Family Reunion

Family Reunion

It is dinnertime. Everyone at the table is waiting for me. I have a reputation for being late to places; they say I live on Mexican time, mañana, mañana... and I guess I do and am glad this occasion is no exception. I am on my way to the family reunion, I'm wearing a simple white canvas shirt and jeans. As I approach the table, I'm thinking I should have dressed up when I see what everyone in my family is wearing. I look around for the bride but, by the arrangements of the table I don't think it is a wedding, not a bautizmo or anything of the sort. Everyone seems to be in great spirits, literally...

Uncle Jorge, the corrupted politician, is wearing a tuxedo and is formally waiting while he sips on a short mescal glass: to his left, his brother Beto drinks straight from the bottle of tequila. But, wait, didn't Beto just died in his motorcycle? Something is strange here and I'm about to figure out what that is. My godfather, don Salvador is asking where is his godson Arturo but no one answers him because there is too much going on. Bombita requintea Malagueña with a fine falsetto that comes from the depths of his lungs; mi abuela Concha, who is a little bit drunk already, joins him, while my abuelo Lucio tries to follow. Abuelo Lucio is diabetic like half of the family but I don't think he is concerned drinking straight from the bottle as he used to when he was alive.

I look around and the party couldn't be any better, my dead family is having dinner, and they are all waiting for me.

Que bonitos ojos tienes

debajo de esas dos cuencas

debajo de esas dos cuencas

que bonitos ojos tienes...

Chicken Pipián, chiles toreados , frijoles de la olla and chile de molcajete are some of the delicious dishes in this family reunion. And, of course, mescal. Panza llena, corazón contento. Full belly, happy heart. The table arrangement is exquisite, from rose buds and clovers to ciruelas y guayabas; from chiles colorados to margaritas. Everyone is happy around food and drink, one of the biggest pleasures of life... and death.

I had forgotten how el abuelo José María looked. I don't remember him looking any better. The hole in his throat where his voice would come out from if he didn't cover it with a handkerchief he kept on his back pocket is gone and he seems to be having a good time looking at the family together one more time like the good old times of our stolen days.

Little Ricky is dancing to Malagueña Salerosa. He has a sonaja in his hand, and he is having a blast! Uncle David looks a bit too serious, death hasn't settled. He looks almost as pale as when we buried him, if it wasn't for the freshly combed hair to the side, one would think that he is deader than dead, by the way he stares at empty space, perhaps his soul was left in purgatory along with his viejas putas, as my grandma would call his ever changing female companions.

Next to uncle David is my abuelo Ramón who seems to be dozing off on his third tequila. After all this years, he still is not used to the drink, I guess some people don't take the same fondness to liquor the way some of us do. His deal was work, work and more work. I'd bet anything he is thinking of his fishing nets and all the work left unfinished with the chinchorros after the lake almost dried and the nasas he neatly wove with fresh tule. Perhaps he is still thinking of his son Ramoncito who never came back from el norte, not even to his funeral. God, how sad that must have been for him! "That damned norte is ruthless, first it takes away your children and then it takes away your hope," he would say with resentment around Christmastime.

Codorniz en salsa de agave—quail in agave sauce, hand made tortillas, tequila con limon, y chile martajado, what else can one need to be happy? Salucita! Cañita en mano, shot glass in hand, the toast is for immortality: salud! Cheers! One tequila, two tequila, three te-kill-ya! Ajúa! La vida es bella y la muerte fella! Life is beautiful and death less so!