The Memories That Nourish On This Strange And Dark Holiday Season
Noche Buena at Tia Ramona's was an epic affair, as LAist columnist Erick Galindo remembers from his childhood days. There was "the giant Christmas tree, the live banda playing out of the garage, so many bottles of Cazadores tequila, and the drunken adults making scenes."
And joy, and food, and family. And that sense of safety that little children feel when everything is right with the world, and promises to forever stay that way. He writes:
These epic parties were so wild and warm. And best of all, they had the best collection of Mexican antojitos and dishes you could ever find in one kitchen. I'm talking tamales, champurrado, birria, pozole, buñuelos, taquitos, pan dulce, flan, frijoles puercos, you name it.
Those memories are part of what has nourished me this strange and dark holiday season when people are dying at heartbreaking rates.
In his latest Mis Ángeles column, Galindo goes down the social media rabbit hole in seach of covers of "Navidad Sin Ti," a holiday classic from the iconic Mexican band Los Bukis about heartbreak and "the day that I lost you." The lyrics unexpectedly drive home the difficulty of this holiday season.
READ THE ESSAY:
MORE FROM ERICK GALINDO:
- Why Filling Out That Census Form Is So Important For Angelenos — And Outreach Is Critical
- 'Ruben Salazar ¡Presente!' We Went Searching For Meaning In A 50-Year-Old Police Killing And The Chicano Moratorium
- For Bakersfield's Campesinos, Pepe Reyes' Golden Voice Has Been An Invaluable Resource
- Why Those Who Died In El Paso Will Remain With Us Forever
- Bless Me, Rudolfo Anaya
- How It Feels To Watch The Fall Of People In Power Who Are 'Ours'
- On Life As A Freckle-Faced, Redheaded, Mexican American From Southeast Los Angeles
- Living On LA's Margins, There's Not Much Time To Obsess About Coronavirus
- How Carnicerias, Liquor Stores, Tienditas And Latino Supermarkets Are Feeding Their Neighborhoods
- 'I Am Straight Up In Tears Right Now.' Why Kobe Bryant's Death Hurts So Much