(Some may know the author as my sister Lydia. She has volunteered to get the ball rolling by writing down some of her memories of our family. Please feel free to send me whatever your thoughts are on the topic. These and other stories are also on her page. Click)
Ode to New York
by
Doña Coquijota de
la Mancha de Platano
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New York, New York, it's a wonderful place. At least New York was a wonderful place when I was growing up there. I grew up in a mixed neighborhood. Mainly Italians, Irish, Germans and a sprinkling of Jewish and Spanish. It was great! I think that's where I get my love for different nationalities. I loved the Italians with their warm outgoing nature their gusto for life, their smiles, their food. We lived in tall buildings and as you went up each floor you could smell what everyone was having that night. I still believe that Irish eyes do smile. When Mrs. Murphy talked with that lovely brogue, I thought she was saying magical words. It was English but that lilt made it sound playful like she knew something no one else did. I learned a lot about Ireland through her. I love tea, Irish lace, Irish soda bread, And I loved Father McCarthy. Talk about laughing eyes even when he was being stern, his eyes took the sting out of it. What a priest. They don't make them like him anymore. The Germans I knew were not Nazi Germans. They were friendly polite helpful people who greeted you warmly and always stopped to say something nice. My Jewish teachers were extremely patient and helpful. I learned about Broadway shows, music, art and history, not just everyday stuff but, things that I would not of know about in our socio-economical working class sphere.
And then there was us. Just a few of us at that time, the Spanish. We weren't called latinos then. And in that neighborhood and at that time we all got along pretty well. The clashes came later on. You see my neighborhood was West 68th street were West Side Story was filmed. When I watch that movie I can actually see the apartment we lived in and my old elementary school P.S. 94. When we left West 68th things were beginning to change, I'm glad I can remember my old neighborhood when it was still a tightly knit community. It was a great place to grow up in. My children grew up in New Jersey in a home of their own, their own backyard, their own rooms, a pool, pool table, alas all the amenities that form part of the American dream. I think they were happy, I certainly hope that they were. I slept with my sister in a Castro convertible sofa in the living room. Our pool was the fire hydrant the adults would open for us in the summer time until the cops would come and shut it down, though lots of times they would turn a blind eye. It was great! I belonged to a community center in the summer. We would take field trips to the museum, library, and Central Park. After I was married I came back to central park. I looked all over the park trying to find the statue of a German shepherd dog I used to talk to and hug as a child. I found him and I was so glad! It wasn't just a dream.
We played hopscotch on the street, red light-green light, roller skated, rode bicycles .and just plain old sat on the stoops and talked. We used to go on the roof tops and jump from one roof to another. I would put myself in the dumbwaiter {where people would put their garbage to lower it down to the furnace} and pull myself up, I must have been crazy! Or young, very young. At Harrington's candy store you could buy hours of bliss for a nickel and meet everyone in the neighborhood too. In my bed I could hear the fog horns from the boats on the Hudson. They always sounded so sad, even though they made me think of all the far away places I would visit someday. There's nothing like walking around the city when it's snowing at Christmas time seeing the vegetable stands brimming with pumpkins and pomegranates in October or all the people dress up in their best for Sunday mass at Easter or stopping at a soda fountain for an egg cream or a Sabbrett street hot dog. They just taste better from the vendor. People often say New Yorkers are jaded. I don't think so it's just that they are familiar and used to a lot more variety. They are exposed to so many cultures so may people so many cuisines. that they develop a matter-of-fact attitude. But they appreciate New York. They love it. They are grateful. ASK ANY NEW YORKER! I certainly do! NEW YORK , NEW YORK (what a wonderful place)
COQUI COQUI COQUI
!Hello! Carlitos I am a little frog from Puerto Rico.
Happy to make your acquaintance. That means am happy to
meet you. I was there the day your daddy was born. My
compadres and I did a lot of hooping and hollering, frog
style: rippit rippit. Of course we said coqui coqui,
cause that's how Puerto Rican frogs do. We did that cause
we were happy to meet your dad and we knew he was someone
special just like you. When you were born we sang rippit
rippit for you too. You know what Carlito, frogs come from
a lot of countries. There's a special frog page on the
internet called froggy pages that will tell you all about
us. Visit us sometime. Now I am going to tell a little
bit about me. I live in a beautiful island.
It's very green. (And you know how we
frogs like the color green!) It has palm trees and
coconuts and lots of pretty flowers. The sand on our
beaches is very white and the water very blue and warm so
you can just hop in....Oops! excuse me, I mean you can
just dive in. (Although hopping in is fun too.
Rippit.) You can crack a coconut and drink the water or
you can eat the coconut. Yum! Or you can have great snow
cones called piraguas in any flavor you want. We have a
beautiful rain forest called El Yunque That's an Indian
name cause we used to have a lot of Indians here
years ago. They were called Tainos. They're not here
anymore but we still remember them. Well, Carlitos I'll
tell you some more stuff someday. But, for now, remember
when you come to Puerto Rico I'll be here and at night I
will serenade you that means I'll sing for you. And this
is what I'll sing, COQUI COQUI COQUI Your happy to meet
you friend Mr. Coqui (or just Coqui to my friends) bye !
Christmas past
Remembering when I was a child and how all
of our big family got together, it struck me how far
apart we've all become. That's not a moral judgment, just
an observation. As a Puerto Rican child growing up in the
states I think we had an extra dimension. We knew all
about Santa Claus Rudolph, Frosty, "The Night Before
Christmas," "The Nutcracker Suite,"
"It's A Wonderful life," "Miracle on 34th
St.," etc., But we also knew about the three
kings and how at Christmas time in our parents' homeland
they would bring gifts for all the children, in exchange
the children would leave them straw for their camels. We
knew that people there would go to church at midnight
Christmas eve, called la misa de gallo. Everyone
would talk about Christmas dinners, punch and gifts
family reunions and all the lovely amenities that make up
Christmas. I remember listening as the adults would
discuss who would buy and roast the pig. Who would get to
make the coquito {a Spanish eggnog made with
coconut}, who would get together with whom to make the
famous Puerto Rican pasteles {they look like a
tamale but they are made with plantains and a delicious
spiced pork stew, um, good!}, who would make the cuchifrito.
Then there was turron (nouget candy} nuts, bread
pudding, and the special arroz con dulce
{spanish rice pudding}, pan sobao, which is
great with cafe con leche, lots of Puerto Rican
rum, and, of course, tons of music. There was a type of
music they would love to listen to called aguinaldos
{Puerto Rican folk music}
It's funny when I was a kid I thought It
was so hokey, Now whenever I hear it my heart fills with
a kind of sad happiness, sad cause most of them are no
longer here, happy because I remember all the good times
and what they all strived so hard to impart to us, a
great sense of family togetherness, honesty, pride in our
Puerto Rican heritage, lovingness, caring, loyalty and,
most of all, humor. They were always laughing. Oh, there
were times of turmoil. Tempers would flare. Who hurt
who's feelings and who was ungrateful. They were
passionate people. They fought passionately, loved
passionately, and played with the same intensity. There
is something special about this Mendez clan. I'm sure
lots of people may feel that way about their family and
they are probably right! But then I'm speaking of the
ones I know best. I often think how it must have been for
them coming here from a different country, different
language, culture to raise your family, eek out a living
and still maintain your sense of who you are and what's
meaningful to you. All in all, I think they did well. Now
the baton has been passed to us and I hope we do as well
or better. I hope we never forget the values they
instilled in us and that we build on them. I hope we
remember {LA FAMILIA} And who knows maybe this Christmas
we can get together and find out who's making the
pasteles, who's roasting the pig, who's bringing the rum
and - while listening to aguinaldos over a cup of coquito
- we can toast to the ones that made it all possible