Warm thoughts from a warm culture

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In my work, I have the privilege of occasionally traveling to other countries.

I find it very special how in Latin America, people greet each other when they’re eating out – total strangers, even, wishing each other well. Buen provecho: Enjoy your meal. Sometimes just, Provecho.

In fact, they acknowledge each other whenever they are in another person’s presence just in passing, whether in a restaurant, elevator, hallway: good day, good evening, enjoy your meal, whatever. It’s a culture of acknowledgment and recognition.

In a world that’s drowning in devices and distractions, this tradition is a breath of fresh air.

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The family ties – they just got stronger

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It may not look like much now, but back in the 1940s and ’50s, this was one in a series of my grandfather’s grocery store locations in Corpus Christi, Texas. My very thoughtful uncle took us on a family history tour of my old hometown — by far, one of my favorite parts of our trip. This little tour deserves a post all its own.

I’ve been trying to figure out this post since before I went out of town a couple of weeks ago. My conclusion: There’s so much to cover, it might just have to be more than one post.

What started out as a long-weekend trip to the Texas coast for a genealogy conference ended up being a full-blown week of a family trip, complete with my mom and my husband and filled with visits with family old and new.

I couldn’t have asked for more (except for a few more visits with family and a couple of good friends).

My biggest takeaway: Don’t let too much time go between visits with family.

Ahp, ahp, ahp, ahp, ahp! I know what you’re thinking.

Who cares if they don’t come to you? Who cares if you do all the traveling? Go to them. It’s my broken record, but we’ve get one shot at family, so we need to make it count.

I’ve had this inner struggle so many times, even holding mini-grudges because no one wants to come see us in beautiful Colorado (whaaa?!).  It’s not really that – it’s that people are comfortable where they are and have a hard time breaking out of their routines.

In the end, though, I know I’ll regret not seeing my family when the opportunity was there to enjoy them. So basically, suck it up, Nydia. That was my lesson. Because in the end…nothing else matters.

So. About the conference.

Not exactly a Zombies convention (whew!)

It was fun to be with people of kindred spirit at the Spanish American Genealogy Association’s (SAGA) 37th Annual Texas State Hispanic Genealogical and Historical Conference (that’s a mouthful, no?).

I mean, we were all there because we were interested in our dead people. Not in a Zombie-fest kind of way, but with a real desire to honor our ancestors by learning more about them and their lives – and how we connect to them.

Many shared the interests of looking deeper into their family trees, learning about everything from:

  • the context of their ancestors’ lives through the study of history,
  • the evolution of the Spanish language in the Americas, to
  • Jewish heritage among Latinos (it’s true – I’m one of them),
  • land grant research techniques and, the big one:
  • DNA (even though there was only one DNA session – surely to grow next year).
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Pardon the big ol’ chairs photo-bombing as earrings. Wanted to show off this hand-stitched masterpiece of a blouse.

I also bought this beautiful Oaxacan blouse from a pair of really talented and inspiring women, both retired educators and administrators, who showed the audience creative ways to pass along our culture and heritage to future generations. This was one of their imports.

Belonging gives us a sense of family

It was important for me to come away with a stronger sense of belonging to a group with shared interests, so I joined Las Villas del Norte, a genealogy group with ties to northeastern Mexico and South Texas, the originating areas of my recent ancestors. Coupled with my membership in the Facebook groups Mexican Genealogy and We Are Cousins, it’s easy to say these groups feel like family. No – familia.

I also may (re)join Los Bexareños Genealogical and Historical Society after, what, a 25-year membership lapse? Based out of San Antonio, their study of the families of Coahuila, Mexico gave my research the boost it needed early on, and their research into northeastern Mexico is quite extensive.

Remember print and books and stuff?

One thing I heard at the conference is that much genealogical info can be still be found only in books and other print volumes. It may be more time-consuming in terms of research, but it could be crucial to breaking down brick walls. Duly noted.

One very cool thing I learned, in a first-time meeting: Boy, can strong family features jump lines! My mom and I met a not-too-distant cousin from her side of the family – and this very kind gentlemen looked so much like one of my brothers, it nearly floored me. Now we’re connected with a part of the family we’d never known before.

We met several other “new” relatives, too. I’ll talk more about them in another post.

It was a far more productive trip than I’d imagined – a real gift. I hope writing about it will help me sort it all out.

Writing about what hurts

Writing about what hurtsI recently reloaded content from a very old, long-running blog and just finished scanning it to see the type of stuff I wrote about. This is what I learned:

  1. I wrote some pretty good headlines back then.
  2. My topics were all over the place, like a journal.
  3. I never, ever wrote about my work.

That last one kind of stings.

Considering that time in my life changed my life completely, I sure managed to suppress how much poverty had taught me – how much I’d learned, how much I had let go of.

Still, in the words of Heather B. Armstrong, one of the first professional bloggers to monetize her blog before monetizing was cool:

“BE YE NOT SO STUPID. Never write about work on the internet unless your boss knows and sanctions that YOU ARE WRITING ABOUT WORK ON THE INTERNET.”

So I journaled (privately) a lot about work. I’m sure many people do. Maybe it’s what keeps us from breaking the law.

Anyway, I also had long hauls of multi-hour flights, with plenty of time to write about everything from:

  • eating in-flight, off-hours meals with my arms practically crossed (thank you, United);
  • miraculously getting from Jakarta to Singapore with absolutely no itinerary (I later learned); and
  • my “lost,” luggage somehow following me from Entebbe, Uganda, to London Heathrow with absolutely no tags on it.

That was the light stuff.

In fact, what I’d never blogged about is what weighed (then and now) heavily on my heart. It’s also the third – and so far, missing – leg on this blog’s intended three-legged stool: culture, communications and cause.

I’m not sure exactly how the topic of cause – of poverty – will unfold, but it’s feeling more and more like it’s time to let it happen. I’m praying for the courage to go there next.

Pan Am: Talk about shipping – or not

Welcome to my #Day4 post of #YourTurnChallenge with Seth Godin.

I was just hours from being shipped off to NYC as my base. Undoubtedly, I’d be flying international flights, primarily. Most of us newbies would.

We were Pan Am Flight Attendant Class #21, and we’d just completed six weeks of “Barbie Doll Boot Camp” (well, that’s what we called it) in Miami, living out of suitcases the whole time  — you know, to get the hang of it.

We trained together, ate together, exercised together and qualified for our new posts together — including that huge, inflatable emergency slide.

IMG_4554The Q Flight
My qualification flight to Mexico City took place a few days before I would head to NYC. All I can remember was working First Class on the outbound flight – a large but mostly empty cabin upfront. Incredibly uneventful.

And then there was the return flight, which I nearly missed. (Now, after having flown to Mexico City for work a few times since then, I completely understand why.)

I worked Economy on the way back — a distinct difference from the trip to Mexico’s capital. We had about 400 passengers — all hungry, probably except for the guy whose Kosher meal I forgot. Another passenger was so thirsty, I poured coffee all over his lap.

Back to the night of graduation. My mom had flown in to see me off, I had done really well in training and had been promised many opportunities, and it was my turn to receive my certificate.

I showed up “dead-heading” – in street clothes, rather than uniform. And I bailed. I withdrew from employment with one of the “sexiest” airlines around (no pun intended, but whatever).

And it had nothing to do with the job.

Over the last six weeks, I’d been running from grief. My father had died of lymphoma nine months earlier, and I now realized I hadn’t really grieved his passing or how much I missed him.  Or how much my mom and I needed each other.

I’d been going too fast, with multiple attempts to return to college, a big breakup and now Pan Am.

Pan Am was fun, but not all that fun when my mind was on family. It was time to go home.

It’s not like I have never “what if’d” that decision, but the fantasy can’t beat my reality. My career took me around the world in a whole other context, for which I will be forever grateful and changed.

And you know what? I finally learned how to live out of a suitcase.