A Glass of Chianti

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

Texas means parties

Last night, I was sitting in a parking lot of an old factory waiting for the city's display of fireworks to start. While I was setting up my awesome American flag folding lawn chair and table, three big vans pulled up and started unloading their vastly-superior party gear. Lots of kids, a couple of mopey teenagers and assorted relatives began to talk in rapid Spanish about who had forgotten to pick up more ice and why someone named Marisol didn't show up at lunch. (Apparently the fight she had with Robert was quite the event.) In any case, once the kids started in on the popsicles, both the ice and Marisol were forgotten.
Other cars began to flow in and in no time it was a quite crowded. All of a sudden, I heard a man with a twang start singing in Spanish. He was joined by a couple of guys from one of the vans playing guitars, two teenaged boys on trumpet and a most awesome woman playing accordion. It was a mariachi band! I was so in heaven. If the only thing Texas had produced in its almost 160 years of statehood was Tejano music*, that would be quite enough to justify its existence.

Imagine the Texas frontier around 1832:
Some German immigrants on a Saturday afternoon are celebrating... uh.... probably being German. Lots of polka. Sausage. Kids. Beer.
Around the corner, some Mexican immigrants are celebrating..... being Mexican with lots of music, food, kids and beer.

The Mexican patriarch says to the German patriarch, "Hey, you like to party just like us!"
The German, "Indeed we do! Hey, you like beer as much as we do. Let's party together!"

And, thus, beautiful music was made. The first night was probably rough, but they worked it out through lots of rehearsal time. I'm quite grateful. It made my Independence Day awesome.

*Plus, it sets the stage for the greatest band ever: Brave Combo.