Tata

Let me start by saying thank you to everyone for coming together to celebrate the life of my Tata.

Many of the youngins from the newer generation knew my Tata, but not many know his journey.

Tata loved to tell the stories of his childhood. He grew up in Nayarit where his grandmother raised him. He was brought up in a matriarchy that bred a pretty strong group of children. I mean it was a matriarchy. His grandmother welcomed all and raised them entre familia.

In Tata's teenage years, he made his way to Tijuana where he met my Nana. They married and had 3 kids. My mom narrates this part of the Tijuana story by saying Tata used to throw neighborhood "dance parties" where he would play music for everyone in the living room. The neighborhood kids loved playing at their place. Nana and Tata always tended to have the party house.

Tijuana, being a boarder city, allowed him to work in the United States as a farm worker picking fruits all throughout California. Nana and Tata eventually decided to move the family to the US. Tata was a man of love and approachability, but he also stood for what he thought was right. He took part in the Cesar Chavez marches, along many braceros, for the rights of farm workers. These efforts allowed many families the opportunity to earn a reasonable income and work with dignity. During his time in California, he lived with his children and nieces…a nephew here and there.

Post farm work, he began working at Fresh Start, the McDonald's Bakery. He worked there for 25 plus years. At this point, my siblings and I came into the picture. Working at the bakery also meant his schedule, and later his retirement from there, allowed him to pick us up and take us to school.

This man was great at many things, driving...maybe not one of his finest qualities, but he was there. He was the type of Tata that wouldn't just "pick us up," he would get out of the car before the bell rang and wait for us out front. As if having braces and playing the trombone in middle school wasn't rough enough, he would kindly offer to carry my backpack or trombone to the car unintentionally drawing more attention to my nerd. My friends would often look for me and yell, "Your grandpa's looking for you!" There he was cool, calm, and collected…waiting…

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Eventually, Tata stopped picking us up. He would often forget the time and day. In later years, he would even forget the school.

He was there for my sister's wedding, the birth of two of her children...

He was there for my brother's first official adult job...

He was there for my college graduation...

Alzheimer's took these memories from him. Quite honestly, Alzheimer's took my Tata a very long time ago, but God allowed him to stay with us. We still had him at our big moments.

Tata didn't know our names then later our faces. Yet he always approached us with the same warmth and humor he carried in his younger days. I'd like to think he never forgot we were family.

If you look to your left, your right, in front, and back, odds are one of the families you are seated near lived with this man at one point or another. I say this because that's indicative of who he was. Nana and Tata have always had their door open and welcomed everyone. He treated all like his brothers, sisters, children.

There is no direct translation of convivir entre familia in English, but it can best be translated as welcome those around you and treat everyone like family. That's the legacy he leaves. I invite the youngins to take note of his story.