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Arrival

 

I arrived in Michigan

It was a foggy summer afternoon when I arrived in Michigan fifty-two years ago. The year was 1968. I had an uneventful four-hour flight from Guadalajara, Mexico to Chicago. The 45-minute trip from Chicago to Flint was on an old prop engine commuter airplane. My brother in-law Robert Gatrell, my sister Connie and my niece Ana Lourdes picked me up from the airport,

I had been admitted to the US as a foreign student. I was a high school drop-out in Mexico. I did not know what to expect regarding high school requirements to obtain a diploma in the US, but I had the most fervent desire to graduate. My English vocabulary was rudimentary at best; my slang vocabulary was non-existent.

I had previously met Bob some years back when he married my sister. I knew little about Bob. He was previously married, and he worked as a general foreman. Bob’s kids from the previous marriage were all adults, except for Mark, a sixteen-year-old who was also a member of Bob’s family.

When fall classes began, I started attending adult high school classes at night. I attended the Mott Adult High Scholl education classes held at Central High School. English was my avorite subject, followed by American History, the latter proved difficult for me since I was not familiar with the philosophy of the Puritans and other aspects of this wonderful subject.

I started working as a janitor immediately upon my arrival. I was responsible for cleaning a restaurant and bar starting at 2:30 a.m. and fishing at 6:30 a.m. on weekdays. On weekends, I was responsible for cleaning two additional locations. My employer was my brother-in-law, who deducted room and board from my wages.

I graduated from High School on June 11, 1969. It took me a year to fulfill high school requirements for graduation.  Immediately upon graduation, I enrolled in a local junior college. The tuition was expensive, as it was assessed at a rate normally charged to out of state students.

I was terribly lonely during my first years; extreme shyness was forever with me. Shyness was compounded by language isolation; but what do I mean? Kids at the student union usually hanged out with close-knit groups, e.g., fraternity brothers. I had only one friend named John Proffer, who had difficulty understanding me, but he was very polite and asked me to repeat what he did not understand.

                                                                                                                        

 

 

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