A DAY IN JUNE
           For My Daughter Margaret on her 50th Birthday, June 17, 2002

  It was June 1952.  I had reported in to the Army Garrison at Fort Bliss 
several weeks earlier to get paid and to look for a place to live.  I left 
your Mom in Trinidad and your Uncle Leroy, in the true spirit of generosity, 
said that you could stay at their house with his wife Martha, and their three 
little kiddies for the time being, seeing there was no room at my Dad’s house 
what with all the kiddies they had there.  
  I borrowed $400 from my old buddy Manuel Romero (which I repaid after cashing
 in a little insurance policy taken out on me when I was a few weeks old, payable
 at 5 cents a week, a very common practice in those days.)  I bought a 1941 Buick 
Roadmaster with over 90,000 miles on it and hit the road for Texas.  I found a 
small 2-room furnished apartment (part of a house) in the Eastern part of town.
  I went back to Trinidad, picked up your Mom and we moved in and set up house
keeping.  I remember we had 2 small pots, a small frying pan and a very limited 
assortment of clothing and kitchen utensils and not much else.  The apartment was
located about a block from a city park which featured a small zoo and we could 
hear monkeys screeching and tigers growling all night long,  Air conditioning was
not readily affordable in those days (especially for a young Sergeant making a 
whopping $166 per month before deductions), so the nights as well as the days were
barely tolerable.
  On this particular day the West Texas sun bore down relentlessly on the border 
city of El Paso, but we paid little attention to the weather because the day had 
finally dawned, the day for which we had awaited these nine long and uncertain 
months.  We had wanted this day to arrive while we were still in Trieste, in the
company of maternal garandparents, aunts, uncles, etc., but the US Army, in its 
infinite wisdom saw fit to transfer us to Texas with less than three months to go.
  The philosophy toward birthing was just a little different in those days, 
especially in Army hospitals.  As soon as the expectant mother arrived the father,
in no uncertain terms, was told to “take a hike, don’t call us, we’ll call you”. 
So after checking your Mom in to William Beaumont Army Hospital, I immediately 
headed for the nearest air conditioned tavern and after partaking of a couple of 
cold ones, went home to await the word.   It was not easy for your Mom.  Having 
the first is never easy and you took pains to make this delivery a commemorative 
event. After many hours of labor, blood transfusions and minor surgery, (all 
accomplished only heaven knows how, because at that time your Mom’s English 
vocabulary consisted of about 5 phrases and about 30 words), I finally got the 
call:  It’s a girl, everyone is doing fine, and I can come to visit for just a few
minutes.  So I went and I saw and I wondered.  What was that little red thing 
with all that black hair with it’s eyes shut tight and screaming to high heaven? 
(It looked like a little  Indian Papoose. We do have some Apache blood in us from 
my Grandmother’s side, and I thought to myself:  “This is a fine time for it to 
show up”.)   I watched for quite a while because I wanted to see what color eyes 
you had (not knowing that all babies are born with black eyes, or so I have been 
told), but no dice, you would not co-operate, kept your eyes tightly shut and 
screamed all the louder.  Later on, when things had quieted down I went to see you
with your Mom.  We both looked down at you and we were two of the proudest and 
happiest young people on this earth.  We had a beautiful baby girl, perfect in 
every way.  We were satisfied, content and at peace with the entire world, as all 
parents should be at that time.

Now fifty years have gone by.  You have traveled the world with us, to Japan, 
Italy, Germany, and all over the United States, coast to coast and many points 
in between.  You have shared our pain and our pleasures, our good times and our 
bad times, just as we have tried to share yours.  And today, here you are, still 
with us, still our beautiful baby girl, still making us proud and happy,

Have a Most Happy Birthday, Maggie.  Love, Mom & Dad