A picture can always tell a story. This is the earliest picture with my siblings after my arrival. My oldest brother Santiago is showing some happiness. My sister Lolita is not loving it. My brother Wichy seems to have no interest whatsoever. But I know better, he was only scheming and thinking of ways to torture me.
When I was little someone referred to be as “guajira de Pica Pica” (peasant from Pica Pica). I can’t remember who it was, but although they were teasing it was meant as an insult. Pica Pica was the farm where my mother grew up. My response was “and very proud to be from Pica Pica.” This became one of the many anecdotes my mother would tell about me embarrassing me to no end. As the years go by, the embarrassment lessens and it seems like a fitting title for a blog about memories and family.