Chicken Soup for the Latino Soul Celebrating La Comunidad Latina

Every First Friday La experiencia no es el ms amable de los maestros, pero sin duda el ms sabio. -Latino Proverb I looked out the window and couldnt see a thing. I had to scrape off the frost with my fingernails in order to glimpse the gusting wind and thrusting snow. No one would dare venture out on such a cold winter night unless they had no other choice: My mother was one of those people. Mama was on her way to her job cleaning offices in downtown Chicago. Under her scarf and hat, I could see her tired eyes. Standing next to her was my younger brother, Cesar. He was also covered from head to toe in winter wear, but his eyes sparkled. On the first Friday of the month, Mama was allowed to bring her children to work. I was about twelve years old at the time; my brother was ten. She worked Monday through Saturday from 11 p.m. to 6 a.m. She had to take three buses to get downtown. On every first Friday, Cesar was right there with her. I, on the other hand, was always too busy. If it wasnt baseball practice, basketball tryouts or some movie, Id come up with another excuse. I couldnt see myself staying awake all night cleaning offices. Cesar and Mama would beg me to go along, but after a while they stopped asking, knowing Id say no. It was different for my brother. Cesar would come home and excitedly tell me how he had helped Mom vacuum the carpets, dust, and throw out the trash. But the highlight of his night was always playing hide-and-seek with the other workers and children. My mothers coworkers were all immigrants, mostly Polish and Mexican women. Many were from our neighborhood, and they, too, would take their sons and daughters to clean offices on those first Fridays. Most of them labored this horrendous shift so they could send their children to Catholic schools. My mother was no exception. My parents came to this country from Mexico and at first did not speak English, so the only jobs they could find were manual labor. Remarkably, through it all, my mother never complained about being too tired or too busy. She cooked us breakfast every morning, was always there for us after school and made sure we were safely in bed before she left for work. How cozy it must be for lawyers and dentists to show off their offices to their children. Its much different taking your child on three buses on a cold Friday night to help you clean them. But my mother was willing to do it. She wanted our company, but more important, she wanted to show us how she paid the bills. But I never once saw for myself how Mama earned her livelihood. When I was a senior in high school, I asked my brother why he had loved going to those offices so much. Did he actually like dusting and vacuuming? His answer wasnt at all what I expected. He said the reason he went was not that he liked picking up after other people, but because he loved spending time with Mom. He said he felt sad each night when she left for work; he was always wishing shHansen, Mark Victor is the author of 'Chicken Soup for the Latino Soul Celebrating La Comunidad Latina', published 2005 under ISBN 9780757303111 and ISBN 0757303110.