The Days Were Going by Fast…

I continue to see myself in my grandmother’s stories. I know we all see ourselves in our family in one way or another but it doesn’t make it any less special each time. The first few sentences of her first story could be a description of myself; the lover and collector of all dolls. I had a shelf that went across my whole bedroom wall of all the little dolls that TiTi would bring back for me from all over the world. Any time she traveled she would bring me a gorgeous doll representing that country or culture. She would also make tea parties and clothes for my dolls making a whole event out of our play together. The more I heard the more I thought “IT’S ME”!, and then it hit me OF COURSE it is. She gave me what SHE had, what she loved and I happened to love it too. One of the many ways I see myself in her and also because of her, even in little things like a childhood collection. 

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Planes and Dolls 

When I was a little girl I loved dolls and at the time I was the only girl on my mom’s side of the family so I had all these uncles and aunts who would bring me dolls. I think at one time I had 75 dolls; big dolls, Shirley Temple dolls, little dolls, dolls from all over the world. I had this beautiful doll that could drink milk and wet her diaper. I would even have little Christenings for my dolls and my mother would bake cakes and cookies for the “event”. One time we even dressed my brother, Fernando, up as the Priest and he baptized my dolls. But at night I would cover the dolls. I had so many that I didn't want to wake up in the middle of the night and see their little eyes just staring at me, so I would cover their little faces every night with whatever I could. I had a big room with dolls all around the walls. I loved them but I think I also kind of feared them. 

As I got older I grew out of that phase and started to play less and less with my dolls. Around 12 or 13 I decided that I wanted to be a pilot. We had a friend who was a Pilot for a big airline and he made it look so glamorous. So little by little the dolls came down and pictures of airplanes and pilots went up. My mind was made up, I was going to be a pilot. SO, one day my dad surprised us because he had arranged for us to fly to LaPaz instead of taking the train like we always did. It was the most wonderful thing that could happen to me. I was going to finally be in a plane for the very first time. So we got ready, went to the airport, went to the plane and I HATED it. It was a small plane and a very rough flight. It was so bumpy going up and down and all around and I got so sick. My mom looked at me all knowing and said “I thought you wanted to be a pilot?” And I said “oh shut up mom, please shut up”, and that was the end of my “career” as a pilot. So that is just a little bit about me and what I loved and stopped loving, as a child. 

A Moment at the Plaza

I was growing up and the days were going by so fast, and before you know it I am 14 years old. I got rid of all of my dolls, my posters on my walls and became a full on teenager. I had a lot of friends and a lot of parties and would still get to venture off to La Paz and Cochabamba to visit my grandparents. It felt like such an ideal life. On Sundays my father always insisted we go to the tennis club and one Sunday I really fought him on it. I was getting older and all of the older kids would go to the plaza on Sundays and walk around listening to the bands play. Girls would walk one way and the boys would walk the other way. So each time around you would see each other and we would wave and giggle and continue. It was one of the many traditions I doubt exist now. A way of courting and serenading. Another tradition was if a boy wanted to be your boyfriend, he would get a group of friends together with guitars or other instruments and around midnight they would come and serenade you at your window. Sometimes I would get them but never even hear them and my parents would say; you had another serenade last night. Those things were kind of fun though. So anyway, on this specific Sunday my dad said I could go and we walked around and got all the girls from their houses and headed to the plaza. When we got there I saw these 4 guys, all very tall and handsome. Among them was Henry Mendez, oh my was he absolutely gorgeous. I was still so young then so there they were walking and of course not paying attention to us and I asked my friend “WHO is that guy!?”. She told me “Henry Mendez”. And I jokingly said “I will marry him one day”. While at the time it was just something you say like “I am going to marry Clark Gable”, that ended up being the day I saw my future husband for the first time. 

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Another thing she gave me was my love for big grand romantic gestures. For better or worse I loved the idea of someone sweeping me off my feet, “wooing” me, and if there was singing involved all the better! I watched musicals with her, soap operas, actual operas and listened to her own stories such as the one she shares above. I thought every situation should be a grand romantic one. That is until I was 6 and serenaded a boy in my class with a song called “One Boy”from Bye Bye Birdie. So I dropped the singing portion of it and persevered. Just another fun way she gave me a little piece of me. Luckily with my romantic side she also gave me so much self confidence and strength, the idea that a woman does not NEED a man but if he would like a chance we sure as heck deserve some “wooing”.