Father's Day is a day to celebrate and recognize the dads out there that are sacrificing for their kids. We definitely should first put our worship and thanks to our God and Holy Father -- He is number one. However, here on earth I have a dad that is over eighty years old. He lives in Otis, Oregon, sixty miles away from me and I try to get out there to visit when I can. These days, despite my busy schedule, I'm making time because he made time for me.
Wenceslado Espinoza, aka "Wences", grew up in Hidalgo County in Texas -- in the Rio Grande Valley. He lived a rough life with not much and a large family of eight kids. His parents were the late Guadalupe and Matilda. His siblings are Lupita, Irene, Jessie, Elida, Ninfa, Juanita, and Ellena. Bypassing his poverty life of survival, I want to talk about what he has done for me and our family of six kids, Gil, Loop, Louise, David, Richard, and Diana.
My dad with his wife and kids in the early years.
After he married my mom, Gabriela, he moved us up to the north part of Texas close to Amarillo (I can't imagine that challenge), where he would work several jobs through the years. He worked as a truck driver, gas station attendant, cotton gin employee, farm worker, etc. I have so many memories that I can't list them all, So I'll try to sum it up as best I can.
My dad would normally rise up at 5:00 a.m. Every morning he was off to work so he could feed his family and keep a roof over our heads. Watching him come home from work was sad for me because I knew the grind he was going through. Depending on the jobs he had, and most of them were labor jobs, I'd see him come home all dirty with either grease or dust -- his clothes were complete opposite as I saw them when he left in the mornings. I'd wake up to eat breakfast with him because I knew there wouldn't be much left when the other kids ate.
My dad found time to throw the baseball or football with us when coming home from work. We all wanted his attention, for him to play with us was exciting and fun. I did not understand at the time how hard he must have had things or how much pressure he was under. He had to earn money to pay for the utility bills, food and gas, mortgage or rent, clothes, and maybe a vacation at a park now and them. I didn't understand how exhausted he must have been.
Wences wanted better for his family. In the early 1970s he rented a piece of land with a small gas station on it -- a franchise of the corporation, FINA. I really feel that he did this because it involved his family and he could be around us more. So he quit his labor jobs and started running his business. Us boys worked for him. This was one of the best things he did for us. We worked and gained experience on a real business with customers and all.
My dad was firm and he rarely got angry, oh but trust me, he would get angry at times. One time he asked me to back up the truck to load a few things to take home. It was late at night and we had just closed the gas station. It was muddy -- it had rained a lot that day. I must have been thirteen or fourteen years old. So I hopped on the truck with joy because I got to drive the truck. As I put the gear into reverse, I begin to back up. The mud on my shoes caused my foot to slip off the clutch and I didn't think to press the brake. The entire front gas-station window shattered! I froze and knew I was in big trouble. My dad rushed over and his first words to me as he looked at me in emotional worry were, "Mi hijo! Are you okay? Don't worry about the window, it can be replaced. I'm glad you're okay." He smiled at me and pulled me out of the truck. I knew my dad was going to pay for that window with his hard earned money -- I could tell by the look on his face. He never brought it up to me ever again.
Myself being a dad, when my kids were growing up I remembered that episode from my dad, and I applied what I learned. We make mistakes and sometimes they do cost. My dad had a compassionate way about talking to me when I made mistakes. He wanted to be sure that I learned from them. I'm so thankful to have a dad that taught me lesson after lesson while I was growing up -- and trust me, no amount of money can buy that kind of love.
One of the bravest things I ever saw my dad do was very alarming to me as a very young kid at the time. At the gas station he was normally a very nice man to his customers. He often gave out credit. Well, there was a gentleman that had not paid in three months. My dad and I closed up on a Friday night and he drove us to the ghetto -- just north a few blocks from where we lived. He walks into this bar and I walked in alongside him. The room was full of Black tough-looking guys playing pool and drinking beer.
I was in fear and didn't know if we'd come out of there alive. My dad walks up to the person that owed him money as he grabs a pool stick from the wall.
"You mind if I take a few shots?" My dad asked.
"Oh, no sir, not at all."
"When do I get my money you owe me? I have to pay bills"
"Oh yes sir, I'll get it to ya soon at the end of the week."
"Okay, the end of the week I'll wait for you."
"Okay, yeah, I'll take care of that."
"Okay, I'll be waiting for you at the FINA station."
I was thinking to myself, what are you doing dad? The gentleman did come by the next day and paid his balance. Wow, my dad did what he had to do to pay the bills.
And during holidays? I really don't know how in the world my dad did it. To buy us all a few presents during Christmas time was surprising. Well, actually I do know, he paid the Sears charge card off the rest of the year -- ha-ha! He found a way regardless of finances.
Dad with his Ford.
My dad built us a basketball goal and he used a plywood for the backboard which was nailed to the house. Our basketball court was hard dirt. Yeah, it wasn't anything special. It was a pretty poverty-run-down sight, but it was our court and we were proud of it.
My dad tried his best to make it to the most important school functions. Events like homecoming when I was being announced for an award. He made it to graduations and major church events. Sundays were truly days of rest for him. He would come to church with us once in a while, but after his six days of hard work, it was tough for him.
One of my dad's passions was cars, he really loved cars and trucks. He worked on our cars on the weekends and sometimes during the week if they broke down, and trust me they often broke down. All of our vehicles were old -- we never owned a new one. He took care of us and our transportation needs.
One of my favorite places that he used to take our entire family to was Palo Duro Canyon. An amazing place just off of Canyon, Texas. If it wasn't for my dad I would have never ridden a horse. I was afraid to get on a horse, it was huge! I must have been eight years old. He told me to not be afraid, the horse wouldn't hurt me. I tried it and had fun riding down the canyons with a group of people and a tour guide. The times I rode following that first time were even better.
When my dad moved us up to Oregon in 1976, I was a little disappointed at first. Now after all these years, I'm so glad that he moved us up to the northwest. I love this part of the country and if it wasn't for my dad, I would not have met either of my wives and I would not have had my two boys and two stepdaughters. And of course the grandkids we have now would not have been possible.
My dad and his brother, Jessie, in 1974.
Dad, thank you for always being there for me, I know that it wasn't easy for you to raise a large family, but you did it through sacrifices and love. The enjoyment you had playing the accordion and guitar on weekends with your brother was fun for you -- I could tell. I enjoyed watching you and I really think that's why I learned how to play the guitar. You also taught me to be a good person and to always do the right things. Making me help you under the cars was a blessing as I was able to pinpoint problems with my cars and fix them.
Happy Father's Dad, God bless you. I will always remember thousands of amazing memories of us. I will definitely write about some of those in my autobiography some day.