An Easter Story

Even though I am a Pirate, I was raised to believe in God. My grandparents always told me that there were no such things as coincidences. When a chain of events happened and there was an unusual result it was all God’s plan. No coincidences just divine intervention. Allow me to share a family story that could be either coincidence or God’s intervention. This is a true story and since it happened on Easter it makes me wonder.

My youngest brother, J.K. is a deputy sheriff. He was working patrol on an Easter morning. An Easter morning that started out with promise of being a warm beautiful spring day. The skies were as clear as the eyes could see. No rain was forecast all systems were “Go”, for a barbeque. That morning was fairly uneventful for J.K. He had a couple stops here and there but minor stuff.

Near the end of his shift a call came from dispatch. There had been an accident on a country road. Apparently, a drunk had been turning his car around and backed over an embankment. J.K. being the senior officer on patrol and it being Easter he radioed to the dispatch and to the other officers, that he’d take the call. Though it wasn’t he told them it was on his route home. He figured that he would get the additional holiday pay and the younger guys could go home.

J.K. arrived at the scene and found that the driver was slightly injured and too drunk to speak clearly and to further complicate matters the driver didn’t speak English. Luckily for J.K. an off duty firefighter happened to be driving by and stopped to assist. The firefighter did not know the driver and didn’t speak Spanish either, but he did know the local area. The firefighter had flagged down the first car that happened by. The driver of the vehicle was an elderly Hispanic gentleman who volunteered to speak to the driver of the car. With the help of the elderly gentleman and the firefighter J.K. was able to determine the driver was not seriously hurt. They were then able to remove him from the car and to get him back up on the road where he would be safer.

After the ambulance took the driver to the hospital for an observation and the fireman went on his way to his family function he was originally driving to, J.K. approached the elderly gentleman to thank him for what he had done. He asked the man for his name and address so the sheriff could send the man an official thank you. At first the man was hesitant to tell a police officer his name, but he eventually got over his fears and told my brother that his name was, Jose Salazar. A common Spanish name but not a common name in our neck of the woods.

As my brother was writing down the gentleman’s name he remembered a conversation he, my middle brother and myself had had several months before. You see my middle brother, was quite the swordsman. Prior to his marriage he had lived the life only a gigolo would envy. Tall, dark and handsome with killer green eyes and wavy brown hair he had attracted more than his share of lovely women. But there was one lovely girl he had not been as careful with that haunted him. Apparently, twelve years ago he had met and made love to this beautiful Hispanic girl who claimed to be a virgin and wanted him to be her first experience. Being like the rest of our Pirate family he had no problem fulfilling this girl’s wishes.

He told us that it was one of the loveliest nights of his life and he believed it to be the same for the girl. In the future my brother attempted to see the girl again but she must have felt ashamed and refused his calls. Time went by and he moved on. He moved on to a new town and a new way of living. He eventually took a common law wife and had two little girls of his own.

Several years later the state welfare department who wanted to know something about this evening with the beautiful girl approached him. He admitted to the encounter and took responsibility for the boy he knew nothing about. He got a loan and paid the back support and had the designated amount withheld from his paycheck to support the girl and the baby boy. He had tried to contact her family and was told that she had moved to another state and they had no way of contacting her. The family did provide him with two pictures of the boy and an address where he could send anything he wished the boy to have. He was told the boy’s name was Michael and he lived somewhere with his mother.

Since my brother no longer lived in our area he had asked that J.K. or myself to keep our ears open if we ever came across anyone in the area with the last name of Salazar. J.K. had remembered this name and decided to approach the elder gentleman about his last name.

J.K. told the man that he had to ask him something that sounds a little strange but did he know of a little boy, who would be around twelve, who had the name of Michael Salazar? J.K. explained why he was asking and the elder man instantly began to cry. The elderly man began speaking only in Spanish; he crossed himself and continued with his tears.

Recognizing the last name of my brother from the tag on his uniform the elderly man told him that he had a grandson with that name, whose father he had never met, but shared the last name with my brother, J.K. After further discussions they both decided it was the same boy. The elderly man continued by telling J.K. how he and his wife had raised their grandson as their own and had promised their daughter that they would never allow the grandson to bother his real father. The mother had felt guilty and had decided that she would stay away from my brother and allow the boy to grow up fatherless.

The boy had been receiving Christmas gifts and birthday gifts from my brother for sometime and he had a picture of my brother he carried with him at all times. But the boy had no idea where his father lived or how to contact him. Neither did the grandfather.

From this happenstance meeting between Michael’s grandfather and my brother life changed forever for all involved.

Over the next two weeks my brother and the grandfather cooked up a scheme to convince the boy’s mother that the boy needed to meet his father. Shortly, our family had grown by one more Pirate, a Pirate who currently is serving this country over seas in the USN.

I eventually got the opportunity to sit down with the grandfather and was able to get his side of the events of that day. He told me that that particular morning the weather had started off beautifully. He and his wife and Michael had gone to mass that morning. After church the skies had clouded up. It was the family custom to have Easter brunch at their home every year. Prior to going to mass they had set up their patio to cater to the brunch and to handle their large family. Now that the rain was on its way plans had to change. His wife had requested that he move the brunch into the garage. As he was setting up the tables and the trappings the garage lights mysteriously burned out. He had replaced them only a week or so before and found that to be unusual for fluorescent lights. His wife told him that the brunch was still going to be in the garage and he had best headed his rear into town and get some new lights. As he was getting into his truck the wife told him that she could see some police lights off over the hill from their property and he should stop over there and see what was going on. Since he never drove that direction into town and the fact he had just had a little glass of wine he decided to avoid going by the police. Just as he drove to the end of his drive way and was turning the other direction an off duty fireman that was one of his son’s friends drove by towards the police lights. Mr. Salazar turned onto the country road and proceeded towards town. As he drove he had a feeling of guilt come over him. Maybe there was trouble over where the policeman was and just maybe the off duty fireman was going to assist. So he turned his truck around and drove toward the flashing lights. The rest is history.