Today is the 21st of August, in the year 2009. Wow, when I was a kid I was terrified of the year 2000. The year I turned 40. I remember the day it hit me. I had been counting down the years until I was out of school. Grade school, junior high, then highschool, were the years in my countdown. I hadn’t conceived of college at that point. All those years seemed like an eternity. Not the word that came into my mind at the time. At that time it was FOREVER. 40 years old, that was so old, it was really scary to me at the time.
When I remember these thoughts; the vision and smells of walking along the dirt road that led to the family home I grew up in comes to mind. Dappled sun streaming down through 100 plus year old cottonwood trees. The sounds of crickets, and grasshoppers. Always on the lookout for snakes. Terrified of the sound the big grasshoppers made when they jumped/flew away. I thought that was the sound rattle snakes made. Summers that stretched on for years in a child’s mind. An eternity in school each year. I loved to read and learn, but I was a shy child and did not like school. Very shy, and highly intelligent does not make for smooth communication in grade school.
I was more comfortable with dogs, cats, cows, and horses than with most people. They were what they were, not so confusing. With the other kids they would speak, and to me their words could have meant 4 or 5 different things depending on which logic tack you took. I had no idea what they meant, so I usually ended up looking at them like they had 2 heads and one was spinning around.
I’ve since learned, to pick the simplest tack, when people are speaking and most of the time that is what they mean. Not always, lol, there are others like me. That was a happy discovery, lol.
At any rate as I child I sought out other people that were different than what seemed to be the norm. Usually Mexican kids. At that time anyone with darker skin was “Mexican” didn’t matter if they were Indian, east Indian, or whatever, they were Mexican. Usually they didn’t speak as much English, and I didn’t speak much of their first language.
As a result of the differences in our languages, we didn’t use them so much. Didn’t talk so much with words. We communicated with gestures, and played together. Just enjoying life together without all the clutter and cruelties of speech.
To this day I love the sound of “Mexican” music. It triggers a feeling of happiness and warm sunny summer days in my soul and mind. What can I say, if it has a latin rhythm to it, it makes my heart happy.
I grew up loving dark eyes and black hair and all the richness of the varied skin tones. When I hear Spanish being spoken wherever I am, I feel as if “ ah… I’m home”
Here is the irony in that. I still am not fluent in Spanish, I understand some, enough to communicate, but am far from fluent. As a child I had very bright flaming red hair, freckles scattered across, extremely Anglican skin. I was very light skinned. Sunburn central, the lobster girl with blisters, and flaming hair.
My current life has called for my attention… broke my train of thought… must go for now….
M
When I remember these thoughts; the vision and smells of walking along the dirt road that led to the family home I grew up in comes to mind. Dappled sun streaming down through 100 plus year old cottonwood trees. The sounds of crickets, and grasshoppers. Always on the lookout for snakes. Terrified of the sound the big grasshoppers made when they jumped/flew away. I thought that was the sound rattle snakes made. Summers that stretched on for years in a child’s mind. An eternity in school each year. I loved to read and learn, but I was a shy child and did not like school. Very shy, and highly intelligent does not make for smooth communication in grade school.
I was more comfortable with dogs, cats, cows, and horses than with most people. They were what they were, not so confusing. With the other kids they would speak, and to me their words could have meant 4 or 5 different things depending on which logic tack you took. I had no idea what they meant, so I usually ended up looking at them like they had 2 heads and one was spinning around.
I’ve since learned, to pick the simplest tack, when people are speaking and most of the time that is what they mean. Not always, lol, there are others like me. That was a happy discovery, lol.
At any rate as I child I sought out other people that were different than what seemed to be the norm. Usually Mexican kids. At that time anyone with darker skin was “Mexican” didn’t matter if they were Indian, east Indian, or whatever, they were Mexican. Usually they didn’t speak as much English, and I didn’t speak much of their first language.
As a result of the differences in our languages, we didn’t use them so much. Didn’t talk so much with words. We communicated with gestures, and played together. Just enjoying life together without all the clutter and cruelties of speech.
To this day I love the sound of “Mexican” music. It triggers a feeling of happiness and warm sunny summer days in my soul and mind. What can I say, if it has a latin rhythm to it, it makes my heart happy.
I grew up loving dark eyes and black hair and all the richness of the varied skin tones. When I hear Spanish being spoken wherever I am, I feel as if “ ah… I’m home”
Here is the irony in that. I still am not fluent in Spanish, I understand some, enough to communicate, but am far from fluent. As a child I had very bright flaming red hair, freckles scattered across, extremely Anglican skin. I was very light skinned. Sunburn central, the lobster girl with blisters, and flaming hair.
My current life has called for my attention… broke my train of thought… must go for now….
M
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