Lupe's Corner ~ Family in Mexico

I met my grandmother, my father’s mother, for the first time when I was 14 years old and she was 89. She had lived all her life in Ejutla (small town south of Oaxaca City), while I lived in Mexico City with my mother and siblings. The first time I saw my grandmother, it was love at first sight. She was an exceptional lady, full of energy and love for life. At her old age, my grandmother still enjoyed having an afternoon mezcal drink and cigarette while talking about her youth.  She loved visiting with my sisters and I, and we also loved having her around because of her jovial personality and wisdom.

My sisters and I looked forward to going to parties with my grandmother. My father was (and still is) a very conservative male who did not believe in boyfriend-girlfriend relationships and of course we were forbidding from dating and going out.  Next to my grandmother, my father seemed to be a grumpy old man. My grandmother knew my dad so well that she did exactly everything my dad said not to do. She purposely used to find parties for us to go. It was funny to see my father getting upset with my grandmother but it was much easier for her to boss him around and to call him a grouchy old man. At the parties, my grandmother was the life of the party, she danced with my sister’s boyfriends and had a couple of drinks. I never saw her drunk because my grandmother believed in having everything within moderation. Her favorite saying was “I drink, I smoke, I eat and I enjoy life, but with limits”.

Besides her love of going to parties with us, my grandmother also enjoyed teachings us how to cook. Every Thursday, we all socialized with her at the kitchen. Whether we were learning how to make tamales, tortillas, or mole, the main goal was to hear her stories and her experiences during the Mexican Revolution of 1910. One of the stories, I remember the most is when the "revolucionarios" came to her house to try to steal everything they could. My father was only 6 months old and my ancle Andres was almost 2 years old. Grandma was able to hide the children behind the bushes in the nick of time, and when the looters finally arrived she was waiting for them with gun in hand. We were young and just the image of my grandmother holding a gun made us laugh.  My grandmother was a tough lady who did not care whether or not we laughed at her.

My grandmother was my hero because of her love for life and overwhelming optimism.  She learned how to enjoy and appreciate every situation good or bad. She also made an effort to teach us all she knew. She was very wise.  I can’t say I held on to everything she taught me but I know I want to be like her when I get to be 90.