Answer:
<u><em>After dinner my older brother liked to play the guitar. He preferred
</em></u>
<u><em>the music he heard on the radio, but he played the traditional
</em></u>
<u><em>songs for Mama. She enjoyed things that reminded her of home.
</em></u>
<u><em>Her eyes hurt and her fingers would get sore from long hours of
</em></u>
<u><em>work as a seamstress. I remember washing dishes while Pedrito sang:
</em></u>
<u><em>“And seeing myself so lonely and sad like a leaf in the wind, I want
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<u><em>to cry . . . from this feeling.”
</em></u>
<u><em>He sang in Spanish, which is how the lyrics were written. That
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<u><em>song is more than 100 years old now. Mama learned it when she was
</em></u>
<u><em>a girl.
</em></u>
<u><em>Papa tried to nudge Mama out of her nostalgia sometimes. He
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<u><em>would answer her in English when she spoke to him in Spanish. His
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<u><em>English was not very good at first, but he worked at it until it got
</em></u>
<u><em>better.
</em></u>
<u><em>Mama usually answered him in Spanish. They would go back
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<u><em>and forth in either language, talking about work or homesickness
</em></u>
<u><em>or family. Pedrito or I would occasionally correct them or help them
</em></u>
<u><em>finish their sentences in English. Papa would thank us. Mama would
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<u><em>just smile and shake her head. But she always repeated the words we
</em></u>
<u><em>had helped her with. In time her English got better too, but she was
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<u><em>far more at ease in her native tongue.
</em></u>
<u><em>I was seven years old when we came to the United States. Pedrito
</em></u>
<u><em>was 11. Papa was a carpenter who also knew a little about plumbing
</em></u>
<u><em>and electricity. From an early age, my brother and I learned how to
</em></u>
<u><em>take care of ourselves in our new home. Our parents worked long
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<u><em>hours, and they counted on us to be independent.
</em></u>
<u><em>At first we were almost like guides for Mama and Papa. In big
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<u><em>busy places, like the mall or the registry of motor vehicles, they felt
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<u><em>uncomfortable, if not overwhelmed. It was easier for us to adjust
</em></u>
<u><em>to environments that were fast-paced and not always friendly. I felt
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<u><em>protective of my parents and also proud of how quickly I learned my
</em></u>
<u><em>way around.
</em></u>
<u><em>It would hurt my feelings to see the way some people looked at us.
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<u><em>For a while, on Sundays and holidays we would wear our best clothes
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<u><em>from home. Before long, we learned to wear casual clothes almost all
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<u><em>the time, like most people in this country do. And after a while, our
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<u><em>parents became more at ease in stores or government offices. They
</em></u>
<u><em>relaxed a little, I suppose, and we attracted less attention.
</em></u>
<u><em>Mama and Papa live with Pedrito now, in a two-family home
</em></u>
<u><em>outside of Houston. Pedrito is now known as Peter. He runs a
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<u><em>construction business that employs 14 men and women.
</em></u>
<u><em>Papa is in his seventies now. Pedrito would like for him to
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<u><em>slow down a little and enjoy retirement, but Papa says that Mama
</em></u>
<u><em>wouldn’t want him sitting around the house getting in her way.
</em></u>
<u><em>He rises at dawn almost every day and goes to work with Pedrito,
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<u><em>building houses.
</em></u>
<u><em>I am a teacher. This summer I will be taking my son, Michael, to
</em></u>
<u><em>visit his grandparents. He is twelve. He wants to learn to play the
</em></u>
<u><em>guitar. I want Mama and his Uncle Peter to teach him a few of the
</em></u>
<u><em>good old songs.</em></u>
<u><em /></u>
