On Friday, after a clearing in the snowstorm that had been relentless since the morning before, I drove my daughter to Connecticut to watch a performance of Amalia Hernandez's Ballet Folklorico de Mexico. She loves dance and I couldn't pass up the opportunity for her first professional dance recital to be watching Mexico's best.
My daughter would ask me questions and I was surprised by how much I was able to answer: This dance is from Veracruz (my favorite!) and after the women, the men will come out and dance on the boxes...She's a skeleton because death is part of life and Mexicans make fun of death...The women dancers are wearing guns because they are Adelita's and they fought with their men in the war. I knew the old stories, I knew the old dances, I knew the words to the old songs. It's a little golden string that connects me to my family, to my culture and to my ancestors. When I hear the mariachi and watch the folklorico..those I love are right there with me - no matter how near or far, alive or passed.
Most Cultures have their ways...their songs, their dances, their old stories. As soon as one person begins a song, no matter how old or young - friend or stranger - no matter how rich or poor - anyone can jump in and they all come together and become one.
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