I am an eighteen-year-old Venezuelan-American Jew who was born in Margarita, has lived in Puerto Rico and currently studies at Emory University. Instead of writing more about me, I will depict a memory that I believe encompasses me: my experience at family reunions.
Chaos. That is the first thing that comes to mind when I think of my family reunions. My relatives live all over the world, so our dinner parties can get messy and loud. Doctors, diplomats, businessmen, interior designers, teachers, and writers all form part of my family. As soon as dinner begins, deafening cries, noisy laughter, and vociferous arguments are heard. Jokes are told in five different languages: Spanish, English, French, German, and Hebrew. I do not understand three of them, so you can imagine me as a little girl trying to guess what my uncles were saying by observing their mannerisms; it was almost like a game of charades. My siblings and I used to discuss our theories about what was being said, and after failed attempts to understand their comments, we would simply giggle at the strange French words and Hebrew sayings. We laughed along with the grownups, pretending that we could understand their jokes and commentary.
As I grew older, my siblings continued the charade, but I was not satisfied with pretending to understand. My curiosity demanded more; I began to pay more attention to the adults’ conversations, analyzing each word so I could follow their debates. I was unable to comprehend everything, so my aunt would occasionally translate. In this way, I could sample the ideas offered. Dinner was a potluck of thoughts and criticisms. Global economy, political turmoil, art history, music, and scientific discoveries were served as the appetizers, main course, and dessert. The actual food was almost an afterthought. Our fierce debating was the real sustenance. Then, sleepy and sated with new ideas and information, falling asleep was inevitable. Still, the amount of information obtained was copious. Family reunions became my personal source of education.
Now, as an eighteen-year-old young woman, I find opportunity in the chaos of our family reunions. I am no longer a listener; I participate in the banter, and now I can defend my point of view --sometimes. Every member of my family brings a different perspective to the table. Our dinner parties are the international agora I’ve been going to since I was a child, and they are what made me the person I am today.
Chaos. That is the first thing that comes to mind when I think of my family reunions. My relatives live all over the world, so our dinner parties can get messy and loud. Doctors, diplomats, businessmen, interior designers, teachers, and writers all form part of my family. As soon as dinner begins, deafening cries, noisy laughter, and vociferous arguments are heard. Jokes are told in five different languages: Spanish, English, French, German, and Hebrew. I do not understand three of them, so you can imagine me as a little girl trying to guess what my uncles were saying by observing their mannerisms; it was almost like a game of charades. My siblings and I used to discuss our theories about what was being said, and after failed attempts to understand their comments, we would simply giggle at the strange French words and Hebrew sayings. We laughed along with the grownups, pretending that we could understand their jokes and commentary.
As I grew older, my siblings continued the charade, but I was not satisfied with pretending to understand. My curiosity demanded more; I began to pay more attention to the adults’ conversations, analyzing each word so I could follow their debates. I was unable to comprehend everything, so my aunt would occasionally translate. In this way, I could sample the ideas offered. Dinner was a potluck of thoughts and criticisms. Global economy, political turmoil, art history, music, and scientific discoveries were served as the appetizers, main course, and dessert. The actual food was almost an afterthought. Our fierce debating was the real sustenance. Then, sleepy and sated with new ideas and information, falling asleep was inevitable. Still, the amount of information obtained was copious. Family reunions became my personal source of education.
Now, as an eighteen-year-old young woman, I find opportunity in the chaos of our family reunions. I am no longer a listener; I participate in the banter, and now I can defend my point of view --sometimes. Every member of my family brings a different perspective to the table. Our dinner parties are the international agora I’ve been going to since I was a child, and they are what made me the person I am today.
There are 18 pictures above, which I've chosen to show important moments and people in my life, like my high school graduation, my best friends, my experience in the musical Wicked, my siblings, and my friends. The pictures were taken and edited by me, Clara Caro.