Summer birthdays for the grandparents. Mamá Toni is June 13 and Papá Chepe is July 29.
I’ve heard the story dozens of times, but still gather around Papá Chepe with my younger cousins and nieces and nephews when he begins telling us of something that happened 8 decades ago. Each time he tells it his age changes to be the same as the listener, give or take a year. Some times he’s 4, other times he’s 7; but the age is secondary to the lesson.
Chepe loves the attention of his progeny, but he also wants to teach us something with the blanquillo (egg) story. He wants us to understand where he came from and the fact that a birthday egg was a treat. That’s tough to understand when you’re a kid who is accustomed to elaborate birthday parties with jumpers, piñatas, taqueros and dozens of gifts.
In 1920-something on el día de su santo Chepe received a simple blanquillo (I can’t remember how it was prepared… probably fried) for breakfast from Mamá Chila. This was his cake, presents and jumper combined. He wanted to savor his treat and placed the plate on the floor of his adobe home in el Cargadero. They didn’t have a table.
Bad idea.
A chicken (or was it a rooster?) ambled in and ate the blanquillo before Chepe could kick the cannibal out of the house. He was left dumbfounded, sad and hungry.
I started writing this as a birthday post for Chepe. I wanted to tell the blanquillo story; I love hearing Chepe tell it slightly different each time. I couldn’t just tell the story. My mind kept pushing me a different way. I kept thinking of contrasts. Adobe house, egg as a birthday gift. Home in the suburbs, a huge pachanga for Adrian’s 21st birthday. Jumper? No. Taqueros and dozens of gifts? Yes.
We have this because of Chepe and Mamá Toni’s relentless hard work and sacrifice.
Who knew an egg could make my love, admiration and respect for my grandparents grow.
It’s amazing to think how far he has taken himself and his family, wow!
I think those stories are the best. They remind us of how hard they have worked to bring their families adelante. I remember my father telling us stories about Christmas + Reyes Magos and that they would wish for presents. However, all they got were a pencil and an orange in their shoes.
That story reminds me on my grandma and her stories about how it was like back in the day. Thank goodness I learned to appreciate such stories when I was young because I never really had birthday parties growing up. Mom and dad didn’t exactly have money so I never really had piñatas, etc…