"Pancho" Villa and me (kind of) and Mexican food

Hello guys; My Dad who was an oil field rough neck back in 1930s and he moved our family wherever Shell Oil Company told him to go. When I was very young say around three or four years old I lived in Brownsville, Texas and since all my playmates were Mexican I learn to speak Tex-Mex as fast as I learn to speak English. Seeing as the year was either 1939 or 1940 I can still remember some my boyhood experiences then; one thing that sticks out in my mind was a story told to my folks and retold to me about the Mexican Revolution. The memory of this story is still embedded in my old brain. A major armed struggle that started with an uprising led by Francisco Madero and the notoriety "Pancho" Villa, the Mexican Revolutionary general. Please remember this struggle happened about twenty years before 1939. I thought I’d share a story I heard a long time ago. “When the Mexican Revolution around 1919 or so - on most weekends the Anglo Americans citizens from their side of the Rio Grande River watched the battles rage between the rebellious forces and the federal troops; while men sipped on their ice cold beer – at the same time as their wives set-up the family’s picnic as the atmosphere on the American side took on festival mood. As the Americans watched the battle rage on, all the time cheering on "Pancho" Villa and then suddenly the battle stopped around three in the afternoon – it was siesta time! After their siesta was over both sides would begin their battle where they left off.” We should remember in 1919 there wasn’t TV soaps or Monday Night Football broadcasts to watch… not even a radio to listen to. Going on with my post - for the reason that time in my life was so many years ago I can’t remember how long we lived in Brownsville but it was a place where I learn to love Mexican people, culture and food. On Sunday afternoons my Dad along with my Mom and me in tow would drive us all in his shiny black 1939 Dodge coup over to Mexico for a quiet Sunday afternoon dinner. I can remember even to this very day the small white cantina where we enjoyed our Sunday afternoon meal. It was just right across from USA near the shore of the Rio Grande River, you could probably throw a rock where we ate and hit the American side of the river. The cantina was a quiet place serving spicy full of flavor Mexican food and a gent in the old corner playing soft Latino music on his guitar as his fingers danced gracefully over the strings. Ah yes, those were the days. Papa Chuck