While this language difference presented no problem to Santos and Virginia, who were bi-lingual, it presented quite a challenge to the children. The older children knew enough English that it was not too difficult to develop their skills in a short time. However, the younger children spoke only Spanish. In the mid 1960's, there were no ESL (English as a Second Language) classes in public schools. The children were placed in the English speaking classes and "just expected to learn". What a frightening and confusing experience this must have been.
At least one of the children was falsely accused of misbehavior by her classmates. Still in the process of learning English, and unable to vindicate herslf, Mari was paddled by the teacher. Virginia immediately went to the school and talked to the teacher about the incident. Evidently, the teacher was angered by what Virginia said, because Mari received another paddling after that, along with a warning not to tell her mother this time. Years later, Virginia said that she regretted not having taught the children to speak English when they were very young. She said that having always lived in a predominately Spanish-speaking area, she and Santos just never realized the difficulties of not being bi-lingual. The children did adapt, though. They became proficient in English, made new friends, and their lives settled into a comfortable routine.
The years passed and the children grew into adulthood, and began making their own way in the world. Soon, Santos and Virginia became grandparents, with the number of grandchildren eventually reaching twenty-one. As the years went by, great-grandchildren began to arrive, numbering twenty-eight to date. Over time, even their own children, for the most part, began referring to Santos and Virginia as Grandma and Grandpa.
Over the span of these many years, the little house has never ceased to bustle with activity. Grandma and Grandpa's house has always remained as the gathering place for the family, most of whom still reside in Galveston County. Holidays see the house filled to the brim, and it is often heard during those times, "I wonder how this little house can hold so many people." The great-grandchildren climb the same trees as did their parents and grandparents, and the coming together of family in the little house brings a sense of both permanence and continuity.
The closeness of family has been a great comfort in dealing with tragedy. In November 1995, Esther was diagnosed with kidney cancer, which claimed her life two and a half months later on February 13, 1996 at the age of forty-five. During those last two and a half months, she stayed at her parent's house, and the family came together to care for her. The night before she passed away, the entire family was present, many staying over that night. At one point, everyone formed a circle in the living room, joined hands and prayed. Everyone has their own poignant memories of that night, but it was a night none will ever forget.
In August 2001, it became evident that Grandpa was very ill. His health had been failing for quite a long time, but Grandpa was Grandpa, with the philosophy "just let me be". He agreed to be admitted to the hospital, but refused tests that could diagnose his illness. He passed away the afternoon of August 22nd, after being admitted to the intensive care unit that same morning. He was twenty-four days away from his 77th birthday. During that last day, the family was gathered at the hospital and visited with Grandpa throughout the day. He was laid to rest next to Esther, at the same cemetery in which his mother and sister were buried. In the time since his death, it is still such a strange feeling to walk into the house and not see Grandpa sitting on his couch watching television. It probably always will be.
On the night of the first anniversary of Grandpa's death, daughter Virginia and her husband, Ronnie, were victims of a hit and run driver while riding Ronnie's motorcycle. Ronnie sustained serious injuries. Virginia's injuries, however, were life threatening. Besides a compound open fracture of the leg, she suffered a traumatic head injury, requiring surgery. Virginia's prognosis, based on the seriousness of her condition, was extremely grim. She remained in a coma for more than a month, and the doctors could not be sure that she would ever regain consciousness, if she even survived. They told the family that if she did indeed come out of the coma, that she could suffer serious impairments, both physically and mentally. Virginia remained hospitalized for a little more than seventy days. During those long weeks, the family never gave up hope. Everyone, even the very youngest children, lifted prayers up to God. Virginia not only regained consciousness, but also astounded her caretakers and doctors with the skills and abilities she had retained, and the speed of her recovery. She was declared to be a true miracle of God, who answered the heartfelt prayers of her loved ones.
The painful experiences of the family have been borne with faith and determination, while the joyful experiences have been happily received. The birth of a baby, a graduation, a birthday party, or just a beautiful summer day have always been occasions to gather for celebration. Grandma and Grandpa's house has hosted so many parties and barbeques throughout the years, that no one could probably keep count of the number. The memories of these gatherings will live on in the minds of both older and younger generations of the family. Stories about these times, and others, will bring them alive to the very youngest, and later, those not yet born.
The younger children of today, and those of the future, will hear of Grandpa. Even though they never knew him, they will get a sense of his personality. In his younger days, Grandpa was a jack-of-all-trades, able to make repairs to just about anything. After working for many years at a nursery, he had a way with all things green. In his later years, he was the quintessential homebody, completely content with the simple things of life. He much preferred a quiet day than travel, resting on the couch clicking his remote control, or sitting in the back yard under the trees. Sometimes, it seemed that he didn't talk much, but once engaged in conversation, he was filled with stories about his youth and about his service during World War II. Although he dealt with personal struggles in his younger days, he possessed a quiet love for his family, which he was able to enjoy in his last years. His presence brought a feeling of familiar routine, which will always be missed.
Future generations will also hear stories of Grandma Perez, the family matriarch. From her youngest days, Grandma assumed the responsibility of caring for others, be it her siblings, children, grandchildren or great-grandchildren. There is hardly a grandchild or great-grandchild that did not have Grandma as a babysitter. As her family grew, Grandma managed her household while, at the same time, working outside the home. She obtained her beautician's license and worked for a time at a private shop, moving later to work at the Moody Retirement Center in Galveston, from which she retired. During all these years, she managed to juggle her work schedule with every imaginable crisis that befell her family. Countless times she was, and still is, called for advice or help with problems ranging from the everyday sort to trips to the doctor or emergency room.
Always on the go, she still enjoyed cooking for all who came to her home, even making large stacks of homemade tortillas on an almost daily basis for many years. As she got older, the tortillas were made only on special occasions, and were a greatly anticipated treat. Once, cleaning up after Christmas dinner, she found several tortillas hidden away in the living room by someone who had intended to take them home. What a laugh she had when she found the hidden treat.
Never one to shun hard work, Grandma has, in her later years, painted, mowed, shoveled, pushed wheelbarrows, and many other tasks that would tire someone half her age. She has taken an early morning walk, averaging four miles, each weekday for the past several years.