My brother Elias Ignacio. I really admire Nacho (Nacho is the nickname for Ignacio, that is the original meaning, the tasty tortilla chips drenched with melted cheese were named after a restaurant owner named Nacho after he served a group of american tourist this quick dish, since it was very late at night and the kitchen was closed and cleaned). The americans liked it so much they called the dish NACHO'S.)
Nacho has also joined in the memory fest. Here is a letter he sent me to share a couple of his nostalgic childhood memoirs.
So last Tuesday I was listening through some 80's tunes just to catch up with the old days; those days when people used to have puffy hairdos, wear plastic clothing and engage into who-knows-what other weird things. So there was A-Ha, Tears for Fears, Cyndi Lauper, The Bangles, Duran Duran, The Cure… (Sorry Adan, I still don't dig Ratt), while I was getting caught in this sort of nostalgia about those strange days when we used to live somewhere in California. Believe it or not, although I was somewhere between 2 to 4 years old or so, I have been able to keep memories from those days. Coincidentally, Sol was telling me yesterday that she was looking through some old pictures and that she was enjoying some good old memories of her own.Anyways, I was listening to a Kate Bush's song called Cloudbusting which has some elements characteristic of a good 80's song: synthesizers prevail throughout the song and the rhythm is set by one of those automated drum sets. Still, it's a very nice bittersweet song, but more sweet than bitter, probably the only one I liked from her.
So I remembered the day Sol got her fingers caught in the washing machine. It was one of those old models that had like two rolling pins which spun and you had to put the piece of clothing through them so that the two rollers could squeeze the water out of it. Unfortunately, Sol didn't let go of whatever she was trying to dry on it and her fingers got caught in between. I remember she was crying in pain while her nails were hanging off her fingers (I'm not sure about that part of the story, probably it's just my imagination helping me making it sound more dramatic). So my older brothers rushed on her aid and that's the most I can remember from that.
I remember one day Adan was driving us, Dany and I, to school on a rainy cold day. I can't remember if it was in one of those VW bugs that he was taking us to school. I'm guessing that's what it was, because Adan used to be very dreamy about those cars. Adan was driving and allegedly listening to an eight track, Dany was sitting on the passenger's seat while I was on the back seat, all of us without a seatbelt (it wasn't required to use them because it was believed that the puffy hair and the excessive use of hairspray would cushion the impact). I'm not sure if Adan got distracted or if the car slid off the street, the thing is that we crashed on another car parked on the side of the road. It wasn't a terrible impact, but Dany and Adan hit his head on the dashboard, and mine on the front seat. Dany was crying like a baby, and Adan was all freaked out for what just happened… That day, we missed school. It was a shame because I loved school lunch (back then, I didn't have a sense of good taste).
What about the day a trailer showed up in front of the little house we used to live at during Christmas time. We were very poor back then and it was a real delight to have one of those used G. I. Joe's or He-Man's toy from a second-hand store. So it was my great surprise to find out that the trailer was full of amazing things I only thought possible in my dreams. There was food, Christmas ornaments and, the best of all, lots and lots of toys. I still remember the toy I loved the most, it was a clockwork train, with a smiley face and big eyes. The cool thing about it was that it came with small plastic discs that you could put in it; as soon as you let the toy go, it started playing children's melodies. It was awesome, one of those days you wish you could bring back. I'm still very grateful to all those people who donated those goodies to us.
So there it is and there's more to tell about the past, but it would take me a whole book to do so.
I know Sol is trying to compile pictures and information from our family. That's a great idea. I have a picture from our grandparents I stole from Lety, so don't tell her please. I will try to send that one to her as soon as I can get the scanner to work. According to her blog, Sol believes our beloved mother was born in Morelia, Michoacan but according to my memory, she was born in Puruandiro, Michoacan. It is a small forsaken town full of cows, domestic birds and all sorts of farm animals. I know this because many, many, many years ago I went with her to that place. She was trying to get her birth certificate. So Sol, hopefully you're still up to help me out to write the collection of anecdotes from our brothers and sisters. We can definitely make a more touching movie than the Titanic from our own stories.
I think Leticia will understand, if we borrow that picture of our grandparents!
