Once Upon A Time

-
Once upon a time there was a man named Torivio who had a wife named Juana.

They decided to move from their home in Juarez, Mexico to the United States.

The had many children, their first of whom was a boy.

They named their first born son Gomecindo, but most people called him "George".

Gomecindo grew up and married a woman named Isabel Vasquez.

Gomecindo and Isabel had 8 sons, their third of whom they named "Charles"

Charles grew up and married a woman named Corinne.

They had many children, one of whom was a girl they named Cambria.

Today I am here sharing that part of my family history with you.

My great-grandparents, Torivio and Juana passed before I was born.

My grandparents passed when I was quite young (aged 5 when my grandmother passed, 10 when my grandfather passed...) and so I never got to fully appreciate what they were like in life and who they were when they were younger.

But by the great fortune of meeting extended cousins and family members recently I have been gifted with some great stories of who they were- and I love stories.

When I read the emails from father's cousins I smiled warmly.  It was the first time I have been able to get to know my grandparents.  Here is an excerpt from one email-

When Uncle George was young he was also known as Lincoln and he was a fantastic pool player. My dad always said Uncle George was so strong he could knock anyone out with one punch.



............... One of my fondest memories of your grandmother was when we would ask her if she remembered our birthdays and she would be able to tell us all our birthdates correctly, we had six siblings and she knew them all. I don't know about you, but I have a hard time remembering my own childrens birthdays, let alone nieces...


Your Cousin,


C.

I suppose it is just a glimpse of 2 people who lived and loved.  But when I read about my grandmother remembering birthdays I felt a flush of familial pride.

I too am great at remembering birthdates and know all of my nieces and nephews birthdays. (Sometimes I am a horrible aunt and forget to call them, but the love is implied- I swear.)

What else have I inherited from my lineage?  Certainly I can blame my inability to develop calf muscles on someone, right?

More on who to blame coming soon...

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

"Dear Bobby"

-
Image
"Dear Bobby, I love you. I always look forward to when my husband leaves for work, and you sneak into bed with me. Sometimes, you will wake me up, but usually, you just lie there next to me waiting for my eyes to open." Bobby. You are a cat. But you are the cat of all cats. Unliked some others whose names I will not mention.... you like being a cat. You are my original Obi Kenobi... But you don't like your name and insist I call you "Bobby" or "Bob". You are my predator. You can catch anything- including a rabbit almost twice your size. I remember the time you brought a baby possum into our home. I had just awakened and sleepily headed to use the bathroom when, peering from inside the toilet, was a little possum begging to be released. You cheeky bastard, Bobby. That poor possum. I scolded you and you just turned the other whisker, as if to say "look lady... I am a cat, that's how I do...." The other cats beg for forgiveness when ...
Read More

The Good Dancer: A Dating Story

-
Image
I once dated a really good dancer. That wasn't his only strength. In truth, he was one of thee absolute best dudes I ever made out with.  He was super funny, smart and we clicked right away. But what struck me as odd was that, for the first time before and since, his good dancing skills didn't turn me off.  (For some reason, a man with too much swagger on the floor has always confused and frightened me a little.)  Oh, and I also don't like when they are so involved in their dancing that they forget you are on the floor with them.  Oh, and when they A. crowd you or B. use you as a prop.  Oh, and when they sing along to songs by female artists.  If you know all the lyrics to "I'm a Slave for You", that's both impressive and embarrassing. (I really did have strange deal-breakers with men...) So here was the first guy who I enjoyed dancing with that was actually a really good dancer.  He didn't crowd.  He didn't sweat profusely.  H...
Read More

Degree

-
Image
It was on Friday night. We laughed a lot, perhaps made delirious by the sweet smell of men that were familiar-yet-elusive and desirable. It could have been the wine,  it could have been the great company of old friends and conversations and shared opinions with other women. I disagreed with Ariel more than once, though... "Too sweet" or.... "smells like a jelly bean...." The ones I couldn't put down were the ones that smelled like a man's deodorant, hidden among 75+ samples that scattered in baskets around the coffee table. There we sat around a table full of scents as we sampled the fragrances from a friend's Scentsy collection, eager to fill out our order forms for the smells that would soon promise to envelop our homes. I opted for the "Iced Pine" option, which always reminds me of the home I have not yet lived in and lingered around the fragrances that smelled of citrus and orange peels.  The idea of the smell of "Orange...
Read More