Broken, Memoirs by R A Rios

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Dedicated to my wife and family for their lifelong support and patience and to my sister’s Debra and Pat for all their help and to my Aunt Linda for information concerning my Dad's background.

To all the many abused children and adults waiting and suffering patiently for a protector to give them support and to set them free!

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Part I

Chapter 1 Surviving Childhood Abuse

Chapter 2 My beginning

Chapter 3 He’s Alive

Chapter 4 Putting Our Lives Back Together

Chapter 5 Move to California

Chapter 6 A Friend

Chapter 7 No One Seemed to Care

Chapter 8 I Thought I Would Die

Chapter 9 Mom Where Are You?

Chapter 10 I Want To Be Normal

Chapter 11 A Broken Body

Chapter 12 The Farm

Chapter 13 There Has To Be A God!

Chapter 14 Worst Winter Ever

Chapter 15 Enough

Part II

Charter 1 "Divide And Conquer!’

Chapter 2 It Happens

Chapter 3 Unwelcome Changes

Chapter 4 The Flood

Chapter 5 "Unable to Suppress This Urge

Chapter 6 A New Life Begins!

Part III

Chapter 1 The Power to Take a Stand

Chapter 2 Time to Prepare For High School

Chapter 3 New Emotional Experience

Chapter 4 I Start to Change

Chapter 5 My First Job

Chapter 6 The Riot

Chapter 7 How Far Would I Go?

Chapter 8 My Rage Released

Chapter 9 Our Faith Is Tested!

Chapter 10 The Move

Chapter 11 My List

Chapter 12 How I Met Sheri

Chapter 13 Problem Hunting Me

Part IV

Chapter 1 Do You Remember

Chapter 2 The Dream

Chapter 3 It All Begins

Chapter 4 The Draft

Chapter 5 Back On Track

Chapter 6 Life’s Obstacles

Chapter 7 The Accident

Chapter 8 My Son is born!

Chapter 9 Move to Tracy

Chapter 10 Becoming a Family

Chapter 11 The Pact

Chapter 12 All Grown Up

Chapter 13 Full Circle

Chapter 14 Broken-Conclusion

About the Author

Introduction

During the 1950’s and 1960’s it seemed to be a time when others preferred to just look the other way when it came to domestic abuse! It appeared that no one wanted to get involved or were really undisturbed by it. I grew up in one such home, I was broken and no one seemed to care!

Why does he act that way Is a question people often asked concerning me?

My life growing up was not full of on the battlefield drama. It does not contain heroic adventures. Instead my life spread out here before you and my offspring is a story of childhood abuse, despair and heartbreak.

From a very early age the abuse inflicted on a small child can and does create deep emotional wounds that can and often does affect a person’s whole life course. As I remember looking back, if not for the two people in my life who became my protectors I may have turned out…a very different person.

My life story is one of torture and abuse, of searching for hope and solace in a world that seemed to be against me everywhere I turned. In time I did find the ability to believe in myself because others did first. I found true love! This is a story that must be told so that others will understand. Why I am the way I am!

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Part 1

Chapter 1

Surviving Childhood Abuse!

My story could have been written…and he traveled the world seeking adventure into many exotic places all the while learning to speak untold languages allowing him to acquire fame and unspeakable riches. But instead I sit here, not knowing what to write or even how to write it, I have to admit that I have many mixed emotions. You see I was told on Monday that I have only two weeks left to live.

I know it’s true, that I have been very ill for quite a while now. And my doctor has sent me to see other specialists to try and figure out what is wrong with me along with having lots of lab work done. But when I saw my doctor on Monday morning, well…I knew something was definitely wrong when he sat down next to me and then putting his hand on my shoulder. He looked at me with a very serious look on his face then he said to me…

Robert it doesn’t look good.

Standing, as he once again reviewed the reports from the two specialist that he had sent me to as well as all the labs that I had taken earlier in the week. I watched closely as he shook his head. Then he said this can’t be right! I need you to go right now and take these labs all over again then return here to wait for the new report. This was all because he just couldn’t believe the initial lab report. So I went back to have them redone then returned to his office as requested. This really concerned me at first, as I thought that they must have gotten my lab work mixed up with someone else’s report.

It did not take long before the new lab reports were faxed to him. With results of my lab work in hand he told me that all my vitals where bottoming out, in fact he told me he has never seen anything like this. He then explained to me how he the other doctors had come to their conclusion…that I only have about two weeks left to live and that if I hadn’t yet made out a Will, then I needed to make one. He told me that I needed go home and say my goodbyes to my family.

Wow…this was not what I was expecting when I walked in thru the front doors of my doctors office that Monday morning. To say the least this news that I had just received left me confused and overwhelmed. At his point I slowly allowed the thoughts of what had transpired over these past few weeks that has brought me to this point. It all seemed so surreal; this was not how I expected my end to be!

While I drove home I reviewed over and over in my mind what he had said and how I would break it to my family. Later after dinner I called my immediate family together. I started by saying how proud I was of my son and my grandkids and how much I loved them all so very much. Turning to my wife, I told her how blessed I was to have had her as my wife and that she has always been the love of my life. With that I did my best to explain to them what the doctor had revealed to me that day. As I expected, they would not believe it, they all began telling me that I was just tired and just need some rest.

So I figured I would write them each a letter saying my good-byes but they all refused to accept them as well. So now, I find myself sitting in here in front of my computer trying to think of what to say and how to say it. Today is already Wednesday and the days, hours and minutes are quickly running out as there is now a since of urgency to complete this…whatever it is, for my loved ones.

While I sat here at my computer I started to think of all the questions that I had wanted to ask my Mom and Grandpo before they died, but just never ever got around to asking. So I figured this memoir or open letter that I am now writing would be my way of answering all those uncomfortable questions that as children, you may be curious about…but will never seem to get around to asking!

As I look back over my life, I often envision time…being like the wind that you can feel, as it pass’s you by, softly brushing up against your skin but leaving no visible effect of its passing. Life in many ways is like that breeze, invisible yet you can see the effect’s it has had on others be it good or bad. But like the wind you cannot smell it, taste it, see it or even touch it, in fact you really do not even notice time or life…until it has passed you by.

So it was when my Grandpo died, I thought to myself, I had so many questions’ that I wanted to ask him and so many things that I still wanted to say!

Then when my Mother died suddenly in a car accident it was different as I had spoken to her the night before. I told her how much I appreciated her and that I loved her so very much.

I had told her that, if not for her…I would not have become the person I' am today!

I don’t know why I said those things to her…that night but I felt for some reason needed to, you see that night while I had her on the phone I felt compelled to let her know exactly how I felt…inside my heart and for some reason I needed to tell her how much I appreciated and loved her. Yet as odd as it sounds, I had the strangest feeling that this…..would be the last time I would ever speak with her. As I hung up the phone there was this feeling of emptiness that suddenly over whelmed me and I started to cry.

Early the next morning I received a phone call around 5:30 am. It was the hospital calling to tell me that my brother Manuel had been in an auto accident and that I needed to come pick him up at the hospital.

The Police Officer there at the hospital told me that my Mother had passed…but deep down in my heart, I already knew it. I had the strangest feeling that when I received that call that morning that she was already gone! I don’t know why, but I felt this groaning deep down and this overwhelming emptiness within me as I dressed and hurriedly headed out the door.

Walking into the hospital as I remember that morning I noticed how quiet it was, void of anyone in the emergency waiting room. The young lady I spoke with guided me to where my brother was. As I turned the corner I saw him on the gurney sitting there in a hospital gown. I spoke with the officer as the desk briefly as he completed his report then I walked over to Manuel, he tried to tell me what had happened but try as he may he could not get the words out. I told him it would be alright then excused myself to call home.

It’s funny how I was able to hold it all together while I dialed my home number but when my wife answered that was when I finally broke down. I cried as I sat on the floor in the hospital lobby with the pay phone in hand and cord fully extended, supporting my body from falling to the floor, because there were still so many things left unsaid and undone. You know what I mean?

There were still so many questions’ that I wanted to ask her…so many things that I wanted to tell her. I always thought there would still be time; she was only fifty four years old!

Years later before my Grandma died, I had made a special effort to visit her at home and too ask her about her childhood and the childhood of my Mother and Grandfather. I told her that I loved her and I told her how she and Grandpo had affected my life for the good.

This is why I decided to write these memoirs, to give answers and closure to all those nagging questions that will soon follow and too fill in the blanks so to speak for my loved ones. This way they will never have regrets for not asking me those most difficult questions about my life!

The facts are…that as adults and parents we do have a definite effect on our children’s lives either for the good or for the bad. We may reason within ourselves…

That they are very young and they will not remember.

Or we may think that, this will not affect them later in life.

Don't fool yourself! Contrary to popular beliefs my story is a testimony to the fact that even from an early age…children can and often do remember all that takes place around them, early on in their lives. All of which may or may not have a definitely lasting effect on them! In my pursuit too be honest in writing this memoirs, I will attempt to share with you things that I hope will serve as life lessons no matter how intimate or embarrassing to myself it might seem, all in my attempt to explain to you why I am…the way that I am!

My life as I remember, started on a warm spring day at the early age of about 3 years old. As I remember, I was laying on my back on my Grandparent’s living room floor. My teenage Aunt Margaret who at the time was leaning over me asking with a very concerned look on her face, Are you alright? She asked over and over again.

Apparently, she had hit me in the head with the broom handle because I had been disobedient and was talking back to her. The discipline that ensued resulted in my being rendered unconscious.

Isn’t it strange how certain things or events that happen in life are full of defining moments that become ingrained within our memories? These defining moments make us who we are…either for the good and for the bad. While I lay there on my Grandparent’s living room floor, I felt as if I had actually…just been born!

While I lay there…I listened very intently without saying a word…to the sounds surrounding me. It was sometime in early spring, with the windows and front door open I could hear the voices of kids playing outside as well as the sounds of birds singing and dogs barking. When I looked toward the living room window of my Grandparents very small nineteen thirties two bedroom home…I could see and feel the warmth from the rays of sunshine beaming down upon me through that single pane window. At the same time I could smell the sweet scent of early spring blossoms, flowers that my Grandmother generously planted up against the house in the front yard.

There was the smell of fresh cut green grass from the push mower that my Grandfather had used earlier that morning to maintain his picture perfect yard as well as the odors from the balsam fragrance coming off the many trees surrounding my Grandparent’s front yard. It really seemed like from that time forward is when my life actually began. Looking around the room from where I laid I could see the walls covered with old family photos, then I noticed the curved Spanish style archway leading into the kitchen, looking up I could hear my Aunt still beckoning to me again and again.

Bobby are you alright, can you hear me?

Temporally as I lay there I had no recollection or any memories before that eventful day and I was fully aware that my hearing was dull. When I awoke and finally sat up, my Aunt Margret showed deep heartfelt concern over what she had done and rightfully so. She asked me how my head was while at the same time she held a cool damp cloth to my forehead to help reduce the large Cyclops looking knot on my forehead. I was still dazed and unable to remember anyone’s name and I was still unable to speak so I just gazed into her eyes. As I lay there with Margret holding my head I remember uttering the phrase have I just been born?

It’s funny but I still remember that surprised look on her face, not quite sure how to respond she said nothing. Eventually I recovered…my memory intact and I went back out to play. You see, that day and those events that ensued are as clear to me today as the day that they first happened way back then.

While looking back over my life, I would soon came to realize that even at that very early age I seemed to be more astute of my surroundings and to the events that would ultimately mold my life as things unfolded before me.

It seems that this affected me more than most of my peers who were just concerned with the here and now. The fact of the matter is, I found myself always watching the events that were spread out around me and as strange as it sounds…I could in some ways foresee at times what may very well happen next.

Little did I know what life had in store for me! You see, in order for you to have a clear understanding we must go back, back to the beginning.

My Mom grew up in the very small town of Vine, Colorado. Life for her was harsh in the nineteen thirties to say the least and the winters were brutal. My Grandparents worked very hard all of their lives just to etch out a living…just too survive! They were poor like most people back then after the Great Depression. Yes, they worked hard at etching out a living the best they could with what little that they had.

You see my Grandparents lived in this very small country home in Vine, Colorado with their six daughters and three boys. There small home was not much to look at but my Grandmother did her best to make it as comfortable as possible. My Mom was born Mary Angelina.

She…like many others had endured a rough life growing up during and after the Great Depression. My Grandpo worked very hard to provide for his family doing whatever he could to provide adequate food and shelter. It was during the Great Depression years that he worked twelve hour days on a ranch for only twelve cents an hour, but you know, that was enough to feed his growing family.

My Mom as well as her older sister’s Lucinda and Ramona and her brothers Jesus’ and Jessie carried the brunt of the chores in and around the farm as my Grandmother cared for the needs of the home and the younger children as they were born. For my Mom and her older sisters, this included working in their fields, household chores and helping to care for the younger ones. Now my Mom was more out spoken than all her other siblings. She was never afraid to take on a challenge or to come to the defense of a family member.

I’m sure my Mother must have longed for a better life. She may have even thought of escaping from her seemingly endless life of burden and hard work. I can only imagine how she might have dreamed of a better life in a nice home with plenty to eat without the burden of struggling in the fields.

Still, because she gave of herself so freely she was loved and appreciated by my Grandparents and all her siblings. So day in and day out she gave of herself and she did what was necessary to help support the family.

Now my Grandma was a quiet woman. As far back as I can remember she always wore these funny hats. She loved her hats! My Grandma, like me…could not carry a tune if our lives depended upon it, but she loved to sing with all her heart. Sad, but as a youth…I only have fleeting memories of her growing up, mostly when we were ill.

What I do remember about her…were her gentle soft tender hands and those lines that were etched across her face from a long hard life of work and child bearing.

My Grandma you see was our doctor of sorts. She used herbs and other skills taught to her by her Mom who then had learned it from her Grandfather who was an Indian Medicine Man.

One thing that I do remember very clearly when I was very young about my grandparents home and that was the smell of fresh baked bread and biscuit's coming from Grandma's kitchen. Yes that’s what was always expected from Grandmas’ kitchen. My Grandma was a great cook. I loved her tamales and soups and oh could she bake breads, cookies and pies!

Her kitchen was always so warm and inviting as it had so many wonderful aromas. Everything was freshly made from scratch, ingredients made fresh from the produce right out back from her huge garden.

Yes I do remember her working in her garden. It seemed at times that it would never stop producing. She and my Grandpo had the greenest thumbs in all of Colorado, in my opinion. As I look back it seems that everything they touched produced something wonderful!

From their garden they would grow watermelons, cucumbers, onions, spinach, tomatoes, corn, zucchini etc. etc. etc. that’s besides all the fruit trees and different berry bushes that surrounded their property.

I remember very clearly how she would tell us kids that it was time for Popeye the Sailorman then as we sat on the floor with our eyes pasted to the television set she would cook up some fresh spinach and onions. Seeing that we were now caught up in the cartoon she would hand us each a bowl and tell us too eat up so we could be strong like Popeye the Sailorman.

Now my Grandpo was something of a self taught botanist, he knew just about everything there was to know about plants and trees. He often would show us how to graft different fruit limbs together to create unique tasting fruit.

My Grandpo and Grandma would show us how and when to plant so as to get the most produce out of the garden. Yes I fondly remember how my Grandpo would take the time to teach us about the soil and about organic gardening way before it was even popular.

And another thing about my Grandpo…he was a very fair man! In fact he had a saying what is good for the goose is good for the gander what he meant by this was…let’s say you came by and he was taking the boys (my uncles) out to buy new shoes or cloths, then you would get new ones as well just because you happened to be there. On the other hand if you came by and the boys were getting spanked, then you got spanked as well…just because.

He taught us how to settle agreements with a hand shake and arguments by putting on the gloves. Once something was over…it was over! There was no going back no matter what.

Now as for my Grandma who was part Cherokee from Logan Mount, New Mexico…well she married my Grandpo when she was only 15 years old. Soon thereafter the family began to grow as she had her first child which was a daughter whom she named Lucinda then next came Ramona, the Twins Jessie and Jesus, thereafter came Angie, Reina, Martha, Margaret after that Albert, Joseph, James, Rudy and Stephan.

Looking back I do remember all the assorted doctoring that my Grandma did for us all. From potatoes dipped in vinegar rolled in a towel then wrapped around our foreheads to cut a fever, to the assortment of herbal teas and salves. She also used Volcanic oil which is a horse liniment used for muscle and joint pain, as well as Musterole Salve which she rubbed on us to ease the effects of colds and flues. Being part Indian she would wrap us up in a Pappoose smothered in Musterole to cure chicken pox and so on and so on.

Now my Grandma’s Dad was Spanish and her Mom my Great Grandma, Grandma Ovehen was half Cherokee Indian but still considered an Indian maiden. I’m told that Grandma Ovehen’s Dad was a red haired beaver hunting Black Irish/Polish man and her Mom the daughter of an Indian chief. Her Grandpa was the Indian Medicine man.

My Great Grandma Ovehen was first married to a Spanish man as I mentioned. Eva my Grandma married my Grandpo Albert, like I said in her early teens. My Grandma Ovehen taught my Grandma the Indian Holistic Medicina passed down from her Grandfather the tribal medicine man.

Later in life I became curious about our family history. After my Grandpo and Mother had passed on I began asking my Grandma questions about her youth and how to use and make holistic medicina. It's funny but I did not know my Grandparents first names until I was engaged to be married at the age of 19.

Grandpo, as we called him, was a self educated man. In my opinion he was a genius in his own right. A self taught mathematician he sought a better life for his growing family. In fact he tried his hand at starting his own business with his two brothers at farming but there was always a problem as to who was in charge. Also for a time he worked as a railroad surveyor, surveying the laying of railroad tracks and then finally he worked at the Ordnance Depot where he retired from.

My Grandpo always was one who learned from life’s experiences. I remember how he would sit surrounded by his children and grandchildren and how he would share his wisdom freely. I loved and respected this man more than he would ever know.

His Father and Uncle were sent from Spain to New Mexico to purchase land by their father. It was in New Mexico that they purchased tens of thousands of acres of land.

They built a huge ranch house a Grand Hacienda as the story is told and their other younger brother had been sent to China to do the same. Now they had many servants, in fact my Great Grandma Chinita never even swaddled or breast feed her own children. From what my Grandpo told us, everything was done for my Great Grandma, she was waited on hand and foot…as were the boys.

Grandpo said that his Dad never wore the same pair of shoes twice. Both his father and Uncle put on great airs, often buying drinks for everyone at the local Cantina. At the same time there was great poverty in that region and some grew jealous because of their prosperity.

So one night after leaving the Cantina on his way home to the hacienda with its beautiful court yard, a group of men murdered my Great Grandfather by shooting him in the back. And then a few years later his younger brother was also shot in the back as well.

This left my Great Grandmother and her three boys Albert (my grandfather was fifteen at the time and the first born), Lencho and Mike (the youngest, he was my Great Uncles son my Grandfathers step brother) Now as for my Great Grandmother, I never knew her real name we only knew my Grandma by the name, Grandma Chinita-little Asian Grandma. I’m not quite sure how or why we called her that name but it may have been because of her small stature and appearance.

Anyway, one night these murderers with torches in hand loaded my Great Grandma and the boys onto a wagon and told her not to look back or her boys would meet the same fate as did their father and uncle.

As a side note, back then brother in law marriage was still quite common. So when my Great Grandfather was murdered his younger brother married my Great Grandma partly because of this and mostly because she was so very beautiful from what my Grandpo told me.

Now as I said my Grandpo and my Uncle Lencho were from my Great Grandfather and Uncle Mike was from their Uncle. My Uncle Lencho and my Grandpo looked like twins except for their age difference.

Then there was our Grandma Chinita, I was told that she was from an elite family in France, it seems that there’s, was an arranged marriage so the story goes. When my Grandma Chinita left New Mexico with her three boys in the middle of the night she also left all the contact information from both sides of the family behind.

This also included all of their legal documents showing claim to their properties and vast land holdings. Copies of all their documents as well as birth certificates and marriage license were held in the local church as was customary at that time but conveniently there was a fire and only my Great Grandparent's documents were destroyed.

They were now all on their own! As I remember my Grandpo telling me, after they arrived in Colorado they came across some land where my Grandma decided to settle down, my Great Grandma Chinita and the boys built a single room house by cutting down trees in that area with a single hand axe. My Grandfather