Vermont-
Miguel remembers part of Tía Lola’s lesson on the plane. Maybe the way to prove he is an American is to act like one. He smiles at the official, then reaches up and shakes his hand-
When their suitcases come, six men rush forward to help them, even though all their bags have little wheels.
“No gracias,”
Miguel keeps saying-But as he is explaining about the wheels to one man, another comes and puts Miguel’s suitcase on top of his head like a basket of fruit-“Hey!” Miguel calls out-“That’s my suitcase-”
“No problem!” the man calls over his shoulder in English as he leads the way through the terminal-
“Let him,” their mother says-She explains, “Life is so hard here-It’s good to help somebody earn a living-”
But even if life is hard, people seem to be having a good time-Inside the main terminal, everyone is visiting with one another-You can’t tell where one family ends and another one begins-A group of little girls dressed up in the frilliest party dresses and boys wearing suits thatmake them look like tiny waiters are eating
pastelitos
out of a greasy paper bag. The Three Kings are pictured in a billboard whose pieces suddenly shift and become a man in a cowboy hat, smoking a cigarette.
“Feliz Navidad”
everyone wishes each other. Merry Christmas.
But how can it be Christmas, Miguel thinks, when the day is as sunny and warm as a midsummer day in Vermont?
“!Ahíestán!”
Tía Lola cries out. There they are!
Miguel sees a crowd of relatives standing on the sidewalk outside the terminal. He is surprised they look so normal. He half expected to shake hands with uncles with six fingers and
ciguapa
aunts wearing braces on their feet. But his relatives have the same noses, mouths, eyes, ears, and skin color as Tía Lola and Mami, although put together in slightly different combinations so that each one looks like a different person.
As Tía Lola and Mami rush forward to kiss their nieces and cousins and nephews, Miguel stands guard beside the bags that the portershave piled beside him. Some of these bags are packed full with presents for all his cousins. There is nothing for Juanita or himself Their mother has already explained that the trip will be their Christmas gift. Back in Vermont, Miguel thought this was a great idea. All his friends were jealous. “You can go to the beach! You can go snorkeling and fishing! Maybe you’ll even get to meet Sammy Sosa or Pedro Martinez!”
But now, standing alone with Juanita, watching these strangers hugging and kissing, Miguel wonders if this trip is such a great Christmas gift after all. His father is back in New York. None of his friends are here. He can’t ask for a new video game or a glove since this trip cost a lot.
“Vengan a saludar.
“ Tía Lola is calling them. Come and say hello.
“Hola, hola, hola,”
Miguel says over and over. In the space of a few minutes, he has acquired a dozen cousins, four aunts, seven uncles. His family has grown into a
familia
a mile long. How is he supposed to remember so many names?
A young boy about his age steps forward. He is wearing a blue baseball cap with a strange insignia on it. Miguel remembers that his motherasked him to pick something out for a young cousin who loves to play baseball and knows some English,
“Me llamo Ángel”
he says. My name is Angel, “You play baseball?”
Miguel nods, smiling. Things are looking up. With so many cousins, there are bound to be some he will like. And certainly there are enough cousins to make up two teams and still have some cousins left over to watch them play ball.
Everything is strange and interesting. They drive into the city past row upon row of wooden market stands. At one stand, coconuts are piled up for sale. At another, pieces of meat and long strings of squirming crabs hang from rods. The smells of cooking food and spices and hot sea air and green vegetation waft into the car. The sea matches the turquoise of the sky, and the
Miguel remembers part of Tía Lola’s lesson on the plane. Maybe the way to prove he is an American is to act like one. He smiles at the official, then reaches up and shakes his hand-
When their suitcases come, six men rush forward to help them, even though all their bags have little wheels.
“No gracias,”
Miguel keeps saying-But as he is explaining about the wheels to one man, another comes and puts Miguel’s suitcase on top of his head like a basket of fruit-“Hey!” Miguel calls out-“That’s my suitcase-”
“No problem!” the man calls over his shoulder in English as he leads the way through the terminal-
“Let him,” their mother says-She explains, “Life is so hard here-It’s good to help somebody earn a living-”
But even if life is hard, people seem to be having a good time-Inside the main terminal, everyone is visiting with one another-You can’t tell where one family ends and another one begins-A group of little girls dressed up in the frilliest party dresses and boys wearing suits thatmake them look like tiny waiters are eating
pastelitos
out of a greasy paper bag. The Three Kings are pictured in a billboard whose pieces suddenly shift and become a man in a cowboy hat, smoking a cigarette.
“Feliz Navidad”
everyone wishes each other. Merry Christmas.
But how can it be Christmas, Miguel thinks, when the day is as sunny and warm as a midsummer day in Vermont?
“!Ahíestán!”
Tía Lola cries out. There they are!
Miguel sees a crowd of relatives standing on the sidewalk outside the terminal. He is surprised they look so normal. He half expected to shake hands with uncles with six fingers and
ciguapa
aunts wearing braces on their feet. But his relatives have the same noses, mouths, eyes, ears, and skin color as Tía Lola and Mami, although put together in slightly different combinations so that each one looks like a different person.
As Tía Lola and Mami rush forward to kiss their nieces and cousins and nephews, Miguel stands guard beside the bags that the portershave piled beside him. Some of these bags are packed full with presents for all his cousins. There is nothing for Juanita or himself Their mother has already explained that the trip will be their Christmas gift. Back in Vermont, Miguel thought this was a great idea. All his friends were jealous. “You can go to the beach! You can go snorkeling and fishing! Maybe you’ll even get to meet Sammy Sosa or Pedro Martinez!”
But now, standing alone with Juanita, watching these strangers hugging and kissing, Miguel wonders if this trip is such a great Christmas gift after all. His father is back in New York. None of his friends are here. He can’t ask for a new video game or a glove since this trip cost a lot.
“Vengan a saludar.
“ Tía Lola is calling them. Come and say hello.
“Hola, hola, hola,”
Miguel says over and over. In the space of a few minutes, he has acquired a dozen cousins, four aunts, seven uncles. His family has grown into a
familia
a mile long. How is he supposed to remember so many names?
A young boy about his age steps forward. He is wearing a blue baseball cap with a strange insignia on it. Miguel remembers that his motherasked him to pick something out for a young cousin who loves to play baseball and knows some English,
“Me llamo Ángel”
he says. My name is Angel, “You play baseball?”
Miguel nods, smiling. Things are looking up. With so many cousins, there are bound to be some he will like. And certainly there are enough cousins to make up two teams and still have some cousins left over to watch them play ball.
Everything is strange and interesting. They drive into the city past row upon row of wooden market stands. At one stand, coconuts are piled up for sale. At another, pieces of meat and long strings of squirming crabs hang from rods. The smells of cooking food and spices and hot sea air and green vegetation waft into the car. The sea matches the turquoise of the sky, and the
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