Autobiography - The Galindo Group

Ram Galindo THE MAKING OF AN AMERICAN Page 179
and have children they will be able to spare the trauma to my grandchildren. At some
point each of us must take control of our own lives.
Following Kirsten’s announcement to leave the family, in near despair I turned to the
pastor of the Catholic Church we attended and was pretty much shown the door. On the
other hand, acquaintances from protestant churches and other walks of life came out of
the woodwork to give me comfort and hope. It was a new revelation that started my
opening to other religions.
In 1986-87 I had another major emotional crash from a failed relationship with another
girl I had fallen in love with. For the first time I read The Bible from beginning to end,
twice, and found hope in God. Although her life was the antithesis of everything her
father preached (she was the daughter of a prominent protestant minister in town) I was
blinded by my infatuation. We did everything that her religion forbade her to do, but did
so behind her parents and congregations’ public view. Privately, they knew what was
going on. She and I literally traveled the world seeking refuge from their harsh
standards. To my severe detriment, I disregarded the glaring contradiction of her
family’s actions with their words. Eventually the experience served to deeply disappoint
me with organized protestant churches as well. My view of religion synthesized itself
into a direct relationship between my creator and me, whoever it may be. I learned that
no intermediaries are needed, written or spoken.
As a single father obligated to make a living at work and raise three children at home I
began to experience the rigors of single parenthood. My respect for single mothers went
through the roof because, whether we like it or not, most women still are paid less than
most men. How they are able to house, feed, clothe, educate, transport and entertain
their children while holding a job is a feat of heroism. I was lucky that I could afford help
when I really needed it and that often my Dad was there to take up the slack. As soon
as Cid turned 15, he applied for and received a hardship driving license and began
helping me take the girls to and from school, for we never used the bus system. He did
so most responsibly and lovingly. His help was not only critical for the running of my
household, but the responsible care for his two sisters bonded them solidly for the rest
of their lives.
Drawing a side parallel from my experience into the public policy field, I think single
mothers in Texas are lucky that Gov. George W. Bush made it the state’s business to
help collect child support from rogue fathers who abandon their children. This is, in my
experience, very good public policy.
One of the most important obligations I saw for myself as a father was to ensure that the
friends my children spent time with were worthy of my trust and respect. I followed my
mother’s adage “tell me who you go around with, and I will tell you who you are.” I
stayed close to them and involved myself in their after-school activities, having a daily
driving circuit to many different places. Varying with the season it was Girl Scouts, swim
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