Origins

"Where you from?"

I love it when I hear this question. The tale of my grandfather coming to America is one of action, tragedy, and hope. It's the stuff of a Hollywood blockbuster.

My grandfather was a landowner in the Basque country of northern Spain. His status got him rank of Captain of his own ship during the civil war.

He was bringing arms to support the Republican effort against the fascists. The Italian Navy stopped them. My grandfather ordered his men to open fire if they were forced to pull the tarps concealing the cargo. And that was how it went down.

The Italians won the battle at sea and sunk my grandfather's ship, leaving the survivors to die in the ocean. My grandfather and his first mate endured four days before being rescued by a French fishing boat. They were taken to a refugee camp in Tunisia Africa.

When my grandmother got word, she made the trip to Africa while she was pregnant with my father. My father was born in Tunisia.

When the war was over, my grandfather could not return home since the fascists were now in  power. His brother had already left the country for America and told him that he could get a job for him in the same sheep camp. And so it was.

When my father came of age, he wrote to my grandfather that he was thinking of joining the military. My grandfather was incredulous of the idea, and responded "if you are going to be that stupid, you might as well come to America and herd sheep!" And so he did.

A couple of years later, he would meet my mother at a country Grange hall dance in southern Idaho. They fell in love and married.

My father never liked sheep. His first opportunity to improve his conditions came after his best friend had moved to a booming mill town in eastern Oregon. He got my dad a job at the same mill where he made good money and got the nickname of the mad basco. I was born there soon after.