21. Oscar’s father noted in his small notebook that he purchased a typewriter in 1925, the year Oscar turned eight.
22. In this tribute to Father Aguadé, Romero wrote of his teacher: “He left us with this indelible memory: he strove to encourage our good qualities and talents. I’ll be grateful my entire life for the time he complimented me on a little beginner’s speech I gave in one of those evening events we organized in honor of our teachers. I felt his words of encouragement were so sincere they seemed to point out to me my responsibility to make good use of the gifts God gives us for God’s own glory.” Romero y Galdámez, “Murió el Padre Antonio Aguadé,” Chaparrastique, no. 2304, February 20, 1960, 1,8,12.
23. Oscar learned to swim as a child in streams and rivers near his home.
24. Oscar’s counsel to pray three Ave Marias at bedtime and upon awakening come from a 1939 postcard that Oscar, twenty-two, wrote to Arnoldo on his birthday: “My dear, often-thought-of Noldo, On September 13, you will celebrate your birthday, so I’m writing you this pretty postcard to congratulate you. To always be happy, you should always do three things: Go to mass on Sundays, always take Holy Communion, love the Virgin Mary, praying to her three Hail Marys upon going to bed and rising. If you do this, God will dearly love you. If you don’t, you won’t be happy. I send you a hug. Your brother Oscar”
4. A Time to Prepare
(1936–1943)
“I’ll be frank with you, Oscar,” Bishop Dueñas said. “Now that you’ve graduated from minor seminary, I’m not sure where to send you for your seminary studies. You might have continued them here in San Miguel, under my guidance, but, alas . . .”
The bishop sighed as he gazed over the campus, now eerily quiet without students. “Odd, isn’t it, how happenings in Spain affect us here in our little El Salvador, an ocean away?”
Oscar’s heart weighed heavy with the events that recently closed the minor seminary. A few months after his graduation in late 1935, civil war erupted in Spain. The Claretian superiors recalled its order’s brothers from abroad, including those who ran the San Miguel preseminary, to replace members killed in the hostilities. The San Miguel diocese lacked its own priests to staff the school.
“Any news of Father Aguadé? Of Fathers Burgoa and Calvo?” Oscar had shed tears when his beloved teachers left for their homeland, headed into violence and uncertainty. How were they faring?
“No news yet. Let’s keep them in our prayers.” The bishop paused and bowed his head in a moment of silence.25 “Now back to your situation, Oscar. I have some asking around to do, but until I figure out where to send you, I suggest you go home and spend time with your family. If they don’t need you, you might go help Father Monroy in his parish until I get plans lined up for you.”
Oscar’s posture sagged, and the bishop added, “Don’t worry, Oscar, you will become a priest. Our country desperately needs priests, and you’ll be a fine one. This period of waiting and uncertainty may be God’s test of your resolve.”
The year passed, and Oscar received no definitive news from Bishop Dueñas about his future. But in 1937, the bishop instructed Oscar to enroll in courses at the Jesuit seminary in the capital city.26 While Oscar was there, his father died on August 14, 1937, the day after his fifty-fourth birthday and the day before Oscar’s twentieth. The death resulted from Don Santos’s despair over the loss of his land and livelihood when he was unable to repay a loan he had borrowed during the difficult Depression years.27 He had also begun to drink heavily to dull his pain.28
Personal Loss
In his grief, Oscar wrote:
Everything, my God, speaks of sadness, of weeping. . . .
My father is dead! Dear Father, I who each evening turned my gaze to the distant east, sending you my loving distant thought, would think of you on the porch of the home I remembered, . . . would see you turning your gaze to the west where your son was. . . .
Only the memories remain, memories of childhood . . . I still see you one night waiting for us to return with Mother from our trip to San Miguel, waiting with a toy for each of us made with your own hands. . . .29
There was yet more sad news from home. Oscar’s mother suffered a malady, likely a stroke, which disabled her right arm and side. The paralysis would limit her activities for the rest of her life. Oscar, worried about his family’s future, wished he could hurry the day when he’d be working as a priest, earning a salary, however meager it might be.30
Bishop Dueñas eventually sent a message to Oscar. The bishop had been granted scholarships at the Colegio Pío Latino Americano in Rome and would send Oscar and his classmates Alberto Luna and Mauro Yánes to study there.
“I chose you three because you’re intelligent, with common sense and the willingness to work hard,” the bishop told the trio when they met to discuss plans. “And because you’re all healthy and hardy.”
“Why’s that so important?” Mauro asked.
“Rome gets cold in the winter. We Salvadorans are used to our subtropical sun. When we spend extended periods in Italy, many of us return with long-term respiratory problems. I need robust priests here because, as Jesus told his disciples, ‘The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few.’”31 The bishop looked over the young men, his eyes intense. “You’ll also need emotional fortitude, especially if events in Europe continue to heat up. This man Hitler in Germany seems determined to rile up people. Did I tell you he made an appearance at the three-hundred-year anniversary of the Passion Play in Oberammergau?”
They nodded. Indeed, the bishop had told them about the 1934 event, a great outdoor pageant held every ten years. Bishop Dueñas had taken his nephew, Oscar’s good friend Rafael Valladares, and Abdón Arce, another San Miguel preseminarian, on his reporting trip to the Vatican that year. Rafael and Abdón stayed to study for the priesthood in Rome. They had stopped to see the famous theatrical production in Oberammergau, Bavaria, on their way.
“Adolf Hitler was named Germany’s chancellor the previous year.” The bishop dabbed his sweaty brow with a handkerchief. “He swooped through the town in an open black Mercedes, swastika flag on its front fender, to scattered cheers of ‘Heil Hitler.’ Hearing support for him chilled me. He stayed for the day-long performance and afterwards shook hands with the main actors.
“That Hitler’s a hatemonger and a rabble-rouser. Under the Versailles treaty, Germany’s forbidden to rearm itself, but that’s exactly what Hitler’s doing. Let’s pray he doesn’t march Europe into another war.”
To Rome
In late 1937, Oscar, Alberto, and Mauro boarded an Italian liner for Rome.32 The ship soon anchored at a port in northern Venezuela, where another young man headed to Rome boarded.33 Eighteen-year-old Alfonso could hardly tear himself away from the extended family members who came to see him off.34