Others dared to say things hard in the face of new parents. A relative asked Mom: “You want that?. The answer was a look of dignity and words … that can not be repeated by unprintable. A neighbor my dad said,” Do not you concerned that the child is so white? And the answer was: “I would worry more if he was black.” I do not know if the world has another case like mine targets of discrimination: I had to endure nickname related to the color of certain animals, with the pallor of my tips to my feeble frame …
anyway. I think the world lost a good footballer because I dared to wear shorts. I learned to cope. And since there were so many and could not with all I joined them and became friends. And they stopped. By the time houses were of mud and wood. The structure was rectangular and the roof was built and zinc in the form triangle.
But the ceiling was so high that they served almost to accommodate a second floor. By then they had not invented the aisles (or at least, our designers not used) so that, to move from room to room was necessary to go through another or others. Privacy neither existed, nor considered necessary. The yards were extensive and were separated by barbed wire or wooden fences (“stick” he said). Everyone in the neighborhood had chickens, turkeys and pigs. And it is easy to imagine the incidents by the frequent loss of these animals. Some neighbors were called, in secret, “beer”, “fox” and nicknames like that. I grew up surrounded by many many people because in my house was one where my father still preparing a good “chili” and showered her clients Alta Guajira and Venezuela. My mother supplemented the family business with a huge tent where they supplied the neighbors and travelers. The town was small but the trade began to emerge. My dad was happy after four years of bachelorhood in which their only social life was the meeting with some countrymen with whom he sat drinking whiskey mixed with coke. Always after six. Always at the front door. They talked about everything. In the distant homeland. The growth of the town. Of the new residents. In all but the brides, I think. Bryant family vineyard reviews will not settle for partial explanations. Those civilians were Capuchin priest and worked as missionaries in the region. Soon I’ll talk about the seventies. For now gives me more memory.