This morning during my attempt to clear the summer haze from my eyes, while beginning the work in my fiberglass world as I know it, I receive an email. From my Aunt. She's also my Godmother. She also lives in Illinois. It's message SUBJECT: My Toastmaster Speech. It's topics and contents share our amazing, sweet, loving, Great Grandmother. Her Grandma. If this type of stuff bores you, read no further. If gushy family ties, and warm and fuzzy things tickle you like they do me..I LOVE THIS STUFF. It's my family vine. Read on players..... or not. up to you. I think you should though. k?
From my Aunt Cece. Speech for Toastmasters-
GONE BUT NOT FORGOTTEN:
You know the other evening while joining my train pals, I heard someone in our group talking about getting an obscene phone call. There was a great seiousness to their voice and normally, I am quick to add something to anything but I refrained. I had a story - so instead I relived my memory in my mind and could not help but crack a smile and laugh. You see, my little grandmother and I spent a lot of time together before I married (I married at 36 years old). So I would visit her frequently in her Norwalk California home.
And on one of my visits to my grandma's house - upon arrival she started telling me about her encounter with an obscene phone call. I, of course, was very concerned since she lived by herself. So she proceeds to tell me that this man on the phone called and said, "I'm playing with myself..." in a very low subdued voice. My grandmother replied, "GOOD FOR YOU, I AM TOO!" -Side note from me, Lisa...I love this! haha
Welcome Mr/Mrs. Toastmaster, Fellow Toastmasters, and Toastmasters guests.
My Grandmother - Eulalia Salas Romero
Born in Las Vegas, New Mexico, February 12, 1916.
Her parents were Fernando Salas and her mother Cruz Salas. Her father a Spaniard - her mother a New Mexico Navajo - their marriage mix was very indigenous to this time period in the Southwest.
When I came into this world she was all of 4' 7", beautiful, and the tiniest little lady you ever want to see with a limp due to a car accident. Well, I loved my Grandma Lala. - Oh, I didn't tell you? They called her Lala, but I called her Grandma.
You see despite my grandmothers' very rough beginning in life in 1916 - she probably could have been a real mental mess. Stories she told of being abused by the orphanages that she was placed in when she was young then to being sold at the age of 14 years for marriage to a 30 year old foreigner from Portugal (our grandfather). Needless to say, the marriage did not last long since the foreigner (my grandfather) was a womanizer, but my grandmother still turned out to be the most amazing person I knew.
She was a total advocate of education (she only schooled until the 4th grade).
She would turn a boring social event into a festival of fun and laughter. She danced on the floor and pulled family- and neighbors out to dance. She was always the Queen of the Ball. (At picnics when she would see that the restroom lines were long for the women she would block off the door to the men's restroom to let the women use it..) -another note from Lisa. MY KIND OF WOMAN! Boom. We always knew that she would be our savior.
She was the most thriftiest person I knew and she knew how to save a bundle (born during the Great Depression period.) Washed and kept containers that fast food came in. Mended and re-used clothing- anything to save a penny. But on holidays she would shower her grandchildren with gifts. I always felt bad for my Uncle Bobby (her only child from her 2nd marriage), because their Christmas tree was full of gifts until Christmas Eve and when they were all transported to our house for her seven grandchildren that she managed to spoil.
Oh, and could she cook up a storm. Flour tortillas, rice, beans, American -food as well- she seemed to master everything and everything was made from scratch - note from Lisa- I remember the hard candy in dishes in her living room. Stuck together. But so yummy.
One recipe that I never got from her was a cookie recipe called Biscochitos. I just recently learned the recipe and also learned more about my grandma. It was recipe that was indigenous only from Southern New Mexico; again, another piece of my genealogy research to add to my notes. It also confirmed that this was a Spaniard recipe originally from Spain and was shared with the New Mexico Navajos when they merged in the Southwest.
I could only imagine what her life was like before I was born. But based on all of the stories she told us, some good and some bad. My favorite was when she would arrive at a Famous Night Club in Los Angeles and because she was such a frequent quest- the band would strike up a tune "The Lady in Red". As she danced on the clear dance floor of this famous spot that was built over a pool of water with fish below. I can only envision how endearing it looked. I learned recently that this place is still in existance. The sad story I will never forget besides the others I mention, was her limp was caused by a car accident and a jealous boyfriend. She had to have her shoes custom made to keep one heel higher than the other.
When my grandmother passed away in 1992 and all of her possesions were distributed, all I asked for was her rolling pen from my uncle - the one that made so many tortillas.
I was in tears (oh, yeah I also inherited her tears- something that was common to my little grandma).
Did you know that the New Mexico flag's color yellow symbolizes Spain and the red insignia represents Zia the Native American symbol for the sun?
Her endurance of life itself said so much about her.
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So there you have it folks. A little family history of your fwend Weesa. I love this stuff so darn much.
I do remember my great-grandma Lala. Funny little lady. We would visit and run out back to see the train go by, counting them while looking for hobo's. We'd watch her wash her hair in the sink by laundry room. She'd bet on horses with her little radio in kitchen. She'd feed us and laugh the whole time we were there.
She loved and partied like there wasn't a tomorrow. She was a tiny little lady. She has always been missed. We often talk of her while we gather.
Thank you Auntie Cece for sharing this. And while you dig into our ancestry, please know, YOU ROCK!
That's what up for Wednesday....
Cheers
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