I grew up an Urban Mexican American; my home was one of two houses on a lot. The view from our front window looked at the Kovakar Laundry and the Union Pacific stockyards - mostly shades of grey.
Aunt Martha and Uncle Pancho lived in the back house; they had eleven children. On holidays there were a lot of folks that went up and down the driveway. There was no fence between the yards, so, in some ways, our home and theirs felt like one big yard with two houses.
Siesta - Delia J. Fry
Uncle Tony and Tia Tonia and their children lived a car drive away. Their children Lalo, Teresa, Delia, and Gloria covered a fairly wide range in ages; Lalo had served in the Korean Conflict while Gloria and I were losing babyteeth. They lived in the bucolic hills of Cypress Park. Their backyard was a hill-slope filled with green colors and it occasionally had garden snakes. It was a like trip to the country.
Some of my earliest memories of Cousin Delia was of her wry humor. She was an "older" cousin who got married and had a family before I was in junior high school. Eventually she moved to Missouri. It's been in the last few years that we have reconnected via our shared interest in our family and its roots. Sometimes roots run deep.
I was surprised to see her drawing of our grandfather Guadalupe. I didn't know she was so artistic.
She likes to think of this image as our grandfather resting after a hard day's work. His build reminds me of Antonio and Agapito, our fathers. Her skill reminds me of the drawings that my father used to do. It is a pleasure to share her gifts - across geographical distances and across the years.