I am 24 year old nerd. I like things way too much. I know very little.
day after day
I continue to surprise myself
just when I think I’ve hit that stupidity bottom
there I am. Finding more and more ways to be stupid.
I don’t even think Im learning. I’m just being
I’m not even being self-deprecating for the sake of humor or anything
Today was hard. Hard in a way you can’t just talk about.
It made me wish I had someone
that I felt I could share it with
and I can’t remember the last time I felt that way@1 week ago with 1 note
Me and my littlest brother do this thing where we lock hands and jump around in a circle.
I know that one day he’ll be too old for it and I’ll try to do it with him and he’ll just give me this look that says “come, on man. you know I’m too old for that shit.”
and I think, in fact, I know that it will crush me, but until then…
I will not take those circles we stomp at my parent’s house for granted.
Happy Birthday Johan@1 week ago with 1 note
[…] Early in my freshman year, my dad asked me if there were lots of Latinos at school. I wanted to say, “Pa, I’m one of the only Latinos in most of my classes. The other brown faces I see mostly are the landscapers’. I think of you when I see them sweating in the morning sun. I remember you were a landscaper when you first came to Illinois in the 1950s. And look, Pa! Now I’m in college!”
But I didn’t.
I just said, “No, Pa. There’s a few Latinos, mostly Puerto Rican, few Mexicans. But all the landscapers are Mexican.”
My dad responded, “¡Salúdelos, m’ijo!”
So when I walked by the Mexican men landscaping each morning, I said, “Buenos días.”
Recently, I realized what my dad really meant. I remembered learning the Mexican, or Latin American, tradition of greeting people when one enters a room. In my Mexican family, my parents taught me to be “bien educado” by greeting people who were in a room already when I entered. The tradition puts the responsibility of the person who arrives to greet those already there. If I didn’t follow the rule as a kid, my parents admonished me with a back handed slap on my back and the not-so-subtle hint: “¡Saluda!”
I caught myself tapping my 8-year-old son’s back the other day when he didn’t greet one of our friends: “Adrian! ¡Saluda!”
However, many of my white colleagues over the years followed a different tradition of ignorance. “Maleducados,” ol’ school Mexican grandmothers would call them.
But this Mexican tradition is not about the greeting—it’s about the acknowledgment. Greeting people when you enter a room is about acknowledging other people’s presence and showing them that you don’t consider yourself superior to them.
When I thought back to the conversation between my dad and me in 1990, I realized that my dad was not ordering me to greet the Mexican landscapers with a “Good morning.”
Instead, my father wanted me to acknowledge them, to always acknowledge people who work with their hands like he had done as a farm worker, a landscaper, a mechanic. My father with a 3rd grade education wanted me to work with my mind but never wanted me to think myself superior because I earned a college degree and others didn’t."