Let Their Spirits Dance (35 page)

Authors: Stella Pope Duarte

BOOK: Let Their Spirits Dance

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“Why did we let this happen?” There is silence.

We reach Jesse's panel, and right over us, a few inches above our heads, is his nameâ¦
Jesse A. Ramirez
. Priscilla and I stare at it as though we're looking at Jesse's face. We see ourselves reflected in the Wall. In my hand, I feel the pressure of Mom's hand over mine, the exchange of la manda. Her promise empowers me to do what I have to do. I reach up and touch my brother's name, feeling my hand turn warm as I trace the letters of his name, rough, uneven under my fingers. Cameras are flashing. I stand there for what seems like a long time, caressing Jesse's name. “Hello, I've missed youâ¦hello, I love you. We made it. You called us, and we're here,” I tell him. “I took care of Mom like you asked me to, Jesse, now she's over there with you. Take care of her for us. Your family is beautiful! It meant the world to Mom to see them before she diedâthank you so much for that, Jesse. You always thought of her first, always.”

Priscilla is next, then Paul, Thom, Lam, and Joshua held in Lam's arms, reaching up to touch his grandfather's name. Then Chris, Gates, Willy, Manuel, Tennessee, and the kids touch Jesse's name. All around me everyone else is touching their man's name. The Wall is reflecting our faces like a mirror. We've journeyed through AztlÃ¡n to the place where our warriors are immortalized in stone, their names, their stories hidden in atoms of granite. We've crossed paths with them, exchanged orbits, let their spirits dance.

Epilogue
Â·

W
e flew out of D.C. on Tuesday. The Army kept its promise this time. We were flown by military escort back to Phoenix. On our plane were the words
FREEDOM BIRD
in bold blue letters. I glimpsed people looking up at us, as our plane hovered over the Wall. The Air Force backed us up, too. They sent two Air Force jets to guide us out of D.C. Dad would have been clapping his hands. The Air Force jets flew in unison with our plane in the middle. A couple of times they charged off into the distance, looping back in huge circles, spewing white, foamy gas into the sky. Once out of D.C., they flew one more huge loop around our plane, and disappeared into the distance.

We bought plane tickets for everyone else to fly back to where they needed to go. The Army gave us special permission to have Mom's coffin on board with us, resting behind our seats. Irene positioned herself at the head of Mom's coffin and Donna sat at the foot. They stayed with her the whole trip, and again in Phoenix, until her coffin was lowered into its grave. Irene removed Mom's Virgen medallion, and gave it to me. She told me Mom had asked her to do this. Donna says she wants to be a Guadalupana, and Irene says she'll be the first white Guadalupana in the world.

Michael and Lam sat together, enjoying each other's company. Lisa and Lilly decided to take turns holding Joshua on their laps. Thom sat in
silence all the way to Phoenix. She's invited us to visit with her in Little Saigon.

As we flew out of D.C., we made a turn in the sky that led us straight over the Vietnam Memorial Wall. I looked down at the Wall, glittering below us in the sunshine. The plane shook.

“Turbulence?” I asked Ricky.

“Who knows?” he said.

“Look, TÃa,” Michael shouted. “Look at the light over Nana's coffin!”

For a few seconds Mom's coffin was bathed in a spotlight that engulfed it, outlining the grain of the oak wood.

“It's Jesse!” Irene said. “He's touching his mother!”

I didn't answer. I've learned not to doubt the impossible. If I've learned anything on this journey, I've learned that. No one knows if a spirit can balance on the point of a pin, or send light beams when we least expect. I looked down at the Wall. Light shone from it like a laser beam reaching us flying overhead. It's OK that I knew my brother wasn't coming home. I was supposed to. It got me to write this book, to tell his story to the world.

Acknowledgments
Â·

Primeramente, gracias to John Gutierrez who sat with me at a Starbucks and said, “Why don't you let our Chicano guys talk to the nation from the Vietnam Memorial Wall?” and thus was born
Let Their Spirits Dance
. Making the trip to Albuquerque with me, sharing the history, the ghosts, the treasures, then together searching out a new title. For everything, John, gracias.

To John Ruiz, gracias for the trip across the nation with my son John and me to the Wall, marking the journey, fleshing out the characters, embracing America, and for watching videos on the war with me, so many we could have rewritten the history of the Vietnam War.

De veras, warm thanks to the family of Sgt. Tony Cruz, to his mother Maria Escoto, his sisters, Gracie Valenzuela and Christina CaÃ±ez, his brother Joe Cruz, and his best friend, David Reyes, for sharing Tony's belief with me that one day we would read about him in a book. Someday a story would honor los Chicanos who went across the sea and never came back. Gracias.

For the guys who shared their war days with me, especially Robert Ramirez, Rayo Reyes, Joe Little, Ted Lloyd, Frank Diaz, Ernie Chavez, and Henry Villalobos. Thank you, guys, I know you did it for all the others. And for Danny Alday, who told me the story of his brother, Frank.

For Tony Valenzuela who gave me the story of Francisco “Pancho”
Jimenez, Congressional Medal of Honor recipient, born in Mexico, gracias. To Lionel Sanchez of Arizona State Representative Ed Pastor's office, gracias for the suggestion that I visit the Wall at night. Yes, there is sacredness there.

For Ruben Hernandez who made the journey to the Wall with me, so we could see it at night, in freezing weather, gracias. Also, for leading me to Rosalio MuÃ±oz, a piece of Chicano history, in person, in L.A. And for being my first copy editor, you were there for me.

Great thanks to Natalie Zeitlin for introducing me to her brother Dr. Jack Shulimson, whom I interviewed in Washington, D.C. Gracias, Dr. Shulimson, for sharing your expertise on the Tet offensive with me.

I owe a debt of gratitude to Tom and Carol Miles, who took my son John and me to Vietnam. Gracias for showing us the way, and helping us cross the busy streets of Ho Chi Minh City! Especially, Tom, for all the insights into the war, you knew it well. You did two tours.

My Vietnamese tutors, Chau Pho and his wife Thom Pham, who tutored me for six months, patiently,
cÃ¡m on
, thank you.

Ron Carlson. Where do I begin? Ron sat with me at a Starbucks, shoes off, chomping on a cookie, drawing a choo-choo train for me so I could understand how to structure the final draft. He is amazing! “Cut and paste,” he told me, and he gave me this unbelievable confidence that I could do it all. Ron, gracias.

Friends, there are so many for whom I extend mil gracias. Kathy MuÃ±oz Tellez, for coming to see me the first time I read in the Valley, when it was storming outside, a freak storm that flooded the city. Her face was all I knew as I read, and after that she never failed to be thereâno matter what. Belen Servin, since high school days she has been there to lead me out of the dark pits I have fallen into. Her faith is what has opened the way for me, time and again. Martisa and Mike Vignali, their belief that my book would soar kept me writing sometimes when I felt I could not go on. Ann and Andrew Thomas, jewels, ever confident that God would lead the way and the book would tell the story the way it should be told. For Maria Alvarado, long-time amiga who has shared the journey, and brightened the vision. I will not forget Lisa Ruiz, fellow writer, who shared trips to D.C. and Little Saigon with me, and kept telling me I was doing everything right. And for her sister, Marisa Ruiz, my first-grade student all grown-up who lent me her apartment in D.C. Angie Camarena, like a sister, who listened to all my crazy babbling, the stories inside me that ran in circles, and still, she listened. Phil Mandel,
who told me what I had to do next, “Get an agent!” I'm glad I listened. For Severiano Rodarte, amigo, fellow storyteller and an inspiration for our community.

Diane Reverend. I was blessed to have Diane as my first editor at HarperCollins. Truly, her insights made the book what it is today. I salute you, Diane, and gracias for your heart-open acceptance of my work. For Loretta Barrett, my agent, who was dedicated to the Vietnam era long before I knew her. So many miracles, and one of them has been having Loretta for my agent. Gracias y abrazos to RenÃ© AlegrÃa of RAYO, my editor, who told me so many beautiful things about my book, I actually started to believe them!

Gracias and overflowing love to my children Vince, Monica, Deborah, and John, and to my grandchildren, Angelo, Alyvia, Elaine, Gavin, and Marcelo for the “I love you's” along the way, that meant the world to me! And for my in-law children, Valerie, Paul “Rocky,” and Miguel “Nacho.” For my sisters Rosie, Mary, Lena, Lupe, and my sisters who went ahead of us, Linda and Sophie, and for my brother, Frank. I believe in us as a family, in who we are to each other, and to the world. Without you, the journey would have been bleak, the road unbearable.

Gracias, for so many others who have brought this book into existence through their encouragement and support. Kent Franklin, librarian at Carl Hayden High School, Betsy Lehman, librarian at Cesar Chavez, my wonderful friends at Phoenix Union High School District, my students from the University of Phoenix and Arizona State University, Writers Voice of Arizona, the Arizona Commission on the Arts, and people all over Arizona who have cared for me, shown me their love.

My father. Francisco Moreno Duarte, yes dad, for the dream that led me to see that I was destined to write, gracias del corazÃ³n.

My mother. Rosanna Pope Duarte, Irish Latina beauty who sealed my heart with her love, and taught me, “Dios obra en todo,” God works through all things. And He does, Mom, He really does.

About the Author
Â·

STELLA POPE DUARTE
was awarded a Creative Writing Fellowship in 1998 from the Arizona Arts Commission for her first book,
Fragile Night
, a collection of short stories. She was recently awarded a second fellowship for
Let Their Spirits Dance
. A Pushcart Prize in Literature Finalist, she is also a university instructor and high school counselor. Ms. Pope Duarte lives in Phoenix, Arizona.

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PRAISE
FOR
Let Their Spirits Dance
Â·

“A story about the power of love and faith, family and commitment. A delightful, heartening first novel.”

âSybil Downing,
Denver Rocky Mountain News

“In this, Duarte's first novel, intelligence, humor, and family passions are skillfully and unpretentiously woven into our hearts.”

âMaureen Jones-Ryan,
Today's Arizona Woman

“Stella Pope Duarte is a writer who will not be stopped. Her story takes its power from a larger love, and the quest here is as pressing as any I've read. This is a novel that looks at a rocky, uncertain time, with the intention of helping. It does.”

âRon Carlson, author of
The Hotel Eden
and
At the Jim Bridger

“A rich and important bookâ¦among the best in this country's literature about the American wars.”

âRigoberto GonzÃ¡lez,
El Paso Times

“Duarte is a magical weaver with a sure hand and a pure heart.”

âJacquelyn Mitchard, author of
The Deep End of the Ocean

“A compelling picture of loss, grief, and hope.”

âAnn Brown,
Arizona Daily Star

“Duarte proves herself a writer with great style and a unique voice that will hopefully continue to speak for
la gente
.”

âGaile Robinson,
Ventura County Star

“Intelligent, unpretentious, and appealing.”

â
Kirkus Reviews

“Stella Pope Duarte's novel is utterly alive and feels absolutely true! The characters had me hooked!”

âVictor VillaseÃ±or, author of
Rain of Gold
and
Thirteen Senses

“A moving, beautifully crafted first novel.”

âMarc Leepson,
VVA Veteran

“Duarte's novel rings true. It's funny and it makes us care about these raucous and contentious people, especially the mother, whose wisdom and goodness are as irresistible to the reader as they are to her family.”

âEdward H. Garcia,
Dallas Morning News

“Deeply felt and often moving, this is an impressive first novel.”

â
Booklist

“An incredible first novel.”

âCharlene Taylor, Reader's Oasis Bookstore (Phoenix, AZ)

ALSO BY STELLA POPE DUARTE

Fragile Night
(Stories)

Copyright

LET THEIR SPIRITS DANCE
. Copyright Â© 2002 by Stella Pope Duarte. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

ePub edition September 2007 ISBN 9780061748417

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