Next year's Diez y Seis

I ended up going to the Independencia ceremony at Municipal Auditorium by myself.  Oddly, I began having flashbacks the day of the ceremony of having gone to one years ago, when we lived in San Antonio the first time.  That time mi esposo querido, my dear spouse, was with me. He astounded me when I got home from the ceremony Wednesday night by telling me that he remembered even more than I did about that night: we were interviewed by a newspaper reporter and were quoted in the next day's paper!  It is not like me to forget such things.  Anyway, I now remember that I was especially interested in going that year because the Instituto Cultural Mexicano is the/a main sponsor, and I had just begun volunteering there as a docent to school groups for the Institute's  Diego Rivera exhibit.  I got that gig by responding to an ad in the paper.  I remember the ad stipulated that the respondent be 21, and I was still only 20!  But they took me anyway.  What a privilege!  I wish I had done more there-- I don't think I did anything after that one exhibit, though I did interview the director- in Spanish- for a class, as I was at UTSA working on my Spanish degree.

Well, back to the celebracion.  It was delightful.  Many women were beautifully decked out in traditional dresses, while others, both men and women, sported Mexico's team soccer shirts.  Several women who were not fully costumed in Mexican garb had made an effort to add some Mexican-inspired flair to their outfits, like long tiered skirts or bright red or green shawls.

I most enjoyed listening to the couple sitting behind me as they enjoyed the evening.  They were around 50 years old, and the man wore a black cowboy hat, as did many of the Mexican men.  He was a real  jugeton, jokester (serendipitously, I just learned that word in an obituary I read today in the San Antonio Express-News ("Garcia's Blue Moon Cafe...")).  They were a charming combination: he whistling very loudly in approbation of the performers, making little jokes throughout the evening, and singing along with the songs of the Mariachis; she laughing and giggling and enjoying his clowning. 

My regret is that I did not befriend this couple right away.  Once when he was singing--he had a marvelous voice and knew every word-- I made a clapping motion behind me to applaud him.  Then, as the military drill team was preparing to exit the auditorium, I started to leave, then stopped, thinking maybe I should wait as a sign of respect.  It was then that she tapped me on the shoulder.  I turned around.  She asked me, "Estas de aqui in San Antonio?"  "Are you from here in San Antonio?" "Si..."  I hesitated, unsure how much information I ought to attempt in Spanish. "Pues, de muchas veces.  Mi esposo es en la Fuerza Aerea.  Pero no soy Mexicana."  "Well, from many times (I meant to say muchos lugares, many places).  My husband is in the Air Force.  But I am not Mexican."  Embarrassed and unsure what else I could say, I turned back around, and we spoke no more.  Sigh.  They were as interested in me as a curiosity (non-Mexican) as I was in them.  I had an opportunity, not only to speak Spanish, but to enjoy interacting with them.  This happens to me all the time.  I have become painfully shy.  I could speak Spanish multiple times a day if I were bold enough.  I have Spanish-speaking neighbors next door and down the street whom I have not even told that I speak Spanish.  I want to be more outgoing.  At next year's celebration, I hope to wear something Mexican, and chat with some Spanish-speakers.