Poema del Dia

Que alegria celebrar tu presecia en esta vida

Compartir un tiempo y darte lo que pidas

Sonreir or plear pero siempre contigo

Encontrar mi paz en tu voz tan seguido

Te encantaba vestir a tu nina y jugar con tu mona viva

Con vetidos de holanes y mi cabello en colitas apretadas sin compasion

Sin necesidad de usar hair spray pues habia limon.

En el norte en esos dias Sin internet

Sin telefono

Con pura oracion te contectabas con tu madre

Recuerdo cuando me llevaste contigo para visitar a tus padres

Crusabamos los cielos de un mundo nuevo a un mundo del pasado

Sentia tu alegria y tu tristeza entorcida como un bolero amado

Recuerdo como lloraste al aterrizar el avion

En silencio te observaba sin entender tu dolor

Juntas llegamos al lugar donde creciste

El lugar donde te enamoraste

Y de donde al final de donde te escapaste

Te observe en silencio.

Siempre lloravas al llegar y otra vez al despedirte.

Planchando tu ropa en tu cuarto viejo preparandote para irte

Mientras tu madre escondia sus lagrimas detras de un reboso obscuro

Y las dos bailaban este danse triste y complicado.

Aprendi que para crecer aveces tenemos que soltar lo que mas amamos

Que cualquier sacrificio hecho por amor es como nos salvamos

Seguir nuestro destino y luchar por un futuro desconocido

Tener fe y recordar de donde venimos

Porque el amor nunca desaparese, sigue vivo fuera del tiempo o distancia

No vive en un pueblo ni en el pasado

Nos sigue siempre en donde estamos.

Pero estoy agradesida por haberme intreducido a tu mundo

Este mundo viejo esta borrandose sin poder parar el cambio

Serenatas, primas y primos, rodeos, y birria

Serpentinas, y flores de papel, churros frescos, y los Bukis

El catillo con buscapies

Y la banda con el eco de los cuetes al tronar sacuden todo el pueblo.

El vivir bajo las regas de "que diran la gente"

Con la libertad de escapar esas limitaciones.

Gracias.

One of my greatest fears growing up was the thought of losing my parents. I believe I have grown out of that terrifying fear & now look at the world sometimes with a nostalgic thirst. My parents are still with us but my childlike fear has transitioned into a romantic remenisence the symbols that remindme of them. Where I see both my parents all over the world as if preparing myself, no training myself to see them in this world eternally. For example the other day sow our gardner brought his beautiful young daughter who insisted in joining him to work. Boom! Right before me: There wasmy father.A flashback struck me of how I too would insist in joinning mydad to work when I was young. I would eat his banana in thetruck while I watched him work. I loved watching him work. Why didn't I help you ask? Well I was too pretty of course! No in reality he would ask me to wait because as he delicately explained that I was in the way & he needed to get it done efficiently & more importantly, correctly. But I digress.

When I see a woman with beautiful red pails I see my mother. When I see an old beat up Nissan Long bed on the road I see my father. When I see a beautiful homemade tortilla I see, Julia my grandmother. When it rains there is a little gleam of joy knowing my dad will be home and have to stop working wherever he is in the world. When I see a womanwith long beautiful hair past her but I see my mother. What things remind you of your parents in this world?

This is a story like many others except it discusses my entry into the investment world when women were trying to make inroads in an industry that clearly did not appreciate them there quite yet. The private stories: how isolating that experience was. There are so many stories to share about it. I kept it to a couple and found myself breaking down. Why am I sharing this? My father retired last month. Years of entrepreneurship. Years of hard physical work. Came to an official end. My heart broke. I don't know why. My father has the foresight to know he is not his work but yet a lifetime in his field creates a sense of identity....I'm glad he gets more time off and spends it less stressed. It's just quite a change. I always thought I would be my father's retirement plan. Here is the genesis: My Why.

Reflections on my mother’s experience versus mine. Birthday poem and gratitude

We have recently experienced the loss of family members. This chapter is not so much to tell a story, but rather to share some thoughts, as I’m getting prepared to create the next chapter and the next stories. I’d love your feedback on this podcast you can push the button to provide it and share it, these are scrambled thoughts and ramblings really trying to make sense of the loss and incorporate these beautiful stories. Thank you for listening.

Éste no es un capítulo te cuento todavía estoy tratando de completar el siguiente historia. Por el momento comparto un poco sobre la pérdida de nuestros seres queridos y como cambia la realidad de y como afecta nuestra historia.

Recorded in Spanish:

What is it like to wait for your father only to see him 2-3 months out of the year? What was it like to see him leave every time? Herminio was 4th in birth order but the first male and therefore inherited the role as the man of the house. My grandfather would spend 9 to 10 months working in California and the remainder at home in Zacatecas with his family. This went on for over 10 years. Herminio at age 16 left La Tetilla to work with his father al Norte but left his mother's side for the first time.

Jump to small town Rodeos.

Herminio loved to colear los toros as traditional rodeos provided la banda with music, the queens to hand out ribbons to the successful charros, and the men who competed in this sport.

Here is a link to an actual rodeo in Garcia de la Cadena showing how it is done. Enjoy!

New stories:

Romance

Culture

Traditions

Travel

Rediscovery

Stories

The undertone is about time.

Hope you enjoy.

This is in Spanish.