Julia Munguia, our aunt, and my godmother, was introduced to the world on June 1, 1921, at 10:41 AM. The third of five children, she was born, raised, and lived in the same house for 90+ years. Our "Tata Ulla" was an eccentric, cantankerous, funny, and maddening human being, a persona cast in amber.
She hardly, if ever, sought medical treatment, never had an eye exam, collected plastic shopping bags, and was famously frugal. She loved Andy Rooney's commentary on CBS' 60 Minutes and identified with his curmudgeonly outlook on the world. All non-essential social activities ended in time for her to get home for Andy.
Her frugality was never more on display than in the "weathered" white, 70's Chevy sedan that she got around in. She could afford better but was adamant about not spending a penny more than necessary. This included not seeking cataract surgery or buying prescription eyewear. Consequently, she was blind as a bat for decades! How she managed to receive and keep a driver's license is a mystery--charmed the DMV clerk I suspect.
You could spot her blotchy white car at a distance--it was the slowest object on the road clocking in at a blistering 15 mph. She was "known" in the community and pedestrians gave her a wide berth. The vehicle, driver, and driving style were unique. She would only take routes that allowed for left turns and she never ventured more than a few miles from home.
Unfortunately, we don't know much about her early, post-high school years. We do know she worked at Valley Bank for a year or two before being recruited by the school superintendent to serve as his secretary/administrative assistant. She held that position for 48 years and was "Miss Munguia" to many a student.
Every year she would spend her summer vacation visiting relatives in Mexico City.
It became a yearly ritual that for a brief two weeks, allowed her to get away from Nogales, strict parents, and the humdrum of her job.
I'd like to think it gave her a chance to "let her hair down". I can picture her sitting on a barstool at some beachside cabana. She's nursing a cigarette in one hand as she twirls the stem of her third margarita with the other. She's struck up a conversation with one of the local caballeros. He leans forward and whispers something in her ear, she tosses her head back laughing... parent disapproval be damned, time to party!
Seasons passed, and one by one her sisters married and moved out of the house leaving Julia behind to serve as her parent's confidant and caretaker.
Life took on a regularity that was only interrupted by the death of her father in his 70s, and her mother at 90.
While she undoubtedly mourned the loss of her parents the prospect of not having to care for anyone, and of having more freedom was not lost on her.
To be continued...
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