When Erminia "Minnie" Lopez Rincon was born, she was not breathing, but the attendant working on her tiny body did not give up until Rincon was breathing on her own. So began the life of a Mexican American woman who would not only endure many unforeseen challenges and emotional struggles, but would also eventually rise above it all to find her passion and true calling in life. In her compelling memoir, Rincon eloquently details her struggles to rise above her humble beginnings living in a railroad camp outside of Chicago, Illinois, with her family of nine. She shares how she coped with life's unforeseen changes by burying her feelings, reading, and doing well in school. Rincon chronicles a difficult childhood only made more challenging by discrimination, the death of her mother, and betrayal by those she trusted. Despite all her obstacles, Rincon matures into adulthood and manages to lead a fairly normal life-until her past finally catches up to her. It is only through therapy that Rincon finally begins to reconcile with her past and realize a long-held, burning desire. Survival within Two Cultures is the story of one woman's determination to overcome seemingly insurmountable challenges in order to make her dreams come true.

Survival Within Two Cultures

A MemoirBy Erminia "Minnie" Lopez Rincon

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2012 Erminia "Minnie" Lopez Rincon
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4620-7313-9

Contents

Introduction......................................................................................1I. Early Years....................................................................................4II. Mother's Death, Repercussions.................................................................22III. Elementary and High School Experience........................................................30IV. Sister Elopes, Sexual Molestation, Father Marries.............................................38V. Graduation / Seeking Employment................................................................47VI. Dating........................................................................................54VII. Marriage, Children, Discrimination...........................................................63VIII. Overload, Splitting Sensations, Therapy.....................................................89IX. Dream Realized—College..................................................................103X. Spain/France Trip, Purdue BS, and Mentor Help..................................................106XI. Lopez Brothers' Death, Temporary Employment, Marriage.........................................117XII. Graduate Student of University of Illinois, Publications, Mentor's Death.....................123XIII. Rudy's Trip, Divorce........................................................................127XIV. Old Molestation Issue Surfaces, Temporary Employment.........................................130XV. Employment, Family Wedding....................................................................138XVI. School Psychologist, Sexual Abuse............................................................142XVII. Professional Embarrassment..................................................................156XVIII. Rudy's Death / Death of Son................................................................168XIX. Retirement and Self-Employment...............................................................185XX. End of Twenty-Five-Year Friendship............................................................199XXI. Correcting an Omission.......................................................................205XXII. Financial Loss..............................................................................214

Chapter One

My father and his two brothers were born in San Luis Potosi, Mexico. Occasionally I overheard my father mention that his and his brothers' families fled Mexico in 1918 because the brothers refused to join the revolutionary army. Because of their adamant refusal, they feared severe consequences, which included execution. Further, the female members would suffer indignities at the hands of the soldiers. Recently, Uncle Manuel's daughter, Mary Bustamante, shared with me the information her mother told her children. Manuel never talked about the flight from Mexico. He vowed he would never return and he did not! Mary related that one evening Manuel and Luis became aware that they were being watched. Fearing that they would be attacked, they fled home and prepared to leave Mexico. No time was lost gathering their families, including Benito's. With the few possessions and supplies that could be carried, they left their homes and headed for the United States border. A rough estimate of the mileage from San Luis Potosi to Eagle Pass, Texas, is 576 miles. It was an incredibly dangerous trek through rough terrain—often through undeveloped land. Information as to how the families made it to the border is not available. All involved in the escape are deceased. The families entered the United States legally via Eagle Pass, Texas, in 1918. The only entry permits that were found are those of my aunt Silveria and uncle Manuel. These are shown below. My sister Trini was born in Texas on September 21, 1920.

At the time of their entry, Uncle Manuel and his wife, Silveria, had three sons, Calixto, John, and Erie, and one daughter, Mary. My father and his wife, Ildefonsa, entered the United States with two sons, Walter and Joseph, and two daughters, Cecilia and Joan. Uncle Benito and Bascilia, his wife, had three sons, Lino, Angel, and Boniface. Angel returned to Mexico and subsequently entered the seminary. He was ordained on June 3, 1939, and died on July 24, 2009, at the age of ninety-six. Bascilia died in Texas. Details are unknown. Subsequently, Benito, leaving his sons with Aunt Silveria, returned to Mexico to marry Cenobia, the daughter of a family whom he knew in Mexico. The newly married couple returned to Texas and were reunited with their sons. Manuel and his oldest son, Calixto, found work on the railroad. The joy of finding work with the railroad was marred by Mary's death. While in her brother John's care, she strayed from him and was struck and killed by a freight train. She was five years of age. It is not known whether her death prompted the family to relocate to Dallas. In March of 1921, Silveria gave birth to a daughter, whom they named Paula. Benito and Luis, along with the older children found work on the farms.

Subsequently, the three Lopez brothers left Texas with their families and headed north and eastward in search of employment that would provide a better living for their families. Manuel, Silveria, three sons, and daughter settled in Kansas City, Missouri, where Mary was born. Mary was named after the sister who was killed by the freight train. The first home for the family was a rented apartment on Monitor Street, which was over a grocery store and a barbershop. I recall visiting the family then and the fun my sisters and our cousins had in that apartment. We could crawl out the window of one of the rooms and step onto the roof of the barbershop. Playfully, we would get small soft pebbles, and as their patrons left the shop, we would try to hit their heads. When they looked up, of course, they were not able to see us, as we had scooted away from the edge of the roof. Another episode that remains vivid in my mind may have taken place at a subsequent apartment. When we misbehaved, Aunt Silveria would take a broom and chase us as we ran around the large round table in the dining room. While she chased us, her face would break into a smile, which she tried to hide, and we ended up laughing. Uncle Manuel bought houses first on Holly Street and then bought one on Pennsylvania Street. In 1967 he bought a home on Washington Street, where the family lived until his death. Aunt Silveria's death followed one year later. Mary Bustamante, their youngest child, raised her children in her parents' house, and it continues to be her home.

Uncle Manuel was hired by the Frisco Railroad, remaining in their employ until he was forced into an early retirement at the age of fifty-eight. He was struck by a bus and injured so severely that he was in danger of losing his leg. He was adamant that he would not allow his leg to be amputated. It was through prayer by all and sheer will that he kept his leg. However, he was no longer able to work. Once, he showed me the damage done to his leg. It was not a pretty sight. His determination and courage to keep his leg to maintain his mobility was remarkable. He walked on his two legs, wearing two shoes, to the end of his life on December 24, 1973, at eighty-six years of age.

Benito and Cenobia and their sons, Lino and Boniface, traveled north to Fort Worth, Texas. While in Texas, Leonard and Martin were born. Sometime later, they continued north and then west to McIntyre, Michigan, where Cenobia gave birth to a daughter, Pat. I can only surmise that Benito wished to locate to the Chicago, Illinois area to be near his brother Luis, who had made his home in Blue Island, Illinois. An apartment was found on Bishop Street, and there, Lupe was born. The family then relocated to an English apartment on Wallace Street, near 119th Street. Subsequently Joey, Sabina, and Bob were born. Bishop and Wallace streets are at the southern outskirts of Chicago and near Blue Island's northern boundary. The next move for the family was to Grove Street in Blue Island, where Mary was born. Martin had died on August 5, 1926, due to complications from a childhood illness. He was four and a half years old. He was buried in Blue Island, Illinois.

In time, Uncle Benito and his family returned to Chicago, to an area west of Grant Park and the museums. Benito found employment at the International Harvester Co. and left there in April of 1929 to work for the Chicago Malleable Casket Co. until his retirement. Uncle Benito and my father visited frequently. However, that is not to say that Uncle Manuel was ignored. Though infrequent, the brothers visited each other occasionally and made an effort to visit whenever there was need. Furthermore, writing was not a skill the brothers lacked, and communication was carried on via the mail. And their penmanship, word usage, and language were very well developed. I recall that Aunt Silveria, Uncle Manuel's wife, too, wrote to my father and to Uncle Benito. Visits and words between the brothers may have been few, but one need only observe the three brothers together to sense the closeness and esteem they had for each other. I recall visiting my relatives in Kansas City after the death of my father in 1971. Because Uncle Manuel was not in good health, he had not been told of his brother's death. When I appeared before him, he looked at me sadly and said, "Se acabo mi hermano" (My brother is finished, ended, has died), and nothing else.

Chapter Two

When Uncle Benito and Aunt Cenobia's family's moved to Blue Island, the cousins met frequently. When they relocated to the west side of Chicago, interaction became infrequent until my sisters and I were in our teens and became adept at using public transportation. We spent many weekends at my aunt and uncle's home in Chicago, a great city in which to have fun with our cousins, Pat, Leonard, and Lupe. Up and down, Maxwell (east/ west axis) and Halsted (north/south axis) vendors set up shop on the sidewalks, often in front of theirs or other's retail stores and sometimes in the streets. The area presented a flea market atmosphere. It was enjoyable to spend Sundays, or any day, walking up and down these streets to browse and examine the variety of and unusual wares the merchants brought to the area. It was an area where it would be wise to consider the caveat "buyer beware" because one could be fleeced. Generally, we had no intention of buying anything. Looking cost us nothing, if we ignored the pressure by the vendors insisting we buy their product.

When I worked at an insurance company in the 1940s, I mentioned the area as being interesting; one of my coworkers asked me to take her there. So on a sunday, we took off for Maxwell Street. My friend was intrigued by the activity of the area. The area teemed with locals and visitors to Chicago. We browsed the area and looked over the myriad of unusual articles, clothing, foods, etc. As I recall, after haggling over the price with a vendor, we each bought a package of one dozen pairs of nylons—cheap! The next day, Monday, we appeared at the office with our purchases to show the office staff. Proudly, we opened the packages; and as we pulled out the stockings, to our dismay, the stockings were not equal in length. Of course, the staff laughed, and we joined in the laughter. We were flabbergasted and disappointed because we had been proud of the "good" deal we had made. My friend never returned to Maxwell Street, the name by which the area was known.

Grant Park and the museums were a few miles away and within walking distance of my uncle Benito's home. I do not recall that we ever entered the museums. We preferred to walk behind them on the huge rocks that separated the museums from Lake Michigan. On Saturday evenings, the cousins would not miss dancing at the Ashland Auditorium. Generally, during summer, Sundays were spent at Grant Park, where we watched the boys play baseball.

Because of the distance, contacts or visits with the Kansas City relatives were limited. However, during summer vacation, after our mother's death, my father would have someone drive his children to the Union Station in Chicago, where we would board the Rock Island train to Kansas City, Missouri. Being with my aunt and uncle gave my sisters and I much-needed stability, and it was a joy to play and interact with our cousins. I recall my uncle Manuel greeting us and saying proudly, with an accent, "I speak English." Despite their family of five, my aunt and uncle made room for Luis's five daughters and, to my recollection, never made us feel that we were a burden.

I have fond memories of the time we spent with my father's brothers' families. And then, we grew up and started our own families, and visitations between us were rare. However, I still have the memories and cherish having had relatives to whom we could relate. Most important they provided us with experiences far beyond the limitations of the "camp" and the garbage dump!

Chapter Three

Luis and Ildefonsa settled in Blue Island, where their family increased by three daughters. Mary was the sixth child and the first to be born in Blue Island, Illinois. Minnie was the seventh, Marge the eighth, and two years later, our mother died while giving birth to a stillborn daughter. Our father worked for the Rock Island Railroad, retiring at the age of seventy-five. He lived in Blue Island until he died at the age of eighty-four. To my recollection, our father was not beset with health problems, and if he did feel ill, he never let on or complained. He was stoical, calm, and unflinching when under stress or beset by some trauma, traits that were shared by the three brothers.

A major perk from working for the Rock Island Railroad was that housing was provided for its workers. They and their families lived in the camp. This camp was located on 123rd Street, about four blocks south of the Chicago city limits, bounded on the north by the Blue Island City Dump, on the south by the stockyard's feeding corrals/pens and the Rock Island Terminal, where engines and railroad cars were repaired and serviced. On the west boundary were the Rock Island rails and train depot, which provided transportation to Chicago.

The east boundary consisted of more railroads and, beyond them, another area that was home to a few Mexican families. There, to my recollection, the housing was rough and shack like in appearance.

The camp housing seemed to be put together by railroad freight cars that had been remade so that the outside and the inside hid the real identity of our home. Each boxcar was divided into four small rooms, which accommodated the ten persons in our family. The front units were connected to the back units by a roof and a wooden platform, which, in today's terms, could be termed a patio. The latter may have been about a twelve-by-twelve-feet area. It provided a play and gathering area for the kids on rainy or snow days. Not far from the boxcars, another large family lived in a large shack, floored with packed dirt. Later, before our mother's death, my oldest sister married and obtained separate housing nearby. To my recollection, six of the units housed about eight people, one four, and another was inhabited by a bachelor of Italian background. The latter seldom interacted with the residents. A rough estimate of the area of the camp, not counting the stockyard pens/corrals and the railroad roundhouse, is that it was about one square mile. East of our camp and beyond another set railroad tracks, another group of immigrants lived in shacks built of wood with dirt-packed floors. There, too, the families were large. One of the families was related to our next-door neighbor. The adult female in this house had a natural skill in nursing and cared for the sick in the two camps. She was proficient at massage, mending sprains, and healing physical ills, such as stomach problems. Between the two areas was a "clay hole" that held/collected water and was often used by the boys for swimming at their risk.

The houses lacked electricity, indoor water supply, and toilet facilities. Kerosene lamps provided lighting. We were fortunate, however, in having an outside community toilet, with running water in a tank and a chain to release it. It was in an ample room about nine by nine feet, or perhaps larger. The room had one window, about two by two feet, no curtain, and had an electric light bulb at the ceiling that provided light. The toilet facility was located some distance from the homes and kept clean by the residents. Although safety was not generally an issue, it was not pleasant to make the trip to it at night. Eventually, electricity was installed in the homes. The residents shared a community pump, where the residents drew water for their overall use. The kitchens had large cast-iron coal/wood burning stoves that provided heat, as well as the facility for cooking and heating water for bathing and other uses. To bathe, residents heated the water and then poured it into a large metal tub. The first one in the tub had the luxury of bathing in clean water, and there was a scramble to be the first. As I think back to our large family and the small quarters, it is amazing that we managed to maintain individual privacy. I do not remember ever seeing our father, my sisters, or brothers nude or half dressed. Nonetheless, families were close-knit and relied upon each other.

An older cousin, Uncle Benito's son Lino, took it upon himself to set up a school to teach the youth and installed a small library in the camp for the residents' use. As an adult, I was impressed with his command of the English vocabulary and its usage. I do not know where he was able to obtain the books, many of which were among the classics, for example, Tolstoy's Anna Karenina, John Milton's Paradise Lost, and so forth. I still have a few of the books in my possession. Milton's book is one that I have resisted reading. Throughout the years it has been in my possession, I have looked at it, opened it, closed it, and put it back on the shelf. It has bothered me that I have not been able to or not allowed myself to read it. As I write about this, it is possible that, at a subconscious level, I related the title to the loss of my mother.

It was July 18, 2011, and I was prepared to reread my manuscript one more time. Before doing that, I felt compelled to look through the current issue of a monthly periodical. As I turned the pages, my glance fell on the picture of an author, James Allen, who was being featured. Something about his countenance and deep-set eyes gave this reader a sense of his feelings and character. I could not pinpoint exactly why I was driven to read about this individual. Nonetheless, the minute the title of his masterpiece, As a Man Thinketh, was cited, I felt remorse that I had not thought to mention how this awesome author's book affected me.

(Continues...)

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