Words on Wednesday …

Thinking of La Vecindad just last week when Chente passed away, and then I find out that someone from La Vecindad had only a few days left to live and it hit me again.

All the memories flooding in from my childhood with Doña Maria, her caring and easy-going nature, and some of best pozole I ever tasted.

She lost her battle to cancer a few days ago and I felt that saddened pained heaviness in my heart. She’d met me when I was in diapers, and knew me through my first communion, TrapperKeeper and PeeChee folder days all the way until high school graduation. I’d seen her almost everyday. She’d been part of all the carne asada and Vencindad parties. She’d been there my entire childhood watching me grow and now she was gone.

In peace, I hope. No longer suffering the hurt that comes with cancer.

I was lucky enough to see her a few days before she had passed and I mentioned my favorite story …

Being a latch-key kid growing up, it was super important not to forget or lose your your key. I happened to forget it on one occasion and I had no other choice but to sit on the steps and wait. Cold and cloudy. I waited for someone to come home.

Doña Maria’s husband, Don Chuco, coming home saw me sitting there, like a stray dog and invited me to come upstairs and wait until my parents came home. We walked in and the first thing I noticed was the smell of something savory coming out of the kitchen and the giant painting of The Last Supper hanging near their dining room.

Doña Maria came out and smiled.

Ven mija.

Mija.

That’s what she called me. It felt warm and fuzzy.

Sit down, sit down, what were you doing outside waiting, you know you could have come up here and waited inside. Come sit down, we’re gonna eat some soup. I was part of their family. In La Vecindad we were all family.

She served me a bowl of warm soup and I joined them at the table. As we began eating they both grabbed tortillas from the basket, but I just kept eating my soup. Then they grabbed another, but I just kept slurping away.

They looked at each other and smiled.

Don Maria asked if everything was all right and I said it was fine, tasted good. Don Chuco shook his head and in his big deep booming voice said …

“Oyes que no sabes que con tortilla se llena la gente …”

Roughly translated it meant … Don’t you know that tortillas help you fill up? Eat up.

They laughed. I smiled. I took a tortilla from the basket.

She let me watch cartoons the rest of the afternoon, by the window, so I could see when my parents came home.

When I told my dad later that night about the Last Supper Painting, the soup, and the tortillas, he chuckled. Said we should probably buy more tortillas then …

Doña Maria smiled at the story as she sat up on the bed wincing in pain.

Ay mija.

She smiled.

I smiled.

She passed away five days later and I felt sad. Still do. Hard to picture strong, kind, salt-of-the-Earth people that I knew, that were part of my life, part of La Vecindad no longer being here.

🙂

I send her light, love, sunshine, and waves.

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Buen Camino …

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Feel Good 5 Friday on Saturday … Chente Edition

Presence is a big thing.

You notice it when it’s missing. I mean when it’s there in the crowd or group you see it, but when it’s gone that void is there. You feel the heaviness of it.

This week my people lost a big voice.

Big.

Irreplaceable.

Chente.

Or as people who didn’t know him … Vicente Fernandez.

Had the presence so big and voice so powerful that he pulled off the one name. In my household seeing how my family is Guat, we listened mostly to cumbias, marimba, and merengue. However, when you live in something called “la vecindad” everybody be hearing your music. From the morning sounds of Apartment 6’s “I’m Your Puppet,” to Apartment 3’s “Hungry Like the Wolf,” to Apartment 9’s “The Dream Team is in the House.” However, when it came to these carne asadas where everyone was considered family, the sounds of La Sonora Dinamita and the rest of the Sonoras dominated the cassette players or record players, but towards the end of the night, when most of the Budweisers were gone, Chente would come on the loudspeakers. There would be other rancheras, but Chente’s voice was accompanied by a chorus of neighbors singing. And singing. And singing.

In this neighborhood we had birthday parties, first communion parties, baptism parties, graduation parties, all kinds of parties, where every family in the building participated. You got everyone’s 1970’s orange flowered and avocado green linoleum kitchen chairs out in the large patios, with the large Sanyo speakers connected through multiple chords. The drumbeats, the trumpets, accordions, saxophones, keyboards, everything blaring and everyone dancing it up. But as the night ended there would be the deep, smooth voice echoing through the party and everyone sitting there feeling the mood of the song and the feelings in his voice. And they’d raise the cans in another toast.

As soon as I heard the news that Chente passed away, I thought of “la vecindad”. I thought about my childhood friends, I thought about red-light-green-light, tag, I thought about the food, the pinatas, I thought about the impromptu karaoke at the end of the night, and Budweiser cans raised in a toast. I thought about the parties and how the memories are some of the best ones to this date. And how along with La Sonora Dinimata, and Johnny Ventura, Chente was also very much present during the soundtrack of my childhood.

I got a chance to see him twice in concert when he came to town, and I was glad I did. One of the best shows I’ve seen. Definitely will be missed by me and even more so by la vecindad.

Buen Camino …

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Volver, Volver — Vicente Fernandez

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El Rey — Vicente Fernandez

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Me Voy a Quitar de en Medio — Vicente Fernandez

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No Me Se Rajar — Vicente Fernandez

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Aca Entre Nos — Vicente Fernandez

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Feel Good 5 Friday … On a Saturday

The mood in a rebounding situation varies on a daily basis as recharging my Duracell capacity requires a combination of multiple variables. Most of the time you’ve got to do it yourself. 

I heard someone say … we woke up today, might as well be badasses.

And I was like … yeah … Totally.

I mean hanging out at the Metamucil aisle at the CVS, after getting your cholesterol tested doesn’t seem badass, but you may hear that Bee Gee soundtrack when the results come out with positive numbers and you’re crushing it. Or you may hear Seven Nation Army blaring as you tell yourself you’re gonna kick some ass and get those numbers down because it’s what you got to do.

Running. Outdoors. Music. Creativity. Girls Day/Night Out.

These are the outlets contributing to recharging the battery, and this week proved to be better than most, as I had on as my music jams, meditation, and running providing the needed soul therapy required to operate. There are indeed some factors that were out of my control but focusing on that, I’ve learned, just brings the average vibe down.  I woke up a badass, remember?  Got to concentrate on what can be done bit by bit. And since I had to hit pause on my previous project, I picked up my Canon this week to see if I could continue improving on my beginner skills.

I realized the weather and sunshine were super helpful on my continued quest to find perspective this week. I have to get used to the camera and telling stories visually, instead of with words, at least for a little bit, until this break is over. Probably will help with storytelling and settings. Angles. Perspective. I’ve found that the soundtrack I play on my headphones also helps see the morning differently. The beat and the words pulse through altering my rhythmic vibrations. Don’t think that it’s making me a better picture taker, but the vibes are better.

Since we’ve been indoors most of the time, taking snapshots outdoors is my first focus. The light is better, and apparently, I have to pay attention to light a lot more now. Depending on where it lands, the light, the story says something different. Just that one aspect of a scene, changes the direction of your visual storytelling. Where the sun hits it, how it’s reflecting off the surface, what kind of colors or glow is it enhancing. Light … what a trip.

Happens with everything else in life too, just one shift makes the day different. I think that’s why I currently enjoy running, when in fact I hated running as a kid. I mean it was … ugh … dreaded. But I realize the power of the shift running can have in my mornings, the power to help frame the day into a badass state of mind and as the lady said you woke up, might as well be a badass.

So, I’m a badass … a badass with a playlist, wearing Saucony’s, sweatpants, and a baseball cap, with a fairly new Canon camera, still figuring out.

Buen Camino, my friends …

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Celso Pina – Cumbia Sobre el Rio Suena

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Vicki Sue Robinson — Turn The Beat Around

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Jon Bon Jovi — Living on a Prayer

Kool and The Gang — Get Down On It

 

Joe Cocker — With A Little Help From My Friends

 

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