Señor Benito was an old man whom my father used to hire to care for us while him and my mother were gone to church services on Sunday and Wednesday's nights. My sister, the oldest, my three brothers and myself, liked this old man. He was a humble peasant, working at the coffee plantation where my father used to work. He was a short, gray haired man in his late 50's. I have never seen a person who works in agricultural labor being overweight, and Señor Benito was not the exception. He was slim, but strong, used to the hard labor in the field. Although he had to do hard work during the day, Señor Benito always accepted with good grace to care for us each time my father asked him to do it. He was a kind person; he loved us as if we were his own grandchildren. I think he saw a grandchild in each one of us, but we did not see a grandfather in him, at least not until we grew up and came to understand the magnitude of his influence in our lives.
             Our parents never missed a church service, either a Sunday morning or a weekday night service. They used to take us with them for Sunday morning services, and leave us behind for the night services when we were still small kids. The church was about a two-mile distance from the house, and we had to walk to church because there was no means of transportation. We did not have a car, and the only public transportation, which ran only at daytime on Sundays, was an expensive treat if we had to use it.
             Most of the time, Sunday and Wednesday's nights, when we were still small kids, we stayed at home with Señor Benito caring for us. He knew my parents would leave for church around 6:00 p.m. so he came over to our house at that time. As soon as my parents left the house, we will all gather around him to listen to children's stories. He knew children's stories, and we had a favorite one "Tio Conejo y Tio Coyoteâ€", a st
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