"Mami": My Favorite Person Ever

Re-printed from my January 15, 2010 post on Señora Cartera
.....If you ask folks who their favorite person is, many would undoubtedly answer that their mothers are. I definitely fall under that category. My mom will always be my favorite person. She fostered my love of fashion, handbags in particular, and taught me from a very early age to work hard for anything I wanted. She believed nothing is out of our grasp if we put our heart and souls into attaining it.

13 yr old Queens transplant(1968); teen bride(1970); loving mom(1974)
I only had my mom around for a short time. She passed away when I was eleven years old. Even though I've spent the majority of my life without her, I've always felt her presence in it. I can't listen to a 70's song, browse through a thrift shop or go shopping for a bag without thinking of her. It's inevitable. When I was a little girl, she was my idol (aside, of course, from Andy Gibb). Her favorite things became my favorite things. Her tastes became my tastes.

Case in point. Here are a few of my mom's "favorite things" (and mine, as well) - a sequined disco tube top, vintage Gucci clutch and the ever beautiful Diane von Furstenberg. DvF was her idol, the woman she molded her style after. My mom read her book entitled "Diane von Furstenberg's Book of Beauty: How to Become a More Attractive, Confident and Sensual Woman" so many times, I lost count. In fact, she would quote it all the time. Kaftan tops, chunky necklaces and wide-bottom pants were my mother's wardrobe staples. She loved her suede fringed hobo as much as her box-shaped handbag or Gucci envelope clutch. She was an amazing disco dancer (she and my father won many dance contests in the late 70's). I would sit on our red velvet sofa for hours watching them practice their routines. In my eyes, she was a goddess. Fierce when it came to style, but sweet in every other respect. She was, by far, the kindest human being I've ever encountered. A true "flower child" at heart. Perhaps this is the reason why, after 26 years of being apart, my mother remains my favorite person. Her sense of style and devotion to fashion were admirable, but it was her outer as well as inner beauty I'll cherish the most.....

A Cuban Stereotype: Yes, We are Loud

As a child, I always hated loud people. Which was unfortunate for me because, as anyone who is even remotely familiar with the Cuban community knows, Cubans are loud. They're loud even when they whisper!

I would tag along with my grandparents on their doctor's appointments, and, although I loved hanging with them (yes, I was weird that way), I loathed the noise that resulted from a room full of old Cubans talking about the old country and their many physical ailments. As more and more "viejitos" would sit down in the waiting room, there was a palpable increase in the decibel levels inside the room. Eventually, it became a shout-fest to see who could talk the loudest (usually the oldest curmudgeon in the room won out).

Once I began to get over my fear of loud Cubans, I really started to enjoy being around them. Sure they were loud (and some were even obnoxious), but they were, for the most part, fun, well-meaning and oddly informative. Some were downright wise. There's nothing that a loud Cuban loves more than to spout out small tidbits of wisdom called "refranes". My grandfather was a grand aficionado of famous Cuban refranes. His favorite one was "Dime con quién andas, y te diré quién eres". Basically it means a man is measured by the company he keeps. He used it to lovingly lecture me on the importance of picking my friends. I find it ironic that he loved that refran the best seeing as how most of the company my grandfather kept was made up of loud-mouthed Cubans who were anything but intellectuals. Their idea of being smart and clever was telling a good, dirty joke and knowing how to fix their broken-down cars without the aid of a mechanic. Irony, you are indeed a b---h!

I never judged my grandfather by the company he kept because he was every man's friend. He was incapable of slighting anyone, and that's why everyone wanted to be his friend. He didn't have a judgemental bone in his body. Little did he know that his favorite refran would shape all of my future relationships and the way I pick and choose my friends to this day.

I can count my true friends on one hand with a few fingers left over. And that's fine with me. Good friends are about quality, not quantity. I know I'll never be everyone's friend like my grandfather was. I'm simply too judgemental for that to be my reality.

In the end, I'm a self-righteous know-it-all who thinks she's better than most people and doesn't mind telling everyone just that. Oh, and I'm also a loud Cuban. HA! I've finally embraced my Cuban roots, abuela. I know you're proud of me up there in what I am sure is an equally loud, Cuban-infested heaven ;-)