Gilbert: Haircuts, homers and Halloween
Barely beyond infancy, and living in Taos, I recall that my older brother Toby gave me a haircut. Since he was only two years older than I, he couldn't have been much of a barber. Imagine my parents' expression when they walked into the house and saw what was happening. Dad quickly stepped in to minimize the devastation.

I spent my first grade in Albuquerque at the North Fourth Street public school near home. One day there was a school picnic and softball game in which Dad played. When he hit the ball and started to run all around the bases, I knew that he had hit a home run. I don't remember who played or the final score, but I do remember Dad's home run. Memories like that stay in the mind of a first grader.

In second grade, at St. Mary's School, it was Halloween and all of us were sitting at our desks with our hands folded and looking at the clock. At recess time, all the students were to display their Halloween costumes to the rest of the school. Except that I had no costume, and recess was only half an hour away.

Then, at ten minutes before recess, there was a knock on the door. Sister Bernardine opened it. From where I was sitting, I could see Dad hand her a brown bag. She then handed the bag to me. I finally had my Halloween costume!

Juan: Lost and found
My first conscious memory of Dad was while we were living in Albuquerque, escorting the priest from Immaculate Conception parish who came to bless our house --- April 16, 1943, my folks' eighth anniversary. We had a great meal and wonderful dessert afterwards. I was four months shy of my fourth birthday.

Soon after, I remember playing Hide and Seek with him in the house. I would invite, "Ahora, tápete tu, Daddy" ("Now it's your turn to cover yourself up"), and he would pretend to hide in a quite obvious place like behind a sofa or under the kitchen table. I would shout and laugh with glee when I "discovered" him.

One day, I noticed that Dad had really disappeared. I do not remember saying goodbye, and I was missing him. I came to find out he had left to California to work for Lockheed Aircraft for the War effort. When we arrived in Los Angeles months later, Dad greeted us with sunglasses and saltwater taffy. How California!

Gilbert: The house key
In 1943, our family lived in an apartment on Sichel Street in Lincoln Heights, just northeast of downtown. On most Sundays, we walked to Lincoln Park where the boat rides on the lake and the carousel rides made the trip a special treat. One Sunday, as we were walking home, Dad decided to display his athletic prowess. We watched as he performed numerous cartwheels. We were impressed.

When we got home, we realized that we could not get into the apartment. The only key was in Dad's shirt pocket. The key must have fallen out during his cartwheel performance. Most likely, it's still in the park.

Juan: Moving and mooching
Although Dad worked in Burbank, my parents chose to live in Lincoln Heights, because we lived just a block south of our parish --- Sacred Heart, the fourth oldest parish in the Archdiocese of Los Angeles. After two years, we moved in August 1945 to Workman Street one block west of Sacred Heart. We retained the family home there for over 50 years.

Until Dad bought a car in 1950, he traveled to work by bus. Often when he came home, I would "head him off" a block or so away from the house, mainly to advise him of the day's happenings (what kind of trouble Gil may have gotten into on any given day), and to mooch a nickel for a candy bar. I would invariably get the five cents. When "inflation" impacted my young life, I was embarrassed to ask for six cents, but Dad was generous in helping me meet the new expense.

Gilbert: The Spanking
We all know that older brothers are often entrusted to take care of their younger brothers. Dad entrusted my younger brother John to me. One day, a fancy black motorcycle revved up on the lawn across the street. Mindful of my paternal obligation, I told John to stay on our front lawn while I crossed the street to get a better view. But John followed me and, as he crossed the street, slipped and fell as a car was heading his way. The driver saw him, fortunately, and screeched to a halt.

Dad bolted out of the house at the sound of the screech to see what was going on. When he saw his son lying down on the street and a car nearby, he thought the worst. There I was across the street, mesmerized by what was happening. After Dad and the driver cleared things up, it was now my turn to explain why I wasn't more careful in watching out for my brother. The lesson in those days was a spanking. Though the spanking was not painful, I realized that the gesture bothered Dad more than it did me.

Juan: Scouting and driving
We lived a relatively idyllic boyhood: our parents truly loved one another, and we three boys --- Toby Jr., Gil and I --- were able to do things together, even fight from time to time (one Christmas morning, the folks supplied the boxing gloves). Our lives were centered in church and school, newspaper routes and athletics. The three of us were altar boys and Boy Scouts.

Dad very much accompanied and encouraged us every step. As I neared Cub Scout age, he began a cub pack in the parish. Gil was my den chief, and Mom my den mother. The three of us earned our Ad Altare Dei religious Scouting award, and became Eagle Scouts. Toby, four years my senior, was the first Eagle of our Troop 600.

Dad taught me to drive. We began to practice as soon as I turned 15 and got a learner's permit. One evening, all five of us went to the Los Feliz Drive-In Theatre (now long gone). After the movie was over, I volunteered to drive us home. "No, no, don't let him drive!" protested my older brothers. Mom interceded, explaining that I had been practicing with Dad --- who bravely concurred.

Gilbert: Crime and punishment
During my teenage years I was somehow constantly getting into trouble. On one particular occasion Mom was upset about something I did; I think it had something to do with my paper route. My punishment was to kneel in the back porch with my hands stretched out (as if taking a high dive). Periodically, Mom would tell me, "Just wait until your father gets home."

When Dad walked in the door, his first view was of me down on my knees with my hands outstretched as if I were having a visionary experience. Not knowing what to make of this scene, he simply said, "Hi, Gil." I replied, "Hi, Dad." Dad's first question to Mom was, "What's with him?" I couldn't help but think of the absurdity of the situation and wondering how Mom would answer. So I laughed.

Juan: Seminary
In 1952, I entered the high school seminary in Hollywood; Toby and Gil were already there, preparing for the priesthood. (Toby eventually left, joined the Air Force and retired as a Major.) In my sophomore year, the seminary was changed to a boarding-only high school next to San Fernando Mission --- a situation that curtailed my scouting involvement and, I feared, would prevent me from joining my older brothers as an Eagle Scout. I somewhat ruefully told Dad, "I guess I'll never be an Eagle."

He responded, "Never is a long time." It was just the right touch --- encouragement without being pushy.

Both: The active lay Catholic
Dad was actively involved in church and civic organizations: Scouting, Holy Name Society, Knights of Columbus, St. Vincent de Paul Society, Retreat League, Perpetual Adoration Society, etc., etc. And the sign "INCOME TAX-NOTARY REPUBLIC" hanging on our front porch announced Dad's moonlight occupation, especially during tax season. He attended night school, including UCLA Extension, to keep up in his field of business accounting.

Dad was a longtime secretary and Fourth Degree member of the Henry T. Gage Council of the Knights of Columbus. In 1964, the year of Juan's ordination to priesthood, he was named archdiocesan president of the Holy Name Union, and in May 1967 was accorded the papal honor, Knight Commander of St. Gregory. It was the high point of his life as a Catholic layman.

Juan: A new career
Although she had been sickly for some years, and suffered a stroke in 1961, Mom carried on a rather normal life until she died --- at age 58 --- on All Saints Day of 1969.

In the fall of 1970, Dad and I traveled to Spain, France and Italy with the Christian Family Movement, a wonderful experience during which time we had the opportunity to bond even more closely. He shared with me what he had been thinking: going to seminary to study to become a priest. Although I was very happy, and thought he would make a great priest, I still had to ask: "Dad, are you sure you know what you're doing?" He knew. One year before his pension from CBS kicked in --- having worked over a decade there as a Systems Analyst --- he left the job, and joined the Claretian order.

While working with the PADRES association, based in San Antonio, I would visit with Dad from time to time. I remember looking at his report cards, and seeing that he was doing much better than I had done. He studied at two fine Jesuit institutions, Loyola University in Los Angeles and the University of San Francisco. And although Dad was old enough to be father of most of his seminary classmates (and grandfather to some), he was second to none in doing house chores and other energy-consuming tasks.

Both: College man
As a young man, Dad was on his high school track team and played basketball, and was also high school valedictorian and winner of a one-year scholarship to the Chillicothe (Missouri) School of Business. It was depression time, and so when the scholarship expired, he returned to New Mexico, began to work, and got married young. College, it seemed, would never happen --- but "never is a long time."

Sure enough, in 1973 Dad graduated from the University of San Francisco, one of the biggest thrills of his life, which rivaled that of his ordination to the priesthood a couple of years later. In no small part, it was because his own father (Juan's namesake) was on hand, just as he would live to see his son ordained a priest, before he died around Thanksgiving in 1975.

Juan: Ordination
Archbishop Manning encouraged Dad when he decided to become a priest, and indicated he would like to ordain dad when the time came. I was continuing my mission with the priests of PADRES under the leadership of Bishop Patrick F. Flores, then the auxiliary of San Antonio. Bishop Flores came to know and appreciate Dad, and also asked to ordain him.

Somewhat flustered by the same request of two prelates, Dad resolved the issue by having Bishop Flores to ordain him to the deaconate at La Placita, the Church of Nuestra Señora Reina de Los Angeles (on Dec. 12, 1974), and Cardinal Manning ordaining him to the priesthood in our home parish of Sacred Heart (on the Vigil of Pentecost, Saturday May 17, 1975).

Gilbert: The wise communicator
For many years Dad had wanted to go to Jerusalem. In the summer of 1985, I was able to arrange a trip for Dad, John and myself to go to Cairo, Athens and Jerusalem. As a sometime archaeologist, I wanted to visit Arad, in Israel near the Dead Sea, reputed to have a temple structure approximating the Jerusalem temple --- information important only to people like me. But Dad was a good sport so he decided to tag along.

After lunch in the olive grove, Dad stayed behind to cool down from the day's heat, while John and I climbed the hill to visit the temple site. Upon our return, we noticed Dad "in conversation" with the Arab workman charged with guarding the olive grove and the toolshed. Dad knew no Arabic. The workman knew neither English nor Spanish. Yet, here they both were engaging "in conversation" with hands waving, and a periodic exchange of smiles. I concluded that communication is basically a positive attitude to another which finds expression sometimes in words.

Juan: 'Toby the Baptizer'
Dad's first assignment was at La Placita where approximately 10,000 people --- Spanish-speaking poor, for the most part --- come to Mass there Sunday. Dad had served at the Placita as a deacon, where he became known as "Toby the Baptizer" (about 200 per weekend were being baptized there), and would continue there for 12 years. His wonderful mentor and friend for much of that time was Claretian Father Al Vasquez. They worked very well together, and Dad got to use his executive, financial and organizing skills.

Gilbert: The connoisseur
Dad's last assignment as a priest was as associate pastor at San Gabriel Mission, only 20 minutes from my rectory. On Sunday afternoons, after we finished with our pastoral duties, we often tried out one of the many restaurants in the San Gabriel Valley.

One Sunday, we entered an Asian restaurant and discovered that we were the only non-Asians present. The menus, we discovered, were written in Chinese with no English translation. Dad looked at me and asked, "How do you say soup and sandwich in Chinese?" Since I had no idea, we went in search for a restaurant where you could say "soup and sandwich" in English or Spanish.

Juan: Surprise and joy
As priests, Dad, Gil and I were neighbors. His assignments after La Placita took him to Our Lady of Solitude in East Los Angeles and later to San Gabriel Mission. Neither place was very distant from Gilbert or me, and we would see each other quite regularly. When out with a clerical gathering, I would always enjoy people's surprise and joy when they discovered we were father and son, as well as fellow priests. I'm sure Dad enjoyed it, too.

Gilbert: Movies and 'memories'
From time to time, Dad, John and I would go to the movies. It was our custom that the first one at the box office usually paid for all the tickets. On this occasion, all three of us arrived at the box office simultaneously. Dad gave his mischievous smile, and as we all went for our wallets, he said, "Well, let's see who will out-fumble whom."

As Dad grew older, it became clear that he was also becoming a bit more forgetful. At large gatherings where priests and laity were present, someone would come up to him, remembering when they first met and things that they had done together. Smiles and pleasantries were exchanged. When the person left, Dad would ask me, "Who was that?"

Juan: The Good Shepherd
As a layman, Dad had made a donation to Sacred Heart parish with the request that "Romero Family" be written under the large statue of the Fifth Station ("Simon helps Jesus Carry His Cross"). For Dad, Simon symbolized the lay apostle.

During his summers as a young boy in the mountains of northern New Mexico, Dad was a shepherd for the herd of family sheep --- preparation for his future calling. After he died, we made another donation to the parish in Dad's name, with the request that the stained glass Good Shepherd window in the back of the church be inscribed "Rev. J. Tobias Romero, C.M.F." The Good Shepherd is an early Christian icon carrying the same message as the image of the Sacred Heart --- God's caring love and nourishment accompanies us.

Now again, just as when I was three years old playing "Hide and Seek," I miss Dad. But now, at least I know where he is, and there will be pure glee when I once again "discover him" in the glory of the Lord!

Gilbert: Happiness and peace
Memories are a way of making past events become present. They are also a way of linking us to that sense of history that gives us cultural continuity. Memories of Dad, together with those of Mom, make me realize the happiness and peace of having had such wonderful parents. I am definitely glad to have been their son.

On Aug. 4, in commemoration of the 10th anniversary of Father "Toby" Romero's death (Aug. 6, 1996), a special Mass will be celebrated, 7 p.m. at Sacred Heart Church, for many years the family's home parish after moving here from New Mexico in the 1940s. In this article, Fathers Gil and Juan Romero share memories of their own father, the priest.