A lineage of tenacity
Echale! The Story of Generations Past
by Camila Torres
When I was a child, I was terrified of the dark. I hated going to sleep, because, once the lights turned off, the sheer possibility of encountering a monster kept me awake. But there was one place where the monsters could not get me. Every night, I would tip-toe my way to my dad’s room and slide into the nook on his twin bed in between his back and the wall. His boisterous snores (the reason why my mom sleeps in a different room) would rock me to sleep and scare all the monsters in the night away. When I would wake up, I would be alone, starfish-ed out on the bed in the space where my father had been.
My father
In the countryside of St. Louis, Missouri, there is a small warehouse where thousands of metal parts for airplanes are cut each day. For the past two decades, here is where my father would go after leaving the house at three in the morning. Not only is he the first to enter, but he is also the last to leave. Although my dad does not speak much to me about his workday at the factory, I know it has taken a toll on him.
Over these years, his muscles have been hardened by the intensive physical labor, causing painful foot aches and cramps. His hands have grown thicker and scratchier; layered with calluses scared over small deep cuts. While he would never admit to it, I know my father is, most of all, tired from so many years of little sleep; his eyelids fall, and his head drops into sleep at every chance of stillness. Yet, ask anyone at the company and they will tell you that for most of those twenty years, Alberto Torres has been employee of the year.
Two things are true about my dad. He has spent many hours at work, but he has also made time for me, for he has always been a constant present in my life. When I was in grade school, he was my volleyball teacher. Every Tuesday and Thursday he would get home around 3:00pm and we would immediately leave for the gym where he would teach me and the other girls how to serve or execute different plays. In high school, he would drive me to practice, even after I got my driver’s license. My dad is a great worker, but most importantly, he is an amazing father.
Sowing Seeds for the Future
Juan Torres was a taxi driver in the small city of Michoacan Mexico, but one day he took his wife and his children with him to California where he joined the Bracero Program. It was the middle of the 20th century, and the Vietnam War was causing labor shortages in the United States due to the incarceration of Japanese Americans and the military draft. In response, the United States took pages from its earlier history and re-started the Bracero Program in California from 1940-1960s. In this time, hard workers, like my grandfather, uprooted their previous lives in Mexico and went to work long days on agricultural fields without receiving many of the government contractual benefits, such as housing, insurance, or even a minimum wage.1
Left to Right: My grandmother, father, and grandfather.
Eventually, my grandmother and her children went back to Mexico, while my grandfather stayed in California to work. During this past Christmas, I heard my dad and his three siblings reminiscing about this period. Even though my grandfather was absent for most of their childhood, they looked back on their father’s choice as one filled with sacrifice. My aunt, who is the oldest, told me that in December, my grandfather would drive from California to Michoacan. In anticipation, she would wait for hours at the window, in hopes of seeing his car drive up. When he eventually did, the entire back of the car and trunk was filled with toys and clothes. In the passenger seat sat the family’s dinner for the night, a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken.
A Lineage of Gratitude
My dad has many catch phrases, possibly too many to name. However, there are two sayings which he says the most frequently, “dale gracias a Dios-ito”/ “Give thanks to God” and “We are Mexi-CANS, not Mexi-cant’s.” There are many physical traits in which the Torres family line passes, yet the most important products of the Torres generational wealth has been gratitude and tenacity. Both my grandfather and my dad have shown up for their families, day in and day out. Their work is hard and grueling, yet their attitudes toward their work are nothing but grateful.
My father’s story and the story of my forefathers is not original. Many Mexican Americans can trace their lineage back to the bracero program2. This “echale”/ “get after it” gene runs through the blood of many Mexicans living in the United States. Every day, countless immigrant fathers, mothers, grandfathers and grandmothers are working hard and long days in American companies, homes, or fields. Each one of these people sacrifice themselves for the betterment of others. Immigrants are often called “job-takers.” Yet every immigrant I have known is a giver. The string which ties all these generations together is one which proclaims the ability to work as freedom; to have a job is to have a job and that is a blessing.
Header Photo: Medium