Unbreakable: My Story, My Way Read Online Free

mother and she said we couldn’t afford it. For years my mother shopped at the Purple Heart Thrift Store, a secondhand-clothing store on the West Side of Long Beach. But that wasn’t what I wanted anymore. With six kids it was not easy to dress us all, and if I wanted to buy expensive clothes, I would have to pay for them myself. However, Mom wouldn’t allow me to have a part-time job during the school year. Maintaining good grades was highly important in our house, and nothing was to get in the way of that. I would have to wait until summer vacation to have a job and save up for my new wardrobe.
    We didn’t have a lot of money growing up. I don’t know what kind of person I might have turned out to be if my parents hadn’t been so economically challenged. Our financial difficulties and our being such a large family forced my parents to work nonstop to give us a better future.
    My father often reminded us that we had to work harder, longer, and smarter than everyone else in this life if we wanted to be successful. He talked almost every day about reaching for the Mexican American dream. Because of this I always knew that there was not just one American dream. In a nation of immigrants, there are countless versions of the dream: the Mexican American dream, the African American dream, the Cuban American dream, etc. I’ve always thought that was such a beautiful lesson and I’ve carried it with me throughout my life.
    So much of what I learned from my father stayed with me forever.He was a nonconformist. He was a dreamer. He always wanted more. When he started a new job, his goal was to be recognized as an excellent employee by his superiors. He wanted to be known as the best at what he did. He aspired to get to the top of the ladder, and he always accomplished it. He always got what he wanted. For years to come, I would hear his loving but firm voice in the back of my mind as I headed out to my different jobs. That voice is still ingrained in my mind now: “Get up, kids! Find something to do. I don’t want to see you guys asleep after the sun comes up. I couldn’t care less if it’s not a school day. I don’t want lazy people living in my house. Wake up, clean the yard, rake the leaves, pick up the dog poop, wash down the walls, ask your mother if she needs help with anything. Do something ! If you can’t find anything to do physically, then get up and think . Put your mind to work. The key to success in life is getting up early.”
    My daddy’s words have stuck with me. The men I have been with in my life have either said I’m unstoppable, nocturnal, just plain crazy, or, as one of them put it, “a fucking machine.” They never understood why I wouldn’t stay in bed with them even when I didn’t have school, work, or anything else to do. I never understood why they wanted me to lie there and be a lazy ass like them. It just isn’t in my makeup. My daddy made sure of it.
    To this day I do the same with my own kids. In the morning I go into each of their rooms clapping like a madwoman: “Time to get up, kiddies! Find something to do! The sun’s up, waiting for you!” They hate it. “Mom, what’s wrong with you? Go back to sleep!” Chiquis will tell me as she throws her blanket over her head, trying desperately to ignore me. Then Michael will scream from across the hallway, “Be a real diva. Wake up at one p.m. And let your kids do the same.” I tell them to blame their grandpa.
    My father’s work ethic became my work ethic. When I was a child, I would accompany him to the Paramount Swap Meet and work athis music stand, or at the taco hut. At every job I had I always made sure to be on time and do my best. At my first real job at the purse-packing factory, I got up at 4:00 a.m. to be at the factory by 6:00 a.m. At my waitressing job at the Golden Star Restaurant, at Kentucky Fried Chicken, and as a video clerk at Video One, I worked with a passion. Just like my father.
    I learned as much from my