The Passed Note Issue 3 February 2017 | Page 49

Darlene P. Campos

Bat Springs Fever

My Grandma Raquel left Bat Springs every summer to visit the LBJ Library. She loved LBJ so much, she carried a picture of him in her wallet and had more pictures of him all over her house. According to her, he was the best president in US History. When my parents found out they were having me, Grandma Raquel pointed at them and said, “You better name my nieto after LBJ.” And they did, sort of. They settled on Lyndon Baines Juan Perez instead.

But in summer 1995, Grandma Raquel didn’t go to the LBJ Library. That summer, I was sick. I felt tired all the time. I couldn’t eat much because I’d throw up. Grandma Raquel drove to El Paso, her childhood home, to visit Great-Grandpa Armando’s grave. She visited his grave whenever someone close was sick. She believed his grave had power because he was the only family member who didn’t die from being sick. He died from being old. Even Dr. Feldman didn’t know what was wrong with me. He told me to rest and do whatever Grandma Raquel said.

“Your grandma’s much more dangerous than whatever you have, Lyndon,” Dr. Feldman said. “I guarantee that.” He was right: though Grandma wasn’t very tall, she was intimidating. She always wore a blue bandana on her head and she had tattoos on both arms. Before she broke her ankle, she could lift anything heavy and she could run faster than the P.E. coach at Bat Springs Elementary. Even on the day she broke her ankle after she fell out of bed and had to start using a cane, she didn’t mind. She put an arm around my head and she cried so hard, she soaked half of my pillow.