Memories of Laredo

Good morning!

When my sister was here last week, we talked about Laredo and Laredo memories. And she was saying, "Remember this or remember that," and I realized that since I am six years older than she, my memories go back a lot farther (childwise).

I was born in San Benito, but Brownsville was always our home base.  San Benito, Brownsville, and Port Isabel are the three main compass-points of my early childhood.  All these towns were definitely tropical in climate (sub-tropical, really, which means that they were rarely  cold...) with a stiff southeast breeze blowing in from the Gulf on most days to keep the air moving and the inhabitants amiable.

Laredo was another story.  Laredo was up along the Rio Grande about a hundred and fifty miles, along to the northwest.  There was no mitigating tropical Gulf breeze there.  Laredo was hot and hotter.  Two of my cousins graduated from medical and dental schools and chose Laredo for their homes and their practices. My father's cotton business required connections with Anahuac, Nuevo Leon (or was it Anahuac, Tamps.?) --anyway, it was over in Mexico and quite close to Laredo and Brownsville both--so he would frequently drive back and forth from Anahuac, often going to Laredo along the way. The River Road was a very important conduit for automobile traffic on the American Side.

When I was very young, we moved away from my American grandparents' rented house in San Benito and went to Laredo to live so that my parents could be closer to Daddy's work in Anahuac.  We also moved to Anahuac for a short time but that is another story.  We'll stick to Laredo on this one.  Those early visits were probably before my cousins graduated from school and set up their practices, so we had no real connections there at that time. I remember my mother moving us into an apartment there, red brick with wrought iron balconies.  On one of those balconies, I stuck my head between the bars and it was--stuck!! No amount of pulling could move it back out, and finally the firemen had to come and get me out somehow. I remember my feelings of rage and humiliation, and the smug expression on my little sister's face as she watched with the rest.

Wait a minute--I'm hearing--that could have happened anywhere!  It's not about Laredo after all.  Well, if you want to know about Laredo in general, you want to go to Wikipedia. I am telling about MY Laredo.  Another part of my Laredo is our move to another place (perhaps one without wrought iron balconies) and the main thing I remember about that place is the bathroom. I had never seen such luxury. The bathroom was huge and it was purple. Lilac-colored Mexican tile covered every surface, and the fittings were all of the same beautiful color. Purple tub, toilet, wash basin.  Even the toilet paper was of that color!  I had never seen such a thing in the humble grocery aisles of San Benito, and remarked about it to my mother.  "You can buy that colored toilet paper in Nuevo Laredo," she said.  However, we did not indulge in that luxury and our paper was white after that brief introduction to the luxury of matching everything.

Another Laredo happening of those early times happened one Sunday morning, when my mother, the maid, and my little sister and I drove across the bridge to buy aguacates (avocadoes).  The aguacates of those days were very different from the sleek things you get in a bag of four at the supermarket.  They were small, and black, and full of a hideous fiber you had to pull out before eating them. (That's how guacamole was invented.) Their flavor was heavenly.  My mother got a huge bagful of them, and we drove back across the bridge.

Now on this bridge was a wicked troll called the U.S. Customs.  Rules for bringing in fruits and vegetables fluctuated often, depending upon the caprices of some insect pest or other, probably.  My mother declared the aguacates, but  the customs man said that she would have to surrender them for they were at present contraband.  She was furious.  I remember her arguing and sassing back the customs officer, but to no avail.  He had to take those aguacates into custody. Fire was in my mother's eyes, as she said to us toddlers, "He'll just take them home for his own family!"  Probably true.  So she said to the maid, Lupe, "Lupe, take these aguacates and walk back to the middle of the bridge and throw them into the river!"  And, while we stayed parked there, Lupe did so and we all went home grumpy but triumphant, having won over the U.S.Customs.

It's funny, I wouldn't have remembered that maid' s name, but as I was writing you this story, her name just popped out of my mother's mouth as natural as anything.  Memory is a strange thing....you-all will sign out of my posting today and say, "She sure didn't tell us much about Laredo!"  Well, I told you a little, and, as my mother would have said, "And that's not the half of it!!!" YAZZYBEL