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They certainly do seem to have cast-iron stomachs at times...

...because my aunt was a Tex-Mex during her 70 year stay here.

Her folks wanted her to be a  U.S. citizen, so her mom came across the border and stayed with relatives when she was about to give birth.

So Aunt Marce (who married my mom's brother, Finley) was born and raised in El Paso.

She spoke excellent and fluent Spanish, and fluent English with a delightful accent.

Anyway, there was nothing unsanitary about her personal habits--but she visited Mexico so much (where different friends and relatives still were) that her stomach had adapted to where she could eat anything.

I found that out the hard way.

We were taking a trip through Mexico back in 1966 when I was 13 1/2.

Most of the time, we ate at places that were approved by a guidebook for tourists.

One time, though, we were out in the boonies and had stopped at this filling station that had a little restaurant attached to it.

Aunt Marce decided that she was hungry, and I decided that I was, too.

My folks were trying to discourage me from ordering, but I thought they were being silly.

After all, Aunt Marce was just as American as the rest of us, even though she was a Tex-Mex, so anything she could safely eat, surely I could, too--or so I thought.

It was all really delicious, and I thought my folks and Uncle Finley were missing out by being so picky.

That night, I was going

Bwwwwwwwwwwwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaacccccccccck!

so loudly, that Uncle Finley and Aunt Marce could hear me next door in their motel room!

The next day, Uncle Finley teased me and did an imitation of what I sounded like!

If memory serves me correctly, I was not only barfing my brains out but it was also running out the other end.

Several days later, Uncle Finley got hold of something that had him liquid-crapping his brains out, and Aunt Marce was teasing him about it.

He'd already had a mild experience with eating the wrong thing earlier in the trip.

In short, it felt like gas but it wasn't--so he ended up depositing his undershorts in the nearest trash can!

Most of the time, though, all of us enjoyed the food without complaint.

That was a really wonderful road-trip and one that I won't forget.

Sounds as if what your neighbors need is someone like Aunt Marce who might succeed in explaining things to them.

It must be quite a culture shock going from a place where kids were free to roam, just as they were all over our country several decades ago, to going to a place where crime is so rampant.

I'm surprised that there hasn't been some Hispanic social workers assigned to your neighborhood to get the people better oriented.

Love & Prayers--
AJ

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posted by Ainsley_Jo_Phillips on September 28, 2005 at 8:18 PM | link to this | reply