by Phyllis McCrossin
Learning new things never gets old and often, if we take the time to observe, it is the everyday things that we take for granted that can teach us the most. Or, more aptly, we are never too old to learn something new.
A new employee has joined the staff at the department store. A young 15-year-old has joined our ranks for the summer and I am no longer the youngest employee at the store. While we (the other women and I at work) watch with annoyance as our new employee not so subtly texts friends and family during the day, I remind myself that this is a summer job for both of us and if the boss chooses not to say anything to her – it’s really not that big a deal for me either. There are plenty of things that can get my panties in a bunch, but texting during work by a 15-year-old really should not be one of them. Not my circus, not my monkeys.
But I digress…
I’ve always been interested in other cultures and learning about their traditions, so working with this young woman whose roots are steeped in another culture is teaching me that there is plenty that can be learned and one does not always have to traverse the country to do so.
On July 10 this young lady’s parents will host her Quinceanera. For the uninformed, this is the marking of a young Latina girl’s passage from girlhood to womanhood. And, I’m learning, it’s a big deal. A very big deal.
I knew a little about the celebration from television shows and a few mentions from online acquaintances, but I never fully understood the importance of the celebration or the traditions that went into it. But I’m learning. This young lady’s days are filled with the planning and excitement that goes into her very important day.
And her youthful excitement is contagious.
She has shared with me photos of her Quince dress (special ordered from Phoenix, the dress symbolizes womanhood. It is intended to indicate that the celebrant is ready to leave behind her childish ways and “little girl” clothing); her tiara (purchased on a special trip to Chicago); the second dress for her surprise dance (including a photo of the dress her father immediately nixed upon his seeing photos of it); the hair ribbons her mother has created; photos from a photo shoot completed last week and so much more.
She’s shared her stress over the special dance rehearsal. The dance is a choreographed waltz-type dance performed by members of her court and is considered one of the main events of the evening. “None of the boys are taking it seriously. We only have six rehearsals left,” she told me while rubbing her forehead to ease the tension.
The party will feature food, music and dancing. She has shared with me the menu, the music and videos from other Quinceanera celebrations. The menu intrigues me. She’s given me a list of dishes I’ve never heard of and described them to me in detail. After she listed the food, she turned up her nose and added, “Of course there will be tacos. I’m tired of tacos.”
Every day she works with me to pronounce “Quinceanera” correctly. She insists I am saying it right, but in my heart I know I have a mid-west American-English accent that won’t go away and she is too polite to tell me so.
On Thursday both our shifts ended at the same time so I offered to drive her home to save her mother a trip into South Haven to pick her up. We chatted amicably on the way home. I asked her if they spoke English or Spanish at home.
“Mostly Spanish,” she said. “My Dad speaks English, but my mother doesn’t. Sometimes when we don’t want her to know what we are talking about we speak English.”
I thought about that after dropping her off. I would suspect her mother understands far more than she lets on. I recall my days as an exchange student in Finland. Finnish is a difficult language to speak and I never could get it right, but I understood far more than people suspected.
I bet her mother does too.
