When you are young you think that you could never have anything in common with your aunts and uncles due to the age difference. How can you relate to someone that is twice your age? Well, it happens that you grow up and the age factor disappears. Suddenly you can relate to them and they can relate to you. I have had the satisfaction of having many talks with my uncles and aunts. In our family it is common to talk about the past…lo que fue.. They offer you interesting anecdotes of their experiences in life. This helps closes the age gap. It makes one lose the formality of talking between an uncle and a nephew. What do you say when your uncle tells you of a love that once was? Reminiscing of a girl that he wished he asked out back when he was a student in a secundaria en Coyoacan. Dealing with the uncertainty, the fragility and the “what ifs.” You see the strengths in their character and also their defects.
If I talk about these episodes it is not to criticize or pass judgment but instead to share what some families go through. I have written about the cycle of abuse in my family before. It is something that I did not experience firsthand but it undoubtedly has had an effect on me. To this day whenever I hear someone screaming at a child I can feel my heart rate increase.
Monthly Archive for July, 2005
Growing up we do a lot of things that we don’t want to do but we must. For me cow herding as a ten-year old was the most difficult task yet (this happened the year in which my family moved back to Mexico). Trying to control fifteen cows was such an ordeal. I needed a horse but I didn’t know how to ride that well. The cows ran away on more than one occasion leaving me almost in tears. “Pinches vacas culeras!” What a vocabulary I know. My story doesn’t compare to the one my uncle M told me (yeah, that uncle M).
When uncle M was eight and my uncle H nine years old, they were responsible for herding the family cows. One evening as they made their way back to the Rancho Viejo a powerful storm hit and rain poured and poured. The cows were spooked with the lightning that struck, running away ever which way. To those two youngsters trying to retrieve the cows was an exercise in futility. They returned home but were quickly sent back. No quiero verlos hasta que traigan las vacas! At this point it was raining harder and it was dark. Night had set in and a child’s worst fear was beginning to set in, the fear of the dark. Lightning struck and they swear that they saw two red eyes peering at them from the brush on the side of the dirt road. Uncle M reassured uncle H that it must’ve been a coyote and they continued in search of the lost cows, fearful of what was out there and what was awaiting them at home.
Note: This is a story that my uncle M told me one day of weakness (much like the previous story…the wedding he missed was that of my mom) back when I was in Mexico earlier this year. For my uncle M being back in Mexico must have brought back all these memories. What were the red eyes? Who knows. Maybe it was a ghost. At abuelo’s house many claim to have seen red eyes in the darkness as they sleep. Quien sabe, para mi son los nervios.
It was the day of the eldest daughter’s wedding. Uncle M. decided to end his day of tractor work early so that he could attend the reception. Uncle M. arrived at the reception. Abuelo asked Uncle M. if he had finished all the day’s work. After uncle M. responded in the negative, Abuelo scolded uncle M. and directed him to return to work, doing so in front of other guests at the reception. Uncle M. was furious (or heartbroken) and to vent his anger returned to work and labored continuously through the night. It wasn’t until two in the morning that one of his brothers was allowed to get him and even then he did not want to return home.
Originally written by me September 13, 2002 at 8:50pm
Today is Friday the 13th and I am at home in Porterville. I just got have from Fresno about 20 minutes ago. I am listening to Bob Dylan, suffering from the hot weather. Yes, indeed it is night but we have no air-conditioning, and the swamp-cooler simply doesn’t ‘cut it.’ I just completed the third week of the fall semester. I have but only fifteen weeks until I complete my college education. It’s about damn time! I am considering law school; honestly speaking, law school seems to be my only goal at this time. I don’t think I would be a good teacher although I’d like to believe that I would be. And being a pedagogue sounds tempting at times (note: check to see if pedagogue means teacher.) Time passes by so fast, if you don’t stop and look around, it will pass you up (Ferris Bueller’s Day Off). I am now 25 years old and still a student, and still feel like I am fresh out of high school. What the hell happened to me? Do I still look young? Or do I have the face (and body) of a student that is over the hill? I just don’t know? How does “adulthood” make it self apparent? When do you start feeling like an adult, and not some old teenager? My dad was an adult at 19 (when he married a 26 year old girl from his “rancho”). Nineteen was six years ago for me. Where is my life heading? What is to become of me? Is it worth doing anything? I’d rather be a “hippy” and do nothing. That’ll be my middle finger to the system. I’ve already dropped the debt. That is my first “fuck-you” to the system. Why will I need credit? I don’t need any credit cards. Fuck Citibank! Latin America…learn from me. Irresponsibility is sometimes a good thing. And irresponsible I am. When will I grow-up? (Bob Dylan is playing in the background: “…Forever Young.”) I have not written an entry in quite some time and it is about time that I get back to writing in my so called journal. (Politics: George Bush is preparing to bomb Saddam Hussein and Iraq. Farm-workers are fighting for the right to gain union representation more easily. [Davis is getting to veto it] Other activists are pushing for driver-licenses for undocumented-workers. [Politicos have presented a watered down version that would virtually exclude the majority of undocumented-workers]. It is too hot to be writing and so…con esa me despido.
Farm worker Salud Zamudio Rodriguez, 42, was stricken Wednesday while working in a bell pepper field near Arvin in 105-degree heat. He died a short time later at Mercy Hospital in Bakersfield. Asuncion Valdivia, 52, a Giumarra Vineyards grape picker, died from heat related illness in July 2004.
read / Porterville Recorder
As I watched with dismay as the Tigers lost to the lowly Royals I thought what else can possibly go wrong and then it happened. A Royals pitcher beaned Carlos Guillen causing the benches to clear. I figured nothing would happen and nothing did…until Kyle Farnsworth our new closer rushed one of the Royals relief pitchers body slamming him into the grass…and it was on.
A rumble in Motown. I was impressed with the Detroit pitchers. They were ready to fight. Jeremy Bonderman had to be restrained cause he was ready to go kung fu on the Royals. This incident is going to result in suspensions on both sides and that is why it is bad but aside from that it was the only highlight of the game. Around the 7th inning I jumped ship. I can’t stand watching one of my teams losing to such a crappy team.
I really hadn’t followed the Gold Cup this year because I was futbol-ed out. I had watched the Confederations Cup, Copa Libertadores faithfully and the Gold Cup really didn’t seem that attractive especially when Mexico was playing what amounts to a B or even C squad. Even so a match up between Mexico and Colombia seemed worth it. Anytime Mexico plays a South American team, say Brazil, Argentina, Colombia, Paraguay, it is a game to watch. I must say it was a good game. If it wasn’t for a lucky ass shot, Mexico probably would’ve taken it. I was arguing with my dad that the goalie was partly to blame for the lucky goal since he was somewhat out of position. If Oswaldo Sanchez was on the squad that wouldn’t have happened I can assure you that. Tomorrow the Mexican media (As well as Hugo Sanchez) is going to be all over the coach Ricardo Lavolpe, but that is what happens when you are the coach of the TRI. I personally think Lavolpe is a good coach, aside from him being Argentinean (I kid, I kid) The problem with this squad is that it was too inexperienced. The midfielders were lacking as well as the absence of Jared Borgetti made a huge difference. Unlike Copa America teams tend to send their B squads to the Gold Cup. Either way it was a good game and it was exciting to see the stadium filled. As far as the final is concerned (I am skipping the semifinals) it should be a good game between Colombia and the US. The US should have the cup unless they have a huge letdown…aside from that the home field advantage or lack of could be a problem for the American squad.
This time of year always make me reminisce over the many summers I spent working in the fields or how every other Mexican refers to it, el fil. I was thirteen years old, my first official year in the grape harvest. While my friends were enjoying their summer vacation I was busting my ass picking grapes in Kern County. What I found the most difficult wasn’t the actual job but the heat. Everyday was a 100 degree day. The other thing that I hated was waking up at 4 a.m. so that we could commute to the southern outskirts of Bakersfield. There were days that I became tired of the monotony of the job and the isolation. Other pickers would leave my adolescent ass in the dust so I would find myself picking grapes by myself. In frustration I would find a rotten bunch and chuck it in the air in hopes of hitting someone in the head. Fridays were the best because they were paydays. I felt joy not because I was going to get paid but because it was the end of another week. For some reason I didn’t consider Saturday to be a workday. Saturdays were more laid back and went by quickly. Anyhow most of the feria would go to my parents and I would pocket about forty-bucks. Not much, but I understood. If you are wondering how it is that I managed to work as a thirteen year old, well, it wasn’t too complicated. I worked with a borrowed social security. It is the norm for paisanos to lend out their card so that they can later get unemployment benefits in return. I considered myself a pioneer in the fields. I was the first to take headphones to work. Not a CD player but rather a cassette player, which in itself is not a great combination. Cassettes tend to melt easily when left lying around. Listening to headphones while working was a way to make the day go by faster but it also had its negatives. For example, there were quite a few times when I would miss crew meetings because I didn’t hear the foreman honking his truck horn (the signal for everything from breaks to meetings to crop dusters spraying pesticides on her heads). Aside from that it was worth it. Unfortunately, soon after they were outlawed from the fields. I am sure Giumarra figured that listening to music while working meant fewer boxes. Some of you historians might remember Giumarra as one of the last table growers to succumb to the demands of the great Cesar Chavez.
feria - money
paisanos – fellow countrymen
I went to a family quinceañera this past weekend and I have to say “What the hell!” The church is not completely full but the party is? Come on people, the whole point of a quinceañera is the religious aspect. Not that that is the most exciting part but you have to deal with it. I would love to skip it too and go straight to the drink fest but I have to show the family member some support. For example a while back my cousin P got married and I felt really bad. The church was 1/4 full. That’s just not right. Maybe we should start stamping people at the church and that will be your entry pass for the reception.
Another thing…
Since when has it become acceptable for a 16 year-old cousin of mine to be dating a 23 year-old man that already has kids? I could not believe my eyes as I saw this guy sit next to my cousin and directly across from my aunt and uncle. So check this out…this is the story. The cousin starting seeing this guy and her parents found out and they flipped. Sometime later it became ok for her to talk on the phone and go out with this perv. Next thing you know the uncles find out that they guy has a kid…the go out of their mind. They punish her with all their might.
Even so, how is it possible that she got her way? How? Will someone explain this to me? Me, being the non-conflict peace-loving person that I am was almost to the point of asking him what the hell he was thinking. What can a 23 year-old see in a 16 year-old girl that is still in high school? I didn’t of course because of a lack of an opportune moment. Ahem. Anyhow that is why I don’t want to have daughters. Could you imagine having to deal with this madness?
Well, that was my weekend.