You BETTER Warch Out!

When you live in the islands, every holiday is like being thrown into a vortex.  I mean, let's be honest, what really belongs to us? Constitution Day, Covenant Day, Commonwealth Day, Citizenship Day.  All we got's the four C's, folks.  Every one of them is about being lucky enough to crash someone else's party, but I'm not complaining.
Growing up I always liked celebrating Easter even though I didn't see a real white bunny rabbit until I was in college.  And Thanksgiving? Good Lord, thank God for textbooks, because I always thought that Plymouth Rock was somewhere near Naftan Point, just beyond the cliffline.  Turkey came in sealed plastic containers by the slice for me.  Who knew they were actually really big chickens?

Our children are much more fortunate, they don't have to endure the crazy stories our parents had to make up to explain why we were spraying snow on our windows when it isn't even cold outside.  "Cause nai, we're gonna pretend there gots snow so Santa Claus can climb down our chimney and give you plenty pressen." Oookay... if I tried telling that to Sommer today, she'd make a beeline for Google Search and expose my ignorance.  But seriously, I love Christmas in the islands and things changed after a while.  Songs were translated into Chamorro and Carolinian, some were localized like, "jingle bells, coconut shells, sticky birds all the way!"  Pretty soon we started making sandmen instead of snowmen and yesterday I even saw an office decorate their palms with ornaments.  The spirit of Christmas is not snow, boughs of holly (whatever that is) or mistletoe (that's when your fingernail on your feet are very sharp, no?).  The spirit of Christmas is giving and sharing; and if you're lucky enough to receive, appreciating everything you're blessed with.  For me and my family, it's remembering that long ago a King was born and even though we botched it all up, He came for us in the humblest of circumstances, while we were all yet sinners, and that gift can never be refunded, re-gifted or rejected. 
P.S.  I still think a Chamorro woman wrote Santa Claus is Coming to Town, because who else likes to yell, "You BETTER warch out! You BETTER not cry!"

You're Beautiful: A Reflection of Pride

It was the week of Cultural Day and I was taking Peyton home from school. She said they were making beaded necklaces in class and then she asked, "Mommy, teacher wants to know what I am so that I can share something with my class. What am I?" It dawned on me that we had never really put much thought into explaining to our children "what" they were. Why should we? Culture is something they should experience and absorb, not something delegated. Tony and Hope were never told their heritage and yet they know that they are Caucasian and Mexican and Chamorro. It is important to us that they know this, but not that we teach it to them. They are exposed to their heritage and the cultures all around our islands. This is enough, no? But, what will Peyton say when she goes to school? "Mommy, what am I?" I turned to my daughter, "When teacher asks you what you are, say you are Peyton Ha'ani Reyes Gomez. You are beautiful."