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Authors: Oscar Lewis
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well with my boss. A lot of workers hate their boss and don’t feel loyal, but in that respect I am well off because I know my boss holds me in high esteem. To show his appreciation he allows me to work seven days a week and all holidays, so I can increase my earnings. For years I’ve worked on Wednesdays, my day off. I respect my boss and I do my best. He is like a father to me.
All I do is work and take care of my family. I never go to
fiestas
. Only once, when we lived in Cuba Street, some people in my
vecindad
made a
fiesta
and I danced a little. I didn’t drink much and went right home to bed. For me there are no outings, no parties, no nothing … only work and family.
And I have no
compadres
where I work. I consider
compadrazgo
a serious thing, a matter of mutual respect. When I needed
compadres
, I chose older people, not youths or my fellow workers. Before you know it, young people invite you to drink with them and do things together. Some even kill each other, and that is bad. When I am invited anywhere, I don’t go.
It was at La Gloria restaurant that I met the mother of my children, Lenore. I fell in love with her. She was short but broad-shouldered and dark-complexioned. I was about sixteen and she must have been two or three years older. She had been in Mexico City longer than I, and had had a husband in free union. I accepted her with a child of ten months. I was very happy to do it. It seemed perfectly natural to me, but the child got sick and died soon after. I was earning only eighty
centavos
a day and couldn’t afford to pay ten or fifteen
pesos
a month for a place of our own, so I went to livewith her family. I was young, very poor and very foolish in those days. I was stupid, like a piece of wood. But at fifteen, what experience did I have? All I knew was that I wanted to sleep with her.
But, as we say here, after twenty-four hours, a corpse and a house guest begin to stink. Her brothers drank a lot and came home and beat their wives and we had difficulties. I tried hard to find our own place to live in and finally found a room that rented for ten
pesos
. I didn’t even own a bed. My wife sold bread crumbs and leftover cake and earned more than I did. Sometimes she earned eight
pesos
a day. Yes, selling pays well and there I was buried like a potato in that restaurant.
Lenore had a strong personality and that is why I couldn’t live very peacefully with her. She wanted me to marry her but that made me angry. I thought she wanted to tie me up for life! It was wrong of me, but that’s the way I was.
Lenore was the first woman I had ever had. We lost our first child, a little girl named María. She died a few days after birth, of pneumonia. Some say her little abdomen burst. Manuel was born next and I was happy to have my first son. I was even proud to be a father. I looked at him as though he was some strange person. Being so young, I lacked experience. One doesn’t feel love right away, but my children always gave me pleasure. But at that time, we lived in misery. I earned only eighty
centavos
a day, and it didn’t go far. Naturally, when Lenore was having a baby, she couldn’t work and without her ten or twelve
pesos
a day, we lacked everything. She usually helped with the house expenses.
After Manuel, there was another boy who died in a few months. He died because of lack of money and because of ignorance. We had no experience and didn’t struggle to save the baby. Lenore was a good person but she had a terrible temper and would get bad attacks of the heart and the bile. She always had trouble with her milk. She was not one of those affectionate mothers who pampered their children. She didn’t beat them, that I remember, she was about average there, although she would get very angry and use strong words with the children. She didn’t kiss or hug them, but they were not badly treated by her. She went out all day selling cake.
I wasn’t very affectionate with the children either. I
All I do is work and take care of my family. I never go to
fiestas
. Only once, when we lived in Cuba Street, some people in my
vecindad
made a
fiesta
and I danced a little. I didn’t drink much and went right home to bed. For me there are no outings, no parties, no nothing … only work and family.
And I have no
compadres
where I work. I consider
compadrazgo
a serious thing, a matter of mutual respect. When I needed
compadres
, I chose older people, not youths or my fellow workers. Before you know it, young people invite you to drink with them and do things together. Some even kill each other, and that is bad. When I am invited anywhere, I don’t go.
It was at La Gloria restaurant that I met the mother of my children, Lenore. I fell in love with her. She was short but broad-shouldered and dark-complexioned. I was about sixteen and she must have been two or three years older. She had been in Mexico City longer than I, and had had a husband in free union. I accepted her with a child of ten months. I was very happy to do it. It seemed perfectly natural to me, but the child got sick and died soon after. I was earning only eighty
centavos
a day and couldn’t afford to pay ten or fifteen
pesos
a month for a place of our own, so I went to livewith her family. I was young, very poor and very foolish in those days. I was stupid, like a piece of wood. But at fifteen, what experience did I have? All I knew was that I wanted to sleep with her.
But, as we say here, after twenty-four hours, a corpse and a house guest begin to stink. Her brothers drank a lot and came home and beat their wives and we had difficulties. I tried hard to find our own place to live in and finally found a room that rented for ten
pesos
. I didn’t even own a bed. My wife sold bread crumbs and leftover cake and earned more than I did. Sometimes she earned eight
pesos
a day. Yes, selling pays well and there I was buried like a potato in that restaurant.
Lenore had a strong personality and that is why I couldn’t live very peacefully with her. She wanted me to marry her but that made me angry. I thought she wanted to tie me up for life! It was wrong of me, but that’s the way I was.
Lenore was the first woman I had ever had. We lost our first child, a little girl named María. She died a few days after birth, of pneumonia. Some say her little abdomen burst. Manuel was born next and I was happy to have my first son. I was even proud to be a father. I looked at him as though he was some strange person. Being so young, I lacked experience. One doesn’t feel love right away, but my children always gave me pleasure. But at that time, we lived in misery. I earned only eighty
centavos
a day, and it didn’t go far. Naturally, when Lenore was having a baby, she couldn’t work and without her ten or twelve
pesos
a day, we lacked everything. She usually helped with the house expenses.
After Manuel, there was another boy who died in a few months. He died because of lack of money and because of ignorance. We had no experience and didn’t struggle to save the baby. Lenore was a good person but she had a terrible temper and would get bad attacks of the heart and the bile. She always had trouble with her milk. She was not one of those affectionate mothers who pampered their children. She didn’t beat them, that I remember, she was about average there, although she would get very angry and use strong words with the children. She didn’t kiss or hug them, but they were not badly treated by her. She went out all day selling cake.
I wasn’t very affectionate with the children either. I
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