I remember the unbearable heat. I remember how oppressive it felt against my chest. Like it wanted to keep pushing me down into the earth. And the earth was hot, too. There was no escaping it. But it wraps around you and makes you feel safe. It is everywhere.
Then a different memory pulls me in a different direction. I smile. My grandmother is sitting at the dining room table watching us make tamales. She didn’t like to help. Too many children and their dirty hands from playing outside, she’d say (gotta love grandmas and their need for cleanliness).
I go back to summer, and I remember nights putting my entire legs up against the walls. The walls. They were cooler. They insulated me from the heat of the day. I remember. Fresh and cool. A reprieve.
These memories came rushing over me this weekend after reading “Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe” that a friend of mine suggested I might like.
It reminded me of the neighborhood I grew up in — the streets, the light of day as the sun set, swimming in the summer. Making new friends. Growing up.
The book took me back in time to a story I once read. I was 15 years old and saw an article in the newspaper.
More truthfully, it was given to me. By a teacher. Teachers are wonderful, aren’t they? We need more of them. Especially when they gift you with love and happiness 30 years later.
It was Thanksgiving and the story was about a family. A family of scavengers. A family of desperation and hope. This was a story of perspective.
While most of us were home preparing turkeys for Thanksgiving, the article focused on a family who lived in the city dump in a border town in Mexico.
It was just another day of sorting through the trash that the ungrateful city left behind.
To be dumped as refuse, jettisoned from everyday life. Collected and brought here. Food, supplies, things. This family somehow made its living by finding just enough food items or objects they could barter or sell.
What a strong contrast to the traditions I had of food. More food. And even more food.
One year my dad made 16 pies. He was experimenting with sweet potato (it was a thing – don’t ask). But honestly, every single one of them was delicious.
After all, Thanksgiving is about giving thanks for an abundance, isn’t it? It is about being grateful for family, fortune and friends. So why was this article getting in the way of all of that?
At the conclusion of the story, the author asks the family members what they wished for. What was their hope and desire? They were grateful for what they had, but the one thing they wished for was to one day go through the trash at a dump in the United States.
We often take for granted the basic necessities we are given. Thanksgiving helps us to remember them. The blessings that go uncounted.
The thank-yous that we too often forget to say. There is so much to be grateful for, but where do we begin and how do we show appreciation?
In our very own communities, around the corner, on the sidewalks, our friends and neighbors experience loneliness or poverty.
Most people just want the touch of a hand. A smile. Kindness. Kindness is everywhere. Like the warmth of a summer day. When you push against it, it finds another path. It can make you feel things you haven’t ever felt before. It is abundant and yet abundantly rare.
Find examples of happiness and sadness. Gratefulness and kindness. They will guide you throughout your life the way this article did mine.
The way my teacher did. Let us exalt others and show humility. Perhaps that is what it means to be grateful.
In the coming-of-age story that I read this weekend, the young man who is 15 years old keeps asking himself, “Who are you? What do you want?” When I ask myself the first question, I say that I am grateful. And when I ask the second question about what I want to do, I say I want to make the world a better place.
Happy Holidays, everyone.
Javier Sanchez is an El Rito Media columnist, former Española mayor, and restaurant owner.