Stories of Lotería

My Aunt Socorro -a truly wonderful lady- is the eldest of eleven children, an avid reader, and a terrific pen-pal. From her home that is situated over 2400 miles away from those she grew up with, she records every birth, keeps our family history, and always sends a birthday card. Here are two poems she wrote way back when, and shared with me some years ago.  * Based on the antics of her two younger sisters: my Mom and my Nina THE INCORRIGIBLES (8/16/1957) Oh! My sisters are so pretty, But such naughty little brats, That they play with crickets And chase after cats. I tell them not to do it, But the rascals disobey, As if they were not afraid. So I have to turn them over, And over them indeed I hover, As I smack them with my hand to make them understand. But they keep on being bad, So that I no longer care What they do or what they dare. * This next one is about my mom before she became a mom. For those of us who know her well, we'll re...

RRRRIIIINNNNGGGG The first school bell sliced through the chatter and thrill of the small yard on Amalia Street. Twenty pairs of black and white leather oxfords scurried past the sun-scarred swings and canopied lunch tables. "Line up now. Everybody line up," a friendly-faced woman with blonde hair called out to the group. Tiny bodies topped with French braids, pony tails, crew cuts, and parts perfectly combed by Mama for the first day of first grade in 1985. In the classroom we sat at our own desk in alphabetical order of our last names - Andrade, Delgado, Del Hoyo, Diaz..... There were no desks back in kindergarten. Us kids sat on the carpeted floor most of the time. Here, I felt like a grown-up professional. I couldn't wait to get my hands on some paper and start writing something. The walls were covered with bright posters, charts, letters and numbers. In the front left corner of the room, facing us as we worked at our miniature desks, was a statue of the Vir...

My first memory is of the lake when I was four years old.  I think that's my first memory. Truth is, I can't be sure. Between all the pictures that I've seen, and the countless retelling of events that I've heard, it's hard to distinguish authentic memory from plain old overexposure. I remember being inside an RV. It has got to be my memory because there are no existing pictures of the RV.  I remember heat, a lot of it. My mom and dad were there, along with my Aunt Gloria and Uncle George, and my cousin Lorrie. There were bugs - so many bugs.  And I distinctly recall a night on the road when I crawled up onto the overhead bed and popped my head out of a little sunroof opening, except this night it was better described as a moon roof because I laid eyes on the first amazing moon of my memory. The rest of the trip, filled in by my mom and those yellowing photos pressed firmly against the sticky pages of our 1980's photo albums (Why don't they make 'e...

   Salvador Medina and Elena Tapia married in May 1938. It was a jubilant celebration overflowing with family, friends and best wishes. No one was about to miss the festivities, even if it meant riding in on a horse for three days, including Elena's closest cousin, Alberto. He was a few years older than she but they had grown up together, played together, and often confided in each other. Salvador enjoyed Alberto's company very much and understood that the cousins were more like brother and sister. Soon after the wedding, Salvador and Elena moved into their first house together. It was an old-fashioned style structure whose kitchen resembled something like a patio. There was a roof to keep the rain out, and a ledge to store supplies. Often, though, stray cats would sneak onto the ledge and fall asleep there.  Elena diligently attempted to load the ledge with pots, pans, or anything else that would take up space. They enjoyed the house and those early years spent togeth...

I walked through the front door of my house not too long ago, after an especially energy-sucking day at work, and was met with a quirky tune from my past. Brass horns and bouncing notes reminiscent of a carnival carousel ride.  Except this one actually took me somewhere. It took me back to five years of age... Walking home with Grandpa Salvador after school - sopa de fideo on the stove - Grandma Elena in her apron - and Chavo del Ocho on the television. The little orphan boy who lived in a barrel and played with the kids from the nearby apartment complex was my daily afternoon entertainment. Never did I wonder how a boy could live in a barrel. Never did I notice that each kid was played by an adult in their 30s or 40s.  All I cared about was in what way Chavo would stick it to that bratty Quico with the blow fish cheeks, or what would make that cry-baby Chilindrina wail this time, or if someday Dona Florinda would actually get Don Ramon to notice her, (but before you thi...

I know it's been a while, but..... Taking inspiration from my last post, La Sirena, let me ask you:  Who were your beauty or style  icons while growing up? Who did you look up to and think, "Damn. I'm never going to be that cool"?  Looking back on some of my faves, one thing remains true.  BIG HAIR = BIG APPEAL

Dedicated to those women I grew up watching, not on tv, but in real-life . When I was a little girl I thought my female teenage cousins were the shit ! We came from a large family with many aunts, uncles, and kids, but there was a recognizable divide between those considered children - around 12 and under - and those who most certainly were not ever to be mistaken or miscategorized as a child - 16 and up.  At family parties, these 4 or 5 young women would gather in a bedroom covered wall-to-wall with Prince or Pat Benatar posters, blasting extremely loud American Bandstand favorites, and plot the newest yet not terribly inventive way they were going to dupe their parents this weekend. Naturally, us younger kids weren't allowed in that bedroom for more than it takes to tell someone the food's ready , but in that instant you could pick up a strong collective whiff of freshly-popped Bubble Yum, plastic jelly-bean sandals, and Aqua Net...a lot of Aqua Net.  The hair...