Early Childhood
Delve into my early years in Nebraska and Mexico, where my journey began.
The Early Years
I was born on March 11, 1937, in Scottsbluff, Nebraska, to my loving parents, Antonio F. Murillo and Jennie Ramirez. Although I never had the chance to meet my maternal grandparents, Emma Todd and Tomas Ramirez, they were part of the family stories I heard growing up. When I was about two years old, my dad decided we should move back to his hometown—Cuerámaro, Guanajuato, Mexico—a decision that would become one of many moves that shaped my early life.
Cueramaro Mexico
Cuerámaro was where I got my first real taste of life in the Mexican countryside. My grandmother, Maria Inez Flores De Murillo, was a gentle but strong presence in our home. She was already quite old when we lived there, and I remember her with great fondness. We lived on a big ranch with extended family, including my father’s sisters: Enemoria, Elpidia, and Pascedis—surrounded by horses, cattle, and open space to explore. Though I never met my grandfather, Inocensio Murillo, who had passed away before I was born, I felt a connection to him through the land and the stories shared by my relatives. I have vivid memories of riding horses, running freely around the ranch, and going into the city of Guanajuato with my dad.
In late 1943, when I was six, we moved again—this time to Ciudad Juárez, Mexico. It was a different environment, much more urban, and I started attending school there. In 1944, my little sister Jennie was born in El Paso, Texas. At first, I wasn’t too happy about sharing the attention, but as time passed, I grew to love her and couldn’t imagine life without her.
In 1945, my parents made the big decision to enroll me in an American Catholic school in El Paso. That meant crossing the border every school day from Juárez to El Paso. It wasn’t always easy, but it taught me a lot about discipline and responsibility. Finally, in 1947, we moved to El Paso permanently. Life became more stable, and my parents continued to work hard to give us a good life. Looking back, I had most of what any 7- or 8-year-old could want.
We often spent time with my great-aunt—my mother’s aunt, Emma Todd—and her husband, Antonio Vega, who also lived in El Paso and welcomed us like their own family. I remember those visits fondly—they were filled with warmth, food, and laughter. It was during one of those visits that I learned something that changed my view of my family forever: I had a half-brother named Fred Ramirez, who was two years older than me. Meeting Fred was an unforgettable experience—surprising, yes, but also exciting. It gave me a deeper sense of who I was and where I came from.
El Paso, Texas
Moving to El Paso in 1947 marked a turning point in my childhood. I was ten years old, and for the first time, we had a permanent home in the United States. The transition wasn’t always easy, but it opened new doors and helped shape the person I would become. Because I had such a hard time with the language, I was set back one school year. This meant I would have to repeat the third grade. It was very disappointing for me and my parents. It was also my first time experiencing segregation—we lived in the Mexican part of town, and the school I attended was primarily for Mexican-American children. The only English spoken was in the classroom, and it was hard for me to learn at first.
School in El Paso was very different from what I had known in Ciudad Juárez and Cuerámaro. I had already gotten a taste of American education through my time at Catholic school, but now I was fully immersed in it. The classrooms, the teachers, even the language—all of it took getting used to. I remember being nervous at first, but I slowly adapted, made friends, and began to feel like I belonged.
Life at home was simple but filled with love and discipline. My parents both worked hard—my dad continued his labor jobs, and my mom always found a way to make ends meet. Jennie, my younger sister, was growing up fast, and we became close as siblings despite the age difference. Our family may not have had much in the way of money, but we had plenty of warmth and togetherness.
As I settled into school life, I began to develop a deeper sense of identity. I was a Mexican-American kid learning how to live between two cultures. English became easier, though Spanish remained the language of home. I grew more confident in school and began to think about what the future might hold for me.
In 1950, my mother decided that she wanted the family to move back to Nebraska. But first, we relocated to Cheyenne, Wyoming, to see if my dad could find work there. We temporarily moved in with my mother’s sister Florence and her husband Manuel Castillo, and my cousins Manuel, Tom, Eddie, Pete, and my half-brother Fred. We stayed with them for almost six months, and during that time, I missed a lot of school.
While in Cheyenne, I met more of my extended family—my mother’s other sister, Aunt Josephine Ramirez, and her husband Uncle Albert Carrasco, and their children Sally, Mary, Josephine “JoJo”, and Teresa.
Looking back, my life was about discovery—of family, culture, and identity. From my earliest memories on the ranch in Mexico to adjusting to life in the U.S., every experience helped shape the foundation of who I would become. Those early years were full of change, but also rich in love, memory, and meaning. Each place we lived—from Nebraska to Mexico to Texas and Wyoming—left an imprint on me. The people I met, the family I discovered, and the cultures I experienced helped shape the lens through which I see the world.
Looking back
Looking back, my life was about discovery—of family, culture, and identity. From my earliest memories on the ranch in Mexico to adjusting to life in the U.S., every experience helped shape the foundation of who I would become. Those early years were full of change, but also rich in love, memory, and meaning. Each place we lived—from Nebraska to Mexico to Texas and Wyoming—left an imprint on me. The people I met, the family I discovered, and the cultures I experienced helped shape the lens through which I see the world.