War Baby

A kid growing up in Leonard needed a fantasy beyond our one square mile border. Being a war baby, mom and dad had told me that we lived with a Mexican family during dad’s Army Air Corp training in Eagle Pass, Texas. Cool! My Texas root would qualify me better at playing cowboys with the neighbor kids. Mom told me the family would take me across the border on shopping trips. Better yet, this yearling had some foreign travel under his belt.
In later years, I was surprised that mom and dad had no contact with the family. Prior to a work assignment to Texas, I queried dad as to the whereabouts of my Mexican family. After thirty-five years, he could recall the drive from the airbase, “Just as you entered the town, the road curved to the right but if you were to go straight, the side street was where they lived. His name was Dasio – Morin or Marine.”
A weekend later, I found the old airstrip and hangers now housing a meager industrial park. At the curve, I turned left onto a residential street extending two blocks. A small neighborhood grocery store was the only public place. Inside the clerk was very young but an elderly lady was in the center aisle. I spoke load to the clerk in earshot of the other lady about looking for an old resident named Dasio Marine. The elder one said, “A Dasio Marin that lived across the street moved many years ago but his son lives a couple blocks away.” Eureka! It was like coming home. Dasio junior knew of me and Dasio and Jovita were a few doors down. It was truly a great reconnect. Mom and dad were able to visit them the following year and maintained contact till Dasio’s passing.