Feliz Cinco de Mayo

Today I celebrate my Mexican-American ancestry. Today I will share with my own family the rich and beautiful culture I was raised in. I will cook up some of Grandma Martha's mexican cuisine and maybe even stuff a piñata full of candy.  I will sweep my front patio as I listen to Linda Ronstadt's Canciones de mi Padre. I will explain how words I often heard such as, "Gracias a Dios" (thanks be to God) and "Si Dios quiere" (if it be God's will) were more than just little catch  phrases, but expressions of faith and reminders of the Giver of all gifts. 

My mom is one of 10 children. Any and all family gatherings on the Gonzales side constituted a party. Only half of the clan is pictured below. I recall many a Sunday where we would meet up with our cousins at Moody Park and swing on the swings and share snow-cones. My sweet Aunt Becky (pictured to the right of me in a white shirt and jeans) was the first person to teach me how to straighten my hair with a round brush and blow dryer. A life changing experience in and of itself. 

My dad, who I affectionately call Papi, which means daddy in Spanish, is one of 11 children. Seven of which are pictured below. Once or twice a month during my entire early childhood, we would load up the car and head south for 8 hours to Valle Hermoso, Tamaulipas, Mexico. Moni and I slept, sang or took turns giving Papi a shoulder massage as he drove us towards the border. My grandmother and aunts were always there on the front porch to greet us with big smiles and hugs as we arrived.  Even in the most humblest of living conditions, we were treated like royalty. Abuelita Quina always had fresh mangos that she'd just purchased from the market waiting for me because she knew how much I loved them. Homemade tortillas and salsas were always on the menu as well. Because my mom dressed us to the nines, we were always taken to visit all of the extended family to show off  "Conrado's girls who came in from the U.S." And boy were we doted on. Royalty indeed. Moni and I  spent our free time running up and down a grove of trees in front of grandma's house playing with cousins or collecting pesos to purchase Chiclets, Tamarindo or Mazapan. In the evening our uncles would gather around on the patio with their guitars singing songs about love found, love lost, and everything in between. We played til we dropped to sound of singing, guitars and window boxed fans. It was a wonderful time.

As a teenager I took Mexican Folk dancing lessons at the community rec. center named Ripley House. I absolutely loved learning and performing various dances from the different states of Mexico. It was typically about this time of year that we would put on shows at local Arts Festivals. I later had the opportunity to dance with Lamanite Generation at BYU. 

The life I have now is so different from those days gone by. We now make different kinds of memories with our kids. Lots of things still remain the same however. The recipes live on. The family gatherings with loads of cousins are always a party. The singing and laughter continue. The feeling of belonging and being loved runs deep. That is what my culture gave me. That is what will live on forever.

The following clip is for my sisters. We'll need to get some video of Dad when he comes this weekend. Love you all!