I recall this change happening at about the age of eight. At the time what my elders had to say really didn’t have an effect on me. I wasn’t tending to not listen, it was just that I was usually busy doing and thinking about other things, like why my parents had been getting a divorce, or why my cousin felt the need to pick on me all the time, and that led to me getting lost in the television every chance I got. Even to this day it is a family joke that my ‘Abuelo’ Thomas would call for me, “Ardy, could you help me with something?" and I would respond, staring at the television as if to be hypnotized, “Bueno, Abuelito." I would never come to his aid. I would just somehow forget and get lost in the television again.

Sometimes if there was nothing on T.V. and my family was going together outside my Abuelito’s house, such as a small cookout on a Saturday night, where everyone (especially the men) would be sitting around a fire telling stories and jokes, I could sit there with them. I did not even really listen while I was sitting there. I could usually be lost in the fire, like the television, throwing twigs and leaves in the fire while everyone else were talking. I did this till I was about twelve. Around that time I started to get bored and I preferred again to isolate myself during these functions, to go grab a plate of food and to turn on the television. This usually annoyed some of my family members especially my mother and abuelo. I didn’t really notice it until my mom brought it up and started trying to encourage me to go join everyone but I always declined. She and everyone else eventually gave up and let me be.

Later on around the ages of fifteen and sixteen, I started to become intrigued by what my ‘Abuelito’ had to say. As we gradually started to work more together, I heard more and more stories about what he had seen and where he had gone through in his life such as things that he worked on with his father or ways the family had earned their living. Ironically one day he told me about a time when he was having difficulty listening to his father.

Once when I was sixteen we went fishing down by a nearby riverbank. He told me his best stories while we were fishing or on our way there.

On one particular day we were just casting a line with several hooks across it. To do this we had to tie both ends of it to the edge of the riverbank on whatever bushes or shrubs available there. When he had bent over to cut the line and tie it, he slipped and fell right in the river. We both struggled for a good ten, maybe, fifteen seconds as our hands were trying to embrace each others till we finally got the opportunity to get him out. I was scared to death to see him sitting there in the dirt soaking wet. To my surprise, he began laughing and said, “ I bet you were thinking ‘Whoop’s! There goes the old man!’" I then was relieved that it wasn’t as big a deal to him as it was to me and I began laughing too.

From that day I have caught myself asking questions as if trying to trigger a story, and I have always been successful.

Now after all this time and experience I truly see how important and precious the time, which we spend with our elders, is because you never know what could happen. They could be here to give us great wisdom, and experience one day, and they could be gone the next.