The little I know about Mexican culture, I learned from my maternal grandmother. She taught me “dichos”, herbal cures, and holiday customs. She reminded me of the “viejitas” in Santos’ book. I was constantly being reminded to drink a glass of sugar water for “susto” and being prayed over while being rubbed with an egg for the “evil eye” which was the cause for any ailment from fever and headache to bad moods.

I remember being taken to a neighbor for a “sobada”. I was also taken to a family friend for what amounted to a spinal adjustment to cure “empacho” (which thoroughly worked). In reading these two memoirs, I could not comprehend how Santos and Cantu did not tire of being around their extended family members. If I saw my cousins, aunts and uncles once every five years it was too much. Our family gat

At first, I was the ignorant one unaware of the language and the ways of life. All my private school education did not teach me how to interact with my fellow Mexican people. I was ridiculed for cooking with canola oil instead of lard. It was painful to watch my new family hide their smirks as I mutilated their language. Because I always had my nose stuck in a book I was regarded as arrogant. And perhaps worst of all, was that I was not Catholic and did not see the need to pray to the Virgin if she appeared in some unremarkable place. I see my experiences as Cantu’s school and life incidents in reverse. I was struggling to fit in and be accepted by own people.

I also never wanted for anything. I could not relate to the family in Cantu’s book always having to struggle to buy things and having to sew clothes because store bought clothes were a luxury that could not be afforded. I did not start working until I was twenty four years old. My parents both had college educations and we could afford to go places like Disneyland and the Grand Canyon. Perhaps my family would not have been so well off if there had been more children to raise and feed. I was basically an only child because my only sibling is fifteen years older than I am. So, I could also not relate to Cantu’s struggles with her siblings.

My in-laws were poor, Mexican nationals who came to America to build a better life for their children. They struggled for everything they had. Their house may have been in the poorest section of town, but it was theirs. They may have saved each and every penny in a jar under their bed, but they had food on the table. They did not have educations, but they were adamant about their children receiving one.

herings consisted of the aunts and uncles trying to “one-up” each other on their success and financial and material gains. There were never any favorite cousins because we never got to know each other. I saw my paternal grandmo

Some topics in this essay:
Grand Canyon, King McDonald’s, Cantu’s Canicula, Santos Cantu, Mexican American, Latino Chicano, Native Islander, mexican american, santos cantu, WORD COUNT, “growing pains”, box check forms, cantu’s book, check forms, sometimes box, private school, aunts uncles, box check, american experience, mexican american experience,