Feeling a little inspired by the narco-corridos on La Reina Del Sur, I’ve come up with my own variation of this musical genre. I’m calling it ‘El himno de un pobre pendejo.’ Just for fun, and my own personal entertainment! A ver que les parece la letra.
Bandido by Daniel García
Si del pueblo soy, ¿para que negarlo?
Yo no soy de esos que se llenan la boca
Al decir que más que los demás yo soy.
La vida me ha dado oportunidades.
¡Lo reconozco!
Algunas he aprovechado.
El resto, se me han ido volando.
Mis padres, de pura ley son.
Yo a veces de purititas pendejadas.
¡Y no me rajo!
Porque así mero,
Se me han pintado las cosas.
Pocas veces,
Las que me expreso,
Nada más en mí lengua natal.
Pero a veces,
El dolor en el pecho
Otra, no nos deja.
Mexicano por privilegio.
Por puro derecho.
¡Y no me aguito!
Porque quien bien sabe a donde voy
Nada más es Diosito.
No le busquen
Ni más, ni menos.
Esta es mi palabra.
There’s something to be said about reader mail. I’ve often thought this, but never had the nerve to write about it… until today. You see, to hear myself utter the words “reader mail” in it of itself sounds pretentious to me. Como aquel que se cree demasiado, o el otro que le hecha demasiado crema a sus tacos, like ‘who the hell are you to be thinking you’re big and bad enough to have reader mail?’ That’s what usually goes through my head when I start to even think about writing on this subject.
No offense to any of my good friends who have already written about this subject matter, quite well I might add. Believe me. There have been many idle moments spent in front of my computer reading over your very insightful thoughts… most of which I agree with. Sure I’ve shared the occasional comment that made me feel extra nice, but from that, to pretending I have any right to demand anything at all, much less reader mail, from you good folks, is a tremendous stretch of la verdad. I am just grateful some of you keep coming back. ¡En serio!
So why write about it all? And why now? It’s pretty simple really. The other day… this weekend actually, in between grilling up a storm, puras fajitas para Easter you know, and knocking back as many Bud Light’s as I could get my hands on, I received a message from a friend, and a pretty regular reader of this blog, that really made me think. Though we’ve never met in person, I assume we have pretty similar backgrounds from some of the communications we’ve had in the past. She’s Mexican like me and pretty proud of her cultura también. Basically, her note was about another woman that she knows who is going through a rough time, and who, like many of our madrecitas once did, is doing as much of whatever she can to see her kids through.
I won’t go into the details of this woman’s life… porque no es mí lugar, but I did want to share a portion of the letter that, I’ll confess, made me tear up a little:
She shared with me about all the cooking and selling of her food (that she’s done) to keep her and her three children afloat. One of the sales items, of course, was tamales. It was the day after I read your post ¡No Te Rajes!I printed a copy for her to share with her children. She doesn’t speak English, but I think it would make her kids proud to know that a successful writer/blogger shared their same history.
I just want to thank you for sharing your personal history with us. And I want to let you know that it is more meaningful to some people than you will probably ever know.
I’m not to sure about the “successful writer/blogger” part, LOL… but I can honestly say, it is my complete honor and privilege to share this piece of my own personal history, and probably many other parts of it as well, with these three young children, and thousands of others out there también, who like many of us, are growing up in a reality, that we all know to well, very rarely offers much foresight beyond the day to day. If my writing can be meaningful in that regard – in offering so much as a “hey I’ve been there too” to any one of these young kids – I’d feel pretty damn successful already!
Every time we sit down to break bread it’s always the same thing. I don’t want that. What is that? I don’t know what that is, so I don’t like it. If we happen to be eating something like menudo or nopales, anything unfamiliar to him that he is trying for the first time, Edgar will come up with any or as many excuses as he can to not touch it. Immediately, the back and forth ensues. Us arguing that he should just give it a try. He saying that it won’t go down if he puts it in his mouth. ¡Entonces no tienes hambre! …we’ll finally yell and he’ll take off, all upset, away from the table.
A couple minutes later, there he comes, ready to give it a try… or pleading once again to get a happy meal or something equally non-ethnic that he “knows” he will enjoy.
More often than not, unfortunately for him, Edgar won’t have a choice but to sit down and literally try to stomach as much of our food as he possibly can. If we see he can’t take it, we’ll break down and make him a sandwich or something just as bland.
This is particularly bothersome to me because I am the first one to poor Valentina sauce on everything I eat. “Food just doesn’t taste like anything if it isn’t spicy,” I always say, and I guess in a way I’d like for him to feel the same way about “our” food. Mexican food that is. It’d make me feel like I was doing something right if Edgar started asking for hot sauce with everything he eats. Anjelica, my wife, on the other hand, would be horrified to learn her little boy was “turning into a man” by eating all that chile. As you can imagine, we go back and forth. She being more lenient about him eating what I want him to eat, and me always thinking of new ways that I can trick him into eating something new… that I want him to enjoy, even if it is only for my sake.
So far we’ve managed to get him to like pozole, frijoles, cóctel de camarones, flautas, even pupusas, Indian curry, Vietnamese pho, vermicelli, spring rolls, and a host of other ethnic entrees, not the least of which is any Chinese cuisine, by far his favorite. The not so popular, still anything spicy. Yet the other day when Edgar and I were driving back from running errands, we stopped in at a local taqueria to grab a bite to eat. We both ordered a couple of tacos and some Horchata. When the waitress came back with our food, he sat there for a second, not saying anything, just looking at his plate. What’s wrong? I asked with my taco in my hand, just about to take the first bite. Pass me the hot sauce, he said, all cool, calm and collected, like I should have known better… that he likes his tacos spicy too.
After picking up my jaw from the table, I obliged, handing over the little molcajete of homemade salsa and watching as he took two tiny scoops and sprinkled them, ever so carefully, on all of his three tacos.
He didn’t pour nearly as much fiery goodness as I did, but I won’t pretend the tear in the corner of my eye wasn’t all about his bravery as my little man.
This is not a sob story. We were young. We were poor. And we were frugal. We knew how to stretch a dollar. And how to make a few dollars out of a dozen or so tortillas, tacos or tamales. A little effort. A little dose of creativity. And most importantly our seeming innate sense of ingenuity. If there was one thing we all walked away with, from the doors and memories of our childhood, it was the inability to ever truly give up.
In all honesty, we didn’t know any better. We were bumpkins. Country bumpkins. In the truest form. Too blinded by our ignorance. Coming from a world of nothing but dirt roads and imagination. Where all we knew was como salir adelante con el sudor de la frente… and by the occasional generosity of complete strangers. No street cred. Just wild curiosity and bewilderment well beneath our years. Everything was new. Every opportunity a chance to be amazed.
I’d like to say we were more sophisticated, but we weren’t.
We didn’t know how to give up. Even now, though we’ve gotten much better at it, when it really counts, we just can’t seem to be able to lie down and take whatever comes in our direction. Maybe it’s just human nature, not anything exclusive to our family of nine. But every time I’m at the brink, right there about to give in, wanting to let go… wanting to not care anymore, I can’t. I’m eight, nine and ten again, trailing door to door behind my mother, selling her tortillas, offering to clean houses, anything to make a few extra bucks. I’m in the parking lots of Fiesta and Wal-Mart: tamales… ¿no quiere tamales? Would you like to buy tamales?, over and over again despite the dirty looks and rejection of our hard work.
And I’m reminded of just who I am and where I come from.
Mis padres nunca se han rajado. I’m hoping to do the same.
Beginning today, every Friday on Juan of Words I’ll be offering a weekly vlog series titled Viernes Vloguero. Why? Just for fun… and because I’m hoping it will be a good kickoff to all of our weekends. At the very least, a good laugh at my expense.
What will be on it? Mostly burradas that I come up with, strictly for your entertainment, prometo, along with any of your cool ideas that I’m brave enough to carry out… or able to produce in a halfway decent manner. Espero les guste la idea y se sientan libres de dejarme comentarios. ¡Los que sean! (bracing for them)
So this first vlog is on Machos vs. Metrosexuals! Well, more accurately, on how this mexicano came to the realization that I do have more metrosexual in me than I would care to admit. The proof is in all the chucherias stashed away in my restroom right now. Way more than junk than I would have ever imagined!
Can you say facial scrubs and blackhead strips? ¡Uuyy, que cosas!
Ultimamente, for some reason, everyone seems to be interested in talking about the whole Tejano – yes with a “J” instead of an “X” – movement that took place here in the Lone Star State, and across the rest of the nation really, quite a few years ago now, and culminating with the death of Selena in 1995. Both in real life and across the social media spectrum, people are asking.
What is Tejano? Remember such and such artist? Whatever happened to? Did you like Tejano music?
By no means would I say I’m an expert, but I do remember lots of late night Tejano dances at our high school’s cafeteria – when they’d pull back all the foldable tables, bring in a radio deejay, dim down the lights and turn on a disco ball to illuminate the room, as we’d dance the night away… or the early evening, more accurately. We had school the next day!
So in honor of those great memories and a few others: here a Few Tejano Essentials… as I remember them anyway. Let me know if I left anything out.
Un buen par de Ropers
8. The Boots: Ropers – they were simple and light, easy to wear, without being picudas, and you could find them in just about any color, both for men and women.
Con una Tejana
7. La Tejana: The Hat – especially for Tejano credibility, the hat was one of the most important accessories for guys… and girls and women always looked caliente, lol, with their Tejanas on.
Pasito tun, tun...
6. Knowing How To Dance – my sisters invested a couple of hours each to teaching my brothers and I how to dance. It was pretty simple, just a couple of steps, this way and that way, and we were ready to go. I still managed to struggle with learning, but the memories we made together, priceless.
5. The Women of Tejano – Selena, of course, but other than her, believe it or not, there were a couple of other Tejano female singers who were pretty good too. Think Shelly Lares, Laura Canales, and then eventually Jennifer Peña. And who could forget Elsa Garcia with that biggest hit of her career Ya Te Vi, Ya Te Vi, Ya Te Vi, Que Vienes Tomado…
The Classic
4. Hombres y Grupos – let me just list a few here: La Mafia of course, Emilio Navaira, Jaime y Los Chamacos, David Lee Garza, Jay Perez, The Hometown Boys, Bobby Pulido, La Fiebre, etc., etc. The genre was always more male domintaed.
Hollabaloos
3. A Good Spot – almost as important as the music, was the place where you went to dance it. The things to consider for a spot were what groups did they bring, how crowded did they get, and how attractive were the other people that showed up, not to mention if we could afford the place.
You Got It! Take It Away!!
2. Johnny Canales – what would Tejano music have been without his “The Johnny Canales Show,” where so many of these artists got their starts… and also his signature line Yougot it! Take it Away!
Puras vueltas...
1. Las Vueltas – once you mastered the basics of how to dance Tejano, you moved into the vueltas, which were a whole lot of fun, and pretty easy to follow. Even I was able to master a few!
And while Tejano music is nowhere near as huge as it once was, it still holds a special place in a lot of our hearts. Especially for those of us here in the great state of Tejas!
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