Thankful Thursday: A Father's Influence (Part 2 of 2)

Gilbert Cayetano Huesca
   (1915 - 2009)

My father, Gilbert Huesca,
as a young man.

In Part 1, my father, Gilbert Huesca, described his life as a child growing up as part of a working family in Orizaba, a mountain town in Mexico's eastern state of Veracruz.  In 1923, when Gilbert was 23 years old, my grandfather, Cayetano Huesca, was laid off from his job with the Mexican Railway Company.  He and my grandmother, Catalina (Perrotin) Huesca, moved the family - by now numbering eight children -  back to my father's birthplace of Tierra Blanca (also in Veracruz).  There, they opened another hotel, El Buen Gusto, or the Good Taste Hotel.  Cayetano, ever the entrepreneur, opened a bike rental business for his guests.  The stories below are told in my father's words, taken from our conversations over the years:

"When I got a little older and we moved back to Tierra Blanca, I started riding a bike.  My father wanted all of us to learn how to ride bikes, but again, how could he do that with so many children and so many responsibilities?  He was a father first and a businessman second.  So, what else? - he decided to rent bicycles.

"When he gave one of us a bike, it would be a brand new bike, and he’d show us how to ride it and become familiar with it.  Of course, we’d ride our bikes all around Tierra Blanca.  Going around the Alameda, the main park of the town - and it’s a big park - would be my dad, Enrique, Eduardo, Victoria, and I.  My father used to push us forward.  'We’re gonna fall,' we’d say.  And he’d say, 'Okay. Fall!  We’re gonna learn on the bike.  You have to get back on the bike.'

"And so we learned to be good bike riders.

"Not too long after I got my bike, I fell off and it broke.  I went home to my father, crying because I wanted him to fix it for me.  He took the bike from me and instead of fixing it, he took it apart completely, piece by piece.  'I'm not going to repair your bike,' he said. 'You are going to do it yourself.'

"I couldn't believe it.  I started crying again, this time very loudly.  'But I don't know anything about bikes!  How am I going to fix it if I don't know anything about bikes?'

"My father was a very wise man, and he knew what he was doing.  'Maybe you don't know anything about bikes yet, but this is how you will learn.  And I know you can do it.'  And he just left me there, staring at my bike.

"I sat there for a long time.  I couldn't believe he would leave me like that.  At that moment, I thought he was the meanest father in the world.  I cried and cried.

"And after a while, I realized he was not coming back to help me, and I began to look at the parts.  I picked them up and began turning them over in my hands.  And I put my bike back together again, all by myself.  I was very proud that I could do it.  And when I showed my father, I could see he was very proud of me, too.

"Some time after that, I was out riding my bike and was enjoying the ride so much I did not pay attention to the time.  When I realized how late it was, I rode home as fast as I could.  I could hear my parents looking for me in the hotel, calling my name.  I ran to my room with my bike.  I do not know why I still had my bike with me, but I hid under my bed and pulled my bike under the bed, too.

"My father came to my room, calling my name.  He sounded very angry.  I tried to move farther under the bed, but I guess I pushed my bike out a little bit, and my father saw it.  He knew I was there and told me to come out.  I knew I was in big trouble.  I tried to get out, but I was stuck!  My father had to help me get out of there.  I think he knew that I had suffered enough when I finally got out, because he never punished me.  I learned my lesson and never came home late again.

"My father used to tell us that our parents are right next to God. He did not mean by this that they were equal to God, but that they had a duty that was given them by God to love us and teach us in the same way as He would.  They made many sacrifices for us but never called attention to themselves. My father used to say you should never let the right hand know what the left hand is doing.  They understood that this was their obligation as parents.  Whatever they had, they shared with us and with anyone else who needed help.  And they expected us to do the same.  

"None of us wanted to disappoint our parents, not because we were afraid of them, but because we viewed them in a sacred way.  They never raised a finger to us.  All my father would have to do when he disapproved of something we did was look at us in a certain way, and we would know we had done something wrong.  It was very powerful.  

"The love my mother and father had for us was the best education in life and values we could ever have.  How lucky we were.  Thank God for them."

Copyright ©  2012  Linda Huesca Tully




Did you know, or are you a member of the Huesca or Perrotin families? Did you live in Veracruz in the early to mid-twentieth century?  If so, share your memories and comments below.

Sympathy Saturday: "Do Not Give In": Part 1

Condolences

Cañada Morelos, April 25, 1915

                       

Mrs. Catalina Perroton.

Tierra Blanca

My Dear Friend,

As I send you my greetings together with all the well-deserved attentions to you and your kind family, I want to send you my deepest sympathies on the death of the Child Gilberto, and you must not believe that it was caused by a Cold, but by the bump he had on his head, which sooner or later would have a sad ending.  It happened…there is nothing you can do but have patience.  Now do not give in to the Pain; but Look at this news with some calm, understanding that it is better to grieve over the dead rather than wish  them alive again; as I did, for I have spent my life in tears wishing they were alive.  The conjugal bond offers us flowers and pleasures…but the cross of marriage, offers us a world of woes.  No matter how much a family may possess, all must go through that world of woes…but all you can do is have a big soul, a Heart that neither denies the truth nor gives in to tears but Sees that this is part of life.  Calm, my friend, calm, do not give in and do not carry this burden around with you.  Give my kisses to all the children.  Your friend who esteems you,

Enrique Huesca

At left, the original letter (in Spanish) from Enrique Huesca to 
Catalina (Perrotin) Huesca, 1915

The above is my English translation of a letter that my paternal great-grandfather, Jose Enrique Florentino Huesca, of Cañada Morelos, Puebla, Mexico, wrote to his daughter-in-law – my grandmother, Angela Catalina (nee Perrotin) Huesca, in Tierra Blanca, Veracruz, Mexico, shortly after the death of her young son, Gilberto Huesca. 

Gilberto was about two years old when he died.  The exact cause of death is unclear; many of the civil records of the village of Tierra Blanca from 1915 were burned in a fire, and most of those who might have known the details have gone on to their heavenly reward. 

Maybe he fell or suffered a blow to the head while playing or pulling down some heavy object from above.  Maybe he had a tumor of some sort.  We may never know, but we can only imagine the grief Catalina felt at losing her sweet little boy.  Enrique, as he was known, gently tells his daughter-in-law that she must not believe that her toddler died of a cold and adds that “sooner or later” the lump would have a sad ending.  In what must have been nearly unbearable for Catalina to conceive, he goes on to reassure her that the child’s fate might have been worse had he lived. 

His words today might sound terribly fatalistic, but they came during a trying period in Mexico.  The country was in the throes of a revolution, and Tierra Blanca and surrounding areas not only experienced the heavy casualties of that conflict but also lost many people, young and old, to outbreaks of measles, diptheria, and smallpox. 

It would have been easy for a young 21-year-old mother to “give in to the pain” of losing her child when she was scarcely an adult herself.  But her father-in-law’s words must have given her the strength she needed to go on and care for her husband Cayetano and their three children, Enrique, Eduardo, and Victoria, even as she was in the first trimester of yet another pregnancy.  Like many of the women of her time, Catalina would prove to be strong and resilient.  She and Cayetano would have 17 children in all, 11 of whom survived into adulthood. 

Catalina and Cayetano Huesca and sons (left to right) Gilberto, Eduardo, and Enrique,
in front of their home, Orizaba, 1913.

Enrique’s letter hints at his own trials and tribulations.  We know little about him except that he was born between 1847 and 1850 in Puebla, Mexico, to Jose Calletano de la Trinidad Huesca and Josefa Rodriguez.  A devout Catholic, he followed in the family trade as a carpenter, crafting interior furnishings for the cathedral and churches of Puebla, a city known for having as many churches as there are days in a year.  He taught his children to do good for others but to keep their acts to themselves, often reminding them to “never let the right hand know what the left hand is doing.”  This was a refrain that his children and their children would carry with them all their lives.

Born at the end of Mexico’s civil reform war, Enrique lived through some of the most turbulent eras of his country’s history.  Before he had even reached his teen years, he undoubtedly witnessed the Battle of Puebla between the French and Mexican armies.  He would have rejoiced wildly with his family at the Mexican victory on May 5, 1862, only to be devastated barely a year later when the French regrouped and defeated the Mexicans in a second battle at Puebla and went on to topple and replace the Mexican government with what Napoleon III referred to as his “Mexican Empire.”  He and his parents would have discussed the resurgence of the deposed Mexican president, Benito Juarez, who with the backing of President Abraham Lincoln, reclaimed his government and had the puppet Emperor Maximilian Hapsburg executed by firing squad in 1867. 

The uncertainty of the times and their severe impact on the nation would continue for many years as subsequent regimes rose and fell one after the other, culminating in the Revolution of 1910 and indelibly scarring the psyche of the Mexican people with the ironic realization that the only constancy in their lives was that  - save their faith in God and their love for one another - nothing, including happiness, could either be certain or last forever. 

Next:  Sentimental Sunday - "Do Not Give In" Part Two

Copyright ©  2012  Linda Huesca Tully 

Maria Angela Catalina (Perrotin) Huesca

Maria Angela Catalina (Perrotin) Huesca



Born May 31, 1893, in Orizaba, Veracruz, Mexico
Died April 5, 1998, in Mexico City, D. F., Mexico

My grandmother, Maria Angela Catalina Perrotin, was the second child born to Francisco Perrotin and Maria Amaro. Her birth certificate notes that her father, age 26, was from Orizaba and was a mechanic, presumably for Ferrocarriles Mexicanos, the Mexican Railway. Her mother, Maria, age 20, hailed from Tecamachalco, in the state of Puebla, Mexico.

Catalina was the second of six brothers and sisters. She is shown here, with her parents and brother Francisco, in a picture dated September 28, 1893. I would guess the family is outside their home, and their dress suggests that it may have been the occasion of the infant Catalina's baptism.

Catalina, her brothers Francisco, Hugo, Roberto and Juan, and their sister, Blanca Luz, grew up speaking English and French in addition to their native Spanish. They often used their multilingual abilities to share secrets with one another, sometimes going back and forth between English and French when they wanted no one else to hear their conversations. This came in particularly handy when Catalina became a parent, as she could easily share confidences with her sister and mother without her children understanding them! Years later, however, when my family moved to Mexico City, my grandmother had forgotten how to speak English, but she still understood every word we said, sometimes even when we mischievous little girls thought she didn't -- much to our chagrin and to the delight of our parents!

In 1899, when Catalina was only six years old, her father, Francisco (also known as Frank) Perrotin died of Yellow Fever. The epidemic, known at the time as el vomito negro (the "Black Vomit") Mexico, claimed over 600 lives in Veracruz state that year. To make ends meet, her mother, Maria, ran an eatery in Orizaba, and it was while helping her mother there that the young Catalina met the love of her life, Jose Gil Alberto Cayetano Huesca (known to all simply as Cayetano Huesca). The couple married in 1908 and went on to have 11 children. Half of the children would have their father's dark hair, while the other half were either blond or red-headed, with blue eyes, a reflection of their mother's French-Irish background.

Feeding, housing and clothing a large family was a challenge in those days. In addition to Cayetano's work as a mechanic for Ferrocarriles Mexicanos and his efforts to improve labor conditions for railroad workers, he and Catalina bought and operated a hotel, casino, and skating rink in Tierra Blanca, Veracruz. Each of the children helped in the business. My father's job was to make the beds every morning before he went to school. The others did the dishes and the laundry, swept and mopped floors, and transported guests' baggage from the Tierra Blanca train station to the hotel.

Cayetano Huesca died of pneumonia in 1937. Catalina, at 44 years old, had given birth about eight months earlier to her youngest child and still had a large family to support, though some of the older children were already grown and had left home. Still, she inherited the strength so inherent in the women of her family and moved forward, never complaining, but taking the challenge in stride. She took great pride in her children, who adored her in return and continued to honor her for the rest of her life.

On the heels of Cayetano's death, the Huesca family moved to Mexico City, as did her Catalina's mother, Maria (Amaro) Perrotin and sister, Blanca Luz Perrotin. As her children grew and began families of their own, she stayed involved with them, She held court on Sundays, birthdays and holidays in her little house on Carpio Street, in Colonia Santa María la Ribera, one of the oldest neighborhoods in Mexico City, where her children and over 100 grandchildren and great-grandchildren would come to visit. She knew everyone’s name and age and never forgot a birthday, and she made each person who visited her feel as though he or she were her favorite.

Her typical morning routine consisted of sweeping her tile floors with a broom made of long straw, wrapped tightly around a stick. First thing in the morning, she would throw open the metal doors to her inside patio and put out the cages with her beloved yellow and orange canaries, where they would sing the sweetest songs and soak in the sunshine as she went about her work. Every morning she went to the market and bought the day’s groceries. Her mother, Maria (Amaro) Perrotin, and sister Blanca Perrotin, often joined her at around two o’clock for the customary Mexican comida, or dinner.

It was the big meal of the day, and businesses and schools would typically close at 1:00 or so in the afternoon so employees and students alike could go home and eat with their families. People would then return to work from 5 to 9 p.m., after which they would come home for a nightcap, or cena, which consisted of Mexican sweet rolls, or pan dulce, which all families bought nightly at the corner bakery.

The comida at Catalina's house usually consisted of several elaborately made courses: appetizers, sopa de fideos (chicken noodle soup), rice, frijoles (beans), chiles rellenos (stuffed green peppers), tacos or enchiladas or beef steak, coffee, and often slices of fresh mango or papaya for dessert. Catalina was an excellent cook, and in her tiny kitchen she could cook just as easily for one as she could for 50. She did this often, too, for the steady stream of children and grandchildren who visited her just to chat or to celebrate birthdays, holidays, and special occasions.

My Abuelita (an endearing term for "Grandmother" in Spanish) Catalina was a devout Roman Catholic and had a strong devotion to St. Martin de Porres. She kept a worn framed picture of him on the back of her pale green front door, along with a prayer beneath it and a small shelf on the wall next to it that held votive candles and pictures of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and Our Lady of Guadalupe. She displayed the same pictures in her bedroom, and every night before bed, she would go around the room and light votive candles under these images and pictures of Cayetano and every member of her family, living or dead, praying for each person. This took about 45 minutes, but it was very moving to watch.

My precious Abuelita loved her family deeply and had an incredible memory for names, dates, and even voices. Even when she was well over 100 years old, she would recognize my voice when I called her on the telephone from over 2000 miles away in California. She always asked right away about my husband and our children. She did this with everyone and never confused any names as far as I know, and she had a knack for making everyone feel as if he or she was her favorite and she had just known they would call.

Like the women who came before her, she was strong, active and independent all her life. When she was in her late 90's, she moved from her home on Carpio Street to an apartment a few miles away next door to one of her daughters, where she continued to live alone until her death at age 105. Her spirituality, independence, strong work ethic, and fierce devotion to family live on in her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, each of whom was special to her and who adored her in return.

She will always live on in my heart.



Did you know Catalina (Perrotin) Huesca or her siblings, or are you a member of the Perrotin, Amaro, or Huesca families?  If so, share your memories and comments below.