by Ricky Doc Sauceda
(Dedicated to my Daddy, Ricardo Castro Sauceda, b. 04/08/1935, d. 10/08/1995)
The empty wooden apple crate would suffice as a cart. A young boy fixed a bicycle tire rim to each side. Now he had the ability to look for food and carry it home. He would stop and look behind the butcher's shop, the bakery, the dairy company, the grocer's store and even residential streets in search of food. He never took anything without asking if it was okay, even if it was in a waste container. His father had died of brain cancer and his older brother was only concerned with drinking and running wild. His older sister had a boyfriend and was only concerned with herself. The duty was left upon him to forge for food every day. The era was the 1940s in the little Texas town of Raymondville and the family was poor.
His momma had a good heart, but she was a weak spirited woman. She spent her time crying and feeling hopeless. The boy would find food and bring it home. She would praise him and prepare a good meal. The boy had a younger brother and sister and loved his family very much. It is why he was compelled to go and look for food each day. He would get lucky some days when the shop owners would give with their hearts, but they didn't do it every day. It could have been that there were more people asking each day as well.
His daddy used to take him fishing and he just loved it. It would be something he enjoyed doing for the rest of his life. He made toys out of sewing thread spools and the more fortunate children would trade him their store bought toys for them. He never cursed his life. He never resented his siblings. He never put blame on anyone for anything. He just took care of what needed to be done. He had a good heart and would later become a generous and beloved friend to many people.
(There is so much more to tell, but I wanted to just write a short story about my daddy. He would be in shock to know what I am recalling from the times that he would talk to me about his life. I was indeed paying attention to his words. He was shot and killed in an area of Houston, Texas called Greenspoint. He was making his rounds on security patrol at an apartment complex when he encountered a truck with two men drinking beer in the parking lot. He was shot once and died on a Sunday in October of 1995. The man who killed him was a convicted drug dealer who was on parole. He fled to Mexico. I was teaching bible class when all of that happened.)