Not Today, José

 

José Abila has been my handyman, fix-it-guy, and friend for my past five houses. What he has never been is… on time.

José is a kind, patient  man whose glass is always at least half-full. He firmly believes that every day has more than twenty-four hours. He likes to talk and I like hearing his stories.

Born in Chihuahua, Mexico, in the middle of eleven children, José left school early and came to the U.S. at the age of fourteen. There were too many mouths for his mother to feed and plenty of boys to help his father run their small ranch. He decided to strike out on his own.

Jose’s story is a universal story of the Mexican worker. He came to the United States to learn English and to work hard. He wanted to help support his family. Now he has one foot firmly planted on each side of the border.

As a boy, José was eager to learn what was on El Otro Lado ~ The Other Side. He crossed the border in Juarez and came straight north to Denver, where he went to work as a day laborer. He arrived at the pick-up site early and hustled for jobs doing construction and landscaping. He studied English and found a place to live. He learned job skills by watching and asking questions. There really isn’t any job that José can’t do, and do it well.

Last week I told José that he was one of the smartest men I’ve ever met. “I’m like my Dad,” he told me. “I’ve always been able to figure things out.” He also has a lot of common sense (which isn’t so common any more) and a quick sense of humor. 

José stayed in the U.S. for three years and returned home at the age of seventeen. Back in Chihuahua, he tamed horses and rode bulls in local rodeos until a particularly nasty bull slammed him against a fence and broke his shoulder. He might have gotten married, but I’m not sure about that. José still has a lot of stories that I don’t know.

When José was twenty years old, he decided it was time to come back to the U.S. He returned to Denver, to work on large construction projects and he tamed horses in Wyoming in his spare time.

Although he is a small man, José is incredibly strong. He can carry multiple sheets of dry wall upstairs and never lose his breath. He can fix cars and anything else that is broken. He has an eagle’s eye for straight lines and angles, which makes him one of Denver’s best pool players. He goes to Las Vegas often to compete in invitation-only pool tournaments. I don’t think he ever loses. One time he came home with a very fancy car when another player foolishly added the car’s title to the bet.

José loves to laugh. I think he’s been married three times. One time he told me, “I don’t care if my wife divorces me, or if I divorce her. I like being married. I’ll just get me another wife.” 

Like most Mexican men, José’s one true love was his mother. Until she died last year, José loaded his truck every few months with construction material, and drove to Chihuahua to remodel her home. He was devastated when she died last year, an old woman in her 90’s.

José has an important “real job.” He is second in charge of three huge construction projects. He supervises three separate crews and makes sure the work is done on time and passes inspections. He continues to work side jobs, and came as soon as I told him I was moving. 

Although I know that working with José always comes with a lot of frustration, there is no one else I trust more to give me a beautiful new kitchen. The job was originally going to take “two or three weeks.” I should have known better. It is now two months since I moved and we aren’t even close. 

My birthday is tomorrow. On Thursday, I told José, “You know what I want for my birthday, Jose? I want a kitchen.” He just laughed.

“We’ll finish this kitchen soon,” he told me. “But not today.”