Xavier is a prodigy of sorts. He is a part of a family that for four generations has been members of a mariachi band. His great grandfather began the love for the music when he decided to craft his own six string bass guitar. When Xavier was born, he was instantly attracted to watching his great grandfather work in his wood shop and at the age of two his made him a mini two string guitar that forever changed his life and became his best friend. But the music is more than a passion it is a core piece of this family. Xavier’s mother was a superwoman who stayed home and cared for the four children while his father led the mariachi band. As soon as Xavier graduated from high school he auditioned and was added as a member of the band, it was his life’s dream. But it was in this decision that he learned things about his father that forever changed him. It was if he was learning things about his hero that he didn’t want to know but could not ignore. Eventually the guilt of the situation weighed his spirits down and he quit the band. Putting his guitar away, becoming a normal person doing normal things and disconnecting from his father completely. Until the morning of his father’s funeral when his mother comes to his home with his guitar and asks him to play a song for his father at the funeral. What Xavier didn’t know was that the guilt he held on to for not telling his mother about his father’s bad choices were things she already knew and had accepted decades ago. It is a beautiful story of what some families will go through to stay together and the strength and bond between a mother and her son. *Performer will speak Spanish throughout and should be able to sing in Spanish.
Six String Guitar
Today was a difficult day. Standing here still in my mariachi costume holding my father’s Mexican six string bass guitar, my father. He was my hero. It is difficult to talk about him in past tense but today was his day. The whole family gathered to mourn his death. We went to the church and I played a solo over his grave and we watched as they lowered him into his final resting place as they say. “Querido padre, padre mío, cómo te extrañaré tanto. El amor que compartiste, los regalos que diste como hijo, haré todo lo posible para recordarte. Mi padre, querido padre.” (Translation, “Dear father, my father how I will miss you so. The love you shared the gifts you gave as your son I will do my best to remember you. My father, dear father.”) I spent most of the day watching my mother. She was not the typical woman, as much as he was my hero, she is definitely my superwoman. One of those mothers who was able to raise five children almost by herself and still make sure that we had food in our bellies and had good grades at school. Watching my mother today was like watching a master class on performance art. She had gotten really good at it. Stoic, strong, smiling and hugging everyone who passed her by. Kissing cheeks and saying private prayers. My mother is one of the most amazing women I’ve ever met in my life not just because she was a great mother but also because she supported my father. Through all of the things he did… all of it. In our culture we believe that when you get married it truly is a lifelong commitment. And it doesn’t come with adjustments or alterations, you just can’t decide to get a divorce that’s not how we were raised to believe. Marriage is until one or both of you die. She supported all of his dreams and all of the late nights that he was at rehearsal with the band and all of the weekends that he was out of town traveling and she never told any of his deep dark secrets. Not one. Today wasn’t difficult just because I buried my father it was difficult because I hated every minute of it because I still hated him.