My nephew's only six, but he's already a dancing machine. He's moving too fast for the camera.
November 13, 1989. 11:30 AM I had just finished my lunch in the teacher's workroom and was walking back to my classroom. I was teaching at San Jacinto Elementary in San Angelo, Texas at the time. Up until then, it had been a typical November day. As I walked past the school office, the door swung open, and a fellow teacher stepped out with a look of concern on her face. She spoke directly to me and said, “Your wife’s on the phone, and it sounds serious.” I ran into the office, took the phone, and heard my wife say, “I don’t know what happened, but your brother is on life support in a hospital in Austin.” Twelve hours later, my father and I were sharing a room in a hotel on I-35 in Austin. My sister-in-law, Sandy, and her six-year-old daughter, Araceli, were in a room across the hall. I hardly slept that night. I would doze off and suddenly wake up to my father crying and calling out my brother’s name. My brother was dead. Osiel had collapsed that morning while his h...
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