A Latino machismo heritage exists on my Dad’s side of the
family. In the public eye, the father, the head of the family, ruled.
But the mother, the heart of the family, really ran the show. Pop
stood 5’2” tall with 140 pounds of ripped muscle packed onto his
diminutive frame. My favorite story — a public display of machismo
and family honor — involved a battle with the O’Rileys.
Uncle Ramon fought one of the O’Riley boys about his age. He
got the best of this lad, and the next oldest brother stepped in and
forced Uncle Ramon to say “Uncle,” thereby acknowledging his
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defeat. Dad jumped in and beat up that kid, which prompted the
next oldest brother to beat up Dad, which brought in Uncle Tom,
who jumped on top of the kid who beat up Dad and pinned him
to the ground. While this was happening, Mr. O’Riley came home
from work, pulled Uncle Tom off his son and threw him to the
sidewalk. Pop then came home from his job as a short order cook
in time to see this assault and challenged Mr. O’Riley to fight, taking
the traditional bare-knuckled boxer stance. O’Riley, 6’2” and
200 pounds, towered over Pop. Pop, a champion fighter in Spain,
boxed his ears off. After his victory, word got around and Dad and
his brothers never got challenged to another fight in Washington
Heights. In the 1930s, their neighborhood was 95 percent Irish
Catholic, with a few Italian, Hispanic, and Polish families. Pop
worked hard, saved his money, and his family became the first on
the block to own a car.
Ray Lopez, evangelist, writer, ordained minister, ministering to the hardcore, one at a time. 