Monday, January 7, 2008 - I Played Bingo with Mother Teresa!
This is my claim to fame. I warn you, it’s a bit absurd, but it is absolutely real! I’ve been telling this story since about the eight grade, when I finally realized the significance of Mother Teresa.
My family migrated from the Philippines to the United States in the mid to late seventies. My mom came here by herself first, arriving in New York in November of 1974. Can you imagine living in a tropical island all your life, then spending your first days nearing winter in New York? Needless to say, within a couple of months of frozen agony, my mom landed in Los Angeles by early 1975. My dad followed near the end of the same year, and then my oldest sister Debbie in early 1976. My next to the oldest sister Beth, my older brother Rene, and myself were next, arriving at LAX in July of 1977! In March, my two youngest brothers, John and Erwin, arrived. The entire Calixto family finally became first generation Americans! I always said my mom was the “Lewis and Clark” of the family. A sacrifice we will always owe her.
So I was ten when I arrived here, exactly on July 29, 1977. I turned eleven soon after on August 8th. The next month, I went to school for the first time as a fifth grader at St. Teresa of Avila Elementary School, in the Silverlake area of Los Angeles. This was a fairly small Catholic school, with nuns as teachers and administrators. I remember hating the Friday masses, and most of the teachers were very strict! They actually held sticks if we didn’t behave! (Oh the good old days!) My teacher’s name was Sister Catherine. She was actually very nice, and I could tell she liked me because I was such an underdog, barely learning how to speak English, and being smaller than everyone else. I remember some kid calling me “TJ” all the time, and I didn’t understand what he was saying, so I thought he was calling me “Cheese-ay”. I remember defending myself by telling him: “Why do you call me that? I don’t even like cheese?” For those of you who don’t know this term “TJ”, it was a derogatory term for Mexican immigrants in the seventies. The funny thing was, I only looked Mexican (and still do, and yeah…those Spanish got us, too!). But he didn’t know. And even funnier, he himself was a Mexican kid!
During the first weeks of school, I remembered one of the subjects we studied: Religion. I still remember the book so vividly. It was a paperback, not very thick, and the print was pretty big. It had pictures of the Pope, the local bishops, and various pictures of saints, including Mother Teresa, whom they called “the living saint” at the time. One particular day, Sister Catherine was talking to us about Mother Teresa, explaining to us who she was, what she’s accomplished. She then looked at the picture, and asked the class if anyone knew who she was.
Before anyone can say anything, I looked at the picture, reacted quickly, and blurted out with excitement: “Oh, I know her! I used to play bingo with her! I remember the entire class looking at me, bewildered, and Sister Catherine, eyebrows wrinkled, saying: “I really don’t think it’s the same lady! I was embarrassed and didn’t say anything after that!
After school, I took the book home and asked my sister Beth who this nun on the picture was, and sure enough, she said she was the one we used to play bingo with!
So here’s the absolute truth: Around the early 1970’s, I don’t know exactly what year, Mother Teresa and her Sisters of Charity set up a mission in the poorer area of Manila, within blocks of the house I grew up in. My aunt, who lived on the first floor of the bodega (a Spanish flat) we lived in, would have Bingo Nights during the weekend, in her fairly big sized living room. I remember the entire neighborhood being there, and of course, Mother Teresa and her Sisters, who got to know everyone in the area, would take in a little bingo once in a while. I honestly remember sitting right next to her on one occasion, and her talking English to everyone. She had really rough skin, her face looked very stressed, as if she had a lot of burden on her shoulders. But she was always smiling. I also remembered that whenever she walked around town, everyone followed her, like the Pied Piper of Hamelin. I always wondered at the time who this strange lady was. Little did I know it was “the” Mother Teresa. I must have been six or seven.
So needless to say, this is my claim to fame:
“I played bingo with a Nobel-Peace-Prize-winning-saint!”
I honestly don’t think I can ever top that.
And you should know, my sister Beth picked me up after school the following day and in front of me, spoke to Sister Catherine, explaining the whole thing to her. She laughed so hard and gave me a hug and apologized to me for not believing me!
What’s your claim to fame?
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