I met Tom Herrera on May Street in Pilsen, relaxing in the shade with his brother Joe and his dog Mama. That was in the summer of 1991, and he and I have been friends ever since. It was Tom’s thoughtful, sensitive personality that drew me to him; be likes to share everything. When I visit his place he worries that his dishes and things are not clean enough for me, though in fact they are very clean. When I leave be walks me to the corner and stays with me until the bus comes.
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My name is Thomas Herrera. I live in room 815 at the old folks’ home. It has all of the comforts, like a stove, a light, hot and cold water, and even an elevator; however, I have never liked living here. There is no freedom or privacy. This place remains to me just an institution, like the Angel Guardian orphan home where I grew up.
-After my wife Jean passed away, I lost some leadership and confidence. It was a truly heartbreaking feeling. But I held on to myself. I have to show people that despite her passing, I can still go on. I wanted to show people that there is a survivor who keeps her name going.
I treated Mama as if he was a human being. Mama followed me everywhere I went. We slept together in the basement. We put blankets on, got close to each other, and I put my arm around his neck to let him know that I was there. That helped him sleep better. We knew that this life would not go on forever, so we wanted to be together as much as we could.
