Daughter # 3 married into the Hispanic culture two years ago. We love her hubby. She (daughter #3) speaks less espanol than I do, which is not a lot, 😉 and by the sound of it, doesn’t have any big plans to learn …. Her extended family runs the gamut from fluent English to no sprekenze English at all…
Last weekend their daughter (our granddaughter) turned one. Daughter #3 and hubby decided to throw a birthday party for her. Not wanting to offend anyone, it turned into quite a large guest list.
As I sat across the table from Edwardo, he and I attempted to have a conversation. In halting English he introduced me to his family...”This is my son…. and this is my wife.”
At this point, in the conversation, Mrs DM scooted down in the chair next to me and the conversations continued. Edwardo, as it turned out, was able to understand much of what I said. He told us his wife did not speak English, however his son Jordon, was your typical American 10 yr old.
Lots of laughs.
That conversation and another one with a shy 6th grade girl, who rarely talks, but opened up to Mrs DM and I when no one else was around were two of the highlights of our trip.
I came across the following true story in the latest Readers Digest after the party. It immediately took me back to the feelings I had sitting around the birthday table last weekend…
A Random Act Of Roadside Assistance by Justin Horner
During this past year, I’ve had three instances of car trouble. Each time these things happened, I was disgusted with the way most people hadn’t bothered to help. One of those times, I was on the side of the road for close to three hours with my friend’s big Jeep. I put signs in the windows, big signs that said NEED A JACK, and offered money. Nothing. Right as I was about to give up and start hitching, a Mexican family a van pulled over, and the father bounded out.
He sized up the situation and called for his daughter, who spoke English. He conveyed through her that he had a jack but that it was too small for the Jeep, so we would need to brace it. Then he got a saw from the van and cut a section out of a big log on the side of the road. We rolled it over and put his jack on top, and we were in business.
I started taking the wheel off, and then, if you can believe it, I broke his tire iron – snapped the head clean off. No worries : He handed it to his wife, and she was gone in a flash down the road to buy a a new tire iron. She was back in 15 minutes. We finished the job, and I was a very happy man.
The two of us were filthy and sweaty. His wife produced a large water jut for us to wash our hands with. I tried to put a $20 dollar bill in the man’s hand, but he wouldn’t take it, so instead I went up to the van and gave it to his wife as quietly as I could. I asked the little girl where they lived. Mexico, she said. They were in Oregon so Mommy and Daddy could pick cherries for the next few weeks. they they were going to pick peaches, then go home.
After I said my goodbyes and started walking back to the jeep, the girl called out and asked if I had lunch. When I told her no, she ran up and handed me a tamale.
I thanked them again,walked back to my car, and opened the fiol on the tamale, and what did I find inside? My $20 bill! I ran to the van. The father saw the $20 in my hand and just started shaking his head no. With what looked like great concentration, he said in English, “Today you, tomorrow me.”