equation are the Whites, Anglos, or Gringos. The commonly used term is Anglo. My preferred terminology is Mexican American and Anglo.)

Segregated schools:
             I went to the Weslaco Museum to check out its new location and exhibits. I was impressed with the museum's content and display. The main exhibit focused on education in Weslaco. It mentioned how the schools were laid out. When the first high school was built and where students went to high school before the new Weslaco had a high school. In black and white, I read that the town's first schools were established to segregate the Mexican American students from the non-Hispanic, Anglos. I have checked with friends and classmates and they seem to have always known this.
             Living here, the norm was what it was, and I did know any better. I doubt that the Anglo students considered it discrimination or segregation either. The town is divided by the railroad tracks, north side and south side. Back in the day, the South side had the Woolworth, J.C.Penney, the fancy schmancy Wells of Welaco (clothing), Mattar Store for Men, etc. The North side had an assortment of taverns and bars, restaurants, the cotton gin, and other packing sheds. Needless to say, the North side was known as the Mexican side.
            The neighborhoods on the South side were primarily brick facades, ranch style or two story houses. The owners were almost 100% white, Middle and upper-middle class folks. Very few Mexican Americans lived in the South side of Weslaco. I don't think there was a ban on Hispanics living there. On the North side, the houses were primarily wood framed on smaller lots. The residents were primarily Mexican American.

           Primarily there were two elementary schools, Horton School (North side/Hispanic) and Stephen F. Austin School (South side - Anglo). The buses would come from the rural areas to the north with the kids. They would stop at Horton and drop off the Hispanic kids, then proceed to Stephen F. Austin to drop off the Anglo kids. The same dynamic from the rural South, stopping first at Stephen F. and then at Horton.
Maybe the reason why I was not aware was that I attended Catholic school, St. Joan of Arc, until the end of the 5th grade. Maybe I was 11 or 12 then, and clueless about many things. The Catholic school had a mixed population. I always thought it odd that there were Anglos who were Catholic. My life at St. Joan will have a separate entry in the future. This segregation would continue until the federal courts mandated busing integration. When I left the parochial school, another elementary, for 5th and 6th, Sam Houston Elementary, had opened and there I went.

Reunion of the segregated

        The meeting place for these two separate groups of students was high school. Working on the 10th reunion, I learned that many Mexican students considered the reunions something for the Anglo students. As a result, fewer Mexican American students than Anglo students attended reunions. When I went door to door asking classmates to sign up for the reunion, a common respond was, "Nah! That's only for Gringos."

        At the last high school class reunion the word "segregation" was uttered. As the students gathered and began to share their stories, we all separated into our "clicks." The jocks, the band members, and the geeks found each other. At some point in the evening, all of the Mexican students, maybe 15, were sitting together. We were sharing as members of a special "click." One of the Anglo students commented, "Why are you all segregating yourselves?" This student had not considered that an outsider could have observed that she and her Anglo classmates were also segregated into a larger group.

    After the reunion and after thinking about the "segregation" comment, I realized the following. This high school class had three groups of students. The Anglo kids had known each other since 1st grade, for the most part. These classmates were very close.  There were a few students who moved into the school district later. For the most part, the Anglo kids had started at Stephen F. and continued through high school.
        The Mexican American students came from either the North side elementary school or the Catholic school. Since I left the Catholic school after the 5th grade, I had friends from both Catholic and public schools. The Catholic school had grades 1-8. Those that stayed for their entire sentence, graduated and went to Weslaco High School. Most of the ones that I know that graduated, did it because their parents forced them. My siblings and I left the Catholic school because my parents could not afford it.
     So here is my high school class, Anglos from Stephen F., Mexican Americans from Horton and Sam Houston, and the mix of Anglo and Mexican from St. Joan. Although we were now together there were still things that separated us. One of those things was tacos.

The Stigma of eating tacos
        The sociologists' view of "discrimination" is to deny any privilege or right to an individual or a group, based on one attribute, such as heritage, language, religion, etc.  I don't remember a time when I felt discriminated against. Although there certainly was discrimination. The Blacks who worked on the railroad, back in the day, were not allowed to eat in the main dining room of the Keno Cafe. These men ate in the kitchen. My grandparents considered the Anglo as the "boss man." They would not dare do some things because they did not consider themselves as equals to the Anglo. This was a learned behavior and maybe I learned through observation of them and others. I am referring to eating tacos.
         Unlike today, where tacos are almost a food group unto themselves, in the past, tacos were in the Mexican and mexican American domain. Tacos were something we brought for lunch to school or work. I don't know why we did not bring PBand J sandwiches or balony sandwiches. I did eat balony tacos, though.
          Along with others, when I took tacos for lunch, I would not take the taco out of the brown bag. I would unwrap it in the bag and allow a small portion to surface, take a bite and move the taco forward. What was this about? No one told me not to eat tacos. What then caused me and others to hide the tacos we took to school for lunch? I think this is one of those learned behaviors. I can assume it was embarrassment. It seems odd in 2010 to feel bad about eating a taco, since it is a mainstream food. Driving through Wyoming, one morning, I stopped for gas and coffee. The place had a deli selling a variety of taco fillings. There were 5 Wyominans (?) in line and they all ordered at least one taco for breakfast. Consider that this is Wyoming and Wyoming is not in the middle of nowhere, IT IS. (My apologies to the Wyomians reading this.)


Privilege and luck
   
        Since I have been back, I have met with high school classmates that I did not know well in high school. These guys were not in my circles, in or out of school. I found out that I was indeed privileged. One of these students would work in the fields before and after school. He was not allowed to do football, band or any other activity. On graduation night he did not attend the all-night party. His father left him some gas money so that he could follow the family to Wisconsin to work the fields. After his stint in the military, he thought he would go to college using the GI Bill. That dream was short-lived when his father found out his plans.
         The story of two other former classmates was similar. They had to work to help the family. All that they earned was not theirs to keep. On the other hand, I had a choice. My father's mantra was, "You are either in school or working." We could drop out of school at any time, but we would have to work. We could have part-time jobs and keep the money earned. We cold participate in extra-curricular activities so long as the grades did not suffer. This was a privilege that I did not know I had. I was unaware of how touch some of my classmates had it.

    Luck played a role in my school life. As a junior in high school, I went to chemistry class to find that there were only three students scheduled. Somebody messed up the schdule. As a result of the rescheduling, I was in classes where I was the only Mexican American kid. This was another bit of segregation that happened back in the day. Not so good students went this way and the better students went that way - college bound and vocational.
   Although at first I did not like that Mrs Wallace, English, always called on me first, I got to the point of being well prepared for that challenge. My classmates in English class included those that would be the Valedictorian, Saluditorian, and the top 10 per cent of the graduating class. I became friends with these students who were bonded together since 1st grade at Stephen F. Austin school.
     From them I learned about going to college and taking the SAT and ACT exams. I do not remember ever meeting with a high school counselor to talk about college or scholarships. What would my life be if I had not been so lucky as to have my class schedule messed up in the 11th grade.

     I am happy to report that I am still questioning and still learning.  There are a number of high school and St. Joan classmates that I have not seen. I am anxious to discover what I will learn from them. I hope to have some picture to accompany this post soon.

Joe V