K. K. Wattes
Don Chuy's Gift by K.K. Wattes
Don Chuy was a paletero and a neighborhood fixture. Summer after summer, he walked up and down 18th street pushing his cart, selling paletas. Paletas, in case you don’t know, are Mexican popsicles. Don Chuy had sold paletas for so long that no one could remember when he started. He was just there, on one corner or another, selling his paletas to the adults and children going about their business.
Dads and moms shared stories about times when they were short on pennies and Don Chuy would just so happen to be offering a summer discount. Nobody ever went without a paleta on those hot, muggy Chicago summer days where the heat could only be relieved by an ice-cold, tasty paleta.
Don Chuy’s paletas had the most wonderful and exotic flavors. He sold strawberry or fresa, watermelon or sandia, tamarindo, coco and dozens of others. Each paleta was made by hand in Don Chuy’s little garage factory that he kept well hidden from city bureaucrats who would insist he pass one inspection or another. But you see, Don Chuy set his own standards. He would watch closely as his customer unwrapped the sticky, sweet fruit treat from its painted paper skin and leaned in for the first taste. When grateful taste buds forced a grin on his customer’s face, Don Chuy knew the test was complete and it had been a success. This was his quality control and he never failed.
Don Chuy was a poor man. His neighbors often commented that Don Chuy must be “muy pobre,” because everyone knew that very little money could be made selling frozen flavored ice, even on a very hot day. In spite of his poverty, Don Chuy loved his job. He loved that his paletas made people happy. He also loved how his paletas had brought him closer to the people of the neighborhood. Through his work, Don Chuy shared in the joys and sorrows of many people. He often said that his family grew every time he had a new customer.
When Doña Ofelia boasted that her daughter had just had a beautiful new son, Don Chuy would celebrate this new life by asking, “And what did they name the little man? How much did he weigh?”
Don Chuy celebrated retirements, job promotions, college graduations and many other events going on in the lives of the people he knew. Don Chuy genuinely celebrated the accomplishments of others and felt blessed that his customers were such a big part of his life. This meant he cried a lot as well.
"I'm sorry about your son, Señora Ruiz, he was a hero. He gave his life for our country," Don Chuy told the mother who had just lost her child in Korea.
“I'm sorry to hear that your mother has died, she was truly a great lady," Don Chuy would say to the son who had just lost his biggest fan.
Don Chuy was always ready with words of encouragement for the students passing his corner, hurrying on their way home from school:
“Lupe, did you find the cure for cancer yet?"
“Jorge, at which university will you be teaching?"
"Jose, are you a famous lawyer yet?”
“Sonia, where will you build the world's tallest building?”
Don Chuy probably encouraged more future teachers during his summers on18th Street than anyone else in the neighborhood.
Don Chuy was a paletero by trade, but he had the outlook of a great philosopher. To Don Chuy, the good and the bad were simply, “la vida." Life. If anybody appreciated what he had, it was Don Chuy. He was never pretentious or believed that he was better than his neighbors. He never coveted what others had. Don Chuy was happy to read books, watch the news, think grand thoughts and watch the world go by from his corner. He especially liked to dream about the grand adventures he would have if he ever won the lottery, even though he never played.
Don Chuy often shared his thoughts with anyone who would stop for a paleta and listen. People liked Don Chuy’s easy-going ways so much that the sidewalks of 18th Street became home to this once uneducated campesino. The mountains of Michoacan where Don Chuy was born became a distant memory. After all, home is family, is it not? Don Chuy’s 18th Street family called him, Don Chuy de la Banqueta. Don Chuy of the Sidewalk.
Don Chuy was married to Maria. The neighbors often said that Maria had put up with Don Chuy for many years and no one really knew how long they had been together. People said that he carried her off from a mountain village in Mexico, taking her across a river on the back of an old mule with Maria’s angry brothers and jilted novio in hot pursuit. They say she chose a life of adventure over a life of making tortillas in the village. They say Maria traded a life that would never change, for the unknown. People from her village say her grandmother called her, Maria del Viento because her grandmother once dreamt that the spirit of the wind whisked her off into the night. It is thought that Maria’s brothers did not pursue her too far because they believed that her leaving with Don Chuy was their grandmother's vision being fulfilled.
Maria was Don Chuy’s complete opposite. She was practical, purposeful and wasted no time with idle dreaming. She had worked for many years cleaning rooms at a downtown Chicago hotel. She took the same bus every morning and night and ate the same tacos de frijol for lunch every day. Maria wore the same clean and pressed apron and uniform to work every day. Week after week and year after year, Maria cleaned the same rooms on the same floor. If Don Chuy was carefree, Maria was careworn.
If Maria dreamt no one knew what it was about. Some thought it funny that someone with a name like Maria del Viento could be so landlocked in her approach to life. They thought it equally funny that Don Chuy of the Sidewalk was a man who lived in the clouds.
In spite of their different personalities, Maria and Don Chuy were a couple. They attended Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe church every Sunday morning at 8AM. After mass, they would walk hand in hand to La Perla Panaderia to buy a dozen of the best pan dulce in Chicago. Don Chuy liked the vanilla conchas and Maria liked the empanadas de camote. He ordered for her and she would ask if the empanadas were fresh. If there was a long wait, Don Chuy and Maria talked to each and every person in the line, learning about the adventures of the week.
Afterwards, they would go home and listen to the 78rpm records given to them by friends and family. They would spend the afternoon being serenaded by Jorge Negrete, Pedro Infante, Antonio Aguilar, Jose Jimenez and many other great singers of their time. Songs like Cucurrucucu Paloma, La Mano De Dios, Amorcito Corazon and La Barca de Oro floated around their home. Maria, loved her music. Maria and Don Chuy would sip hot chocolate, eat pan dulce and share stories about their past and their family.
Unfortunately, Maria del Viento buried her dreams long ago. On top of them, she raised children and worked, never leaving time for herself. She had become hardened by life and had little time for the foolishness and idle dreams of her husband. Sharing her birthday with our Savior’s meant she never got her own celebration. One particularly cold winter, Christmas celebrations were the last thing on her mind. Don Chuy asked her what she wanted for her birthday and for Christmas and she angrily responded, “no importa.” It doesn’t matter. “You never have time for me, just your stupid paletas. All you do is dream and think of the neighbors.”
Maria didn’t really mean this, but Don Chuy had caught her at a very bad time.
Her cutting words hurt Don Chuy. Perhaps he had not been the best at showing his wife how much he loved her, but he did love her very much. Don Chuy knew that he would have to come up with something very special for Maria. But what? He had little money and a few projects to work on for local businesses. What could he possibly do that would make his wife happy? Suddenly, an idea came to him. He would give her the greatest gift he could imagine. He quickly got to work gathering supplies: cardboard, tin cans, buttons, string, paints, brushes and all sorts of scraps.
Don Chuy locked himself in his paleta factory each night and worked away on his gift for Maria. In the evenings, he would go upstairs after working long hours in the factory. His fingers were cut, there was paint on his shirt and yarn in his hair. Don Chuy was tired but content. Maria thought he was going mad. She was angry because Don Chuy had covered his factory windows and no one was allowed to see inside. Night after night, Maria thought Don Chuy was wasting his time with more dreaming and more nonsense. Don Chuy continued to work on his project, using more cardboard, more tin cans and more paint. On Christmas Eve, Don Chuy grudgingly went upstairs to share a cup of hot chocolate and eat a few tamales with friends and family. After everyone had gone home, Don Chuy returned to his project.
When Christmas morning arrived, Maria woke up alone. The head of wild and bushy white hair that greeted her from under the covers every morning was nowhere to be found. As she slowly made her way out of bed, she heard the most unfamiliar sound. What she heard was something like a whining cat walking across metal bedsprings. What could it be? Maria realized that the strange sound was coming from below her bedroom window. She went to the window, parted the torn lace curtains and looked outside.
Below her was the most peculiar site she had ever seen. What appeared to be men standing in a row, wasn’t men standing in a row. What sounded like a group of singers, wasn’t really a group of singers. The longer she stared, the more her eyes focused on the activity in the yard. She was able to make out the short fat figure that was Don Chuy. Suddenly, she recognized a melody from a song that she had heard and sung about one million times.
As she looked and listened she slowly began to see colors and the faces of the men below. Then she slowly began to recognize the sounds of chords and strings and trumpets. The strange line of men sprouted colors of brilliant blues and turquoise. There were graceful greens and reds. There were whites, grays and blacks. The sounds became more clear. She could make out a mixture of words and pauses in sound that added up to music. She heard high notes, low notes, and asked herself, are those voices actually singing? Maria was confused.
As the morning light arrived and softly embraced her vision, Maria saw that the men were life-sized figures of a mariachi band in full regalia. She saw colorful suits or trajes de mariachi with great detail. Silver embroidery and design around the pockets and silver appliqués cut with artistic flair providing contrast to the colorful chamarras y pantalones. Each suit had what looked like a unique design of an eagle or a cactus or the image of La Virgen de Guadalupe. The buttons were made of silver filigree in the forms of eagles, horse shoes and maguey plants. It appeared to Maria that these suits were the finest she had ever seen.
Maria looked closely at the faces of the mariachi and thought that she knew these men. There was Pedro Infante with his pencil thin mustache above his lips and those 1940’s Hollywood good looks. She recognized others too. There was Vincente Fernandez, Javier Solis, Jose Alfredo Jimenez, and Juan Gabriel. To her surprise, she even recognized the great women singers Lola Beltran and Lucha Villa standing in line and singing to her on Christmas morning.
And then, slowly, ever so slowly, Maria finally heard what she originally thought she had heard. Amid all the voices, she could make out the strongest voice of the morning: her own Don Chui. The words he sang were ever so tender and loving. Maria knew that they were meant for her, just for her.
Estas son las mañanitas que cantaba el rey David.
Hoy por ser día de tu santo, te las cantamos a ti.
Despierta mi bien, despierta, mira que ya amaneció
ya los pajarillos cantan la luna ya se metió.
How lovely is this morning, when I come to greet for you
I come with joy and pleasure and to celebrate with you.
The very day you were born all the flowers here have blossomed
and in the baptismal font all the nightingales are singing.
Maria knew that the song was true. On the day she was born, all the flowers bloomed because she, Maria del Viento, was so special. She looked at the cardboard figures that Don Chui had lovingly created for her with his own hands, cut from the finest silks and silver leather, and she knew. She knew that this man, her husband of so many years, still loved her and that his silly and foolish ways were what she loved most.
Maria realized that his hard life had not broken him. She understood that his dreaming had made it possible for both of them to live and love and triumph over hardships. For a moment she saw the handsome young man who so many years ago stole her from her family and carried her across the river on the back of a great white stallion bringing them to this new land.
The dawn has come my darling, and the sunlight's here for us.
Rise and shine with the morning and you'll see that I am here.
Maria was so happy that she offered up her happiness to the newborn King. She was sure it was as fine a gift as incense or gold. THE END.