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Grandpa, how come you only ever stay a few days?
-That’s it. -You’ve done this for 20 years!
How long would you want me to stay?
I’d like to see you more is all.
You know, there’s still time.
Here’s the thing.
I don’t stay long.
Sometimes I just collect my check
and head back on Monday.
Do you get bored here in the U.S.?
Why would I?
I mean, is that why…
you go back to Mexico so quickly?
No, it’s that… Look.
For example:
Here, I plunk down on the couch and watch TV all day…
until even my hooves hurt!
I don’t go out anywhere.
I wonder what I’m doing here, so I go back.
When you’re on the bus, take off your jacket
if you get too hot.
Yes, of course.
Your handkerchief’s in one of the pockets.
It’s here.
And this will keep your ears warm, Pa.
No, but then…
What will I do with this?
The sombrero!
Like this then.
Are you ready?
I am.
The bus company had told Grandpa
he’d gotten too old to ride alone.
He said they were wrong.
They let him on when I said
I was his granddaughter and I’d be with him.
Grandpa was a mystery to me as a kid.
I didn’t know how to talk to him.
He’d smoke a lot
and bring me milk fudge and tamarind candy.
He’d wear his sombrero no matter where he went.
People would stare, but he never took it off,
except to sleep.
I remember when he was so sick
he couldn’t speak.
I was driving,
and he started banging the back of my seat.
I stopped the car,
thinking he needed to use the bathroom.
No.
He wanted to sit up front.
He didn’t want me to get lost.
This was his land.
Jorge!
Where’d that flyswatter get to?
It’s tough to kill ’em, they’re so sly.
The cold’s coming. That’s why they’re inside.
-It’s getting colder, Pa. -True.
They’re little prophets, those bastards.
The same happens when it rains.
But they’re hard to spot.
There they are, the bastards.
He’ll build a mansion with these!
Estéfana says…
she doesn’t want anything.
Lorenza already has a house here.
She bought one.
The others, like your mom or Lupe…
They don’t want anything either.
So the house we’re in now will be…
for either Jorge or Julián Jr.
But now I’ve bought that…
that plot of land over there.
And I told Julián Jr., “I bought some land.”
He asked, “Why do you want another house, Pa?”
I answered, “Son…
“I don’t know what it’s for yet.”
He said, “Use my land instead.”
Because he has a plot here, but it’s far away,
over by the stream.
It’d be too far for a new house.
He asked me again, “Why another house?”
And I said, “Well, what if you moved back…
“and…
“you had a little shack of your own ready for you here?”
“In that case, sure!” he said.
So I thought,
“What’s stopping me?”
-Where do you sleep? -Who?
That guy’s over there.
And I sleep here.
I’ll hide this over here.
Are you tired, Grandpa?
No, not really.
It’s just that I don’t do anything.
I try and work on the littlest thing,
and my stomach or my back starts hurting.
Does it hurt now?
-I’m no good anymore! -Pa!
-Does it still hurt? -What?
-Your stomach. -A little.
I’ve been a widower…
since I was 45.
I had seven kids… And still do! Thanks to God.
Anyway…
The first to leave was your mom.
She went when she was 14.
Back then, it was easy to cross into the US.
My kids could cross whenever they wanted.
And I’d go there often.
But not anymore.
But yeah…
Life’s catching up with me.
I never thought I’d live this long.
For example, I didn’t…
When I was a fresher man, around…
30 years old…
40…
I asked dear God
to let me live to 50, but no more.
He didn’t want to, though. He made me keep going.
He decided that…
I’d live past 50 years.
Now, I’m going on twice that.
But I won’t go on much more.
I’d say…
I’ve got another year or so.
Life is hard work.
We’ll put the cinder blocks there, no?
No, they’ll go inside.
We could fry up an egg, if you’d like.
Nice and crispy.
Doesn’t that sound good?
I didn’t even beat it,
but it’s falling apart on me…
How did you make yours?
Your egg.
Well…
Just like how you’re doing it.
-Yeah? -Yes, scrambled like that.
Aren’t these called sunny-side up?
What would you call them?
Sunny-side up.
But they’re called that when…
the yolk doesn’t burst.
And this one did.
So I guess it’s almost what you’d call an omelet. No?
As a kid, my mom had dreams about a bridge
that swayed in the wind like a hammock.
When she left for the US,
she crossed on what they call The Black Bridge.
Her legs trembled the whole time.
But she missed home so much
that she only stayed three months at first.
She crossed The Black Bridge many times after that,
but the fear never left her.
Once, when I was a baby,
Mom crossed with me so I could meet my grandpa.
But I got sick,
and I didn’t get better until I got back to the US.
Ever since,
Mom has liked to remind me,
“You’d never make it over there.”
Pinto.
-You’re not afraid of getting burnt? -No.
Only when I use plastic.
Aren’t you afraid because you can’t see?
No.
They’ve started selling flowers.
-The what? -The flowers.
The flowers… Who is it?
Jesús Romero.
-Jesús Gallego? -Jesús Romero!
Well, I’m busy. I don’t have the time now.
There’s no time now. Let them wait a little longer.
Let’s get the rebar. Grab the wheelbarrow.
-Rosa… -Yeah?
Ready to go?
Here comes Pinto!
Shoo!
The wire!
The wire…
Lidia Calderón, age 39 survived by her husband and children
-How’s it going to stay up? -Hold on.
Who’s all this for, Grandpa?
Your grandmother Lidia.
Pass me that broom.
You should put it by her feet.
-You can’t see a thing! -I can.
Not for long.
Uncle, do you remember your mom, my grandmother?
Barely, but yes. I do remember her.
I don’t remember her face…
I won’t lie.
She was thin.
You know…
Ma was hot-tempered, too.
What do you mean?
Anything would set her off.
One time she smacked me,
because I let it slip that I’d gotten in a fight.
With another kid?
With another kid.
Do you have other memories of her?
I just remember when she was sick,
she’d spend her time…
There used to be a mesquite tree out here.
She’d just spend her time sitting there
and blood would stream out her nose.
She’d sit under that tree?
Under that mesquite.
-And you’d watch her? -Yes.
She’d just be over there crocheting.
What did everyone think she died from?
Well, back then…
we didn’t really know much.
Some said it was cancer…
I was about to turn 14 when she died.
You could still see back then?
A little, but my sight’s never been great.
Do you remember that day?
No, not very well.
How do you think her death affected our family?
I don’t understand what you…
Wasn’t that when everyone started leaving?
Going to the other side.
My aunts. And my mom.
Well, your mom was the first to leave,
but she was already over there by then.
The others left much later.
You remember when each person left.
I do.
And Grandpa never remarried, right?
No, never.
I got you bread.
What’d you like about my grandma, Grandpa?
Well, it’s that…
I talked to her and she said yes.
And that was that.
Back then, the women around here
would get our water from the river.
They’d only use the wells during droughts.
And they’d carry water jugs on their heads.
Some carried buckets.
So you would…
You’d climb the hill to go shoot the breeze with them.
And they’d have…
those jugs on their heads
or those buckets.
And so…
Her mother didn’t want us to be together.
Her sister didn’t either.
But I didn’t care one bit.
Her father never said anything.
He knew I was a hard worker,
because we’d done jobs together.
He liked me.
I may be small, as you can see,
but I’ve never been scared of hard work.
I’ve always thrown myself into it.
And those planks?
I’m ready now. Grandpa!
Not you, Pinto.
Grandpa!
I’ve got too much cargo for this little bag!
-Here it is. -And what is it?
My ID.
From when I worked as a bracero.
-And what…? -In the US.
You’d get this when…
when you were done and you’d finished a contract.
If you didn’t fully honor the contract, you didn’t get it.
You didn’t get the ID card.
And you needed this card…
in order to get the Social Security money
from wherever you’d worked.
But since I’d lost mine,
I didn’t get anything.
This one has my photo on it,
but it’s in someone else’s name.
It’s in my brother-in-law Gilberto’s name.
You see, when you’d sign up…
to be a bracero,
your town would get a list
that would tell you when it was your turn to go.
But I wasn’t on that list…
so Gilberto told me,
“If you want to go over there, just use my name.”
So that’s how I went…
and how I have this ID.
And what does it say?
That’s your photo?
That’s a photo of you!
Yes, that’s me.
I was just scraggly back then.
It won’t focus…
It says: “California…
“1964.”
I’ll leave it there for you.
Now go ahead.
-There we go. -Look!
This one’s longer, no?
-Huh? -This one here.
But those are…
15-inch planks, Mister Julián.
-15-inch? -We need 20-inch planks.
You can’t just lay more soil under them?
There has to be some other way.
No…
How will he carry the planks?
-Was the delivery yesterday? -No.
They told me to sign,
so I just scribbled something.
Did we charge you yesterday?
Don’t ask me why I signed, but I did.
So it was yesterday.
Let’s just get the planks.
Have you found them?
-Sorry? -You have them?
-What? -These screws and planks.
Tell me how much five of them will cost.
How will you transport the planks, sir?
Open up, Jorge!
Open the door, I’ve got a plank.
I’ll grab the other in a second.
I can’t carry both at once.
Where’s the other one?
Right over there.
I’ll go get it.
Wait for me outside. I’m getting it.
It must be over here, right?
-Open it. -Aren’t there any limes?
You couldn’t rustle up a lime?
-A lime… -Maybe there aren’t any.
I guess not.
Grandpa!
He said there weren’t any! How about a knife?
-Right. -Have you told him?
Have you opened yours yet?
-Of course! -Well, there are limes here.
And you said there weren’t any…
At least we’ve started it.
The house.
Whoever wants it, it’s theirs.
And if no one wants it, they can just sell it
and divvy up the profits.
What else can I do?
As for me…
What they say is true:
I won’t need it myself before long.
That little shack’s good enough for me.
Should I go get bread?
Would you want bread?
The phone’s ringing!
The phone!
The phone…
A guy can’t even take a piss around here.
It never stops ringing…
Because you hang up on everyone!
Hello?
Good. How’re you all doing over there?
It’s for you, Jorge!
-Well, my daughter… -Turn the hose off then.
Turn the water off.
The water’s still running…
-Where? -In the bucket!
Hi, sis.
Sure, but he can’t anymore.
He can’t make the trip.
Do you miss going to the US?
Yes.
Yes, because before I’d have…
I had the strength to go on my own.
But not now.
Not anymore.
How long was it that you took the bus?
Something like 15 years, no?
More or less. I don’t remember exactly.
Grandpa, what’d you want to show us,
visiting every month?
Well, I’ve tried…
to make sure that…
you all get along,
that you don’t fight over this or that.
What good is that?
There are lots of people who don’t have family.
And when it’s all over,
when their life ends, no one comes…
They don’t have anyone to come visit them.
And then some do, even if they don’t have family.
Here, there are older people who have died,
who didn’t have…
family.
And many of them just get buried
when they need burying.
But your family visits you, and we love you very much.
Well, yes.
But who knows in the end…
what will actually happen?
Why do you say that?
Are you scared?
-Of what? -Are you scared to go?
No.
No, I know that…
that day has to come…
sooner or later.
Why get scared?
Yes…
This ends soon.
-What ends soon? -Well, life.
Like they say, there’s more time than life.
I lived with a man for eight years.
He wanted to buy a house and build a family.
He gave me a gold engagement ring.
After so many years together,
didn’t he know I preferred silver?
I left for Mexico to visit my grandpa.
I asked him about his marriage with Grandma.
He told me about her death instead:
They’d found prickly pear spines in her bed,
and her belly was swollen, as if she were pregnant.
There was no sorrow in his voice as I might’ve hoped,
but I came to love just sitting with him in silence.
Every morning, Grandpa would ask what I wanted to film.
One day, he showed me the House of 100 Doors.
A Spanish woman had told the man who loved her
that she’d only marry him
if he built her a house with 100 doors.
He did and she loved him.
Grandpa always loved telling me about that house.
Here I am.
Let’s see what I’m good for. Nothing anymore!
Have you eaten yet?
-Yes. -No you haven’t! Tell the truth.
What are you all doing, Grandpa?
Making sure it’s level before pouring the concrete.
If they’d started on Sunday,
we’d be laying the cement by now, but they said no.
Have you all eaten yet?
We have, Uncle. But a Coke would be nice!
I was drinking some with water earlier,
but I finished it!
This is for the tortillas.
And a Coke if there’s change.
I didn’t get it, sweetie.
It got away.
They’ve been attacking me.
I can’t see them anymore so they attack me.
That one got away, too.
Damn flies!
They all say…
I’m impatient…
but those workers are so damn patient
that they never get anything done!
Well, yeah. That’s true.
But what can you do?
Well, nothing.
You just have to accept it.
I’m on my own, so they screw me over.
Rosi, do you like doing that?
Crocheting? Yeah, I love it.
-Why? -I don’t know.
It keeps me from overthinking…
It clears my mind.
When I crochet…
I forget everything else.
I get to unwind a bit.
I see Grandpa getting weaker.
The days go by,
and he looks more tired. He’s different.
Some days he’s doing well, and others…
he seems much worse.
And so I promise him,
that I’ll never let Jorge end up on his own,
because we’re family, and we take care of each other.
What worries Grandpa most is leaving Jorge on his own.
-Give us a holler, Jorge! -No…
I only sing if I’m drinking.
You should’ve brought yourself something to drink!
-It’s been a while. -You sing, Uncle?
Only if there’s music and I’m drunk.
-Come on, sing a little! -No way…
Mister Julián here might sing for you, though…
If the lush won’t sing, why should I?
Dove, where did you come from?
I’m from San Juan del Río
Cover me with your wings
For I’m dying of cold
If I were paper, I’d fly
-That’s all I remember. -“If I were ink, I’d write”
If I were ink, I’d write
-What else? -I can’t remember.
I don’t either. I’m no singer.
I just like entertaining myself sometimes.
That’s all.
How are all of you over there?
Debts don’t just go away.
No way.
No.
Yes, whenever I get hungry.
We’re finishing it. If there’s a problem, it’s theirs now.
Lift him up!
Watch your step there!
Look how drunk this guy’s gotten…
Let me get the door for you!
Take him to the bedroom.
What happened?
He’s not feeling well!
-Come on, Jorge. -What’s going on?
You drink too much.
No…
Sometimes I go two weeks without drinking!
The other house isn’t mine anymore. It’s his.
I already…
-I already gave it to Jorge. -To Jorge?
The other house, yes.
But not this one.
The family asks me whose it will be.
Let them…
figure that out themselves.
Well, we’ll see…
We’ll see exactly how we finish it.
My family might send money to help
finish it.
Of course they will.
If not, that’s fine…
Pretty soon, I won’t be able to finish…
-…anything myself anymore. -No?
Not anymore.
-No. -But you’ll see the house finished.
You’ll see it finished.
But so whose will it be?
This one here? It’s mine.
-And after you? -Huh?
-Whose will it be after you? -The whole family’s. Everyone’s.
Whoever moves back here… this house is for them.
It’s for all my kids.
There’s no way it could be for me.
It’s for them…
so they’ll all get along.
I brought you water bottles.
And then…
I got her this. You squeeze here.
And then…?
Press harder, Mom.
Coming here must’ve ticked her off. Now she doesn’t want to work!
-Try her other paw. -It’s this one.
Cute, no?
And then…
This one’s for you.
Here.
I brought you this bag of nuts, Pa.
-I brought you pecans. -Pecans?
They’re already shelled.
You don’t really eat these, do you?
Not really.
Not even one or two? They’re good for you.
I’ll try one.
-Is it hot? -Not too hot. Try it.
I didn’t give you much.
-How is it? -Too cold.
-You want it hotter? -Yes.
-But it’s just the mug that’s cold. -No.
Well, if he wants it hotter…
He usually likes it warm, but now he wants it hot.
I don’t need it scalding, but that was stone-cold.
Only the mug was, she said!
-Just the mug. -I’m warming it up.
Give it to me once it’s hot.
Don’t drink it all in one go.
It’ll make you sick!
-There’s one sip left. -Is there?
Well, at least you’ve had something, Pa.
I’m already…
wondering if I might throw up.
Don’t think about throwing up, Pa.
Don’t be thinking…
-…about that. -But it’s getting to be a real pain.
The other day, I was…
I’d had an atole earlier that day, too,
and…
I can’t remember what else.
But I’d drunk the atole,
and a little while later, it came back up.
You couldn’t keep any down.
And you didn’t feel it coming?
I didn’t feel it until it was already happening.
It happened so suddenly.
Yeah…
We’ll see what God’s will is.
How does the house look to you, sweetie?
It’s nice, Pa.
It’s pretty, Grandpa. It came out nice.
-She thinks it’s pretty, too. -I don’t know about that.
I don’t really think so.
What, Pa? You wanted one like in the U.S.?
Riding the bus into San Juan del Río,
you can see a mountain they call The Castle.
They say it’s home to witches
who turn into black birds come nightfall
and who watch over town.
Grandpa wanted to go see his land.
Even though he could barely walk,
he got down from the truck
and saw where he’d always planted
beans, chile, corn, and wheat…
and then his eyes settled on The Castle.
I’d always wanted to climb to the top,
but Grandpa told me it wasn’t a place I should go.
During the day, the witches came back to The Castle to sleep.
No one knows what would happen if they awoke.
I’d learned to trust what Grandpa told me
even when I didn’t understand.
Pinto’s joining us.
Hi, Pinto!
And here comes Mister Julián.
Leave that be. What’s the use?
Well, it doesn’t look nice, Pa!
Iliana doesn’t seem to want to join you.
I’m working.
She’s working, Pa.
So that’s what that is.
Must be a different way of working.
She does have a different way of working, Pa.
But you’re the one getting tired.
Well, sure.
No, sis.
We could’ve gotten your papers a while ago,
but you didn’t want to come back here, so I didn’t.
Here, he’s anxious. Over there, he’d be worse.
He’d just want to come back here.
He may argue with Jorge,
but our Pa worries about him a lot.
That’s what I’m saying.
Pa wouldn’t want to be over there. And he’d just get sicker.
I wish he could be over there to see you,
but the trip would be too much for him.
He’s usually hot, but suddenly he’ll get cold.
-And then hot again. -Yes.
…he likes the house full of people.
Mom…
Hail Mary, full of grace…
Give me your hand, Pa.
His fingers are so cold…
-It’s Iliana, Pa. -I’m here, Grandpa.
We’re all here with you, Pa.
We’ll see you again over there.
Dove, where did you come from?
I’m from San Juan del Río
Cover me with your wings
For I’m dying of cold
If I were paper, I’d fly
If I were ink, I’d write
Would that I were a stamp
and away with this letter I’d go