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I moved away for the first time from the U.S. - Mexican border in the fall of 1989. Friends were sure I'd miss the visible evidence of Mexico's proximity found in cities such as my native El Paso... There were jokes about care packages flying to the midwest.
I brought cassettes of Mexican and Latin American music with us when we drove to Ohio. I'd roll the car window down and turn the volume up, taking a certain delight in sending such sounds like mischevious imps across fields and into trees. Broadcasting my culture, if you will.
On my first return visit to Texas, i stopped to hear a group of mariachis playing their instruments with proud gusto. I was surprised and probably embarrased when my eyes filled with tears not only at the music, but at the sight of wonderful Mexican faces... The fierce light of that grand, wide Southwest sky not only filled me with energy, it revealed the glare of truth.
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