By kiki
In the late 1940s my Pops had a goat that I would have to take out to pasture on the small hills and open land that we had in the Simons Brickyard. I would let the goat run loose to eat, after two hours or so I would go get the goat and bring it back home, one day I couldn’t find the goat, I went home and told Pops.
“Pops, I can’t find the goat, it’s lost”.
“Don’t worry mijo, we’ll find it” said Pops.
Next day one of Pops drinking buddies knocked on the door.
“Chicano, come and have birria and beer with us”
Pops was called Chicano by his buddies and birria is Mexican BBQ cooked in a hole on the ground.
Pops went with his buddy and ate birria and drank beer, when he came back home he told my Mom.
“I just ate my goat”
“Pops, they stole your goat?!” I asked him.
“Yes Mijo, But at least they invited me for some birria” Pops told me.
