These Demons Are Intolerable!

By Javier Gomez

This manuscript was written from the heart to allow me to dream, free of memories mixed with my fantasies, which confused me in understanding what was real or a dream. I am now at peace knowing I am more confused because I am dreaming excessively more.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 12, 2015
• ISBN: 9781514421826

Javier Gomez

Javier Gomez is an immigrant brought to live in the United States by his parents, seeking to ensure his health, safety, and well-being. Yet he almost became a statistical casualty of a blind educational system unwilling to face its challenges. Gomez fought to eradicate hatred and bigotry in the LA school system, going on to participate in antiwar protests and champion the cause of human rights. As a disciple of Cesar Chavez, Gomez raised the banner of La Causa in the pursuit of enlightenment, empowerment, and freedom.

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Copyright © 2015 by Javier Gomez.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2015917970

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-5144-2184-0

               Softcover        978-1-5144-2183-3

               eBook             978-1-5144-2182-6

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 11/07/2015

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Contents

Preface

Chapter 1 I'm Going to Kill You, Ama Javiercito, Age Two

Chapter 2 They've Killed My Javiercito!

Chapter 3 Apa, We Didn't Go to the Movies

Chapter 4 These Demons Are Intolerable!

Chapter 5 A Boiling Swimming Pool

Chapter 6 Chato, You're Going to Choke!

Chapter 7 El Huencho, El Mineral de Jalpa, Zacatecas

Chapter 8 Chatito's Mischievous Adventures

Chapter 9 Ama, We're Falling from the Sky

Chapter 10 Crossing to the Promised Land

Chapter 11 The Rock War

Chapter 12 Ramona Mona Gomez's Memories Growing up in Ramon Corona, Durango, MexicoWritten by Ramona Gómez

Chapter 13 Apá, Not from here, From there!(Crucito's Tale Written by Ramona Gomez)

Chapter 14 Memories of Our Mother, Rosa Gomez Medina

Acknowledgments

Appendix

About the Author

These are the early childhood memories of the crazy adventures of a gang of mischievous li'l rascals terrorizing wild demons, monsters and the innocent folks in a sleepy rancho town in the state of Durango, Mexico. Their bloodline made them blood brothers to the core each promising to always watch out for each other--- hasta la muerte.¹ They were branded by their aunt Socorro in frustration, waving a soapy wet right hand in the air, cursing them. These demons are intolerable!

Chaos, mayhem, was their calling card . . .

wreaking havoc on the unsuspecting.

***

Their playground victims were the inhabitants of Ramon Corona.

Preface

These Demons Are Intolerable! is a compilation of short adventurous tales depicting the coming of age of a group of very young children who were bonded by blood and destiny. The Gomez Li'l Rascal Gang was the holy terror in a sleepy rancho town in Durango, Mexico. They journeyed together as two families in two overly cramped vehicles in the middle of a scorching summer season thousands of miles to the United States.

Our bodies trembled as our unsuspecting parents were forced to drive through the most treacherous winding dirt road called El Espinazo del Diablo, which struck fear in all prospective drivers brave enough to venture into its soul. Our vehicles barely clung on to a narrow two-lane dirt road as we hesitantly tried not to look out the windows. The loose gravel could be heard flying down into a deep, hungry abyss, an embankment rumored to have devoured and claimed many, many lives. Driving through it was definitely dangerous. Once we entered, it seemed to meander endlessly; it seemed like an eternity in crossing through its heartland filled with many unsuspecting obstacles and challenges. Venturing through it was not for the faint or weak of heart.

Miraculously, we somehow made it out. We escaped its perilous, furious appetite. We all let out a big sigh of relief; we were allowed to relish our survival, heading toward the international border to cross into the United States, now only to face new horrific experiences growing up in a foreign country and speaking our native language, Spanish, which brought us shame and punishment.

Our group of misfits in Ramon Corona was primarily made up of boys, with one exception: our leader was a girl, Mona. Our sweet and bitter departure out of Mexico meant that we were forced to leave her behind. Since arriving in the United States, we were left leaderless, floundering about aimlessly without purpose and no commander to provide us direction.

We were forced to obey the strict laws set up by our parents or otherwise face their harsh wrath, which we all feared. We had learned to receive orders from Mona, our leader. Now, we were lost. She was key to our survival, interpreting the orders of the elders. Without her leadership, we were now expected to listen solely to them. Hearing the sound of their voices struck fear and terror in all of us. It became customary for all of us to flee in different directions, hiding in our special places when they would appear in our room. We learned to become invisible to them.

We all became obedient little sheep, afraid of our own shadows. The word of the elders was law set in stone. Disobeying it meant we would receive a horrible thrashing. Our previous motto of causing chaos and mayhem now metamorphosed into our obedience and silence. We blindly walked the abyss, aimlessly following lost shadows leading us nowhere until we were finally forced into the rock wars. We unleashed the Kraken in ourselves, which exploded with such fury and removed the dark veil of fog that clouded our vision and potential. We came alive. We learned to walk tall and proud. We learned to be creators of ourselves. We charged forward, fearless of the perils lurking in our path. We didn't flinch or flounder, now walking in our golden huaraches, leaving nuestras huellas²---the tread marks---for others to follow the light of our journey into new horizons.

Standing in her kitchen, repeatedly waving her wet, dripping open right hand, my tia Socorro, in frustration, could be seen attempting to curse away the mischievous band of rascals invading her peaceful sanctuary. She would yell at the top of her voice, ¡Estos Demonios No Se Aguantan!³ forcing us to scatter to the winds before she could reach her broom.

Chapter 1

I'm Going to Kill You,

Ama Javiercito, Age Two

Image36377.JPG

Javier and his mom Rosa #2 circa 1953

"S ocooorrrooo! Socoorrrooo! ⁴ Someone call my mother-in-law, Doña Evarista," my mother, Rosa, cried out in sheer fright one sunny afternoon as she was preparing the daily midday comida for her family. Unbeknownst to her, she would fear for her life as she was surprisingly caught off guard while cooking on her wood-burning stove. It occurred during a calm, sunny, normal afternoon in Ramon Corona. Rosa's hysterical shrieks went unheard for some time. Sadly, our adobe home was at the edge of town, near la casa de piedra. ⁵ My mother was forced to shield herself behind a hot wood-burning stove. She was desperately trying not to burn herself as she tried to maneuver herself away from the possibility of being shot by her angry two-year-old son, who was holding his father's .38 Super handgun (resembles a .45).

As an adult, I learned of this horrific deed I did at a very young, tender age from my tia Socorro. She said it all started when someone went to fetch my abuelita and my tias from their house and how all of them rushed over to investigate the tragedy that had unfolded at Arturo and Rosa's house. She said that when she arrived at my house, she saw me through the open window from the street. I was awkwardly holding up a gun, but the sheer weight of it forced me to use both hands, waving it up and down and side to side in an effort to hold it steady. I was angry, and I wanted to shoot my mom.

The people gathering by the window could hear me yelling at my mom, I'm going to kill you, Ama. Mom, I'm going to kill you. Come out!

Javiercito, please put the gun down on the floor! I'm not mad at you, my dear son.

You'll see, Mom. I'm going to kill you!

The crowd gathering outside next to the window could hear my mother pleading for me to lay the pistol down. But they said I kept telling her that I was going to kill her and that I was going to tell my dad what she did to me! Only my tia Socorro bravely peeked into the house and saw me holding the gun. She quickly ducked down because I turned and pointed it at her. She pleaded for me to put it down. She was forced to remain bent underneath the window. She promised to punish my mother for her misdeeds toward me, if I put the gun down. Supposedly, she heard me say No, I'm not going to kill you and that I was going to tell my dad what she did to me. She desperately ordered someone to go fetch my dad, who was working at his billiard room.

A larger crowd had seemed to gather around the house, but everyone was too afraid of me. No one dared to go into the house because of the dangerous situation I posed. It seemed like I kept everyone at bay. No one was able to distract me with candy, money, or personal assurances that they would punish my mom. Even my abuelita Evarista and tia Carmen tried to disarm me, but I wouldn't hear of it.

Meanwhile, my mother kept shrieking in pain as she burned her hands repeatedly. She was wedged behind the hot cast iron wood-burning stove. Suddenly, the kitchen door swung open. I turned and pointed the pistol at the person standing there. It was my dad. Seeing him, they say, I redirected the barrel to the hot burning stove.

Apa, I'm going to kill my mother.

My dad quickly realized that I had gotten his pistol from underneath his pillow on the bed. He had been previously distracted by his friends who came over to the house to invite him to open up his billiards hall. He had just returned home from doing some business outside of the area, and he didn't notice me standing by the bedroom door as he hid the pistol under his pillow.

Image36458.JPG

Wood burning stove

#3 circa 1953

Supposedly, right after he left with his friends, my mom punished me for something that I had done. I got really mad at her. I felt that I had to punish her, so I went into the bedroom and got his gun. My mother told my tias and abuelita that she was by the stove, busy stirring her olla de frijoles,⁶ and as she turned around, she saw me standing there, pointing the pistol at her. No one ever told me if I actually fired the weapon, which may explain the reason why she immediately jumped over her cast iron stove and landed behind it. It proved to be the perfect (protective) shield.

My confidence and trust in my dad allowed him to inch his way closer and closer to me.

As he approached behind me, he kept assuring me that my mother was going to be punished and that I could help. Then he said he had a big surprise for me. If I wanted to play with it right now, I had to go outside with him. But first I had to give him back his gun. By that time, my dad was already at arm's distance.

My mom yelled out, Hurry, Arturo, I'm burning my hands!

I jerked around and told her, I'm going to kill you, Ama!

Don't shoot her, son. Who is going to make us our delicious comida? my dad told me lovingly.

Image36491.JPG

Javiercito, age 2

#4 circa 1953

They say that as I looked over my shoulder to my dad, he swiftly embraced me. At the same time, he snatched the gun right out of my hand and lifted me up into his arms. A worried crowd quickly rushed in to help my mother out from behind the stove.

My mother, trembling from fear, had an angry look of relief as she rushed over to my dad and embraced the two of us. I felt her heart rapidly beating against my body. She hugged and kissed me, apologizing for having punished me. She promised me that she would never do that again. Then I could hear her scolding my father for not putting his pistol in a safe place, away from my reach. My father took all the blame and assured her that this would never happen again.

Meanwhile, my baby brother, Cruz, was innocently snoring away in the other room. He was sound asleep throughout the ordeal.

***

*My dad never shared this tragic incident with anyone in the family. He kept it a secret, hoping that I would never learn of the perilous danger I put my mother through. He hoped that through time I would eventually block it out of my mind.

Image36524.JPG

Javiercito 3rd birthday

Ramon Corona, #5 circa 1953

Chapter 2

They've Killed My Javiercito!

Image36578.JPG

Javier in Tijuana #6 circa