Of Sunshine and Solitude

By Paul Hill Juarez

AS WE LOOK BACK ON OUR LIVES . . . As we look back on our lives, there is usually that one special person that we lovingly recall who touched our lives in a very special way. For me, it was my beloved Mother that after having been told by her doctor that she did not have long to live, spent precious time with her then twelve-year-old son. The stories she told me, some about the family and others from the Bible, I discovered later, were to prepare me for the often hard realities of life. I am forever grateful. Stories can serve to inform, entertain, and occasionally enlighten us with meaningful information and knowledge from diverse sources such as philosophy, religion, and science. In human history, storytelling is a rich source and fountain of special human relationships, events, and cultural heritage conveyed in the various languages of our precious human family. The short stories in Of Sunshine and Solitude reflect the dual realities of life, joy and sorrow, which we have experienced in our yesterdays, and are about to experience in the present realities we face today, and the promises and unknowns that await us tomorrow. DEAR READER: If you are fortunate enough to have that special person in your life still alive, take the opportunity to personally express your THANKS for the special kindness and love that special someone has given you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 16, 2019
• ISBN: 9781642142761

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Of Sunshine and Solitude

Paul Hill Juarez

Copyright © 2018 Paul Hill Juarez

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2018

ISBN 978-1-64214-275-4 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64214-277-8 (Hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-64214-276-1 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Years Went By

Even the Birds Knew Him

What Was Your Mother Like?

The Gently Flowing River

The Small Convent School

The Day of the Dead (El Día de los Muertos)

A Near-Tragic Wedding

The Day They Buried Don Santiago

The Day They Buried Don Santiago

I. The Spirited Doña Chole

II. The Unforgettable Lencho

III. Dr. Fidel Ling

IV. The Plaza of the Stars

V. A Vast Frozen Land

Dedicated to my beloved Dora

Of Sunshine and Solitude

Santiago The Ancient Stone Aqueduct

The ancient stone aqueduct had been built in the early 1700s and was a unique historical landmark as well as a favorite spot for Santiago. The townspeople could not understand why he chose to live and wander around the old aqueduct since he was totally blind. But he had always favored this remote place, for unknown to most of them, this was a place of fond memories that he and his father had visited frequently before he lost his sight. Now, both his sight and his father were gone, but not the fond, vivid, and treasured memories of this precious place where he knew every boulder, stone, and pebble.

Near the aqueduct was a railroad line where most of the ore from the mines was shipped and that also served as the main passenger line. Quite often, during the summertime he would sleep on a flat grassy area that was close to the railroad track. He could tell when nightfall had come, and the warmth of the summer day had left, and he had a keen sense of smell and was especially alert to the wide variety of sounds.

One evening, he proceeded to lay down on his favorite spot with the large wooden staff his father had so tenderly carved for him in the form of a proud eagle’s head. As usual, Santiago knelt in reverence before retiring each night with the staff held high. Although he could not see the bright summer stars glittering above, he could vividly recall their brilliance and sparkling beauty. He and his father had often camped out in this area, and what better place to feel at home with such fond, lingering memories and God’s celestial roof overhead? Of the many thoughts that occupied him, and the one he found the most perplexing, was how he had come to really appreciate beautiful things of nature and of the spirit only after losing his sight. Santiago proceeded to carefully spread a large wool blanket on the ground, carefully laid himself down, and facing upward he soon fell into a deep comfortable sleep.

During the early morning hours, when it was still pitch-dark, he was suddenly awakened by footsteps at a distance and could hear a person approaching closer and closer in his direction. He remained lying down and listened carefully. He could tell that someone was walking on the loose gravel that lined the railroad tracks. The sound of the footsteps kept coming closer and closer. Since local bandits in the area had once robbed him and had beaten him up without pity or mercy, he did not dare make a single sound for fear of detection.

He continued to listen, as the person was now very close, and he only hoped that the shield of the night’s darkness would continue to protect him from detection. Then he heard the person come to a sudden stop. This was followed by a period of total silence, and then he heard a brief thump and a clinging sound of metal against the rail. Another silent pause lingered in the darkness, and all of a sudden, the person started running in the direction from where he or she had come.

At a distance, he could faintly hear that a train was coming and knew it was the four o’clock morning special that arrived at the mine early each morning. Thinking that everything was all right now, he was about to fall asleep again when he suddenly heard an infant start to cry. Between the periodic tooting and rumbling of the approaching train and the sound of the infant crying, he felt his way to the tracks with the aid of his long, reliable wooden guiding staff. Walking along the tracks toward the sound of the child, against the increasingly deafening sound of the train, he came upon the small bundle. The infant was wrapped in a blanket, and a large silver crucifix was secured around the small bundle with a thin leather strap.

He quickly picked up the child from the track where it had been placed and stepped back just in time, as the train whizzed by with a tremendously loud rumbling roar. The gust of wind created by the passing train blew his graying hair and long beard about, as he huddled the infant closely in his arms and chest, shielding it with his face. The deafening, clicking sound of the last car soon rolled by, and the train soon gradually faded into the distance. He had dropped his wooden staff in the haste of the moment and felt around for it with his foot. He soon found out, through his sense of touch, that the bottom part had been broken off, but that it was still usable. He walked to the convent of the nuns, las monjitas as he called them in Spanish, which was located on top of a nearby hill, with the child who had stopped crying securely wrapped in the blanket. He had traveled that road many times before, but never so quickly and with such a determined stride. Arriving at the convent, he pounded loudly on the huge wooden doors with his staff striking time and time again on the main entrance doors decorated with large metal crosses. At first, the mother superior and the nuns thought their good friend Santiago, the blind man, El Ciegito, was either drunk or had lost his reason.

But he soon explained what had happened, and the nuns quickly began to care for the small infant. They described the child to Don Santiago and reassured him that the infant was all right.

He is a handsome boy, Don Santiago, excitedly proclaimed Sister María Teresa, the mother superior of the convent. He appears to be in splendid health.

Is there anything that identifies who the boy is?, inquired the old man.

But the search for a note or some clue about the identity of the child or his mother was in vain. Only a large silver crucifix with the small inscription Made in Cadiz, Spain (Hecho en Cadiz, España) and a small wool blanket with a black-and-white design common in the region of Zacatecas accompanied the infant on this fateful juncture in his life.

The nuns managed to convince Don Santiago to stay at the convent and get some sleep so that the authorities could be properly notified later in the morning.

The authorities will require an official report from you, Don Santiago, commented the mother superior.

Yes, he agreed out loud and then, as if in a rare moment of self-pity and a surge of anger, he thought to himself, I have been an eyewitness, but without eyes, to a profoundly sad and unfortunate incident. Oh merciful God, why do these tragic things happen to a small and innocent child?

The nuns soon shifted his attention as they promised that after his rest they would make him a delicious breakfast consisting of eggs with Mexican sausage (chorizo), diced cactus (nopalitos), a special red chili sauce (salsa de chile colorado), and some fresh corn tortillas, which he could never resist.

And may our beloved Lord always bless and protect you, Don Santiago, for this wonderful deed you have done for one of his precious children in his moment of greatest need, said the mother superior. She then ordered the sisters to assist Don Santiago to the guest room located at the far end of the convent so that he could get some rest.

Years Went By

Years went by, and although it was never determined who had left the child on the railroad tracks, there was much speculation and a number of rumors claiming it was one of the daughters from one of the wealthy families in town. But these rumors were never confirmed.

Don Santiago continued to visit the convent on a regular basis, year after year, and was