Quinceanera

Some thoughts.

I dropped my daughter of at her friend's Quinceanera on a farm deep in Oxnard. I was just walking her in and then I was going to exit, but as I was walking out, I heard the grandmother call to me, "Get yourself some tacos!" That, of course, sounded like a fine idea, and I went over to the taco man and had a plate-three tacos, a quesadilla, rice and beans. Most of the party guests were inside, so I found a table outside and watched the crowd.

The Quinceanera was being held inside an old wooden barn, which was decorated with flowers and lights. The barn, if I had to guess, was at least 100 years old, and looked it, but with the ranchero and other Mexican music blasting, and lots of people young and old both inside and out,  it was a lively affair. The farm was in the middle of many fields, and really out in the rural part of Oxnard.

My daughter is a coconut, and that's mostly because I'm a coconut, too. We didn't have a quincenera for her, because that's not what we do. I'm glad she gets invited to them, though.

This one was interesting in that the girl who was being celebrated was only half Mexican. I guess my daughter is too, but she has the dark hair, eyes and skin that betrays my side of the family. Her friend has fair hair and skin, and a 'white' surname.

The crowd had a fair mix of ethnicities, which is good, and everyone was dancing and posing for selfies. As I ate my tacos, with the upcoming 4th of July, I was left thinking that this is what America is-the melting pot of cultures, and everyone is an American.

I seem to be much more race aware than my children, which I think is good. They're colorblind in ways that I try to be-as we all should be.

Now back to Oxnard to pick my daughter up.