My earliest memories began in Southern California. I LOVED that beautiful time and place There were avocado orchards, orange orchards, and all other types of fruits growing there. The air was still relatively clean. When those orchards would bloom and blossom the air smelled heavenly...like a luscious fruit salad.
When we moved to Colton, California we bought a lovely home at the end of a culdesac. It was slightly run down, but my hard working parents soon had it looking lived in and loved. Each and every one of our neighbors was Hispanic.
My two best friends were identical twins named Rosemarie and Toni. I adored visiting them at their home. Their Madre was amazing! One moment she was embracing a child and giving them love in Espanol, the next she was correcting another child with her eyes flashing in a righteous call to repentance.
I adored the Spanish language. It seemed so much more musical, fluid to me than English. In English language we were taught to make each separate word crisp and clean. Diction and enunciation were an early part of our education. In Spanish the words blended together so that the speaker sounded like they were singing as much as speaking.
The adobe homes of my neighborhood were usually quite brightly colored. Next to each other the house colors were orange, red, purple, turquoise, yellow, every single amazing color. There was no attempt to make these homes blend in to the landscaping around them. The homes were bold in jeweled colors. My adoration for brilliant color began there.
I learned that California had many names that were Hispanic because the area used to belong to Mexico. In other words, if you immigrated into the area, the governmental body, the rules and regulations were all Mexican.
I have absolutely NO intention of discussing the controversial topic of illegal immigration in America. I wish this post to be about the humanitarian issues, not the political ones.
I was ever so sad when our family moved to Utah. So boring, everyone was the same skin color, same language, and same religion....dull...dull...dull I HATED the state with all that was in my six year old soul for an entire year, and then gradually I began to "Bloom where I was planted."
Decades later a lovely young woman from Tampico, Mexico married the man who lived across the street from us. She was lovely, enthusiastic, and ever so caring. I felt like that the very first time I met her I had discovered a friend. She was such a gift in my life.
She and I danced to Zumba one day. She told me laughingly that I had an inner Mexican! I loved the concept. What she meant by that was that I respond positively to music with a Latin beat. This is absolutely true. When I exercise with "Just Dance," I always score the best on Latin songs.
Cinco de Mayo always remind me of my gratitude to grow up mostly Hispanic. The food of Mexico fills not only my stomach, but my soul as well. The clothing are comfortable, and often colorful. Give me a Mariachi band any day to wear out the souls of my dancing shoes!
The countries that comprise those of the Hispanic group are not free from troubles. Mexico is so sadly in constant flux due to the drug cartels. Yet the people do their best to keep putting one foot in front of the other, doing their best to keep living a positive life in spite of the negativity they often face.
How about today? Do you feel your "Inner Mexican," calling you to dance, sing, or eat delicious food?
Is Mexico free of problems?