My Mexican Family

Some family member - left to right -
Amparo, Erik, daughter Ruth, Mother Ruth

A while back, I came to the conclusion that whether I want to think of myself as a member of the family or not doesn't matter;  I am part of it.

Daughter Ruth and her novio, Ishmael, are getting married.  The date was originally set for March, but March became inconvenient because so many of the would be invitees couldn't get the time off work.  And so, Ruth and Ishmael decided that they would reschedule for either July or September.

When daughter Ruth and I were discussing the set back of the wedding plans I mentioned that I planned to be away from July through September, that being the rainy season, and I don't like rain.

Because I wasn't going to be around in July, they decided to schedule the wedding for June.   It won't be a terribly small wedding, over one hundred people for sure.  That my presence is so important is surprising, gratifying and worrisome all at the same time.  Being part of a Mexican family means there are responsibilities.

Properties in Southern Mexico are such that they are generally enclosed with high walls.  It's pretty much impossible to see in, and without a key to the door almost impossible to get in.  And so, I can safely say I live within a compound.

Sound travels across the garden.  And so, it is a good thing that we are all respectful of one another, there isn't privacy in the way there would be elsewhere.  If I'm wanted for whatever reason, I hear my name being called.  If my downstairs neighbor is wanted, I hear his name being called.  It's the familiarity families share.

Yesterday, our family friend from Canada, Robert, came for dinner.  Needless to say, the family was all in attendance, as we would be for birthdays, Christmas, Day of the Dead and Semana Santa.  As I mentioned, being part of a family has its responsibilities.