Why Grandpa Would Roll Over in His Grave After Watching DWTS

I love Dancing With The Stars because (1) I love dancing, (2) I love music and (3) I love watching D-list, has-been stars making spectacles of themselves. What I DON'T like about the show is how horribly they interpret the sublime dances that originated in Cuba. Neither would my grandfather. He would roll around in his grave if he knew what ballroom dancers have done with his beloved mambo, rumba and cha-cha-cha.

Each style has its own magical appeal. The mambo is a rhythmic dance fueled by drums, trumpets and horns. It's a melding of the traditional Cuban danzón with African syncopated beats. Not everyone can dance the mambo. It's tough to do it. In my opinion, only those with a fine-tuned sense of rhythm will pick it up, internalize it and interpret it properly in the form of dance. As wonderful as the professional ballroom dancers are on DWTS, none of them can dance the mambo worth a dime. Sorry, but it's the truth. If you want to know what a real mambo sounds like and looks like (minus the addition of Mexican film star and comedian 'Resortes' in the clip), take a look at this video of Perez Prado, the king of mambo, performing Que Rico El Mambo, one of his greatest hits.

The rumba is probably the most egregiously butchered Cuban dance style. What you see on DWTS is NOTHING like the true Cuban rumba. I feel like gouging my eyes out every time I have to see a rumba performed by ballroom dancers. It's a hack job if ever I saw one. The musical styling of the rumba varies from a more sedate 'son' like The Peanut Vendor (El Manisero) to the more rhythmic and fast-paced 'guaguanco' like Celia Cruz's Quimbara. As you'll derive from watching both videos, the ballroom version of rumba is a result of slowing down a fun, musical dance to something that resembles catatonia. Ugh!!!

Last but certainly not least is the cha-cha-cha. This dance is basically a danzón with a very specific set of steps. It's the simplest of all Cuban dances, but the music that inspired the dance is anything but. I grew up hearing cha-cha-cha in my home. The tell-tale sounds of soft percussion and a heavenly flute would send me into a trance of cha-cha-cha dancing. My grandfather's favorite piece was El Bodeguero by Orchestra Aragón, arguably the most accomplished cha-cha-cha band in the world. When I close my eyes and listen to this song, I can picture my grandfather dancing and smiling at me as he sang the clever song. I still tear up everytime I hear it.

If you'd like to know more about these Cuban dances and musical styles, please, don't take notes from an episode of Dancing With The Stars. You'll only be wasting your time.

Thinking About "Abuelo"..... and Jose Marti

I've been thinking about my grandfather lately. He was, is and will forever be the greatest man I've ever known. To call him my grandfather was an honor. To have memories of him in my heart is a gift beyond measure.

My "abuelo's" favorite poem was written by the great Cuban poet, José Martí. If you've never heard of him or of his work, I highly recommend you do so. He was a poet, a patriot and an extraordinary man who was, by and large, as simple a man as his poetry. I suppose that is the reason why my grandfather was drawn to his work. He too was an extraordinary man in his simplicity.

I'd like to share with you abuelo's favorite verses from Martí. Some of the beauty is lost in translation, but the idealistic sentiments remain intact.

Para ti abuelito. Hasta que nos encontremos otra ves en el cielo...

Cultivo una rosa blanca
En julio como en enero,
Para el amigo sincero
Que me da su mano franca.

Y para el cruel que me arranca
El corazon con que vivo,
Cardo ni ortiga cultivo,
Cultivo una rosa blanca.

Translation:

I cultivate a white rose
In July as in January
For the sincere friend
Who gives me his hand frankly.

And for the cruel person who tears out
the heart with which I live,
I cultivate neither nettles nor thorns:
I cultivate a white rose.

Verses and translation from fiu.edu

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 ;-)