Ah que la chingada!
El martes made two years since el jefito passed away. It’s crazy how fast time goes by. I had spent the day filling out progress reports and preparing my presentation for the evening that I completely forgot about my jefito until my sis called. The thing is that I think about him almost everyday. Sometimes I remember the good, others the bad, and sometimes I just remember he’s watching out for me all the time. It’s so weird how I have a totally different relationship with him now. Now, he’s the father figure I always wished he’d had been because now, I’m in control of how he’s remembered by the things I say & write.
Rocio Durcal
After reading Gustavo’s entry about Juan Ga, I was really hurting for some of his music. So I went to download some and I ran into the songs that Juanga and Rocio did together and well . . . it made me all nostalgic. See, my mom had this younger sister who was my madrina. Anyway, they were always together. They were like the best of friends. My mom would die her hair and later tell me how she had a cabeza de pollo. My madrina would encourage my mom to wear makeup, die her hair, and dress up while my mom was going through a tough time. My mom was my madrina’s confidant, she knew all about my madrina’s lovers and wild escapades, but one day it all ended. They got into some big fight over something stupid and quit talking. My madrina’s cherry-red Izuzu Trooper no longer picked us up for trips to the swap or to Charlie’s for the awesome comida corrida. A couple months later, her husband, wearing a shirt with foliage print and straw hat, walked up to my sister’s door and knocked. My sister didn’t want to see him, but she did. I stayed in my room. After his visit, my sister walked into my room and simply said, “La Bucha se mato.”
I felt like someone had punched me in the jelly belly. I didn’t know what to say or do. I just remember holding onto the dry green chest of drawers thinking, “this can’t be true.”
The next thing I remember is being with my mom and hearing her crying like those dramatic women on the novelas. In a lot of ways, my mom had been like her mother.
What does that have to do with Rocio Durcal and Juanga? Well, Rocio Durcal was my madrina’s favorite singer. Right around the time she passed away, el Juanga y la Rocio were once again doing their duos. Her favor song was “Amor eterno.” After she passed away, it was impossible for my mom to hear these songs without breaking down every time. She couldn’t live with the guilt of being angry with her sister. I think she’s over it now, but she’ll still let out an, “Aye, mi hermana,” once in a while.
El martes made two years since el jefito passed away. It’s crazy how fast time goes by. I had spent the day filling out progress reports and preparing my presentation for the evening that I completely forgot about my jefito until my sis called. The thing is that I think about him almost everyday. Sometimes I remember the good, others the bad, and sometimes I just remember he’s watching out for me all the time. It’s so weird how I have a totally different relationship with him now. Now, he’s the father figure I always wished he’d had been because now, I’m in control of how he’s remembered by the things I say & write.
Rocio Durcal
After reading Gustavo’s entry about Juan Ga, I was really hurting for some of his music. So I went to download some and I ran into the songs that Juanga and Rocio did together and well . . . it made me all nostalgic. See, my mom had this younger sister who was my madrina. Anyway, they were always together. They were like the best of friends. My mom would die her hair and later tell me how she had a cabeza de pollo. My madrina would encourage my mom to wear makeup, die her hair, and dress up while my mom was going through a tough time. My mom was my madrina’s confidant, she knew all about my madrina’s lovers and wild escapades, but one day it all ended. They got into some big fight over something stupid and quit talking. My madrina’s cherry-red Izuzu Trooper no longer picked us up for trips to the swap or to Charlie’s for the awesome comida corrida. A couple months later, her husband, wearing a shirt with foliage print and straw hat, walked up to my sister’s door and knocked. My sister didn’t want to see him, but she did. I stayed in my room. After his visit, my sister walked into my room and simply said, “La Bucha se mato.”
I felt like someone had punched me in the jelly belly. I didn’t know what to say or do. I just remember holding onto the dry green chest of drawers thinking, “this can’t be true.”
The next thing I remember is being with my mom and hearing her crying like those dramatic women on the novelas. In a lot of ways, my mom had been like her mother.
What does that have to do with Rocio Durcal and Juanga? Well, Rocio Durcal was my madrina’s favorite singer. Right around the time she passed away, el Juanga y la Rocio were once again doing their duos. Her favor song was “Amor eterno.” After she passed away, it was impossible for my mom to hear these songs without breaking down every time. She couldn’t live with the guilt of being angry with her sister. I think she’s over it now, but she’ll still let out an, “Aye, mi hermana,” once in a while.
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