Mother and Mrs. Magoon When mother and I arrived in Findlay, I was only 18.  My main concerns were learning from my studies as well as from experiencing a different culture and a foreign environment.  So many things were new and interesting: living in a

Welcoming tea by Findlay community You have read in prior blogs that I was enrolled in a 2 week acculturation program for foreign students at Chatham College in Pittsburgh. When that was over, mother and I left for Findlay. What an adventure it all was.

Celia, Father kissing her, Uncle Guillermo, Mother, Uncle Manuel at Celia’s High School Graduation Party Neither of my parents were raised by their biological parents; however, they were given love and support the way their aunts, who raised them, knew best. They, in turn, provided

April 14, 1914 – August 5, 1997 In Spanish speaking countries, our full, legal names include both of our parents’ surnames – the father’s lineage comes first and it is the most important one.  In my father’s case, that would be Barberena as he was

In Nicaragua, people tell stories to each other while rocking in the ever present rocking chairs.  This is our way of expressing ourselves, making connections and entertaining visitors.  So, I’ll proceed to tell you a story about my formal schooling which started at an early

Neighbors would tell my mother to be careful with her in-laws as they were a difficult clan to contend with.  Mother already knew. Now that I have been married for 35 years, I know that in-laws can make your life sweeter or treacherous. I also

I have written how my mother lost her parents at an early age. She also died young.  As I examine her life, she learned from the struggle of living through the challenging hand that was dealt to her. Following me, she immigrated to the United

You never know where life will take you.  When I was growing up as a Catholic girl I never thought that I would marry and later divorce.  Marriage was supposed to be forever.  However, that was not true for me, painful as it was in

According to my father, a Nicaraguan historian, Granada, the city of my birth, is the oldest city in the Americas, founded in the first quarter of the 1,500’s.  Family folklore has it that I was born at 6:00 a.m. in my mother’s home.  Early that

If we could choose our parents, would we choose the same? It’s hard to say.  Our parents are imperfect human beings as we all are.  However, would I like myself if I were very different? The product or another set of parents? Who knows!  I