It was 1965 and our family had moved from Hondo, Texas to Floresville. I was a new kid in a new school. I didn’t know very many people, but what I did know is that whatever the pecking order was, I was starting out on the bottom of it.
Looking back, I had to say that for some time in the beginning, I dreaded recess, not something you would expect to hear from an elementary school kid. This was primarily because of a kid named Danny Castillo and his little group of friends. Danny had decided it was his mission in life to make my life miserable.
I can’t say that I ever actually got beat up, but I do remember being pushed around and threatened a lot. That went on for several days if not for weeks. It was bad before school and worse at recess three times a day: morning, lunch and afternoon. Danny lived in a neighborhood just past mine, so after school I would hang around long enough to figure out which route they were going home and I would take a different route. Sometimes several blocks out of my way.
Worse than getting beat up, I dreaded my mom finding out, and worse still I hoped my dad didn’t get wind of Danny’s bullying. Even in the 60’s I could just imagine what would happen if my dad went off on a kid and his friends for bullying me. Even then I was fairly certain that scenario would not turn out well.
The two main routes home were down 4th street past Vinyard’s Funeral Home a few blocks to Standish Street where I lived, or down 3rd Street past Sacred Heart Catholic Church and Zuniga’s Grocery Store to Standish Street.
One day I lost sight of Danny’s pack of friends so to be safe I went all the way to 6th Street to go home. Of course, a friend of my mom’s saw me and called to ask why I was all the way over on 6th Street.
My mom sat me down to talk about it, and I tried to be evasive but that tactic seldom worked with my mom. It didn’t take her long to weadle the truth out of me.
I admitted that Danny and his friends had been picking on me and threatening to beat me up so I went home via 6th Street to avoid them.
We instantly agreed that I didn’t need to tell my dad about the situation and my mom set her mind to figure out a solution. After a little while she had me get in the car and she took me to Zuniga’s Grocery Store down the hill on 3rd Street. We went to the candy aisle and she began picking out penny candies. (Yes, in 1965 candy only cost a penny.) She picked out colorfully wrapped sweets that were especially chewy as she explained. Like Banana Laffy Taffy among others. She explained: “They can’t threaten you if they have a mouth full of chewy candy can they?”
My mom’s logic seemed pretty sound to me.
The next morning when recess rolled around I did as she instructed: went straight up to Danny and his pack and asked if they wanted some candy. Of course, they eagerly said yes and we spent the rest of recess enjoying my mom’s trove of sweet protection confection. I only remember that routine went on for several days. It might have been longer but I don’t remember. What I do remember is my mother’s love and her gentle way of making my life easier.
As crazy as the world is today, I could sorely use her sage advice. I miss her so.
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