Introduction part 3

As some of you may know, I am left handed and being left-handed when you are Catholic in a Spanish speaking country is a big no no since left-handedness is associated with the devil(don’t ask me, this is just what I was told). The nuns spent all of first grade trying their hardest to get me to write with my right hand. They tried so hard that they forgot to teach me anything BUT how to try to write with my right hand so I had to repeat first grade. Funny thing is that mom taught me everything I needed to know during summer vacation. I breezed through first grade my second time around which shouldn’t have happened had they taught me what I needed to learn instead of trying to make me a right-hander in the first place. After first grade, they gave up on trying to get me to write with my right hand but they had me stay after school to practice writing because my cursive looked like chicken scratch to them. Let’s just say that all that extra time practicing my writing didn’t pay off and I think some first graders now have better writing that I do. *sniff*

Another awesome thing about Catholic school back in El Salvador is that going to Church on Sunday was/is mandatory. It’s not that I didn’t or did like going to church, it was just boring to me at that age. Church became so boring to a select few of us catholic kids that we brought our bikes and played in the park right outside the church while everyone was at mass. Once we saw people coming out of the church, we would rush in so that when attendance was taken, we would not get in trouble. We had it down to a science. Good times were had back then.

Now that the school portion is out of the way, let’s talk about the familia. I lived with Mom, bro, grandma, grandpa, and uncle. Nice happy family and we all got along great…with the exception of my brother and I. We mainly fought when mom or grandma were around. I think we were just trying to establish who would back who up and who liked who better. Since my brother was the baby, he would always win with them. I think I started most of the fights mainly because I enjoyed pushing my brother’s buttons back then. I think it was jealousy at work.

My brother was a little angel in my grandmothers’ eyes. She would always believe him and he would always get me in trouble with her. The only times the both of us got in trouble is when she saw things from beginning to end. This one time, she decided she wanted to put an end to our fighting once and for all and held a public punishment for the both of us. She poured oil and salt on both our backs and had us lick each others backs. I had to go first of course and I took ten licks before she told me to stop and tell my brother to start. My brother barely put his tongue on my back before he started puking. Grandma told him to stop and that he didn’t have to lick my back anymore. I didn’t care much but it was a little humiliating to be punished in front of so many people for being a naughty boy. My brother and I didn’t fight much after that point.

An interesting fact about my grandparents (mothers side) that I didn’t learn until I was 17 is that they weren’t my biological grandparents. They were a great aunt/uncle that took my mom and uncle in because my real grandmother started treating them horribly after my grandfather had died. I was shocked when I heard this especially after I remembered that a weird woman went by the school my brother and I were in - claiming to be our grandmother. We just dismissed her as being crazy. Last thing I heard from mom, the biological grandmother is now diseased.