Tag: memories

  • The Soundtrack of Memory

    I play trumpet for a mariachi, and I sing too.  And for those who are familiar with it, mariachi music is perhaps one of the most emotionally driven musical genres there is. I’d say arguably, but I am biased. Whatareyagunnado? Recently, we’ve played quite a few funerals, along with a whole lot of birthdays and…

  • What Remains

    There is something strange about the way we think about cemeteries. We call them places of death. We imagine them beneath gray skies, wrapped in fog, their crooked stones standing like silent sentinels in the dark. Movies fill them with shadows and whispers, with footsteps that seem to come from nowhere. We teach ourselves to…

  • The Song of the Cicada

    There is a certain sound that belongs to summer. Not the sound of sprinklers ticking across a lawn, or the distant hum of an air conditioner fighting a losing battle against the heat. I mean the cicada—that high, electric song that seems to rise from every tree at once, filling the afternoon with a sound…

  • The Things We Never Meant to Remember

    It’s funny, the things we remember. Not the moments everyone tells us will matter. Not always birthdays, graduations, or the day we got the keys to our first house. Those memories are there somewhere, but they often sit quietly in the background. Instead, it’s the little things that wait patiently for us. The smell of…

  • No Batteries Required: When Play Meant Something More

    Yesterday, I saw something I never thought I’d see again—especially not from a high school student. I saw a group of teenagers playing leapfrog. Leapfrog. Not a phone app. Not a video game. Not some new social media challenge designed to last three days before disappearing into the digital abyss. Actual leapfrog—the same game kids…

  • Commencement Season: Tassels, Tears, and One Last Trip to the Snack Bar

    There’s something strange about graduation season. For four years, students spend most of high school counting down to the end of school—talking about summer, freedom, and escaping homework forever. Then suddenly, during the final few weeks, everyone starts walking around campus like they’re in the last ten minutes of a movie. People who normally sprint…

  • Between Tradition and Memory: A Mariachazo Reflection

    Between Tradition and Memory: A Mariachazo Reflection

    We’ve all been to concerts. We all know what it feels like to sit in a crowd, to wait for the first note, to remember pieces of music long after the night ends. We all carry our own memories of them—the sound, the crowd, the moments that stay with us in different ways. But Mariachazo…

  • Life Is A Notebook

    I came across this idea the other day, and it stayed with me longer than I expected— the kind of thought that doesn’t just pass through, but settles in. Maybe it’s the way we hold onto moments—like scraps of paper, like old notebooks tucked away in drawers. Every now and then, something reminds you that…

  • Mariachi Me… Same Traje, Different Mileage

    Mariachi Me… Same Traje, Different Mileage

    Being a Mariachi isn’t just about the music. It’s about what you carry before you ever play a note. The traje—sharp, tailored, unmistakable—has a way of teaching you that.  At first, it feels like a costume. Something you put on to look the part. The shine, the stitching, the silver botonadura, the way it commands…

  • Stories from the Edges

    On moments that were never meant to be noticed… but never forgotten. We take photos for a lot of reasons.  To remember. To hold onto something before it slips away. To capture a moment we don’t want to lose.  People take photos of everything—the big moments, the small ones, the ones that feel important, and…

  • Throwing Words Into the Wind

    Let me tell you a story…something I learned about myself, and only fully recently acknowledged. This won’t be a confession of weakness, nor a tale of courage or inner strength. Those are just labels. And the truth is, labels are strangers to far more people like me than most realize. If anything, this story is…

  • The Longest Day – Sanitized, Signed In, and Socially Distanced

    I’ve had long days before. I mean, who hasn’t. Everyone has a horror story or two about work, some more drink worthy than others. A friend and I were recently comparing notes over coffee, as one does when caffeine doubles as a therapist. The conversation inevitably twisted itself around the question: who had the longest…

  • Freedom on Two Wheels

    Back in the day, a bicycle was freedom. It was far more than a way to get from here to there. We treated our wheels the same way our dads and big brothers treated theirs. Well… at least I did. I grew up watching my old man in the driveway on weekends, tinkering with his…

  • Dichoso El Árbol

    Music. For most, it is simply entertainment. For some, it fills the silence. For others, it is just noise, or a distraction from what weighs on the mind. But for a smaller number, music is more—it is healing, it is connection, even a kind of spiritual touch. For me, it is a bit of all…

  • Where Baseball Loved Us Back: Memories Filtered Through a Child’s Eyes

    There’s a certain magic to baseball that no other sport has ever quite managed to touch. Football thunders, basketball dazzles, soccer never stops moving—but baseball? Baseball breathes. It invites you in, lets you linger, gives you space to fall in love with it slowly, inning by inning, summer after summer. It’s the only sport where…