Sound of Summer

There are some songs that I associate with summer. I hear them and think of riding in the car with the windows down heading to the park, to the beach, to a BBQ.... Oh, yeah!

So, the sounds of summer, for me:

1. "Summertime" by Will Smith and DJ Jazzy Jeff

'Nuff said.

2. "Canción en la arena" by Fiel a la Vega

This is THE beach song, in my head. The title translates to "Song on the sand" - it's a little slice of life, a day on a Puerto Rican beach. Love, love, love it. This is such a summer song for me. PLUS, it's FIEL! Can't go wrong with those boys.

3. "Cowboy Take Me Away" by The Dixie Chicks

I don't know why I associate this song with summer, but I do. I guess it might be the idea of sleeping on a pillow of bluebonnets with a blanket made of stars. That and the fact that I think that this song is one of the most beautiful songs ever written. So perfect I can barely even stand it.

4. "I Wish" by Skee Lo
Y'all know you remember this one. Fun, fun, fun stuff - and hilarious.

5. "Vamos de nuevo" by Víctor Manuelle

Or anything by him, you know, because I love him. He is my favorite salsero, and there is nothing like driving around with some good salsa playing on the stereo. A few more good ones: "He tratado", "Cómo se lo explico al corazón", and "Así es la mujer".

6. "Guayaquil" by Don Omar

I know, I know. Don Omar doing cumbia? Oh, but it's catchy! And I don't know how it works, but Latinos can make an accordion sound HOT! Believe it. Oh, and as a 6 1/2: "Salió el sol" by Don Omar. I'm not huge into reggaetón, but this song makes me want to dance EVERY TIME!

7. "Quickly" by John Legend

Because y'all KNOW I can't make a soundtrack without Mr. Legend.

8. "Is This Love?" by Bob Marley and the Wailers

This song reminds me of walking down Costa Rican streets on my way to the beach from some little café where I might have just enjoyed a fresco de guanábana. Delicious. Also, the lyrics? "I wanna love you and treat you right....We'll be together with a roof right over our heads, we'll share the shelter of my single bed." LOVE!

9. "Oye mi amor" by Maná

And a couple more by Maná: "Cómo te deseo", "Tú me salvaste" and "Bendita la luz"

10. "Touch the Sky" by Kanye West feat. Lupe Fiasco
Two of my three favorite Chi-town rappers, Common being the third. Actually, I'll take pretty much anything by Kanye. He's good summer music.

Let the summer begin!

Mamita linda

With my beautiful mom on Mothers' Day

So I'm late on this one. I've been thinking about it since well before Mothers' Day and have been meaning to write it for a loooong time and then the end of the semester came and knocked me upside the head, and I'm only now beginning to emerge...just in time for the beginning of my summer classes. So anyway, I have cover letters to write and a gazillion pages to read, so I figured this was the perfect time to get this post out of the way.

I'm one of those women who thinks of her mother as her best friend, which is funny, because things weren't always this way. Growing up, my mom had no interest in being my friend. I had enough friends, she said, what I needed was a mother. Looking back, I'm glad for that. I had friends, good ones, but my mom needed to be something more, and she was.
She got here to the States when she was about twenty-four, following her husband, with two kids in tow: a four-year-old me and my one-year-old sister. She came without speaking the language, without knowing a soul, without knowing how many years of bitter cold she'd have to endure in this strange land. My mother is a brave woman, braver, I think, than I. I don't know that I could have handled it the way she did.
My mom learned English by watching Oprah and the news. She's the kind of woman who knows how to fake confidence, how to make herself look more secure than she is inside. She never apologized for her accent, and she wasn't afraid to speak up when she knew someone was trying to take advantage of her, of us, of anyone else.
My mother showed me strength, told me that women could do anything, let me know that I had choices. She stayed home with my sister and me, a stay-at-home-mom until we were old enough to fend for ourselves, and then home again when we moved to Germany. Once in a fit of anger, I lashed out at her, told her I'd be more than a housewife. I can't remember what the punishment was for that, but I do know that I deserved it. She stayed home, yes, but that did not make her weak, did not make her one of those silent, subservient women. There was a strength to choosing to stay home, choosing to forgo her own dreams to see her daughter's dreams fulfilled. There's a strength in sacrifice that I see now.
My mother is the type of person who will give and give and give without reservation, like her mother before her; I like to think I've inherited some of that. I remember her volunteering at my school, with a community of migrant field workers in our area, at our church. She gave her time, gave her skills, and never asked for anything in return. To this day, she works for a pittance because she loves what she does, and she translates and interprets for free because she knows someone needs to do it. She's an advocate, my mother. She's the woman people call when they don't have the words to fight for themselves, because she'll march into a bank or a store or a doctor's office with you and give someone what-for. Believe, she's a woman you'll want in your corner.
My mother flings open the doors of her home to bring people in. If you need a place to stay and you're in town, come on over. If you just want to hang out, come on over. If you need someone to listen, come on over. She'll let you in, feed you till you can barely move, and kill you with hospitality. The woman knows how to throw a get-together. And don't even get me started on her fashion! We used to tease her, my sister and I, for covering up and layering, but my gosh, she always looks polished and elegant. We have different styles - my look is a little funkier, a little more in the scoop neck/deep V territory - but we can both rock some basic pieces and have a passion for a beautiful, well-crafted shoe that is both stylish and comfortable. And best of all, she taught me how to walk in heels without lurching or looking like I'm tripping all over myself. Thank you, mom, for teaching me how to work a stiletto in comfort and with grace.
I love my mamita. Love her for being a parent, perfectly imperfect, the kind of woman who made me who I am: a well-adjusted, intelligent, passionate woman who can only hope to be half as stylish and generous as she. Even more, I love her because on this side of childhood and the self-righteous anger of my adolescence, we can be friends, women who can share victories and struggles, hopes and fears. I love that she's still in my corner, but I'm also glad to be in her's now.

The kiddies

I volunteer twice a week in a fourth grade class and tutor two girls on Tuesday evenings and lately I've been wishing I had a tape recorder with me to document all the craziness they say. A few gems from this week:
1. D: Miss, you got a daughter?
Me: No.
D: You got a son?
Me: Nope.
D: You don't got anything?!
Me: Nope.
D: (Looks at me like I have grown a second head and says with some degree of disappointment) Miss, I heard you were twenty-five!
Me: I'm actually twenty-six.
At this point, she just looked at me again and shook her head. In other words: What is wrong with you, woman? Go pop out some babies!

2. The teacher explains how to use "I" and "me" correctly, and then mentions that there is a character on Sesame Street who always uses "I" and "me" incorrectly. She asks the students to guess who it is.
The students correctly guess that it's Cookie Monster, and then proceed to talk about some of the different characters. One of the boys looks around at his classmates and says: "Are we really discussing Sesame Street?"
I mean, really. Fourth grade is so far from the days of discussing Sesame Street.

3. With the girls I tutor:
M: Do you ever talk to imaginary friends when you're bored?
Me: (Pick my jaw up from the floor) Um, no. Maybe when I was little, but not in a long, long time. Do you?
M: Yep.
For the record, I don't remember ever having an imaginary friend, and I don't think my mom has ever said anything about me having one, I just had a feeling she needed to know it was okay if she did. Also, her sister, J. asked what her imaginary friend's name was and M. said she didn't know.
Mad props to J. for being a supportive older sister; I would've teased C. mercilessly.

Today

To do:
1. Laundry
2. Urban Econ paper, O.M.G!
3. Study guide for Urban Econ exam
4. Clean my room
5. Pick up books from the library
6. Deposit check
7. Walk in the beautiful sunshine

I've done two of the above, numbers five and six, of course. I've started on number one, and am thinking about number seven, but two and three really, really, REALLY need to get done. Today.

Why is it that when I really have to write a paper I fall asleep at my computer, feel an overwhelming need to clean, suddenly remember that I'll need a job in two months and I should start searching, or think of all the people I haven't talked to in a long time that I really want to catch up with?

I'm currently fighting the urge to nap or reorganize my closet and put away winter clothes. Because, seriously? Not as pressing as FAILING OUT OF GRAD SCHOOL BECAUSE I COULDN'T GET MY ACT TOGETHER LONG ENOUGH TO WRITE MY STINKIN' PAPER!

Back to work... I hope.

She's got a point.....

Today I went into the school where I usually volunteer with the fourth graders. They were testing, so I helped out with second grade. I walked around the room as the kids worked on their penmanship and overheard this little bit of genius:

Boy 1: I wish I had a time machine. I'd go back in time.
Boy 2: Back in time?
Boy 1: Yeah, to like a hundred years ago!
Girl: That's dumb. How would you get back? They didn't have electricity a hundred years ago. What would you do with your machine?

I have to admit that I have never ONCE in my life thought about that as I've dreamed of hopping in a time-machine and hanging out in 1920s Chicago speakesies or 1600s Puerto Rico. Girl had a point - it'd be mighty hard to power up a time machine in 1600s Puerto Rico.
The thing that struck me about their conversation, though, besides the obvious hilarity of the exchange, is that they cannot conceive of a world without electricity. Frankly, neither can I. Don't get me wrong, I've spent some time in developing nations where blackouts are a way of life, but that's just part of the experience, it is NOT my day-in-day-out. These kids have never lived in a world without internet and cell phones. I still remember being one of the only kids in school with a computer at home. I remember listening to RECORDS on a Big Bird record player! I remember when cordless phones came out.
Oh, technology. I can't even dream about going back in time anymore because of my complete and utter dependence on you....

Dang, I'm old.

havin' church

I know your deeds and your toil and perseverance, and that you cannot tolerate evil men, and you put to the test those who call themselves apostles, and they are not, and you found them to be false; and you have perseverance and have endured for My name's sake, and have not grown weary. But I have this against you, that you have left your first love.
Revelation 2:2-4 (NASB)

This is what they preached on this morning at church. I went to the second service, but I glanced at the notes from the first service's sermon and was struck by this:

Passionate about truth but not passionate for God.
Passionate for justice but not for God.
Passionate for purity but not for God.
Passionate for marriage but not for God.
You can hate what God hates and love what God loves and yet fail to love God.

My immediate reaction: "Gulp. Daaaaaaang...." Such a common thing for Christians. We're characterized by so many, many things. On one end of the spectrum, there's a quest for social justice and serving the poor; on the other end, there's railing against all the evils (and "evils") around us. Both are sin when it's done apart from a quest to love God fully. When we love God - really love Him - it's hard to hate the people around us, to feel that we are somehow superior to them. And, yes, I do believe that there are feelings of superiority on both ends of the aforementioned spectrum. This girl from the left can attest to that.
Anyway, it really helped me to gain some perspective.

Also, there was this song that we sang, a song which I've long loved. I was reminded of its power today when we sang it, partly because we sang it in a church where most of the members would rather speak English than Spanish, and you could still feel the emotion that swept us up. There was something beyond language that descended. I hate saying it like that, because it makes me sound all mystical, but it's the only way I can explain it. A hush fell over the room, and wow....

Renuévame, Señor Jesús, ya no quiero ser igual.
Renuévame, Señor Jesús, pon en mí tu corazón.
Porque todo lo que hay dentro de mí
necesita ser cambiado Señor.
Porque todo lo que hay dentro de mi corazón
necesita más de ti.

Stinkin' cheesy YouTube videos...

perreo

This morning I was awakened by someone blasting reggaetón from their car as they parked at the greenhouse-type-place next door. My first thought: ¿Reggaetón? In Wayne? If it hadn't been that it happened just minutes before my alarm sounded, I might have run outside to meet my fellow displaced Latinos. You know, before I realized that women who are technically soltera but not sin compromisos should NOT run out to meet landscapers just because we share a language.

As it was, I was a little unhappy that I lost precious moments of sleep.