Here’s a story intended to connote the resilience, tenacity and endurance of many Mexicans, much like the ones who fought the battle of Cinco de Mayo in 1862.
My father, Daniel Torres, crossed the border from Mexico in 1921. He was only 17. He was leaving poverty behind and hoping for a better life in the United States. He landed in Colorado, where a German wheat farmer took him in. The farmer offered to have his daughter teach him English and to read. He learned both quickly.
Eventually, my father set off on his own, working as a miner and migrant laborer in northeastern Colorado. Another farmer saw the young man’s potential, and offered to sponsor him so he could get a passport and remain in the United States.
My mother, for whom I was named, crossed the border in the middle of the night the same year as my father, but under different circumstances. She was 15. Her grandmother was bringing her, her mother, sisters and cousins to El Paso to escape retribution by the Mexican government for her grandmother’s support of Pancho Villa. My mother was leaving behind a life of wealth and comfort.
My mother and her family lived in El Paso for two years, hoping the political climate would allow them to return to Mexico. It was not to be. All was lost, as the government confiscated her grandmother’s many properties and businesses. They could not return, and were forced into migrant labor.
My father and my mother met and married in 1930 in Sterling. They continued the grueling life of migrant work, moving from farmer to farmer, living in hovels and even a railroad boxcar, which had been converted to living quarters. A sibling and I were born in that boxcar.
My parents dreamed of a better life. They believed that with hard work, this land of opportunity would provide just that.
They raised a family. Nine of the 12 children born to them survived. Always committed to education, they enrolled their children in school. In the late 1930s, it was uncommon for Hispanic children to attend school. The first five of their children entered first grade not knowing how to speak English. My family is believed to be the first Hispanic family in northeastern Colorado in which the entire second generation graduated from high school.
In 1943, a landowner gave my parents an opportunity to lease and operate a farm for him. It was the beginning of a long and successful life for them. Together with their children, they operated farmlands for almost half a century. Upon my father’s retirement, he and his sons were operating more than 1,000 acres of irrigated farmland.
My parents became naturalized citizens in the 1950s. Their dream of a better life had come true. They urged their children to succeed. All five sons served in the military. The first son was nominated to the first class of the U.S. Air Force Academy by then-Sen. Edwin Johnson. My sisters and I were all educated beyond high school.
Because they stressed the importance of education, my parents’ children and grandchildren hold many college degrees. Two are attorneys, one is a doctor of veterinary medicine (with a Ph.D. in microbiology), and two are chemical engineers from the Colorado School of Mines. There are also seven master’s degrees and numerous bachelor’s degrees.
Daniel and Carmen Torres lived long enough to see that their quest for a better life had been attained.
Carmen Torres lives in Lakewood.
