That is how I think of myself, a chico afortunado, and I really am. I have had more than my fair share of enjoyable adventures. I, Sam Birchall, truly am a chico afortunado. A lucky boy. And this past weekend was no different.

I left Friday to drive down to the Rio Grande valley. I stayed on this side of the border. Last time that I crossed it, and was driving into the colonia where the girls live, with two of them in my truck, I avoided a gun massacre by literally seconds. ( See? chico afortunado) It scared me. I told the girls that I wouldn’t be coming back to Mexico until it was safe again, which it is unlikely to be in my lifetime. That was almost 3 years ago.

Now when I want to see the girls, those that can, cross the border with their shoppers visas, (yes, they give visas for people to come across and shop at HEB Grocery or Walmart or Home Depot, as long as you go back) and visit with me. I go to Saidas house, in Donna, Texas, one of my first ahijadas, who is now 30 years old.

I have known Saida since she was 9. She was a very precocious 9 year old, and caught my eye on one of the Mexico Projects I was running for Amigos de las Escuelas. I went over and chatted her up, and later that day she invited me to visit her home and meet her parents, and that, as they say, was history, and the beginning of my philanthropy in Mexico. She now has 3 boys, and her last child, a bun in the oven, a girl. I know her so well, and love her to death.

Alicia the Psychology Graduate, and Tania the Nurse, her sisters, of whom I have written, came across with their dad, Lupe, to visit with me. And of course, to see Saida, and her husband Ernesto, and their nephews, on whom they dote. Last time I saw Alicia, she was in her final year of studying Psychology at the university there in Rio Bravo. I did not go to her graduation because of my allergy to bullets. Tania had already become a nurse by then, and was working in a clinic.

It was a great party, Saidas husband and his uncle cooked up some fish and french fries, and we sat and ate, and drank beer, and listened to the mandatory extremely loud corridos blaring out of Ernesto’s radio. Bazooky music.

The next morning, I was sitting on Saida’s front porch, with Alicia, and Tania, and we were drinking coffee and painting our nails and talking in the morning sunshine. I actually like having my toenails painted bright colors. As we sat there talking, Damian, Saida’s 7 year old son, came out and sat down with us.

Damian has become accustomed to me, unlike his shy brothers. He is a very serious boy. We have had many talks as he grew up, and I was visiting his mom. For years, until now, it was sort of cumbersome to talk with him. He is soft spoken, and his spanish is rapid fire, with lots of kid colloquialisms, and I often only understood about 60% of what he was saying. I knew he was learning English in school, but I always spoke Spanish at Saidas house so that everybody could understand me.

Damian was telling me about his brother Victors dyslexia. My mouth hung open. I had not expected a 7 year old to know about dyslexia. I forgot myself, and said in English, “It surprises me that you know about this, Damian.” He replied in perfect English, “Oh, Yes, I think about things like this.”

And so our conversation went on. As we talked, I switched back and forth from Spanish to English, and he flawlessly switched right along with me. Effortlessly. And he had a lot to say, and the conversation was interesting and fun.

I watched Tania and Alicia out of the corner of my eye, and they were noticing. Neither of them speaks English, in spite of years of my telling them how powerful having both languages would be in their lives. They took English class every day in high school and in college, but nothing really stuck. It is my greatest failure as a padrino to girls in Mexico, that after 20 years, and 20 or so girls that I tried to mentor, not a single one could ever converse with me in my mother tongue.

Being Sam, and taking my role as a padrino seriously, I could not resist switching back to Spanish, and getting on their butts about this.

Me: Do you girls hear this? I am talking to a 7 year old in both languages.

The Girls: Si, Padrino, we hear.

Me: He is 7! And listen to how easily he switches back and forth. How is it that I could never convince you of the power of that?

The Girls: (Mumbling their usual excuses) It is hard to learn English.

Me: (for the thousandth time) People do it all the time. You could have done it if you had put some effort into it. I am not that smart. If I can speak in both, so can you. It is not too late.

They were embarrassed, and I was not sorry I had brought that on. They could have. Damian was 7, and he was as fluent as I am, more even. In both languages. I turned to Alicia.

Me: Alicia, I have never lied to you. I am telling you now, that if you don’t help your 2 year old son to be fluent in both languages as he grows up, you will be doing him a great disservice. If he grows up speaking only Spanish, half of the opportunities that he could have, will be unavailable. His ability to work will be minimalized. America and Mexico are going to be neighbors on into the future, and those people with both languages will have so many more options for their lives.

Alicia: Yes, I know that is true, Sam.

Me: Ok, I will shut up about it now. You have heard it all before. Maybe after seeing Damian, you will start to believe it.

Then I turned to Damian, and in English, I told him the story of his aunties, and how they accomplished their dreams, to go to college. I am proud of both of them. English notwithstanding, they got good educations because they wanted to, and put in the sweat to make it come about. All I ever did, was to believe in them, support their learning to evaluate things and make better decisions, and pony up the money so that they could continue their school career. They did the hard part. I wanted Damian to know this, and be proud of his aunties.

In the process of the conversation with him, I realized what an intelligent little boy he is. Quiet and thoughtful, at least during our conversation. And I also realized that he could not have arrived there without a good support network in his home. I was so proud of Saida for providing that support.

As I drove the 6 hours back to Austin, later that day, I could not stop thinking about Damian. What a great kid. Well, all kids are great, but he seemed to really shine. He will do big things with his life. I was so impressed that when I got home, I messaged his mom, and told her that I wanted to give Damian something as a reward for being serious about school. I told her the story of the front porch, and my feelings of joy talking with him, and asked her to tell it to Damian, and ask him what he would like, as a reward. The next day, she replied and told me what Damian wanted. More memory for his Nintendo, and a wireless controller, and a nice little Mario Brothers bag to keep them safe in. What 7 year old thinks about keeping his stuff safe? Amazing kid.

It seems that I have embarked on second generation mentoring. I sometimes astound myself that me, a poor carpenter, can be a philanthropist.

I have the same relationship with Juany’s kids up in Minnesota. Juany was my first ahijada to go to college. And her kids, thanks to her strong marriage to Lazaro, are well behaved, intelligent, and interested in school and learning, and I am sure will grow up to be hard working tax paying Americans. And probably democrats. Her oldest boy, Lazarito, wants to design video games. He is 13, I think. Her daughter Leah, 11, I think, is fascinated with Physics. Physics! I didn’t know anything about physics when I was 11. I immediately went online and found MEL Science, and set her up with a subscription for a physics kit every month. The youngest, Jesus, wants to be Pokemon. He will come along.

I guess that those of you who are grandparents are nonplussed by this story. Having never had kids of my own, it seems a miracle to me. Teaching kids to believe in themselves seems a good thing to have done with my life.

You see? A chico afortunado. I say that all the time. Next to something that powerful, in spite of my bitching about the effects of my cancer therapy, cancer seems… meh.

I love learning.  <3

Kids are our future. And worth every effort.   <3.