I always grew up with my moms family around. She came over to the US when she was about 14 years old and by then, my grandma had settled in Los Angeles and had several children. My siblings and I were always exposed to my moms younger brothers and sisters some way or another, whether it be playing little league baseball with them, or shopping and doing make up together, babysitting their children -- they were always around. It was never quite like this with my dad's family. He came to the US when he was about 20 years old or so, maybe a year or two younger, I can't quite remember at the moment. THe only other person he knew out here was his half brother -- Meño. He was about 12 years older than him or so, the baby of my grandfather's first marriage, but still young enough to be raised by my dads mum. He took my dad in when he first arrived to the Los Angeles, and they continued to have their adventures like they did back in Santa Ines all those years. Later, my dad's younger brother Chito immigrated as well, and that's the extent of De Santiago's we have in the US for most of my life. Later, one of my dad's sisters would move to San Francisco, but they were never close and we only once made the trip up to see her (when I was about 5 or so).
Throughout my childhood I remember our trips to visit my dads only brother in town. He was older, with no children our age (he had children but they were much older than my sisters and I) and his new wife was a sweetheart. There wasn't much for my sisters and I to do at his house, so we usually had a deck of cards to play speed or slap jack, whichever game would keep us more quite since Dad would always flash us that look, yknow the one that said "you better behave or else you'll see when you get home". I don't understand why he did; we were always well behaved as kids, it was only much later that we became pains in the ass. I remember few things of my uncle, mostly they have to do with his appearance and his laugh, and the living room we would sit in during those regular visits. Every once in awhile, him and his wife would visit us, and he would only be in the house but a few minutes before rushing outside with my dad to have a smoke. Ahh, that's right. Smoke! My uncle was a heavy smoker, and the smell was part of who he was. I remember he wore glasses and always wondered what happened to one of his eyes -- all i knew was that he was blind in it, and I can't remember if he lost it in an accident at work or in a car crash. He always wore dark pants, navy or black, with the same kind of button up collared shirts. That was my uncle. He was sweet in his own way...and his laughter was almost intimidating. it was deep and required he move his whole upper body.
And a few years ago, the visits stopped. My dad and him wouldn't talk anymore -- some misunderstanding that now seems stupid.
He's only the 2nd person to pass away from my dads family..it's weird and surreal.
and when it rain, it pours...
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