I grew up a migrant farmworker in a family of 14 brothers and sisters. We travelled throughout the Heartland of our great country working hard to provide for the family unit. It was the best of times. As a young boy and teenager the thrill of making the next summer trip was enhanced with the thrill of the last day of school. We seemed to go to a different place every year.
My father was born in Tampico, Tamaulipas, Mexico in 1918 the same year his father was executed in front of a firing squad in Soto La Marina as a Caballerista. Benjamin Almendarez was known in Mexico as the “Americano”. He had spent most of his youth in Houston, Texas where he was taken in by a family who educated him from the age of 12 to 21. By the time he returned home to the Rio Grande Valley in 1914 to marry my grandmother, he was bilingual and would seek his fortune south of the border after violence erupted in South Texas. But political unrest leftover from the Mexican Revolution embroiled the State of Tamaulipas and he was caught up in the whirlwind of military service with a rebel general, Don Luis Caballero and in a matter of months, the rebellion was quelled.
In Tampico, my grandmother was left a widow with a 5 month old infant, my father, Tiodoso Almendarez, named after his grandfather. At the age of 2, my grandmother migrated back to Texas with her infant and some relatives. By the age of 10, my father was picking cotton in the fields of South Texas and became a young entrepreneur at the age of 13 looking for ways to earn an extra dollar here and there.
The migrant way of life developed throughout the years as the agricultural economy began to expand and farmworkers were needed in other States. My father became a local leader as a “troquero”… a type of field human resources manager. His association with the local produce company also exposed him to contracts to travel up to the northern states to harvest crops. His family was growing, so the prospects were very good and we became a Migrant family.
Migrant school was meant to facilitate the migrant trips many families were taking every year. Nevertheless, the school was more like segregation with Migrant students unable to participate in any extra-curricular activities with the “Regular” students, made up of mostly white kids. For us, it was just a part of being who we were. We didn’t mind getting out of school at 5 when “regular” school was out by 3:30; besides, our school year ended a couple of months sooner. It was our way of life.
By the time I got to high school, my father decided to end the trips up north after a few attempts at living in some of the places to where we were travelling. I was an average student, not excelling much in anything. My older brother, Jose, was a different story. He was a straight-A student, in the honor roll every semester. I, on the other hand, was more of a rebel without a clue. When I graduated from high school, all I knew was that I was free! My father always told us that when we turned 18, that we were men and that we were free to leave home and start our own lives.
I left home and went to Hereford, Texas, a place I had always wanted to visit for some reason. It wasn’t long before I fell in love with a beautiful girl with natural curls and big eyes…and I was struck! We stayed together even when I went off to try my hand as a college student in Houston then in Edinburg at Pan American University. Still, college life and classrooms were still a big ho-hum for me. I didn’t get much done but maybe a few measly hours. It was time to settle down, since college life was just about frat parties; I was missing the girl I left behind and lucky for me, she was still available! We married on July 31, 1982 and we set out to start our lives without a penny in our pockets.
We struggled for many years. I made many mistakes along the way but when I made a much bigger mistake I did time for attempting an illegal venture. My wife waited for 5 years and we wrote to each other every day. There was no way I could have made it in there without her. It was the worst of times. It was the turning point in my life, though. I will never forget the pre-sentencing investigation statement written about me. I only read the first line. It was all I needed to read… “Manuel Almendarez has led an unremarkable life.” The statement made me pause for a long time as I stared passed the floor in front of me. My life HAD been unremarkable, to say the least. I suppose the report went on to describe my many “un-events” in my life. I felt something in the pit of my stomach and envisioned a gravestone. “Manuel Almendarez, An Unremarkable Life” I vowed that from that day forward no one would ever say that my life had not been remarkable.
I was sentenced to 20 years but it didn’t hit me as hard as I thought it would. My decision to lead a remarkable life from that day forward, made the sentencing of little effect. When I was released on Groundhog Day 1998, I was ready to live a remarkable life. My beautiful girl in natural curls was still waiting for me and she worked hard as I went back to school. She lost her father and I lost my mother during this time and we made it through it all by leaning on each other.
On July 28, 2018, a few days before our 36th anniversary, my beautiful girl in natural curls, along with hundreds of people watched me get hooded to receive my Doctoral degree. It was the best of times. I yelled out, “I did it, baby!” Afterwards I told her my work was only beginning, although it felt like a final step to her I’m sure. I continue to strive to live a remarkable life as my father and grandfather had in their own right. I hope to give my beautiful girl in natural curls a life she only dreamed of. After all, LOVE is the most remarkable thing to have in your life.
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