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CORNER GUARD AND TIO ATAULFO

Since I'm on the run, it might be an opportune time to talk more about my neighbors and my friends at different stages of my life, but I think you should talk to my people of your lifestyle, habits, character, traditions, legends ....

Like everything that counts will be mostly part of what I experienced, also serve to know me a little better, knowing how to know if something I have always exceeded it in sincerity.

Photo Corner Guard that you are seeing, would, no doubt, more than twenty years after the events I recount in this post. I know because, as you will observe, there is a car Simca 1000, and this car went on sale along with the dazzling Dogge Dart something after getting married, so that the photo dates back more than twenty years after our stay in this corner the time of my story ... ... My parents

I had not been granted the visa still my mind wander through the streets of my town and used to take them attached to all parties to where they were, especially the cinema in the holidays, and the Casino Eldense Sunday morning After Mass, an obligation that tried to take root.

was a custom also roam the countryside sunny winter afternoon, taking the ride to make a rich collection of Linson, with which they prepared a very nutritious salads.

Among the outputs did with my parents, I loved to go to the house of D. Azorín Luis and Maria Juan, especially its summer home, very well kept a small farm located in Station Road, next to the house of Ms. Bienevenida John, sister of Ms Maria. To all of them, their children and that place will devote an entire article because certainly deserve it and you could / rear interesting.

Notwithstanding the foregoing, tacitly my parents were beginning to skirmish afford without giving further explanation that "back then." Even if I ever came to look and saw he was playing happily allowed me to stay with friends recommended that I go away and that if I wanted a snack it did on my grandmother's house.

My world outside school and my family life was limited to an environment that did not exceed my street and the adjacent, except the routes had traveled with my parents repeatedly. Know how to go to Casino Eldense, the Church of Santa Ana, including the summer house of D. Luis Azorín, already at a respectable distance from my house and his itinerary had to go through all the streets of San Roque, before emptying into the avenue leading to the bridge was beginning to walk from the station, in the shadow of the bulk of a huge castle when I was already a grown man was only part of the keep, such was the apathy of the inhabitants of those barren hills, they built their homes with materials that eroded the Castle to the inefficiency a few mayors who never showed any interest in keeping this relic, but I think that he finally has done something in their favor. Better late than never.

A short distance from the base of the hillside cut peak served as the basis for that mole, with emerging signs of immediate ruin, a bridge mounted on pillars and arches of ashlar stone with ornate wrought iron railings of some watermark, gave way to the other side of our historic river Vinalopó who by the way, some scholars in the latest batch have wanted to snatch the authorship of death by drowning in the waters of the famous Amilcar Barca, saying innocently that in a river as less large one could not drown so famous character. As if the rivers do not change over the centuries! I wish I had seen these illiterate with their cap and gown in the midst of the waters of this river when it happens to have a flood! I have seen more than one in which the water has gone over its soaring arches despite its very wide channel in which the river could have drowned Amilcar and his entire army, but some will always give a ten to these eminent ports for their exceptional powers of observation. Speaking
flood
Go not to believe they were like now, for those times there was no paved road and street talk, we referred to the wider streets, although general it was all dirt roads are waterlogged and muddy when it rained, unfortunately for our parents and our delight, we played without placing barriers to limit the current with stones and mud to get to do great works of engineering.

Our parents knew of our games and allowed ourselves with our fancy. The street was practically free from danger. Keep in mind that in the times of which I speak, the fleet of Elda was limited to two cabs, as they called taxis, one of Faustino and one from a German or Austrian based in Elda, a Emily van owned by Bellot, uncle of my friend Paquito Bellot and two cars whose owners were D. Antonio Porta and D. Rausa Paco Vera Santos, a manufacturer and a shoe salesman, and as there was only one jet of 0.75 cc. Moto Guzzi brand-Hispania who bought Maxi Aguado, the maker of molds for his son when he was old enough to drive it and two Lubes of 1.25 cc. that caused furor.

will understand that the tranquility of the streets was almost complete in regard to motorized traffic, except for the stretch of main road Madrid-Alicante, which ran down the street from Garden Avenue Chapí that were logically busiest and most logically why we were forbidden to travel.

From early morning until the electric lights were turned on there, permanently, a policeman directing traffic. Municipal template-such was the local police of those days, I do not think he reached ten, and that there was a fixed guard on the market and another on the door of the mayor, took place "Lino" until retired, yet we all seemed there were too many, this was the peace and tranquility, while today we are not sure with nunguna safeguard. THE PRICE OF FREEDOM!

Of all the guards to direct traffic at that corner, highlights the unforgettable "barrels"; wide back, short neck, small of stature and pleasantly friendly face gesturing and dancing to the sound of the whistle, taking on as one that says large moles that were beginning to go through Nuesto people, of which one, had to infinite number of maneuvers in order to make the turn the corner without taking ahead of the tailor shop that made me the first suit of my life, that the picture is closed and whose walls can still appreciate the occasional rubs truck .

I think it was the time Brotóns barrel and which coincided with the diversion of the road, reducing traffic very considerably, and while the guard kept coming to the corner, it was never what it was, but what remains in my memory.

Behind the guard, who always gave off the street, gardens, and occupying a small space too small and shabby little square that was there, they installed a Carrico with all kinds of nuts, pandehigos, lupines, anise, sweet , stratum, and licorice, among other items. The man ran a huge mustache whose ends widened as if they were blades, yellowed by the smoke of snuff. His countenance reminded that I do not know why my imagination suggests to me as a soldier of fortune or a filibuster, though his character was gentle and his face predisposed to the friendly smile. Is surprising that with the age I could have remember every detail of their appearance, including her outfit, with those stuffed shirts, vest and pants with little pockets of brown or gray corduroy covering a thin body of just under 1.7 or high . She wore sandals without socks and covered his head with a cap when it is removed to dry the sweat left it a completely bald aponeurotic galea and ostensibly white, being almost constantly shaded.

Ataulfo \u200b\u200bThe Carrico's Uncle, that was his name, who through the miracle of the word is reborn, was in line with one side of the square, at the bottom, always looking from the back of our guard on duty was a source. She is usually flocked where my sisters and sometimes my mother to get water for drinking and cooking, since coming to the houses had a perverse taste and never used for human consumption. I sometimes went with who was the source, but if I could I avoided because they generally had to queue and I never liked having to wait, but then I liked hearing the stories they told my sister about what had happened at the source, than I, despite being there, or I had learned.

At home at the corner with the square, whose ground floor would be installed many years after the Armory Torres, just to the right of the picture of Uncle Ataulfo, according to the model we already know, there was a tragic event that was very famous for the macabre.

A member of the household, male, no reason that could alleviate so unhappy decision, hanged himself, leaving balance your body on a huge bonfire that had previously lit below where I had to be hung up his body.

Both, of many different forms, they disappear leaving no trace that the memory you can get them in that generation wanted their immediate and perhaps, if any, what someone like me can get light sixty-odd years later, those who leave always give way to those who come, but with those who leave, something we are going too. My fingers are still trying to get a sunflower pipe through the metal mesh that protected those nuts. Never did it but are still struggling without success there, but now I know it would have sufficed to ask him.

Ataulfo \u200b\u200bTio, which I'm sure no one remembers, has happened to me and I hope you pass with a good time, remembering those times, so difficult that both taught us to appreciate even the smallest of trifles .

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STRAW FOR HORSES OF KINGS

Memory is like a large attic that houses what is not routine, and so that in their daily life, at any given time struck us so special.

also keep the moments that caused us satisfaction, those who were close to the surface our awareness, those who hurt us and deception caused misery, those who made us proud ...

A memory does not like to store certain memories, but can not avoid them. Even so, it ensures that the more we can embarrass, are better hidden, but narrow and dark is the place where they hide. Other memories, such infinite light and of sorrow, swarm everywhere, and their abundance, sometimes long before that to reconnect.
The most difficult to find, that almost always come to be amazed us most are those who return to us unexpectedly, as a flash memory gives birth to, attending to the images, sometimes blurred, that are being open its doors to discover it did not even know he was in the inventory of our consciousness, something so far away sometimes we doubt if it's actually coming to haunt us not being able to check, when we can not find who we are corroborating, by death anyone who could have done.

As a teenager I had an experience I was impressed. When boiling, the milk that my mother would prepare breakfast, consumed overflowed part of the intense heat of the iron plate that old stove that sometimes reached to turn red. The smell of spilled milk and charred that brought me memories of my own image with no more than two years old. Was with a man not much taller than me, that made me cuddle. His hands, his clothes, everything smelled of milk and he had come to my house in a cart pulled by a horse slightly larger than a pony. I was raised in the car and taken to a farmhouse where there were all sorts of animals and I knew I felt very happy in that environment. I missed

tiempo para contarle a mi madre mi visión y ella, algo sorprendida de que hubiese podido acordarme de ello, me contó que cuando aún era yo muy pequeño, tanto que quizás solo chapurrease algunas palabras, venía a casa un lechero al que se le conocía como Juanico El Cabrero, que tenia amputadas las piernas por debajo de las ingles, protegiendo sus muñones con unos cueros que los envolvían. Aún así daba pasos cortitos cuando media la leche y tenía una agilidad fuera de lo común cuando tenia que subir o bajar del carro.

Juanico "El Cabrero" murió y su ausencia desvaneció su imagen, volviendo a mí catorce años después, porque un olor fue la llave que abrió la puerta of his memory.

I was glad to have remembered and I was glad that my mother told me about it. Had brought forward his family and despite his alleged invalidity mowed, fed the animals, pasture, milking the goats and then sold the milk and cheese and meat of animals sacrificed, leaning on his two stumps and on the knuckles of his hands calloused, which dragged on the ground much more significantly than if it were an ape.

I THINK THIS IS WORTH REMEMBERING AND MAY SERVE FOR EXAMPLE FOR THOSE WHO MAY BE DISGRACE IN A SITUATION SIMILAR TO YOURS. BECAUSE I BELIEVE THAT TRULY BE EXACTLY AS IT WAS BY AND BY BE LIKE I WAS, most intense joy ANY OF ITS SMALL AND LARGE WE SATISFACTIONS.

In my earlier account , I had to make efforts to not deviate from the story I wanted to tell. As described the environment where it was immediately initiated and was to end the greatest adventure of my life until that moment, sprang to my mind so many memories, that if he had free rein to my desire and had spoken of all them could not have concluded what had initially started to tell. I abstained from it then, but I do not want to be left out nothing of what the force with which to me goes, consider that deserves come to light, with the hope that all of this, there is something that can serve you if you want to use the experience of others, hopefully for evil always so, and could be, if we were more docile and not empeñásemos we suffer in our own flesh what we could have avoided by just having listened to those lectures us about it, always confident in his wise counsel. Redo

therefore referred to the funeral home that was in the C / Eugenio Montes, which was located in front of the Chemical Factory "Karola" YA RIGHT INTO ANYTHING THAT MUCH AFTER SERIOUS AND NO LONGER FACTORY SHOE OF JOHN VIDAL Banon, father of my great friend of the soul Antonin The Chieftain, now a monk at the Monastery of Silos from and more than forty years ... , Saying that the days January 5 of each year, went to ask a bit of straw in charge of the horses.

Among others, there were two black couples were always impressive in the hearse of men, (I guess to know that there was another one for women and children, all of it white as purity), both horses were lovely, but which one was friendly and docile, and it was my favorite. However, interestingly, I just remember the name of the most vicious, the most disagreeable. It was called "GAONA." Forgetting names with more reason should remember is something that is repeated in my so so repeatedly that I am guilty of such irreverence, considering that my forgetfulness, sometimes reaches people who have had much to do in certain aspects of my life, while for no reason, apparent or real, remember names and irrelevant sequences. Really want to understand the reason for this mystery. And look where at this moment, I just remembered the name of another horse; of my favorite: "JEREZ" Black as the devil's soul and so good and noble as no words to describe.

Asking the straw for the horses of the Magi, and with this you can give an idea of the boy who had to be at that time was that the gift I most longed for throughout my life was a bull cardboard that had exposed in a furniture store called Flori, next to the unforgettable Hotel Juanito then Garden Street, then Queipo de Llano and back gardens, except that given the current Government have named the street from The Passion or go you know.

The sight of the bull was my obsession and its image I have reminded throughout my youth and still remember.

I lost because the Kings were upset to see that he had left some food for their horses ... What a good excuse for some Parents who only afford to buy a cow no bigger than a chihuahua, sitting on a little board with four wheels on which he slid the thumbnail if pushed properly.
twenty five years later when my son Thomas intimated his desire for a toy horse, I bought the most beautiful horse I found in the best shops in Benidorm, where they then resided. I do not know if you remember much of his horse, which as I never had, but I am sure of is that he did not learn any lessons, or matured as I matured to see that are not always met the desires.

And by then, as is beginning to happen now, anyone gave himself fortunate if he could get to the end of the month having covered their basic needs, being a blessing to have such a unique job with which to bring up the family.

Therefore, in these circumstances, any incidental expenses such as gifts of "Three Kings", for it was very traditional and with a large family like mine, it was an ordeal for any parent who does not stand to see the disappointment in the eyes of their children.

Hence that fib about eating horses, discovered only years later, but meanwhile served to to understand the cause of my failure, accept the lesson and since then not only had the straw, but also the rosigones of bread that was saved, and the ration of water for preparing them in a couple of pots, putting my parents in a real hurry to leave them without excuse in the following years.