On this day in 1927, a baby boy was born.  He wasn’t just any baby.  He turned into a smart, passionate, driven young man with a bright future for the taking.  He was in the school band, was an athlete, was a loyal son and he fought hard to get his education.  He lost his father when he was a young boy and he watched his mother work her fingers to the bone to raise him and his three brothers in poverty.

His mother, Felipe, instilled a work ethic into her sons that many people in today’s world do not possess.  Every one of her sons went to the University of Texas (Bachelor’s and Masters), served in the military, and married and had families.  Her second born son, Gonzalo, was my dad.  I was his little girl.

I was the girl who loved horses.  We lived in a small apartment in the city and I loved horses!  On Saturday’s Daddy would take me to the local stables to watch the girls race barrels.  I would ride with him in his 67′ Mustang when he would go to school on Saturday’s where he was principal to help him stack textbooks, pick up trash and paint parking lot stripes.  Did I mention he was the principal?  Teachers clamored to work in his building.  Openings were few and far between because working for Mr. Campos was everything you could ask for.  I don’t know if I have every known anyone with his work ethic.  It’s something I have always admired about my dad.

I miss his laugh.  It was the kind of laugh that the entire neighborhood could hear!

I miss the touch of his hand, because he was a man of little words with a strong presence.

I miss having him on the other end of the phone knowing I could share my joys and sorrows with him.

I miss seeing him with my sons.

I miss being his little girl.

When I ride horses I imagine that the breeze that caresses my face, the warmth of the sun on my neck…it’s my dad.  I hope he is smiling as I live a life with passion, because I learned from the best.

Happy Birthday, Daddy.