How Ethnic Studies Changed My Life...And Ruined Me For Normalcy

Snapshot back into my first year of college: I went from being a Magna Cum Laude/AP Literature and AP Calculus passing high school Senior, to a college Freshman struggling with a break-up and with the harsh reality of two failed classes. I literally thought to myself, "What the heck happened here?"

Mexican-American Studies had saved my life, and also my GPA. It's true, when you study what you love, your grades reflect that. My opinion is, if you're paying for an education, it might as well be in something that you're interested in. Anyways, in my ethnic studies classes, the lies I was taught for years were demystified in a matter of months and I grew a pride in my culture that was already there, but now I was becoming educated on my history, on the literature, and I fell in love with myself as a WOMAN OF COLOR. Not only did I minor in Mexican-American Studies but I had enough classes to minor in Women's Studies as well. You can definitely say that I had my awakening in both arenas. What I studied in one discipline, supported the other. 

One of my professors said, "You will learn to think critically, you are becoming conscious, and once you are conscious of the world we live in, you can't reverse it." Within my circle of friends, I somewhat became the person that would talk about race, argue about equal rights and immigration, discuss gender equality, and lose my cool when someone called me "Hispanic" when everybody else was just trying to enjoy a bite to eat. The fact of the matter is, I had to learn that you can devote your life to a certain discipline that NO ONE CARES ABOUT. So when you find someone you can vibe and talk with about the issues that matter to you, it's a special connection. This connection was one of the strongest connections I felt when I first met my husband.

I remember at a certain age I realized that there was definitely an intersection between class, race, and sex. One time I asked my dad at a fancy restaurant, "Daddy, how come all of the waiters and waitresses are White, but everybody picking up after people and busing tables looks like us?" We were fortunate to go on vacation often and when I was a teenager I thought to myself, "I don't see any male maids, and why do they all speak Spanish?" Going to college only increased this awareness. I ask myself these types of  questions every single day and I see the intersection of class, race, and sex in my everyday life, especially in the organization that I currently work for. 

Don't get me wrong, I'm not blaming the White Man/The Colonizer/The Land Occupier/The Pilgrims/The Government for my problems at least...I believe in hard work, in the right timing, and most importantly, favor from God but I will say that I believe in the White Experience and White Privilege. 

I went to the Superior Court today to turn in a ticket that I got signed off and immediately, my mind began to wander. In a line of about 30, I only saw three people that "looked" Caucasian. Who knows what their ancestry was, maybe they were Argentinian, who knows, but the main issue was, 27/30 were identifiable as people of color. My thoughts? If you break a law, you need to have consequences. The reason I got a ticket in the first place was because I was not responsible in purchasing my registration on time. I deserved to get a ticket, I didn't follow the law. But, I don't think it's a coincidence that there were only 3 Caucasian or 3 people with European features in line. I'm not saying that people of color are irresponsible, what I am saying is that sometimes you get pulled over for "Driving while Brown" or "Driving While Black". 

I went up to the window to pay and was told, "I'm sorry hun, your ticket isn't in the system yet." I tend to be very forward like my father and I asked, "And that means?" I was told, that I couldn't pay my minor fine due to the fact that the ticket wasn't in the system. I asked if I could mail in my ticket and the lady advised against it, saying that there was a huge potential that the ticket could get lost, my best bet was to come back and pay in person. Ironically, I heard a man a few people ahead of me telling his clerk, "Why can't I pay today? I can't miss any more work. I have the money now." I thought to myself, "Oh my gosh, the system is real! Mostly people of color are in here, and on top of that, the system works in a way where they will most likely have to take time OFF of work once again, which is a hassle, to take care of what they need to. What if these people are hourly? What if their boss doesn't give them clearance?" Thankfully enough, I have enough flexibility within my job to take off a few hours here and there to handle my business, but not everyone is in a flexible position like I am. 

I left frustrated. And just a heads up, just because I am person of color doesn't mean that I walk around defeated or making excuses for my place in the world, but like I mentioned before, I would be foolish to think that my opinions and thoughts are applicable to every person of color's situation, however, I write to say, never lose your ability to think critically or ask critical questions of our society. 

Happi House and Happier Times

     

     After realizing that the Iguanas by our new home wasn't ready yet, we drove down the street to a Happi House nearby. Happi House isn't the place you choose first, it's normally the second choice or an after thought, almost like, "Ehh, I guess I can eat it." At least for me it is. As we were eating, I got very quiet and began to reminisce. 

     My grandparents on my mom's side are deceased and I catch myself thinking about them often. I think about how I need to visit them, how much I miss them, and how I knew at one point, I would have to face the reality that people don't live forever. If I could choose anybody in my life to be immortal, it would be them. I miss the smell of their house, the dim kitchen light, the sugar on the counter from pan dulce, and most of all, my talks with them. I miss my grandfather's sense of humor and my grandmother's encouragement. I miss their love for animals, their love for those who live on Indian Reservations, their love for the Spanish language, and most of all, their love for God. I miss our car rides to Mark's Hot Dogs and birthday celebrations at Hometown Buffet or Sizzler. I asked God that they would live long enough to see me get married and he was gracious enough to grant me that. I also asked Him that they would live long enough to hold their great-great grandchild but for some reason I always knew that that prayer would not be answered. Maybe because we didn't plan to have kids right away and at a certain point, you realize that people's bodies eventually shut down. 

     Family has always been important to me. Growing up, we did everything together. I literally spent the night at their house 3x a month. I'm happy that my grandparents were as strong as a force in my life as my parents were. Now that they're gone, one thing I miss the most are family dinners. We as a family would often meet up once every couple of weeks for birthday parties, honor roll celebrations, water polo games, etc. And after every event, we would often go out to eat at Hometown Buffet, Sizzler, or Happi House. I can remember us going to Happi House often or us ordering Happi House to go. The smell of it was comforting, and though the tempura and teriyaki chicken are amazing, it tastes like the warmth you can only get from being around your family.

     My Nani and Tot hated being wasteful, so much so that they would keep leftover Happi House in the refrigerator for way to long. I can remember opening the fridge and seeing the little white pieces in the salad stick out of the box, opening the box and seeing wilted salad. They loved Happi House, and they loved their salads. One time we celebrated my Nani and Tot's anniversary at Happi House, it had to have been their 65th. 

     It's a known science that certain sights, scents, and surroundings can trigger memories and I'm happy that I got a glimpse of what my life used to be like tonight. Sadly, when the matriarch and patriarch of a family pass on, things change. You're forced to deal with the absence of someone you expected to live forever. I guess that's what I felt tonight, though they didn't live forever, they essentially do live forever, en mi corazon. 

The picture above was taken at the Happi House off of McKee Road, rest in power. 

On Holy Ground and James Brown

Let me start off by saying, this is a post about the importance of my faith in my life. 

It's common knowledge that most singers get their start in the church. There's something about gospel music that touches the innermost part of the soul. I've heard people who don't practice religion or believe in a higher power say that gospel music does something to them. :)

Last night I saw "Get on Up", the James Brown story. It was truly amazing. Not to discredit anyone's rise to fame, but nowadays it's so easy to get discovered on Youtube, to win on American Idol or to get your start on The Voice. When you look at the stories of people like Ray Charles, James Brown, even Keisha Cole, their upbringing was definitely humble and filled with circumstances that are less than desirable. 

I can't say that my parents were huge fans of Mr. Brown, but I can say that I was exposed to his music on a regular basis in my home. Come on, who doesn't know his hits?

James Brown? Grew up in Augusta, Georgia. He witnessed violence and marital dysfunction in his home by his parents. His mom left to become a prostitute and his father left him to be raised by a madam while he joined the army. Regardless of the accuracy of this scene, as a young child he walked into a church which was clearly Pentecostal and what he witnessed changed his life forever. People were singing, dancing, and falling out as the Pastor led the song. My takeaway was that from watching the Pastor be free, he was exposed to dancing, charisma, performance and what it means to have music touch the soul.  The Pastor was screaming the way James Brown was famous for, he also spun around dancing and then jumped down on the floor in a kneeling position...classic James Brown moves.  

I've heard many artists, Nelly, Usher, Katy Perry, Adrienne Bailon, Lauryn Hill say that the church is their roots. On a mixtape I purchased, Lauryn Hill spoke on the importance of the live sound on her records. She said, "I bring the organ straight out the church, you can't fake that."

It's no surprise that I grew up in church. My upbringing might be a little different in the sense that my grandparents were extremely religious. If I wasn't watching Disney movies at their house, TBN was always on the TV screen. Every time I was in their car, "Standing on Holy Ground" would always play on the cassette tape.  

I attend CWC at Mount Pleasant High School and the worship leader's name is Troy Lepisi. Today, he sang "Standing on Holy Ground". I don't think you understand, Troy sounds like Fred Hammond, almost identically, and Troy would sing with the same passion if there were 10 people in the congregation or 1,000. It touched me, not only because Troy did the song justice, but it brought me back to being in my grandparent's car when I was a little girl. It made me really, really miss my grandparents. I haven't really grieved over my grandmother and today I feel like I did a little. I miss her, I miss them, I'd do anything to take a nap with her or just talk to her. The lyrics say, "We are standing on holy ground, and I know that there are angels all around." When Troy sang the part about the angels, I felt peace knowing that my grandparents are with the angels, and more importantly with their Savior. There's no greater feeling than knowing that your loved ones are in heaven and that there is hope that I will see them again. It's such a weird feeling to be grieving but to simultaneously have peace at the exact same time.I felt as if we touched each other in that moment. 

James Brown and my grandparents have nothing in common but this weekend I was reminded of my roots: church. I was reminded in two ways: the movie and a song. The powerful thing about music is that a song can spark an instant emotion or memory. 

I feel blessed knowing that I was exposed to my faith at such a young age, like many of the artists mentioned. Jesus is my anchor, and he always helps me "Get on Up."

My baby: Raindrops Exclusive Jewelry

It's official! My website is launched. This all started in March of this year, but in 2012, I wrote in my journal that I was artistically frustrated and I that I wanted to work with my hands. So basically, this has been two years in the making. 

Some basic info, most of the stuff is one of a kind and I don't intend to make more unless I feel the need to or there is a huge demand. However, some of the materials were purchased at random/various flea markets so the likelihood of purchasing the exact same beads or materials is quite slim. 

This is just a start, but for a humble beginning, I am extremely proud. Hate it or love it, I did me. 

You can see all of these pictures on raindropsexclusivejewelry.bigcartel.com but I wanted to share these photos. Shot by myself and my husband, edited by me. Enjoy. :)

Trust the process. Your process.

Went to Point Lobos today for the first time in 15 years. My dad took my brother and I when I was ten years old and today, I felt the need to be alone and one with nature. 

I have always loved the ocean, not only is it beautiful but it is merciless and ruthless. 

While watching the ocean, climbing rocks, and snapping pictures, I remembered the rock cycle that all of my second grade students learned about this year. I thought to myself, "Man, these rocks have been through some thangs if they come out looking this beautiful."

I then realized that these rocks had been through a process of continual shaping and molding and being beat by the ocean waves. All of the rocks were differently beautiful in one way or another. The process they endured probably lasted for thousands of years. 

I realized that in order to reach our full potential, we must first go through a cycle of continual shaping and molding, and not just one cycle, but multiple cycles. These cycles might take more years than we would like. All of us will turn out differently, that's why it's important to trust the process of OUR OWN cycle. 

Go to Point Lobos when you have the chance. 

I learned something, a few things.

I really dislike sounding generic so I will try to avoid sounding so. 

My 20's have been deemed my years of continual stretching. You think you're bad and then you're thrown into the real world where relationships with God, your spouse, family, work/coworkers and self are all in a juggling act. At one point or another, I have failed miserably at all five of these categories, sometimes at the same time. These lessons that I am learning don't apply to any one of these categories in particular, but more so overall. 

Allow me to reintroduce myself, my name is Renae Ingram and I am re-learning how to be a functioning adult all over again. 

1. "If you don't want others to speak on it, you probably shouldn't. either" Advice is nice, but too much advice from multiple people can leave you confused. The scary thing is that advice with one person, can potentially turn into gossip with the person you shared with, with another person. Watch who you share the intricate details of your personal life with because those personal details can become casual conversation in other circles. 

2. "Help me understand more." It's so easy to disagree with someone right off of the bat, and then steam-roll your point of view without truly understanding where they are coming from. I have saved myself from so many negative situations just by saying, "Please help me understand where you're coming from," instead of saying, "First of all........". 

3. Don't apologize for how you feel, unless you allow how you feel to lead you into sin. Feelings are dangerous, they're fleeting. Mostly rooted in true sentiment, but often felt with a misunderstanding of reality. My dad always said, "You can be mad, you just can't stay mad." Being angry isn't a sin, but staying angry is. In our relationships, whether personal, familial, spiritual, professional or marital, it's healthy to express how you're feeling, as long as you know where it's coming from. But if you act a fool, I realized no one will take your feelings seriously. I saw a beautiful quote the other day that said, "Our hearts are dangerous creatures, that's why our ribs are cages." Boom, think about it. 

4. Things don't have to be perfect to exist, just exist. 

5. Raising your voice doesn't solve anything, ever. 

6. Spend time with yourself. If you're afraid to go to a movie by yourself, reevaluate your self-esteem. People have a fear of being alone in public, why? Being alone can be liberating. 

7. Family, family, family, family, family over everything. Blood related or not, take care of them, they will be there to support you when you fall and be there to applaud you when you get back up. 

8. People choose to do what they want, act how they act, speak how they speak. Stop making excuses for other's behavior and take responsibility for your own. Beware of those who say things like, "I don't know why I do this...", "It just happened....", "I didn't mean it......", "This was how I was raised......". That's all well and good and stuff, but when you begin to take responsibility for your actions, reactions, past, mistakes, you name it, you won't tolerate mistreatment from someone who can't identify why they what they do. I am not saying to not extend grace or forgiveness, but a boss I admire so much once told me, "If you respect yourself, don't tolerate disrespect from others." Respecting yourself means committing yourself to self-improvement, understanding your intricacies and your own dysfunction; don't get involved with others who don't know themselves.  

9. Don't be afraid to say "no". 

10. Speak up. I often struggle with being the "outspoken" Latina. But, it's earned me some respect. Being outspoken doesn't mean you have to be loud and moving your neck every which way, it means you speak your opinion as an opinion, not a fact, and you do so assertively. When I started to speak up assertively and not aggressively, things changed. 

11. People will always talk and speculate. Let them, and give them nothing to talk about. Guard your privacy, keep your personal life sacred. If I were a celebrity, I would want to be like Julia Roberts, Denzel Washington or Tom Hanks. Their business isn't always on blast, they are respected because they respect what they have. I have come to realize that if I were a celebrity, if Wendy Williams asked me about my love life, I would say, "I'm happy and I intend to keep it that way. That's all." I would never write a memoir either. 

12. Take responsibility for the way you speak. "I didn't have enough time" vs. "I didn't make enough time", "I didn't leave on time" vs. "There was a lot of traffic". When you begin to switch around your speech, you will begin to switch around your actions. 

13. You find out someone doesn't like you....your response determines whether or not you care. Seriously. 

14. My Nani always said, "Consider the source". Not just for gossip, for life. If you know a certain family member is obsessed with eating "clean", and you visit the house with a bag from Burger King, don't be surprised if the health nut has something to say. People will be who they are. Accept them or move on. 

Nani: Final Batch of Memories

Things I had to cut out from my speech due to time sensitivity.

Angie Robles, affectionately called “Nani” or “Mama Angie” by many, was born on February 10, 1925 in Redlands, CA.  When I would ask her about her adolescence, I could easily deduce that she ran her household. She cooked, cleaned, ironed, washed, babysat, she did it all, so much so that she had to drop out of school in her sophomore year. She told me that when my Tot approached her and asked if he could date her, she told him, “You’re crazy,” because she was so consumed with her household and in all reality, she didn’t have the time to date. I deduced from that story that she was about her business, and in more basic terms, she took her responsibilities very serious

Her house was always spotless, I can never recall stains on her glass table tops, crumbs on the counter, or paperwork left out in the living room.

You’d never know it, being so modest, but her name growing up was “Crazy Legs” because she could daaaaaance, swing dancing. I took it in high school simply to feel a little bit of a connection to her, and guess what, them moves ain’t easy.

When I was younger, she jokingly would always make me choose who I liked more during an argument, she would say, “Alright Reina, who do you choose? Me or Tata?” I always chose my Tot for some reason and he would always laugh at my response and look at her.

She was known as “Mama Angie” at every hair salon and nail shop. I can remember going into Yolanda’s shop when I was a little girl and literally, every single person in the shop would always gasp in excitement and say, “Hi Mama Angie.” She was almost a local celebrity. Yolanda, her hairdresser shared that she was a spiritual presence in the shop, she never preached, but she always encouraged others by saying that God was in control.

Nani taught me, and all of her grandchildren how to dunk, and no, not in basketball, but pan dulce into either milk or coffee.  As many of you already know, my Tot loved his sweets, Nani loved hers too. Every single time I spent the night, I always had dessert after every single dinner meal. Pan dulce, cookies, donuts, apple pie and ice cream, and one of our ultimate favorites, a waffle sandwich, with syrup and ice cream in the middle. She always had Cool Whip in her refrigerator, and sometimes, the Cool Whip container was used for other things, like jalapenos or beans, that was the biggest let down.

When we went places with Tot in the car, Tot could never have the windows down because it would mess up her hair, and that was always the case, and even my brother and I knew, when with Nani, windows are up.

She would always pinch my fingertips, rub my back or my neck and massage my shoulders. That means a lot coming from a lady whose fingers and hands were stiff due to old age. She always talked about the importance of making sure our joints were moving and having good blood circulation. Man, what I would do for those massages again.

She always prayed for the hungry and the starving, maybe because she was such a good cook, who knows, but during our prayer time, she always broke down during that part.

Some of her favorite things were 7-Up, popping bubble wrap, and tootsie rolls!

We would often go on walks together when I was a teenager. She walked slowly but I remember holding hands and it felt nice to take life one step at a time, literally. We would go to the Food Bowl and she always wore a nice blouse and a skirt, even to go walking, what a lady.

She had a scrambled egg for breakfast every morning, and after that, a cup of coffee. And by every morning, I mean every morning.

I feel like she trusted me. Granted, times were way different 20 years ago but she always allowed me to go to the park across the street by myself, she would watch me from the porch as she watered the lawn. It was liberating, climbing the fence, playing, and coming back in for a nice, home-cooked meal.

Lastly, one day we were together and there was a beautiful sunset, pink and purple and blue. She told me, “Jesus paints that for you every single night.” I took it to heart, meaning that He only painted it for me. And now that you’re up there, it means so much more.

I miss you already Nani.  

Nani: My speech from today

Good morning. For those of you who don’t know, my name is Renae Ingram and I am Angie Robles’ only granddaughter.  On behalf of my entire family, I want to sincerely thank all of you for coming and paying your respects.  I was fortunate enough to have had spent 25 years of my life with whom some of you have described as a classy, gentle, humble, creative, godly and a sweet, sweet lady. I would like to share some of my favorite memories of my Nani.

Nani could cooooook, not cook, but cooooook. From Mexican food, to Italian food, to American food, to her specialty sandwiches always on toasted Roman Meal wheat bread, her food was magic. And of course, after hugging and kissing you upon entering her house, she would always ask you, “Are you hungry?” And if your response was “no”, she would then ask you, “Are you sure?” about 3x more times, and then a plate of food would always wind up in front of you. She always had frijoles ready to make burritos. She was one of the few people to put peas in her Spanish rice, and I was one of the few people to actually not pick out the peas. One time she taught me how to make enchiladas from scratch. It was definitely a cultural experience, but in watching her, I witnessed the amount of love and care she put into all of her meals, she was very meticulous.

Her vocabulary was very specific, I always heard her using words like “dainty”, “lady-like”, “tremendous”, and more lax terms like “ya” “por favor”  and when more impatient, “Would you kindly?” or “Would you please?”

She played a huge role in raising me, especially during my early years. I can always remember her asking me to wear my hair in braids, yet alone to comb my hair. She would always say, “Mija, I would love for you to come over in a dress, or a nice little skirt.” But that wasn’t my style. She often made me dresses to wear in pre-school and kindergarten and I always felt a huge sense of pride knowing that I was wearing dresses that were handmade and that you couldn’t just buy anywhere, especially because I was always with her when she bought fabric and we went to the fabric store A LOT.

I probably spent the night as a young child for more than half of the weekends out of the year. I never got in trouble, and I could never do any wrong, ever! I was known to have laughing attacks quite often and one time in particular, after telling me to settle down multiple times, I couldn’t do it.  She then very sternly said, “Go to the back room.” My jaw dropped, almost in disbelief, she was serious, and I stormed off and sat in the back room with the door closed. I had never been yelled at by her. I was shocked, and what was only 30 minutes seemed like hours. She came in the room quietly and I immediately started to sob, uncontrollably, mostly because I was embarrassed and didn’t know Nani had it in her to be a disciplinarian.  She held me for a while and then she gave me a slice of pizza and acted like nothing had happened.

Any time I was with her, we had to take naps. No 5 year old wants to take naps. The coaxing process usually lasted about 20 minutes, and every time we got into bed, I would always remind her, “I don’t want to take a nap.” But sure enough, we would nap for about 2 hours, and every single time I got up, normally after her, she always had to say, “I thought you didn’t want to nap!” Funny thing is, any time I went over as a teenager or a young adult, I would fall asleep.

She often collected coupons from JC Penny and at the beginning of every school year, including college; she always wanted to buy me a jacket or some school clothes. It never failed and that’s one thing that always meant so much to me.

Lastly, I don’t know why she saw this acceptable, but any time my four year self would ask for coffee, she would always, ALWAYS,  give me some. She would always say, “Just don’t tell your dad.” And sure enough, whenever my dad would pick me up from their house, the first thing I always said was, “Guess what Nani gave me?” “Coffee”.  One time in particular, I can remember my dad specifically telling her to not give me coffee, but she still did, and I always ratted her out.

Nani was my last living grandparent. I was blessed enough to have had an amazing relationship with her. It’s comforting to know that so many others had the opportunity to consider her their grandmother as well, blood related or not, she took everyone into her family and I always admired her for that.

I am heartbroken that we no longer have her, but I know that she is in a way better place and since you always cornered me into speaking Spanish, quiero decir que eras el mejor ejemplo de una mujer gentil y humilde. No pudiera explicar como todo el mundo te ama. Todos extranaremos sus abrazos y sus consejos. Eres la abuela de mi vida y se que un dia nos vemos en el cielo con nuestro JesuCristo. Que descanses en paz perfecta y sepas que cumpliste tu mision aqui en la tierra, eras una guerrera y ahora mismo en este momento, eres nuestra angelita. 

Nani

     

Today was a rough day, we buried my grandmother, Angie Robles. She died on June 23rd at 7:00am. 

     My father's parents died when I was eight years old, we have lived without them for almost 17 years, it's funny how fast time flies. Now thboth grandparents on my mom's side are deceased, it feels very strange, knowing that I have no more living grandparents. I know they are in heaven but my grandparents on both sides played a huge role in my life, so I must say that a part of me is a little bit empty. at 

     My grandmother was a sweet, sweet lady. I only knew her through my perspective growing up, but hearing about her through other's perspectives taught me a few things. 

     1. Relationships: Relationships are crucial to our existence. I had no idea that she had such strong, positive relationships with basically, everyone. Everyone felt as if they had a piece of her with them, that must be exhausting to do but I think I figured out how she did it. She embraced everyone, always, always gave compliments, and never hesitated to offer words of godly advice. She wasn't fake, but I believe she tried to see the positive in everyone. Prime example, I was texting my best friend today and was telling her how much it meant to me that she came to the funeral. She responded, "I loved her. She always hugged me and smiled at me." Keep in mind, she didn't see her that often. I then texted back, "She always, always asked about you, it never failed." In that moment it hit me, being genuine with someone doesn't have to be a draining experience. To be transparent, growing up as a pastor's kid, sometimes you don't want to have to talk to people, you kind of just want to be in and out. That isn't necessarily a bad thing, but she was genuine in every single interaction she had with people, and that is definitely one thing I can work on. 

     2. Gentleness: I shared today, my grandmother only yelled at me once. Granted, she didn't deal with all of my childhood drama growing up, but in the majority of my interactions with her, she was extremely gentle. Gentleness is something that I associate with being a strong woman of God, something I have yet to learn, or I should say am learning. When 3 people say something about you, it's a fact. I can't tell you how many times I was told that my Nani was a gentle, gentle lady. I am aggressive, need to work on being more assertive, but I need to try gentleness. 

     3. Loyalty: Nani was loyal, primarily to her savior, but I want to speak on one person in particular. Nani had the same hairdresser for 44 years. Please realize, I don't mean that a person shouldn't switch hairdressers, but what I am saying is that Nani knew what she liked, and she made sure she made hairdresser feel special. When you do someone's hair for 44 years on a weekly basis, you do life with them. Yolanda shared with us that Nani had an impact on her son, so much so that when he was little he would say, "Please call Mama Angie and have her pray for me." Man, that's serious. Yolanda became apart of our family. She did Nani's hair for 44 years and she even did her hair for her funeral. I want more relationships like that, and I want loyalty to be a growing character quality of mine.

I will be sharing and uploading more later but in this moment, I am feeling very reminiscent. Nani, I love you.