by Hector De Leon | Jun 7, 2020 | Stories
“Do you say that it is always good to be a non-conformist because you believe that, almost necessarily, the establishment—the institutions—embody the worst rather than the best of humankind? That, under such circumstances, dissent is almost necessarily the proper...
by Hector De Leon | Dec 10, 2016 | Stories
(This is the 5th installment of my childhood memoir, “An Existence that is a Dreamlike Memory”) The bleats reverberated and slowly faded away as the cabrito’s life force drained into a bucket that was placed beneath its head: Maaa…maa…ma…...
by Hector De Leon | Nov 24, 2015 | Stories
The tortilla deliveries and migas A young village woman was paid to make tortillas and deliver them to our living quarters on the school grounds. Corn tortillas were part of every meal in rural Southwest Nuevo Leon. Poor soil and low rainfall made corn the core food...
by Hector De Leon | Nov 9, 2015 | Stories
On pleasant autumn nights, we would gather on the stage of an old weathered white open air Roman-style theater situated on the school grounds. On the adobe platform, four feet above the ground and feeling closer to the heavens, my brothers, two friends, and I would...
by Hector De Leon | Aug 4, 2015 | Stories
When I watch pregame ceremonies at international futbol matches involving El Tri, the Mexican national soccer team, images of the school where I received my early primary education in rural Nuevo Leon come to me. Like the players on the field at the World Cup, the...
by Hector De Leon | Jul 6, 2015 | Stories
Small dust remolinos (whirlwind) were ordinary sights during the hottest months of the year. That is one of the lingering memories of Albercones, the last of a handful of ranchos (rural communities) where my mother worked as a teacher and where I lived...
