Otro Family Tradition

******WARNING: Here comes another loooong entry. If you don't have five minutes, please feel free to visit again. My apologies for the length, it was another long night.*******

Summer is starting to rear its ugly (scalding hot) head and it's the planning time for family vacations. Every year, my family and I start to ponder the idea of visiting places like Italy, France, England, Brazil, even Africa. Every single time we all agree on one single destination: Garner's State Park.

My family and I have been visiting the park for the past twenty-two years. My mom was pregnant with my youngest brother when she was flipping around in the water. Of course, at the time she wasn't aware of the bun in the oven. If you haven't realized it yet, my family is full of traditions. We have one for every holiday, birthday, special occasion, you  name it, we got one. Garner's happens to be the summer one.

I swear, the whole freakin' trip is a tradition. Start off the morning early, pack all our stuff, then head over to McDonald's to buy breakfast. Take off around 7am. Drive all the way until we hit Uvalde and stop at some gasoline station where we're looked at weird by its patrons. I've never understood why we're stared at and I've never paid attention to the name of the store. Doesn't really matter. We take our restroom break, stock up on munchies, and then head off again. Enter the park, find our 'usual' spot and unload all our crap. The San Marcos comforter is placed on the ground and my dad sets up his Sirius radio to the 60s station.

Note: Back before I bought him the Sirius radio (most money I've ever spent on a Christmas gift), my dad would pack up some rinky-dinky radio he had at home. He'd set it up, pull out the antenna and tune it in to KONO 101, San Antonio's local oldies station. The reception was good, as long as it was put in the right spot, and we'd be jamming out to the Beatles, Rolling Stones, Shirelles, etc. There was a period when my dad would take blank cassette tapes and record the station, so that when we'd head back to Laredo, he could still listen to his beloved station. Now it's freely available for online streaming. Yay for technology...but I bet you a dollar my dad would still prefer his cassettes.

After we've lathered up on sunblock, we head out to the Frio River to see who will be the first to be pushed in brave one to go in first. If you've never been there, there's some meaning behind the river's name...it can be quite cold, especially when the water has current. We'll splash around a bit, then head out to go and grab a bite, then go jump back in for another round of water football, another break for food and then to tackle the great montaña overlooking the river.

Ok, so it's not really a mountain, more like a huge hill, but it breaks off so it looks like a cliff. I've trekked up that thing twice in the twenty sum years I've been visiting it. I'm scared of heights so the the steep climb makes me terribly uncomfortable. Various family members go up like it's nothing. I'm sure I'd be the first to fall off so I'm not gonna even chance it. After the montaña, another dip in the rio, then another bite, and off to change in the nasty bathroom stalls. Alright, I'm gonna share something...since we've been going to Garner's, we've gone to go and change in the bathrooms maybe some three times. We've used the back of our cars as our changing rooms for years. I know, I know, public indecency and what not, but it's better than catching something at the gross restrooms. Nimodo, just don't go peeking into other people's cars!

Then starts our journey back home. When I was younger, it was great. I'd fall asleep as soon as we'd leave the park, start drooling on my younger brother, and leave it all up to Dad. Now, it's my daughter that fell asleep as soon as she got on the car and I'm left the responsibility of making sure she gets home safely. Dr. Pepper and dance tunes helped me get all the way to Carrizo Springs. Then starts the second half of the tradition.

Cleo's has been our burger joint pit stop in Carrizo for years. Back when we first started visiting, it was just known as Cleo's and they sold Mexican food and burgers. Today, Church's (darn those large corporations) leeched itself onto the restaurant. We'll sit there, hair all disheveled, eyes red from opening them in the water, skin starting to turn pink from the burn, and looking tired as hell. I'm sure the locals think we're a crazy bunch-they were surprised at our order of seven burger combos, I guess they usually don't go above two-but we've always found that place to be like home. After we eat our burgers, which are some of the best burgers I've ever eaten, we head over to the Pico next door, put gas, reload on munchies, and start towards home again.

It's a trip of a day but there's so much stuff piled into it. When we were younger, we'd travel with several other family members. I think one year we were a total of five families that went together. As the years have gone by, it's been whittled down to my immediate family, which is just fine really cuz we can be a riot all by ourselves. We were introduced to Garner's when we were kids, I introduced it to my daughter and I hope in the future, she'll be visiting the park with her family. It's a simple trip. For those that crave adventure and the hustle and bustle of some fantastic place...you really won't find it at Garner's. But if you wanna see nature at its grandest, spend some quality time with the people that really mean something to you, and start building a yearly tradition, then Garner's is definitely for you. I certainly prefer it over any other destination...hands down.

a day at Garner's back when innocence was alive and well

The Undeniable Truth

I took a glance inside a place and I found that there was nothing there. The outside frame looked presentable. It looked inviting. There wasn't anything that really offended the eye. When I was afforded the opportunity to check the interior, I couldn't see anything. Unable to help myself, I stepped in.

The walls were a drab gray. The floors were bare and stained. At the beginning, I'm sure they had been spotless and beautiful. The walls seemed as if they had once carried the murals of sunshine and laughter. Now they were shredded, as if someone had been desperate to escape them. There were areas where the decaying studs were exposed. I imagine the rooms had actually been comforting...at one point.

I couldn't believe a place that looked so normal on the outside, could be so dead inside. There was a part of me that hoped that this was all a nightmare. I was proven wrong. Through my exploration of the wreckage, I never felt fear. There was more like an intense sadness that permeated everything. I was ready to leave; run away and forget that it ever existed.

Until I realized that running away was impossible. There was no option but to accept that this place was mine. No one had destroyed it but me. Now, it was screaming for help.

I readjusted my vision and saw that there was never really 'a place' to look at. It had been my reflection in the mirror the entire time.

It seems I have work to do.

I'm sorry.

Nightmare on My Street

Nights have not been treating me well. They've actually been pretty harsh. A week ago (that's how long it's taken for the fear to wear off) I had a horrible nightmare. It was the absolute worst.

As an adult, I've always been able to watch scary movies before bedtime and then sleep quite peacefully. Ghost stories don't make much of an impact. Well, last Sunday, I spent the evening in Nuevo Laredo. I hadn't been across in years and back then, it was only for entertainment purposes (aah, memories from Frenzi's and Señor Frog). So you can understand that it's been a looooong time since I've traveled over there. I had a pretty good time. It was good company, interesting conversation, and some darn awesome taquitos. I've never really liked spicy food but the accompanying salsa was incredible.

Well, I paid for it that night. I woke up at 4:30 in the morning, scared beyond my mind, and I wasn't able to go back to sleep. I walked around my place, checked all the closets and rooms, and prayed. Boy, did I pray. Suffice it to say, I didn't sleep...at all. I was too freakin scared to even close my eyes. The following Monday was a huge drag. But what weirded me out the most was that I couldn't, for the life of me, shake off that feeling of anxiety and dread. I started to think that perhaps my apartment was haunted. Maybe something else had traveled back with me from Nuevo Laredo. What in the world would I do now?! I seriously contemplated moving back in with dear ol' dad. That's how freaked out I was.

When I was a kid, I had somewhat of a problem with fear. I guess it was serious since my mom started taking me to a curandera para que me curaba de susto. I remember laying on some bed in the old woman's home. I would stare at her face while she swept my body with some branch while saying some words and then send me home. My mom's homework was to bathe me with te de manzanilla. My mother would pay the lady with cheeseburgers from Wendy's, as per the curandera's request. I don't think the whole cleansing thing worked...since I continued to sleep with Mom. I remember what my mother would tell me then, 'mija, no tengas miedo. Eres una niña inocente. No te va pasar nada.' Weeeelllll, I ain't so innocent anymore, so I don't think that rule applies like before.

My mom advised me to turn on a candle, put it in the middle of my room, and ask whatever was in the room to go into the light. That whatever it was looking for was not there. I looked at my mom. Pictured the scene in my head, and flat out refused to do it. My mom's response was 'no pasa nada!' Yea, sure, there was no way I would ever do that, especially if I was gonna be there by myself. I decided to look for another way to resolve this issue.

I went back to the age old method of using holy water and prayers. I figured it was the best option. To this day (knock on wood), I haven't had any problems.

What did I learn? If I ever spend another evening in Nuevo Laredo, I ain't gonna be eating salsa. The nightmares just aren't worth the temporary goodness of that salsita verde.

Monday Blues

My friend came into my office this morning, and as soon as she sat down-I didn't get to ask her how she was doing-she broke down. I didn't have to ask what was wrong or what happened. I knew the look on her face when she walked in. After her crying spell was done, she looked at me and smiled. That timid smile that signals the invite for the onslaught of encouraging words: it's going to be okay, you're not alone, the days will get better. I tried to force myself to say all the expected things. What really ended coming out was: It's going to get worse before it gets better. It's not going to be easy. But after everything is finally done, you'll be okay. My friend knows how I am. She understands I won't be the one bullshitting her. So she just nodded and starred at the floor.

We went out to lunch and I studied her behavior. She'd look around the room with hope and confidence in her eyes. Then I'd see that flicker of fear that really lived behind her stare. It's that fear of: 'what if that was really it?' 'What am I going to do?' 'I can really do this...right?' I'd notice that she'd continually reassure herself that she didn't need him in her life. She'd be better off without him anyways. During the rest of the day, she laughed and joked around. The fear always lingered in her gaze. She knew that at night, when the day had finally gone to bed, she was going to have to face the reality of the situation. Then that would be the hardest time. Yet next to the fear, there was her determination to not fall to pieces. I understood every single emotion written on her face and greatly admired her for her resiliency (or her attempt at it).

No matter how many times we've had our hearts broken, there's always the faint hint of hope that this time around, it'll be different and it'll finally be the one that lasts. Love is mean. It can twist a person so much so that it's impossible to go back to normal. My friend saw the evil side of that figment. It'll be tearing her apart for a while. It'll repair and it'll salvage some but not all. Ain't that nice...

When one's in that abyss, it's hard to imagine that the day when it all subsides even exists. But that revered day will come to pass. The hardest part is pushing through the smog. After the clearing, most will come out having learned a thing or two. It's those individuals that didn't learn anything that you have to keep an eye out for. They're the ones that start the whole roller coaster again, just with a different rider.

My Teenage Soundtrack

It was another late night for me. Again I hit YouTube for solace and decided to take a trip down memory lane (otras ves?!). No se porque pero empecé a buscar videos de cuando tejano era mi amor. Those songs filled my days of when I was an awkward teen trying to fit into some clicka at school. My hair was a fright, my hormones were unbalanced, and my taste in clothing was horrendous. I’d include a picture but why would I wanna scare you. I was unsure of who I was and was constantly searching for my identity (nunca cambia, huh) but I was sure of one thing: I loved my tejano music.

I had so many songs memorized. I got that from my mama. Anytime she’d start cooking, cleaning, or doing those crossword puzzles she loves, the radio would be blasting in the background: La Sombra, Fama, La Fiebre, La Mafia, Grupo Mazz, y hasta Rigo Tovar. The windows would be open and we’d be in the living room dancing and laughing. Laughing mainly because we didn’t know how to dance in the first place. A song we’d have fun with was El Sancho due to the hilarious lyrics and the upbeat rhythm. Juana La Cubana, was another fave cuz of my dad. He’d make fun of one of my tias cuz she was named Juana and he’d dance a jig anytime that song came on. Anywhere else my dad wouldn’t have been caught dead dancing, but at home, he’d do it for our entertainment. Whenever I hear that Juana song flashes of those days jump forward; and we all know that song is a staple at ever birthday party, wedding, quinceañera, random carne asada….I hear it all the time.  

In middle school, a good friend of mine was in love with a girl named Rosa. Constantly, he’d be singing, Un Millon de Rosas, hoping that someday Rosa's affection for him would grow. He even learned to play it on the guitar. Well her affection didn’t grow. The only thing that grew was my annoyance at his pathetic-ness. Aah the sweetness of young love…

Through the years, I stopped listening to that type of music mas que nada por ser chocante. My high school friends didn’t listen to it so I tucked that joy into the dark corner of my closet. When I grew older, and was no longer susceptible to peer-pressure, I brought those dusty old cassettes back out. Good money was spent on those tapes.

Here’s my dedication to the past and what it was. For now, I’ll have my homemade tejano CD on a constant loop in my car. Maybe someday the past will catch up to me. I’m still hoping...

ay ay...

Daily Living

"Hi, Daddy. Did you hear that Nuevo Laredo doesn't exist anymore?"


"Ya se. There's nothing beyond the bridge anymore. They erased it. Tambien le quieren cambiar el nombre a No Veo Laredo...gente tan pen****s."


***I rarely, if ever, will comment on local events because really, it's all just a circus. I have enough going on in my life, like raising a little girl that doesn't understand that the terrible twos was soooo last year, working to pay the bills, and trying to make sense of my own life. There's so much to be said for the ridiculous daily happenings in Laredo, but I'll let the other blogs take care of that issue. I'll stick to remembering the Laredo de mis tiempos. Hooray for my ol' man's sarcasm and quick wit...boooo to Laredo's politicians' inability to embrace what the city actually is: un pozo.***

Old Faithful

please ignore the boy haircut my mom always chose for me

Okay, don't focus so much on the kids standing in front of the piñata. I know it's kinda hard not to but try. It's a good thing my mom, brothers and I don't look like that anymore (ha!). Anyways, I wanna focus on the tree behind us. The tree was on my grandmother's property. When we were kids, it was our base for our hide-and-seek, colores, and touch games. It was our piñata holder. It was our constant shade from the harsh Laredo sun. It was our jungle gym when our parents wouldn't take us to the Leyendecker playground (back when one still existed there). It was our collection site when we'd gather inch-worms when they were in season. It was a palo blanco which grow freely in our city.

From what I've been told, the tree kinda grew with the family. It was there when my grandmother's house was moved onto that lot back some forty years ago. It greeted all the newborns, new spouses, new friends, new visitors...it was the grandest part of the property. It stood tall, solid, so full of life; it's branches reached out to provide the whole lot with some sort of protection. It mirrored some of the qualities that were found in my own grandmother-some but not even close to all.

The tree lived and thrived for many years...until my grandmother passed away in 2009. The days after we lost her, we were struggling to deal with our grief. We still couldn't come to terms with the reality of her loss. No one paid attention to her house, her yard; we were all focused on getting ready for her funeral. The days came when we gathered at her home in order to pray the rosary for her and that's when we noticed it...the tree had died within days of her death. Some came up with logical explantions: a gas line leak, the tree was old, etc, etc...

Everyone is entitled to their opinions and beliefs. I just find it too much of a conincidence that the tree gave up days after my grandmother's passing. Perhaps the loss was too much for the poor tree to bare.

I'm just blessed to have been afforded the chance to meet such a beautiful woman and have had the pleasure of seeing that tree in full bloom. The memories will always remain.

Skeletons in the Closet

It’s weird. There’ll be weeks when it feels like I’m floating in a haze. I dunno where the fog comes from. Perhaps I can best compare it to those misty clouds that appear all of a sudden in horror movies. Whatever it is, I’ve been in one lately. There’s a numbness that grows and settles in. It’s not a comforting embrace. It’s more like an annoying guest that doesn’t take the hint when you want them to leave. I wanna break the dams and let everything out. I wanna vomit out all that’s bothering me on the inside. Try as I might (writing is my form of vomiting), nothing comes out.  The thing is that I dunno exactly what it is that’s bothering me. I can’t pinpoint anything. That’s when it gets even more bothersome. I can’t fix what I don’t know is wrong. If only it were easy to connect myself to some computer like you do with cars. No one ever said it would be easy, right….but no one ever said it’d be this hard either.

To top it off, recently I had a rough night. I couldn’t sleep. I lay there in bed, headphones in my ears, listening to music which is usually something that will help me fall asleep but this time it didn’t work. It’s not normal for me to have trouble sleeping. I’ve been fortunate that way and when I don’t sleep, the following day is extremely hard for me.  So try as I might, I couldn’t sleep. I really don’t like to watch TV at night so I decided to try and figure out what was bothering me (over-analyzer extraordinaire, remember) and so I started to write. That didn’t work so well either. Nothing came to mind. Nothing came out. I couldn’t come up with witty, interesting pieces about my life or what I’ve run into lately. I went blank. So I resorted to raiding the videos on YouTube…hopefully something made me sleepy. Nope. All the videos had a hidden message for me. My life was being played out in the various videos I viewed (perhaps I was a bit delusional).

How would life be if we had a chance to live the past again? Would we all be willing to attempt to go back to that day and change it? Of course, we’re not afforded that opportunity. That’s why so many of us are in therapy (well, not really but I should be).  Ask me. Would I if I could? I dunno. Perhaps there will be that opportunity when someday will actually become the day again. Maybe. Quien sabe.

All I know that a sleep-deprived me is not a happy me. For warned is forearmed.

No I won't do it some more, doesn't make any sense
If it can't be like it was, I've got to let it rest
I don't want what I did, I had a change of tense
But maybe someday...

Podra Ser....?

I'm getting married in December. He proposed this week. I chose the winter season since I'm not much of a fan of the heat. I don't have my ring yet. We haven't stopped by the vending machines at the Super S. He says he wants twelve kids. Frankly, I'd settle for one more but if he's willing to support me and my brood then who I am to stop him. I aim to please.

 He's a good guy. Not the typical Laredoan...I guess he wouldn't be since he was born in Germany. Albeit on an Army base, but Germany no less. I'm looking towards the future with rose-tinted glasses. I threw away my dark shades a while ago. I figured it was time for a new look. The beginning of this 'relationship' is looking pretty good. He doesn't hassle me to see where I am. He does tend to be a bit whiny at times but I'm willing to tweak my personality a bit in order to make room for his needs. I'm looking forward to the white picket fence, the Leave-it-to-Beaver parenting style, and the boundless amounts of happiness that awaits us....

Alright, alright, I'm lying. But at least he did propose.

Dog Days of Summer

It was a scalding, hot day in the summer of 1992. My brothers and I were trying to find refuge from the heat by staying indoors but we soon got bored. As a desperate attempt to kill the boredom and stay cool in the sweltering heat, we asked our parents if we could set up the pool. They agreed, saying not to fill it up too much and not be getting in and out. We eagerly went outside, found some shade on our front lawn, and set down our beloved plastic swimming pool.

Our swimming pool was plain. Our parents had bought it at Wal-Mart for about 10 bucks. It wasn't all that big but my two brothers and I fit perfectly. My youngest brother was two at the time so he wasn't yet able to participate in the fun. I think the pool was yellow.

So we had already turned off the hose and we were splashing around when one of my brothers came up with a brilliant idea: what about we have some bubbles?! We had heard of other kids having bubble baths but we had never known the joy of having one. I dunno where our parents were, but my brother was able to run inside and come back with the Ajax bottle. He poured some soap into the water, turned the hose on for a lil while to get the suds going and then...we had our makeshift bubble bath. We were giggling and having the time of our lives when we noticed a looming shadow overhead. Could the clouds have snuck up on us? Were we expecting rain? Nope. If only it had been that. We heard the stern voice of our father telling us to get out now. Well, that's kinda the censored version of what we were told. We quickly got out of the pool and got out of his way. The look on his face wiped the smiles off our faces. Our hearts stopped beating.

My Reason for Being

There's one woman that makes my world turn. Anytime I need her, she's always there. She's been my doctor, therapist, personal cheerleader, teacher, and my absolute best friend. My mother can best be described in one word: incredible.

My mom and I are twenty years apart. We've managed to get along for most of my life (except a second or two during my rebellious teen years). We were the dynamic duo standing strong against all the testosterone in the house.

We were both raised in homes that consisted mainly of boys. We grew thicker skins than most other girls. I was never pushed to play with dolls or dress up. For one, my mother was scared of dolls and two, she had/has never been much of a girly-girl. I gladly went along with my mother's example. I could climb trees better than my brothers, fearlessly play a rough game of tackle football, pick up bugs without screaming...I wasn't all that far from being a real boy. My mother constantly stressed the importance of being independent. She always told me 'tu puedes sola, mija, nunca dependes de un hombre'. Hence the reasoning as to why I am the way I am today.

My mother and I are so in sync; she has this uncanny ability of knowing when I'm not doing well. Once I stop calling her on a frequent basis, or find stupid excuses to avoid visiting her, she automatically knows that something is not alright. She won't hover or poke. She'll sit on the sidelines, waiting, until I can't take it anymore and I finally give in and tell her what mess I've gotten myself into. Communication with Mom has grown in leaps and bounds since I became an adult. Nothing is off limits, no matter how embarrassing the situation or how stupid my decisions, I tell her everything. Never has she lectured or scolded me for my dumbness, rather she'll give me a knowing look and point me in the right direction.

Through one of the darkest moments of my life, she was waiting for me in the shadows. She knew that at that time, I wasn't willing to accept her help. She understood that I'd have to first hit rock bottom before I could realize that everything she had been telling me from the beginning, had been right. When reality finally caught up with me, she was my strength when I didn't have any of my own. Her words, guidance, and most of all, her love were my lifelines when I thought I wouldn't be able to get through the next day.

I dunno why I was ever selected to be blessed with a woman like my mom. All I can say is that I am extremely lucky to have her in my corner. Hasta la fecha, her 'atta girl' at my softball games reassure me that I have her support and that no matter how ridiculous I look, she'll for sure be there at the next game. Any time I feel down, I know I can head over to her house and leave, at the end of the night, feeling like the burden I carried there magically disappeared. She's the softness to my sarcasm, the reason why I dance at parties, why I can relax, why I can accept other people's point of views, and why I'm easy to talk to. If it weren't for her, I wouldn't be a very pleasant person. Then I'd definitely be mean.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom (even though I know she'll make me read it to her cuz she's not a big fan of reading).

I love you.

If these Walls Could Talk..

I've never been one to condone vandalizing others' property, but without even knowing it, I too have participated in such an act.

I remember the days when we'd spend hours writing our names on this storage room that is next to my grandma's house. We'd be there writing with any old rusty nail we could find. We tended to favor the nails cuz the palitos from the trees would easily break apart. We were never officially given permission, but we never really asked. So there we'd be, etching our names into stone, not ever giving a thought as to how long those walls would stand.

We weren't the first ones to come up with the idea. My father wrote out my brothers' and my name back in 1987. It's hard to believe that it's been twenty-four years and we can still go up and see our names imprinted there (my youngest brother's name was added years later).

The names of primos, primas, tio, tias, loves come and gone, important dates, and names of the newest members of the family are there. It's interesting how actions that seemed insignificant back then have so much meaning today. It's also a good thing that storage room was never torn down.

Cruising Laredo's Streets

 wish my parents would've let me paste New Kids on the Block all over their van when I was younger....I would've been soooo cool

excellent way to express your true self! I think I should look into getting customized plates...any suggestions?



World's Largest Rattlesnake

A while back, I had promised a picture of Freer's rattlesnake statue. Well I was finally able to deliver. I wasn't able to make it to yesterday's Rattlesnake Round-Up, I had another event I had to attend, but I did manage to pass by today and snap the picture. I guess the local cops were recovering from yesterday's festivities cuz there weren't any to be seen (not like there's a lot in the first place). Next year, I'm gonna make it a point to stop in at the round-up. I'm sure it's a blast.

 At least that event makes more sense than Laredo's WBCA hoopla....but I ain't gonna get started on that one.



that's one mean looking snake