Chapter 1 - The Foundation

I grew up always knowing what money was. I know, most of the stories that end up where I am right now all start off from a broken home, struggling family and so on, but not this one.

My mother was an entrepreneur, she figured out a way of making money out of peoples needs. Some people are good labor workers, others are good at fixing stuff, my mother, she was good at everything. She figured she needed a take off point, something that would help her set a foundation for her economical problems. At the time the little city we were living in had this one special person, a guy I remember who would make a profit out of telling people things they already knew, but wanted to hear. People called him "El Brujo", which means "The Witch". My mother used to admire this guy, she knew he was full of shit, but she admired the principle and golden tongue he carried with him.

She was always one up for a challenge so she figured since we were new to the city and didn't have an image yet, she could use that to her advantage. She started reading about tarots, hand reading and old mexican believes. Took her about 3 weeks before she decided to move forward with her new identity and look for her first client.


It went from word of mouth, to actually having an agenda with booked appointments. I'm talking two, three, four weeks in advance. Eventually, my mother who always thought about the future, figured out that her business would feed her and pay her bills but would not take her as high as she wanted to be so she started thinking about her next move.


Eventually she figured out she would open up a "corn tortilla" store, where she would manufacture and sell her own products. Well, my mother, god rest her soul, and her famous temper scored the jackpot. Being the o so driven person she was it took her no time to drive the oppositions out and take control of the entire local market. I believe she had about 5 opened locations or so.

The rest was history, for her. It just seemed like she was destined for glory, I can't explain it. At no point was I insecure about my mother, at no one point in time did I even slightly doubt that we would make it. It's something I never felt about anybody, not even myself. Brother to 8, I rarely knew what individual attention was, so as you can guess the first women who gave that to me had me in her pocket. My mother was one of a kind, I guess that's why I always had so much trouble with women, nobody was quite what I expected, but that's another story I'll hit up later.