Editor-In-Chief
McALLEN, Texas - She was one of those flighty girls who learned to play hard-to-get at an early age. I met her when she was nine. Esther Escamilla would bowl me over for an entire summer and I would never forget much of the pain she put me through. I was ten, not exactly in need of hot love, but already interested in the fairer sex. Esther lived a few blocks from my house here.
At those parties, Esther and I would dance as soon as the host parent would set records on the old turntable placed atop a chair. I recall we would dance to a song by Chris Montez (see Tribune Lounge sidebar), and Esther would move like a champ. I can still see her thin arms flailing away as the song played-on, her body in full-sway, skinny legs and all, her lips pursed, eyes ablaze. I suppose I liked Esther a lot, 'cause when the parties ended I would chase her all the way to her house. Why that happened, I stilll have no idea, but perhaps Esther had instructions from her parents that she was not to be walked home by a boy who couldn't afford a haircut.
The other day, I drove by that same old neighborhood. It's changed dramatically, but you can still see little boys and girls out and about, walking, playing, being kids uninterested in great fashion or who's watching, maybe plotting their own stabs at romance. There was that time Esther came to my house and I recall my mother answered the knocking to tell her I was sick and could not come out to play. From my window, I saw Esther walk toward the street and then angle off onto the street that would take her to the little park where we'd played.
She was running beautifully as she moved up the inclined street, like a doe, her crazy hair splayed as she gained speed, her feet propelling her away from me. That was the year I lost my voice and the doctors couldn't tell us why. Esther might have helped.
But perhaps my inability to speak would have led me to do something else, like maybe kiss her...
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6 comments:
Something is bringing out the sweet innocent stories of growing up and family love and it's good to know they are there. It seems strange to think there was a time when you were chasing skirts without even knowing what you would do with them if you caught them. All in all, Esther doesn't sound like she was responsible for your ruination, after all, she kept on running didn't she? You probably just already had a well-developed sense of Catholic guilt before you'd even experienced the pleasure of the sin. M
M, My Dear.:...This is unfair. You know me too-well. Besides, the "ruination" was not solely the doing of Little Esther. She really was an innocent love, but nonetheless the girl that initially sent me tumbling across the Big Sky that is love... - Editor
Ricardo Klement, you have done it again, I like that post card from Harlingen. Very good, very good,
well done, well done, now time to head to Las Casuelas for machacado and egg taco.
Good story, it is funny how we remember the little things in life that evantually shape our way of living.
I still remember the girl who I dance first with. Dorky looking, glasses and short hair, I was in the 7th. grade. The last time I saw one of her relatives, I asked about her. I think she worked at AT&T. That was over 25 years ago when I inquired about her. I don't remember her name, but her sister's name was Gloria. Unreal!!!
Wait it all came back, her name was Elida. Don't remember her last name. Anyway, Several times while visiting the Valley. I drove through the old colonia. Never new what happen to the old folks or the rest of her family. Good article, MR. Editor. (But my very first dance was with her.)
Juan Montoya in Jail, man who did he offend??? I do know that he is always at the Palm Lounge, or el 7 mares or Vermillion.
Sorry Juan, you asked for it. I know the guy from the brownsville voice is critical of juan and his reporting. Being in the slammer is no fun. Been there, done that, and will never do it again. Dwi is serious.
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