Story Time

Storytelling is something that happens on a daily basis, you just may not even realize it. Just telling a friend about how your day went, is like telling them a recap story. Of course, with this topic being examined in class, I just had to take the topic home with me when I went to visit this past weekend. 

As a child, I always enjoyed listening to stories, and being read to. Whenever we were going on a long trip, I would always ask either my mother or my father to tell me a story about someone in my family, seeing as how I have trouble falling asleep in the car, having motion sickness and all. Loving story time made me become so aware and informed about family members, whether they be deceased, or still alive and well. On my visit back home, my father decided to barbecue, so I of course, decided to have my folks tell me a story to pass the time. I wanted to hear about how my father's father's family came to live in Texas, more specifically Los Saenz/Roma, Texas. My grandfather's family, about three or four generations back, was given land by the king of Spain to start getting others to settle there. I will not bore you all with ALL the minor details, but  here we go. The king gave them roughly a 15mile by 1 mile plot of land to settle in, and so they did. The areas were also inhabited by Indians, and my great great great grandfather found himself being chased by some angry ones. He ended up riding his horse under a low lying branch, got knocked off, and attacked, and killed by the Indians. Luckily he did not leave this world without having a few youngsters first. One of those children had my great grandfather, along with my great uncles and aunts. My great grandfather had seven children, one of which was named Noe. Noe was the second born, but he died at a young age, so the fifth child was also named Noe. Noe is my grandfather, and my father's father. Two of my uncles and my grandfather all served in WWII. My grandpa Noe was stationed in England, where he met my grandmother, Gladys. During the time that his son's were gone, my great grandfather passed away. They were married in England, and had there first born son, Noe, there as well. My grandfather had to come back to the U.S, but as soon as my uncle Noe was old enough to travel, my grandmother and uncle hopped on a boat, and later arrived in Elis Island. From there they rode a train all the way down to Los Saenz where they lived in the house my great grandfather used to live in. Then a few years later, they had their second child, which just so happened to be my father. They had four more children after that, two girls, and two boys. A couple years passed, about 35 or so, my father married my mother, and well, the rest, is history. 

My family used to be very close, literally because everyone lived in the same areas, and because we all used to get along so well and loved being around one another. Though we do not see each other much anymore, telling these stories makes me feel that much closer to all of them. Story telling has always been a huge part of my life, and without it, I wouldn't know the things about my family that I know now.