Surviving the Mountain

By Freddie Avila

The book Surviving the Mountain is based on my life and how I survived through many near-death experiences. From my beginning to being separated from my biological father as a baby to short memories of living in East Los Angeles and moving to El Monte at the age of six. El Monte, a Spanish word translated in English means The Mountain. El Monte is located in the San Gabriel Valley which is fifteen minutes from downtown Los Angeles. The Mountain or El Monte is a flat city in between two rivers, The Rio Hondo and San Gabriel Rivers. It is the end of the famed Santa Fe Trail that served as America's first commercial highway established in 1822. When you enter the city, there are signs that say, "Welcome to Friendly El Monte," but this was not my experience from the city. It has a south and a north part to it. The city was huge in an area of 9.65 square miles. Within the city's borders was where I spent a great portion of my life. I survived many trials and tribulations, and I have seen the fall of many of my brothers and sisters who did not survive this city. Street gangs, drugs, and violence corrupted my world. The casualties have devastated my people and my culture. God Brought me through this to share my story, believing that we as a people no longer have to surviving this life, but to live. We can build a new future filled with peace and prosperity as God's love and presence preserved me throughout my life. I know He can help us; all we have to do is ask Him and He will answer Matthew 7:7-8 "Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 11, 2020
• ISBN: 9781098034481

Book preview

My Senior Class Luncheon

As this day began, I didn’t anticipate how today would impact my life. It was my senior luncheon. I felt excited as I walked through the school gates. I recognized that teachers and staff in particular were smiling at me, a look of admiration. At the time, I didn’t know why. Our senior class was to go to a restaurant in the city of Monterey Park to have our senior luncheon. The senior class walked into the luncheon, and I sat with my childhood friends and neighbors Ronnie and Felix. The class of 1984 was in the house. I went to elementary school with many of them; some I met in junior high, and the rest I met in high school.

The luncheon started with my principal Fernando Ledesma speaking, addressing the class. It was his tenth and final year as the Principal of Mt. View High School, and he was reminiscing of how proud he was to have been our captain of the Viking ship. We were the Mountain View Vikings. And he was a great principal and leader to us.

When he started his speech, he recalled that every year as the principal, he observed the incoming freshman. He could point out one person in each class that wouldn’t make it to graduation. He exclaimed, Today, one of you made it for the first time. He paused a few seconds as he gazed across the room. I was wondering who the person was right before he called my name? Freddie, stand up, he shouted. To my surprise as I arose, the whole room exploded with cheers and a standing ovation. I was overwhelmed as my peers celebrated my moment.

I started to look back at the first time I met Mr. Ledesma; it was the day I was to pick up my freshman class schedule. I decided to take my pet raccoon Rocky with me. I put on my beige khaki shorts, a muscle T-shirt, my Locs (gangster sunglasses), and my sandals. It was a short walk to the high school. I let my raccoon lead the way with his eight-foot-long chain as I slowly walked into the school. I was met by Principal Ledesma, Vice Principal Maez, and Mr. Grayson, a school counselor. They introduced themselves to me as they admired my pet raccoon. I shared that I have a love toward animals, and then I continued on my way to get my class schedule.

After the luncheon, my mind started stirring, and I realized how blessed I was to be a part of such a great bunch of people. The words Principal Ledesma spoke about me made me realize how far I had come, questioning why my life had been filled with so much turmoil. I didn’t know it at the time, but unfortunately, I was born into it.

In the Still of the Night

It started for me on Cinco de Mayo, 1965. My father met my mother at the beginning of the school year at Belvedere Junior High School. His nickname to all the girls was playboy. His attraction toward my mother was her fully developed figure. Through the course of the school year, he found himself drawn to her: her smile, her humor, and her full figure. An opinion felt by most teenage boys that went to school with her. And in turn, she liked the attention my father gave her. It made her feel special the way he treated her.

Both families were unaware of their relationship. They would see each other from passing notes and meeting when they could. As time went on, the moments they shared didn’t seem enough to satisfy the desire they had for each other.

On the night of Cinco de Mayo, a big night to celebrate in East Los Angeles, my mother and father planned to meet up during the celebration at Belvedere Park. My dad brought his portable radio, and as they walked together hand in hand, the passion they shared was about to turn into so much more. No family interference, no meddling friends, and no one to stop their night of passion. My father found a good radio station and the right song. The song on the radio was In the Still of the Night by The Five Satins. It was the perfect song for their moment as they embraced the night.

Mom and Dad

Afterward, my father walked Mom home and everything seemed so right. No one noticed them or gave them a second look as she walked into her house safely. It appeared that their rendezvous would go unnoticed. At school, they would steal short conversations and stares, passing notes to each other anticipating their next meet.

A few weeks later, my father noticed my mom wasn’t showing up at school. Not being able to communicate with her was driving him crazy. After a week, my mom returned to school. As my dad approached her, she had an odd look on her face. The greeting smile that she always had was replaced with a look of deep concern. She passed a folded note to him and walked away quickly to her first period class. He was eager to see what the note read. It simply said in bold letters, WE NEED TO TALK SOMETHING HAPPENED. His mind raced in a million directions. What could it be, he wondered. Was she moving, or did her family find out about them?

He waited for her in their usual meeting place. He saw that she was accompanied with one of her sisters. As she walked up, she had a broken smile—another look my father was unfamiliar with. He asked her what was going on, and where has she been. She paused for a few seconds and then told her sister to give her a second. My aunt stared at him with anger as she gave them a little space.

My family wants to meet your family.

As they walked away, my father’s anxiety reached a climax. He began to run as fast as he could, trying to make it home as quickly as possible. As he neared his home, he arrived to an empty house. He hadn’t been home that early the whole school year, and he wasn’t sure when his mother would be home. This was the longest day of his young life as the seconds, minutes, and hours seemed to make time stand still. Finally, he heard that someone was in the house; it was my grandmother. Instantly, she saw that her son had a bewildered look on him. She hadn’t seen him come home from school this early since school started back in September.

What are you doing home so early, she asked. Is everything okay?

The words were not coming out in complete sentences because he didn’t know how to tell her. Grandma talked softly to him. He was handsome, quick-witted, well-mannered, and always open concerning his feelings. She pried her son for answers. He started by asking his mother if she recalled the girl he mentioned to her on their last talk. His mother now knew that this was over a girl. She had an older son, so she believed she knew what to say to him at first. As he explained to her about his girl’s family wanting to meet his family, she shared that some families are old-fashioned and that there are certain expectations that need to be met when young men court young ladies. She assured him everything would be all right and that she didn’t have a problem meeting her family.

But there was something missing from the conversation. The reason why Mom’s family wanted to meet his. My father was excited to have his family’s support and couldn’t wait to share the news with Mommy. He daydreamed of them holding hands, taking walks along the beach, going to a carnival, no more keeping their relationship a secret.

After dinner, Grandma informed my dad that my grandfather wanted to talk to him out in the garage. My grandfather was a very strong man with great plans concerning the community and his children. My dad was the youngest son and was constantly being urged by my grandfather to plan for his future. As he walked to the meet with Grandpa, he had a swagger that can only be described as macho. He refused to allow his father to intimidate him in any way. He was fifteen now, and he felt like he was a man.

In a loud intimidating voice,