Sag-Ashus – An Unlikely Outcome
Our readers who have been with us for an extended period of time may recall that in the past we have spoken extensively about our elementary school days in the little one-room schoolhouse on the Rio Grande, where one teacher taught all eight grades.
For our first three years, beginning in 1933, we had a different teacher every year. Our first year was under the tutelage of Mrs. Neal White, who lived a few miles down the river from school with her husband, and who rode to and from school every day on horseback. To the best of our recollection it was an uneventful year, as was the second year under the guidance of Ms. Bird. She drove a 1935 Ford V8, and even at that tender age we were astonished to learn that she believed that the shifting pattern of her stick shift, which was in the floor, of course, was in shape of a V instead of what we already knew was in the shape of an H.
Then along came the third grade and Mrs. Lytle, who in today’s society would not only have been banned from the teaching profession but would probably have been prosecuted for child abuse. We don’t recall that she ever laid a hand on any of the rest of the students – but she paddled her son, Bobby, almost daily with a yardstick. We knew, of course, that a yardstick couldn’t inflict very much pain, and Bobby, having become accustomed to the routine, had perfected the art of dancing up and down and screaming at the top of his lungs, while probably suffering very little physical damage. We lost contact with him after that year, but in a chance meeting with him and his mother during the World War II days, we learned that he had served honorably in the war and that mom was quite proud of him.
In our fourth year came our greatest blessing – Ms. Louisa Moon. It is of her tenure, which spanned our last four years at that institution of learning, that we have the fondest memories. Our sister, Mary Lou, had started in first grade along with some other beginners, and then there were the Aragon girls – Maria, who was chubby, and her sister Flora, who was skinny as a rail. And let’s not forget the school bully, Torribio, the terrible, and his sister, Genoveva, who could knock a fly ball farther than any other kid in school.
This story is about Carmen, the oldest student in school at that time. She was probably 15 or 16 years old but was still in elementary school, because in her early years her family had lived where no school was available.
Now the plot thickens. A young man, Federico – we called him Fred – was working on our parents’ farm nearby. Fred was probably still in his teens, and one of his chores was milking the milk cows morning and evening. He spoke some English with a heavy Spanish accent, and when Fred would enter the kitchen with a pail of milk in each hand, Yours Truly would hold up a spoon and ask, “Fred, what is this?” – to which he would answer, “Espoom.” Well, over a period of time, we learned some Spanish and Fred learned some English and everything was going along fine, or so we thought.
Unbeknownst to almost everyone, Fred and Carmen became enamored of each other, and one day at school, while we were all outside eating our sack lunches; Carmen slipped away unnoticed and joined Fred. They made their way to Little Box Canyon, about 4 miles down the river from the school, where old Fred had stashed a bedroll and some food supplies in a small cave. Their tryst lasted about four days, during which time no one had any idea where to find them. When they showed up back at the farm they were bedraggled, hungry and scared and asked Sag senior to take them to Sierra Blanca to get married.
Well sir, the first order of business, since Carmen was not yet of legal age, was to get permission from her parents for her to be married. So Dad cranked up the old four-door Plymouth, and with Carmen beside him in the front seat and Fred and “guess who” in the back seat we traveled the 4 miles up the river to Carmen’s house, where she and Dad went inside to meet with her parents. We can only imagine that they were relieved that she was alive and well and shocked at the story she had to tell.
Being a lad of perhaps 10 years of age, we were poking around outside of the car, and when we decided to open the door and get back in the back seat with Fred we discovered that he was lying in the floor board and holding on for dear life to the inside door handle, trying to keep anyone from getting in. He must have been terrified that Carmen’s old man might come out and wreak havoc on him.
But the parents decided that the best option was to allow them to get married, so we continued on to Sierra Blanca up old Highway 80, where the county clerk, under the circumstances, donated the marriage license. If indeed there was a required waiting period, the county judge waived it. The judge was newly elected Earl Yarbrough, and this being his very first marriage ceremony, he may have been almost as nervous as the bride and groom.
It was the first marriage we had ever witnessed and of course we were watching with a keen interest. He began the ceremony with the usual questions – “Do you take this man?” and “Do you take this woman?” – after which he instructed each of them to say “Yes.” After a few such questions and answers he suddenly stopped and said, “Oh no! You are not supposed to say ‘yes,’ you are supposed to say ‘I do.’”
In any event, Fred and Carmen were duly wed, and we completely lost track of them for almost 30 years. Then came a big surprise. In the 1960s when we were immersed in the grocery business in Ysleta, who should walk in the door but Fred and Carmen. Somehow they had found out where Ole Sag was located and came for a visit. We were pleased, and a bit surprised, to learn that they had had a happy and successful marriage, had raised several children and put them all through college and were now enjoying a plethora of grandchildren.
And we are happy to share this story of a marriage that had a very rocky beginning but a very happy ending.
Here’s a beautiful thought from Mother Teresa: “Spread love everywhere you go. Let no one ever come to you without leaving happier.”
SAG