As it was the custom of that culture the boys in the families would help out their father tend to the land or they would be hired out to other ranchers for meager pay. However, the “dream” was to be able to go to “el norte”. That was the ultimate job! Poverty was part of life in the village, so the only way to be able to take care of ones family was to be seasonally hired to head to “el norte” for a hard job and little pay.
Finally reaching the magical age of fifteen, he ventured out with just the clothes on his back. Little is known of his trek, but he finally made it to “el norte”. His father and three other siblings were already settled in a small apartment. He was so excited to join them. He knocks at the door. He is waiting in expectation. The door opens…it’s his Dad. They stand there looking at each other. The silence is broken with a growl, “What the hell are you doing here!? You look horrible, whose kid are you anyway?” The boy’s shoulders slump, his smiley face turns into a frown, and he stands at the door of his “Dad’s house” for what seems an eternity. He is finally let in…
And so life went. Always pensive, always “away” in his mind. Not sure if that “frown” ever disappeared. Ah, but the moments he would lose himself in his writing or composing were magical. Playing the piano brought him great joy, but the melancholy of his songs was palpable.
Marriage…fatherhood…other endeavors…BUT something was always amiss.
Disappearing at the young age of forty-eight. Never to be heard from or seen. Talks of a torturous death haunt our minds. Did this really happen to you? Are you still alive?
Your hopes and dreams shattered in the canvas of life!
"Ready Pen..." 
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