family

I AM PROUD OF MY HERITAGE

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Marisol had always thought of her heritage as something folded neatly in the back of a drawer—beautiful, but rarely touched. She was born in the United States, spoke Spanish with the careful pauses of someone who learned it in kitchens and living rooms, not classrooms, and carried her Mexican roots like a quiet ember in her chest. It wasn’t until her grandmother, Abuela Rosa, passed away that the ember began to glow.

The day after the funeral, Marisol found herself in the old adobe house in the small town where her mother grew up. The air smelled faintly of cinnamon and earth, as if the walls themselves had absorbed decades of cafecito and rain. In the corner of the living room sat a wooden chest, its surface carved with swirling vines and flowers.

Her mother told her it had belonged to her great-grandfather, a campesino who had worked the fields until his hands were as cracked as the soil. “He brought it from Michoacán,” her mother said, running her fingers over the carvings. “Everything important went inside.”

Marisol knelt and opened the chest. Inside were layers of history: a rebozo (a Mexican woman’s shawl) woven in deep indigo, smelling faintly of smoke; a bundle of letters tied with twine, their ink faded to a soft brown; a small clay figurine of a jaguar, its painted spots chipped with age.

She picked up the rebozo and draped it over her shoulders. The fabric was heavier than she expected, warm, as if it remembered the women who had worn it before her. She imagined her great-grandmother wrapping it around herself on cool mornings, walking to the market with a basket of mangoes balanced on her hip. The letters were written in looping Spanish, words of love and longing exchanged between her great-grandfather and great-grandmother when he traveled north for work. One line caught her eye: “Aunque la tierra esté seca, nuestras raíces siempre encontrarán agua.” Even if the land is dry, our roots will always find water.

Marisol felt something shift inside her. She had always thought of heritage as a story told in the past tense, but here it was—alive, breathing, woven into her skin. She realized that her identity wasn’t just about where she was born or how fluent her Spanish was. It was about the resilience in her family’s hands, the songs her grandmother hummed while cooking, the way the scent of masa could make her feel at home anywhere. That night, she stepped outside into the courtyard. The stars above were sharp and bright, the same ones her ancestors had looked up to generations ago. She whispered a quiet promise to them—that she would carry their stories forward, not folded away in a drawer, but worn openly, like the rebozo on her shoulders. And in that moment, she understood heritage isn’t something you inherit once. It’s something you keep choosing, every single day.

This story is nothing, but words generated by AI. Sadly, has an underlying theme that begs the question, are we proud to be next generation of our Hispanic ancestors or not? Being an American does not remove your genealogy it only gives you the privilege of being proud of it or forgetting it. Latinos have been and continue to be a loving and giving people. For those closest to them sharing food and other resources is a given. It helps them survive together. That goes from the bario to the rest of the community. Those that have the least are the ones who give the most. Always thinking of others less fortunate.

HPLA Charities aka Habitaciones Para Latinos Association is sharing our resources to those in need. Our heritage is that of La Raza. We do so much more because of those who donate to our organization without expecting anything in return. Over the years we have seen tremendous success in making life better for many. Some are stilling hand to mouth but are no worse because of our help. Your help.

Its giving Tuesday 2025. Can we count on you to keep helping more people who are hurting through no fault of their own. Use www.hplacharities.org/donate

I have the best Mom

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As a charity trying hard to help low-income homeowners with minor home repair. It is important to help you understand why we do what we do, who we try to help first and why we need help from the general public to do more. Today we are being called upon to provide more help than just with the repair of a leaky faucet or to secure windows and doors. Today we are being asked for help with food and Utilites.

For those of you who are kind enough to follow my posts you know that I tell stories to ultimately earn a small donation of support for what we do at HPLA Charities. Officially we are registered with the Federal Government and the state of Kansas as Habitaciones Para Latinos Association a 501c3 non-profit. That is an awful lot to write on a check, so our bank has accepted HPLA Charities as a verifiable name to deposit to our account. Our website donate page has a link connected to PayPal for donations which in turn sends donations electronically to Community America Credit Union in Kansas City where our account is located.

As a kid growing up in Texas, I remember times of jubilation and times of hardship. I am the third generation as native-born American Citizens. But, without going into the story of my grandparents on both sides of family just know they were hard working folks who lived paycheck to paycheck and always found second & third revenue streams to pay the bills. My story today centers on my mother. She was the best mom I ever had, and I feel she could easily complete with any women as the best mom in the world. (I hope each of you can tell your mother how much she means to you). For me I tried to tell her and to show her how much she meant to me. She got called to heaven on January 15, 2006. She would have celebrated her 108th birthday on August 14, of this year. I want to tell each of you my readers why it is that I now do what I do.

I had a great life for my time. I was the 7th of 9 kids and was the youngest for nearly 10 years. I was spoiled and never had to help pick cotton for extra money like my older siblings. The year was 1950 and the war had long been over. The support of the war machine of the second world war had come to an end and dad was no longer needed at the Naval base in Corpus Christi, Texas. Dad worked there as a contractor in the motor pool. His brother Uncle Vicente returned from three years away from home while in the Army in Germany, Aunt Lilly kept their fires burning in his absence. Dad was in the middle of two brothers from a second family of Grandma Maria Trevino Flores. Grandma had been married originally to a Flores who pasted. They had four children together. When Grandma married again it just so happened it was to another Flores. No need to change names with the DMV. In those days that would have been handled by the Texas Department of Transportaion.

Previously Dads older brother Joe from the second marriage had made his way to San Antonio, Texas and established a welding shop as well as did car repairs. It would make for a great partnership for Uncle Joe and Dad to work together. Mom & Dad sold the only house my parents ever owned and moved to San Antionio. To have time to look for housing for seven kids and two adults was hard so we moved in with Uncle Joe. He had three kids but a relatively large home. Needless to say, some friction was inevitable. Since Uncle Joe and Aunt Lola were supporting us for a few days the grocery bill got out of hand quickly and the living accommodations got cramped. Within a few weeks we were asked to leave and had not found a place to live as of yet. Plan A was to live in the welding shop for a while. So, we did. At the end of the day all the cars in for repair were towed out and cardboard boxes cut to serve as a flooring. Fortunately, a very successful couple of color had just build a new two-bedroom house to rent and was next door to them. The had a dog named fluffy and Mom helped her with domestic duties as well as hair styles. They were one street over from Uncle Joe so Joe and Dad could commute but Dad like to go have a beer after work and so he took the family car every day. It wasn’t like Mom could drive anyway. The downside is much like today there was not enough money to pay all the bills. We were able to stay with Mr. & Mrs. Mercy for quite a while but by January 1952 we moved to another house, and it is there where I started grade school. It was not far from the welding shop but in another school than the one I would spend most of time attending. We had been in town a couple of years and this neighborhood was upscale, so it was very comfortable.

Fast forward to 1958 and four more moves later I was ready to start 6th grade. From depression or alcoholism and the birth of child number eight two years prior, Dad lost his life. Apparently, a fight broke out or there was a disturbance, or Dad had a bad dream or depression. Whatever, but just up the ally from our house Dad was found face down and declared dead from stab wounds. The coroner suggested self-inflicted wounds. We never have agreed that that is what happened but for the local police it was just another poor latino. Brother Sam, Sister Elli and Sister Beatrice had all been married by then. It was five of us at home. Brother Bull was two years old. Needless to say, we lost Dad’s income and because he owed his boss money they confiscated most of his tools. At eleven my brother Vince 2 1/2 years my senior had already found a job and soon after I got one too. He and I, at the advice of my mother got shovels and covered the blood stains left from the crime scene with dirt. Big Brother Leonard stepped up as the patriarch and kept us together.

Uncle Joe hired me for a few weeks at a dollar a day to watch the shop as he ran for parts or to bring a car to fix. Fortunately, Brother Sam got me on at the grocery store he was hired to manage. He was a phenomenal artist and painted the windows of the grocery store with the weekly specials. He, like most of my family were workaholics. I started at $12.50 for the week. Downside was I worked 60 hours a week compared to Uncle Joes job of 40 hours a week. I was still happy and blessed. I remember the grocery store owners taking pennies in Social Security deductions off the $12.50 work week paycheck.

It was Social Security that saved our existence as intime mom got a social security check for her and a second check for us kids. Uncle Vince gave us a loan and Uncle Joe provided reworked toys and tricycles for us kids. None of us older siblings stopped working and have not stopped since. We were able to stay in that same house for many years as a result and it was 1964 after having spent a few months is low-income housing that Brother Sam got us into a home he owned after he divorced. I left to the Air Force from there as did brother Vince. It was the Vietnam Conflict in full swing. But I would like to reflect on what Mother went through and what she did to keep us all thriving and surviving through all the heart ache and tragedy. While we worked to supplement the Social Secuity check Brother Leonard my oldest Brother got married and left home as did Sister Bertha. We were down to three, but dad was gracious enough to bless us with David Lee who was born just short of nine months since Dad’s death. Mom, Brother Vince, Raul, David Lee and I provided for one and other. Brother Vince graduated high School and joined the Air Force. In 1964 I followed him, and Brother Leonard was still connected to the Air national guard but married and with child. He was good to help us as was all of my siblings.

Mom was home with Raul (Bull) and David Lee. They were 8 and 5 years old. I think Dave was going on six years old. Vince and I sent money home while deployed and mother took in laundry and ironing until the youngsters got into school. Brother Sam helped a lot as did all the other of my siblings as I mentioned. It was not long that mother got a job as a cafeteria worker and managed to get close to a GED. She managed to raise the two youngest until they graduated high school and left home. She retired with honors from the San Antonio school district as a cafeteria server from the same high school as David and Raul graduated.

All nine of us kids have had successful careers good marriages and have always supported Mom in any way we could. Mom was a great inspiration to us and loved to party and dance. She would dress the house up for all the annual calibrations and always had food and drink if anyone stopped by unexpectedly. My cousin Texas Sentor Carlos Truan would go out of his way to have a sleep over when he was in San Antionio. Serving as Governor for a day he was sure to have mom by his side as he celebrated in the Governor’s Mansion in Austin, Texas. Every opportunity the family had to entertain and support Mother they did as she had ensured our survival and mourned Dad’s death all of her life. She never re-marreid or even had a guy-friend. She was faithful to our God and more importantly to her children. Aside Senator Carlos Truan’s sister Nena frequently invited Mom to California and included a trip to Las Vegas. Nena was quoted as saying “Estella is my lucky charm”

Today and for the last 10 years I have managed the charity Habitaciones Para Latinos Association. I have seen and worked hard to help families who are struggling with tragedy and hard times as we did. Once a family on welfare shared powdered eggs, they qualified to receive, with us. That was a gift from God for us at the time. We have helped keep families in their home and recently fulfilled a promise that we would do all we could to keep a beautiful sole, in Burnice Clarke of KCK, in her home so she would never have to go to a nursing home as a ward of the state. She passed happy and in the care of hospice for just a few days away from home. She was 90 years old. Over the years we have helped many widows and families stay in their homes. All of these folks’ greatest prayer was to die at home. It benefits us a taxpayers to keep these low-income folks out of the nursing homes

The demand is greater today, not just for home repair but for help with utilites and food. We recently bought propane for a family that can only use propane for cooking and heating of hot water. We have built a wheelchair ramp for a disabled lady who has fallen several times due to no rails out of her front door of her home. That is true of another women in Wichita who just needed a handrail and a ceiling fan installed to stay cool. We also recently sent money to a family to help with school supplies and another to buy special diet foods not available at the local food pantry. While going back to the struggles my mother and family went through; the bottom line is we had the skills and the good health to work our way through it. My Mother was up early and went to bed late, although very tired, but blessed with the good health to do that. Oh yes, heart desease and diabetis runs wild in our family as does other aliments but thank God there are charities available today to help that were not available back then. It is because times are so much better today and our ability to help others who don’t have the good health that my family had that more folks are self-sufficient. The support that we give is why, with your help, we can keep folks safe and, in their homes, instead of in a hospital, nursing home or under short or long-term hospice care. The needs are much greater and folks’ ability to help themselves is diminished. I pray for your support and thank those who send us their support every month.

Happy Birthday to Mom, Mrs. Estella Lopez Flores (August 14, 2025). The greatest Mother I could ever have. It is because of your generosity and love for others Mom that I try to perpetuate your legacy. I love you, Mom. RIP

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Death & Taxes We Will All Face Both

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As the year moves closer to the second quarter and April 15th looms, it is always a good reminder to count our blessings. If you are reading this post, I assume, you are not in danger or in a dire situation. So yes, you are blessed. From my point of view there is plenty of reason to be depressed and sad. I can’t imagine, but maybe you can, what the profile would be of a person who is thrilled to death with their life and happy where they are today. I am more able to see how someone could be totally depressed and sad right now.

If we create a starting point. let say the space between here and earth’s moon, what things are happing out there that thrills you heart? I am trying to stay optimistic, but between space junk and the possibility of an asteroid hitting the plant nothing thrilling comes to mind. There are many events that are happing that are “aha” moments. A new moon lander almost landing upright, not quite, but providing important feedback so we can start colonizing another plant. I know I am being selfish, but shouldn’t we try to preserve this plant and make peace on it. The future generations can and will be better equipped to fend for themselves, right? At the rate we are going those who might survive a “nuclear winter” will be more concerned with seeing the sun than going to the moon.

Bringing it down to earth though I just lost my oldest brother and the patriarch of our family. My concern is what is going to happen in the next year and not so much the next century. My father was born in 1911, my oldest brother I just lost was born in 1937 and his oldest son in 1958. I was born in 1946 my oldest daughter in 1966. In thinking about our evolution and comparing it to the age of this earth I am certain the earth will outlive hundreds of generations to come and has nourished many generations before. So, what should we be doing to be happy? Is the answer that each of us should be doing all we can for each other as opposed to helping unworthy billionaires figure out how to go on vacation to another plant while ours goes to hell? Or better yet to “ice”? I think you may be on the right track if we spend more time helping people in need of the very basics of life. (Maslow’s hierarchy level one).

So, getting into the reality of life here on earth and trying to help one another, I can’t help but point out that there is so much diversity in our thinking that i can’t hardly get a handful of people to agree what color an orange is. Everyone has their own agenda and when looking at the macro picture of where we are today, in the US of A. There is nothing but chaos. Who are the needy and why do I need to work hard for their benefit? Let’s examine that question. Let’s say a business burns down, and all the workers are without work. What should we do? Let them deal with their problem without any help? Put together a “Go Fund Me” page. Of course, it comes down to who is the closest to these workers and how much these folks care about the workers survival. If it’s my son or daughter, who is without work, it impacts me more than anyone. Tragedy seems to increase the circle of concern from family to friends to neighbors to community. So, if we look at fires in our world you can find them everywhere you turn. The key is who is closer to the fire and what should we do when it is inside our home. If I am without money (broke) all I can give is my labor. If I have limited resources, I can give until it begins to hurt me. If I have plenty of money, I give some, but I am more prone to call on the family, friends and community rather than to just flip the entire bill. Why is that? It’s called lack of empathy. It’s called watching instead of acting. It’s called “not my problem”. Put out the fire closest to you and the next one if you can.

HPLA Charities was established to be there as if it was our home our family member in trouble. We have seen the cold bust a water pipe causing water to spray all over the bathroom and an old lady unable to move have to yell to find help because her phone was dead. I have had old folks fall and lay on the floor for hours because they could not move. Yes, technology is available to overcome these tragedies. But, if it’s the difference between keeping the lights on or buying an emergency alert bracelet which would you chose. The answer to many of these problems is we donate to charities who help these folks. We pay taxes so first responders are available 24/7. We stop by to check on the elderly neighbor. We do all we can for our own safety and for those closest to us. What is the best way to further your reach for those in need? Prayer? That is never discouraged, but I can assure you praying will not do anything for someone laying on the floor. It takes a physical being to help. No disrespect to those that have had a gradian angel appear. No disrespect for those who have had a cancer disappear. For me it is better to read and understand God’s word and be the hands and feet to answer prayer proactively. I’ll quote Ms. Burnice, “I know God sent you to me, he always answers my prayers”. Burnice will be 90 years old in May. She lives alone but has all the resources to handle an unexpected tragedy. Her prayer is to be able to stay in her home and remain self-sufficient until her dying day. If Burnice was not able to pay all her bills due to increased costs of living, what would she do. What would you do? HPLA has been able to pay utility bills to keep the lights on. We have been able to fix the leaky toilet and save on the water bill. We have built wheelchair ramps and eliminated trip hazards. we have installed storm doors to keep out the cold and reduce heating bills. Anything that can break down in a home we have at one time or another, fixed it. For Burnice it was a vehicle out of control that mowed down here exterior fence. How were we able to do that? You may not believe it, but the sacrifice of our volunteers gets the biggest credit. Hundreds of hours of blood sweat and tears. Yes, some living conditions we see are so deplorable it makes you cry. But the cost of the new chain link fence and all the accesories came from your donations.

After a very short life of 87 years my brother Leonard crossed into eternity and will no doubt be crowned with a crown of many jewels. But what he did here on this earth is why many friends and family are alive and well. Brother Leonard was put to work as soon as he could walk. Forced to leave school to help support our family. He missed being a kid. He helped our dad to work on cars. That was what my dad did after WWII. Auto repair kind of ran in the family after that and with many mouths to feed the sooner one of us could help we did. As a faithful Catholic family at the time babies came along pretty often. As the oldest boy Brother Leonard got the short stick. Sister Ellie, my oldest Sis, had her hands full changing diapers at a young age. She still works hard to stay in her home and is blessed by a very loving and supportive family. Brother Leonard and Sister Ellie have acquired some wealth. Nothing to compare with the Billionaires of today, but enough to pay for a plumber without relying on charities like HPLA. So many others out there are not so lucky.

Brother Leonard evolved from sweeping floors in the garage for Dad to an expert in standard transmission repair and on to teach for a prestige collage the art of overhaul and repair of the newest most sophisticated drive trains of our time. Along the way he taught in church, led mission trips to help folks in other countries, mentored hundreds of Mr. Goodwrench mechanics working today and more importantly insured his Mom & Dad, his wife and her family and all of us siblings were all taken care of. Sometimes sacrificing until in hurt. Could he have been finding ways to reach the moon. You can bet on that. Instead, he did all he could for those closest to him including the city we all love. San Antonio.

While this is a cry for donations to keep us doing work to help those in need, I have tried to exalt Brother Leonard as an example of what is the perfect American. Of Hispanic origin, his example will make America Great by doing what we all should be doing. Praising God and working to the bone to insure no one dies needlessly on our watch.

May your life be long and your taxes low. A donation to HPLA is a tax deduction. We are a registered 501c3 which qualifies your donation for a tax deduction. Please give via www.hplacharites.org/donate aka Habitaciones Para latinos Association. God Bless us one and all. Robert L. Flores Chairman.