Hacienda Heights | Lotería Chicana

There were 61 people at my house Saturday night [December 17], most whom I’m related to. The house felt crowded, small and like it was about to burst. Soon, we’d be hanging out of doors and windows. My cousin Ernie commented, “this house seems to get smaller every year.” He was wrong. Our house is actually bigger now than when we were kids, but the growth in our extended family has outpaced the growth of the house. Before just family would attend, but now cousins bring their own families and other cousins and my siblings bring significant others. The real reason the house feels small is simply that more people keep coming, but that’s the way we like it.

Christmas in the Ureño Saldivar family is full of traditions that have evolved through the years. The two main ones are Santa Claus and the Rosario. My family owns a Santa Claus suit that must be about as old as me. Every year, one of the men dresses up and enters the house with a sack of presents. Each kid (at least it used to only be kids) is supposed to only get one gift. Back when my aunts and uncles started the Santa thing and I was just a little mocosa, they decided that each kid would only get one gift, preferably a cool toy, from Santa Claus. This way, cousin Jorge shouldn’t feel bad when he opened up a nice package of tube socks from Santa and couin Bobby got a sleek grey Nintendo. Now those cousins are grown up and bring their own children to the Christmas Eve gatherings. My youngest cousin, Valerie, is 10 years old. The kids who are still young enough to be excited by Santa Claus, even if they know he isn’t real, are los bisnietos (my cousin’s kids). They love getting their gifts and trying to guess who had to play Santa Claus that year by guessing the voice or just looking around to see which uncle/cousin suddenly disappeared. I’m sure the kids had no trouble figuring out that Danny, my older brother, was Santa this year.

Santa Claus doesn’t just bring presents, he also brings tons of laughs. The funniest was about four years ago when my cousin Tony was dressed as Santa. He was engaged to Ingrid then and took out a small gift for her from the sack. Everyone oohed, aahed and giggled when she got her gift from “Santa”. When she opened the box and removed a shiny and expensive piece of jewlery (I can’t remember if it was a necklace or earrings), there was more oohing and aahing.

Tío Pancho, forever known for his big mouth, blurted out, “Santa está horny!” Everyone who got the joke burst out laughing and Santa’s face turned redder than his suit. Ingrid probably thought twice about marrying in to the family, but didn’t back out.

Aside from the Santa Claus tradition, we eat lots of tamales and other goodies, the kids break a piñata, we pray the Rosary and lay down the Niño Dios. We left out the praying this year because our celebration was a week before Christmas Eve. However, we passed the time with more eating, drinking and singing. Tío Chuy brought his karaoke machine and aunts, uncles and cousins sang classic rancheras, banda songs, pop tuns, and of course rock.

Somehow, my cousin Rene and I didn’t get smacked by any of the adults for knowingly making them sing Hombres G’s “Devuélveme a mi chica.” It’s incredibly strange to hear your dad and tías sing “Sufre mamooooooon!” at the top of their lungs.

Karaoke is grand, but family and Christmas traditions are even better.

[Note: most written December 21, 2005 in El Cargadero.]

I found out late last night that my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Stringfield had passed away over a month ago and no one told me.

I called home today in the middle of the day. My sister, Lori, answered the phone. I asked her if she knew about Mrs. Stringfield, also one of her former teachers, and she admitted that she did.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” I asked annoyed as always that my family doesn’t tell me things I would like to know (yet tells me other things I really don’t need to worry about).

“Well, because you’re over there,” she replied listlessly.

I didn’t tell her that I felt rather sad when I got the Google update featuring something about my hometown of Hacienda Heights. I don’t live too far from HH now, but for some reason news about former teachers and other people I grew up with just doesn’t get to me. I guess it slips my mom’s mind or they don’t want to worry me. Still, I think they would have told me about Mrs. Stringfield. They told me when she fell and broke her hip, but that was probably because my mom still worked at the school.

I did very well at Glenelder Elementary School. I never intended to be the teacher’s pet, but somehow I frequently wound up being a favorite. I had all woman teachers and Mrs. Stringfield sticks out because she was not nearly as mean or scary as Ms. Butcher (eek, even her name scared me) nor as austere as Mrs. Miller. She really was a kind woman, but she sticks out more for her longevity. She was the oldest white woman I had ever met at 10 years old. The paper says she passed away at 75 years old which means that she was only about 60 when she was teaching me and my brother. Even then she seemed ancient.

I don’t know if it was Mrs. Stringfield or Mrs. Miller that recommended I be tested for the Gifted and Talented Education (GATE) program. Either way, I know that I would not have been in GATE without Mrs. Stringfield. She was a good teacher and all I gained in that class manifested itself in some way through random bubbles on a Scantron. I scored high on the state assessment tests. In hindsight, I know that the test scores and good grades helped Mrs. Stringfield (or Mrs. Miller?) decide that I was a child whose talents should be nurtured.

I was admitted to GATE. Each Friday morning I would leave my school on a bus with a handful of other kids to go to Dibble School where other students around the Hacienda La Puente Unified School District would gather for enriched courses in things like Shakespeare, art, and investing in stocks. Once I graduated from Glenelder and went on to middle school and high school, GATE students were tracked into honors and advanced placement (AP) courses. These courses prepared me very well to be ready for postsecondary education.

Mrs. Stringfield was instrumental in tracking me and recognizing potential. There were definitely other teachers along the way and even before, but I didn’t even know I was gifted or talented until 4th grade. Although tracking can be very problematic, it essentially worked very well for me.

Thanks, Mrs. Stringfield. May you rest in peace.

Lotería Chicana

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Christmas in Hacienda Heights

Mrs. Stringfield