Sunday, February 17, 2019

My Uncle Rubens House :: Personal Narrative Writing

My Uncle Rubens sufferMost people cant locate Galveston, Texas, on a map, and those who can think of a dirty beach and Dr. Peppers national headquarters. You could ask a thousand people, and al most(prenominal) none of them would be able to find something special about G-Town, but I can. Galveston is the category of 156 of my aunts, uncles, and cousins. There was a rumor going around G-town that everyone with a Mexican background was related to the Morenos. I spent three weeks every summer, on with Christmas and spring break, at my Uncle Rubens house in Galveston. I perceive stories all the time about the first encounter I had with him and his house. I was 18 months old when I took my first trip out of crude York. As soon as I stepped in the door of my uncles two-story home, covered by chipped green paint, my mothers eight sisters contact me, along with her mother, her 18 first cousins, 10 second cousins, and her two aunts, and the most important man in her life, her uncle Rube n. He was the first person to take aim me, and legend has it that he nicknamed me Seesaw because my head was huge and it would make me pack left to right, causing me to fall every so often.My Uncle Ruben spent 26 years working two full-time jobs. During the day he worked as a longshoreman, unloading heavy crates from the banana boats. At night he did maintenance work the local gas company. He supported 12 kids, eight of whom were his and the rest nephews and nieces, including my mother. My uncle used to say that it didnt matter if you were his daughter, his cousin, or his niece, if you were family it was all the same.My uncles house sits on the edge of a lying-in Mexican realm six blocks away from the beach. In Galveston, the economic differences from neighborhood to neighborhood argon extreme. On one side of the island there are huge Victorian mansions separated by big green lawns and absolutely paved driveways. My uncles house is not one of those houses it is marked by a chain ed-link fence and a dried-out bed of flowers. When looking at the house from the outside, it is hard to tell what kind of family lives there. There are no flags hanging from the windows, but there are toys in the front yard.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.