The Story

The year was 1969. Our father, Martin Hernandez Sr., was 29 years old. He had been tailoring since he was 17. I remember his letting me and my brother and sisters stay up late to watch the news. As soon as the news was over we knew without him telling us that it was time to go to bed. We lived in a two-bedroom house on Rose Street, right off of Washington Avenue and Waugh Drive. I remember that first morning when my father and mother, Maria, woke us up earlier than usual. I did not know what was going on. Our living room was being transformed into what would become my father's own tailor shop. The old console television went to the back room. A three-way mirror and a single sewing machine were brought into the living room, along with an office desk. The cash register was a small metal-box. I remember as we were leaving home to walk to school I asked my mother what my Dad was doing sitting in the living room at a desk by himself with a sewing machine and a mirror. She told me he was waiting for customers. Being the smart aleck kid I was, I quickly pointed out that we didn't have any customers. When school was over that day, we got home and my father was still sitting at that desk. At six o'clock p.m. the sewing machine and mirror along with the desk went out and the television came back in. Then the next morning, the furniture moved again. This went on and on, but still, no customers.