One time a long time ago I asked my mom for a quarter. She said she was sorry, but she didn’t have any money that day. I can’t remember why I needed a quarter, but I bet it was for candy. I always wanted candy and my mom loved me so much that I made a whole school of dentists rich with my teeth needing constant attention.
Mom asked me what I would rather be, rich or a good friend. Of course, she was my mom, so I didn’t have to study very long. “I would like to be rich!” I answered. “No, son, you should wish to be a good friend. Try to understand that a good friend is better than any amount of money. Money is temporary but friends are forever.”
Then she would tell us that if you are a good friend, you will always be rich. I replied, “How do you know I’ll always be rich, Mom? Can’t I just buy a friend?” “No, son, you can’t buy a friend, but you can share your riches with someone if it is appropriate. God made us in such a way that we can tell who the true friends are. Wouldn’t you want someone to help you if you were down?”
I was a young boy and figured that my life was ahead of me and being rich sounded pretty darn good. I was already tired of wearing clothes that she had bought at a rummage sale. Although I have to say, she could make anything we had look good.
I remember once that I was told I would be second trumpet in the Guadalupe Band. Part of our uniform was grey pants that set off the green jackets and peaked hats we wore. I came home from school that day full of myself because I was up against high school students and there was only one guy that played better than me. I might have been first trumpet if I practiced just a little, but shoot! I just wanted to look good. We were going to march in the Labor Day Parade down Main Street of Guadalupe.
“Mom,” I yelled as I slammed the front door. I jumped from foot to foot and did a little dance as I told her the news. “You have to buy me a pair of grey pants at the Guadalupe Mercantile Store.” (They carried everything for the aspiring musical student.) My mom was sitting on the couch folding clothes. She smiled that dazzling smile that only a Mother can give their children. “I will go into Santa Maria tomorrow and see what we can find.”
I almost started crying because I knew just where she was going to look for those grey pants. She was going to the rummage store where most of our clothes came from. I didn’t mind wearing rummage sale shirts or socks and sometimes shoes, but this was an emergency. “Aw Mom, I won’t look like you love me.” (Shame might work if tears didn’t.) “Let’s just wait till tomorrow,” she said and continued folding clothes. I was pretty distraught, but she knew how to cheer me up. “Go out and get that big Buck Rabbit and I’ll make some biscuits.” Fried rabbit was the luxury meal at our house, we raised them and my brothers would sell them during the summer to passing cars.
I was on pins and needles the next day. My teacher, Mr. Maker, had to call on me a couple of times because I was humming a little. I just couldn’t wait until school was out. I wanted to run all the way to my new pants. I skipped two stairs and burst into the house. “Where are they, Mom?” I yelled. I knew she was home because the car was outside. “Honey, they are in the washer, they should be ready pretty soon.” My heart stopped for a moment because even though I was a sixth grader, I was aware what it meant for the pants to be in the washer. That meant they had to be dirty when she bought them. I was mortified.
“Aw Mom! They were dirty? You don’t love me,” I whined. “I’ll be happy to show you some love if you say that to me again.” Moms have this ability to throw oil on churning water. All of a sudden the pants will have to do. I waited till they were washed and then hung them out to dry. Then I noticed a hole in one of the legs. Using a mother’s radar she beat me to the punch. “I’ll sew that hole up and you won’t even see it.” And she did. Those pants fit me like they were made for me. You couldn’t tell they were just about worn out. I looked so good in the uniform we were wearing, the next day mom paid a friend to take a picture of me holding my trumpet. I should have known she would save the day. That’s what mothers do.
But let us return to whether it is better to be rich or a good friend. This weekend Joe and Rosie celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary. If you know Joe and Rosie, you know they love to go on cruises. You would have thought you were on a cruise at this party held at the VFW Memorial Hall in Speckles. From the minute you stepped through the door, it was anchors away. Joe was the Captain of this wonderful night and was dressed as a Captain, and Rosie was his date for the past and future 50 years. They were everywhere as the night went on. Their daughter gave a little talk about how wonderful they are and everyone there agreed. I met some wonderful people and danced until my legs gave out. It was a wonderful night. May God Bless my friends Rosie and Joe Sanchez.
God Bless.
