Living by Los Dichos: Advice from a Mother to a Daughter

by Cristina Pérez

Overview

Dichos: Spanish sayings or proverbs

Advice is one of the most valuable gifts a mother can give to her daughter. Cristina Pérez turns to her mother's wisdom every day by reflecting on the dichos she taught her. Here Cristina shares those that have most powerfully influenced her life and translates them into solid advice. Any woman looking for guidance -- whether she is about to leave for college or is getting married -- will find what she needs with Cristina's help. Dichos transcend age, race and religion to provide just the right answer at just the right time. Most important, Cristina shows that proudly embracing your roots and staying true to your identity will guide you down the right path. Dichos have directed Cristina through the toughest challenges and led her to success. Now let them lead you.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781416541011
Publisher:	Atria Books
Publication date:	09/19/2006
Sold by:	SIMON & SCHUSTER
Format:	eBook
Pages:	192
File size:	246 KB

About the Author

Cristina Perez is a successful lawyer, three-time Emmy Award winning television personality, radio host, entrepreneur/business owner, national author and columnist, and devoted mother and wife. The daughter of Colombian immigrants, Cristina was born in New York. Cristina was the host of the Spanish language television program La Corte de Familia (Family Court) which aired nationally and internationally in fifteen countries on the Telemundo Network/NBC (2000-2005). In 2006, Cristina made her English-language television debut on Twentieth Television’s first-run syndicated Cristina’s Court. She has been named Woman of the Year in California for her community activities and was named one of America’s Top 10 Latina Advocates. Visit her online at CristinaPerez.tv.

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

De mi vida para tu vida

"No hay boca donde no esté,

ni lengua ni país que desconozca,

ni sabiduría que lo sustituya."

(There is no mouth where it is not present,

Neither language nor country it does not know,

No wisdom can replace it.)

-- LUÍS A. ACUNA

Learning Los Dichos

I have to admit that I'm not an expert, I'm not a doctor, and I'm not a therapist. I'm just a woman, a mother, a wife, and a professional who lives and learns from her experiences, her mistakes, her family, and her culture. This is my version of a guidebook based on my life -- from relationships and family to work and cultural identity issues and everything in between! I'm going to cover all the lessons that I learned from my mother and am now passing along to my daughter. I hope that mothers and daughters everywhere can find something in this book to enrich their lives and then pass along to their children.

As you will discover, this book, like my life, is premised on the solid fundamental teachings and lessons I have learned through dichos and wisdom from my family. I choose to use dichos because they are a symbolic vehicle for relatively simple concepts that guide me through certain situations in life. Each chapter includes symbolic dichos relevant to the chapter's content, with my interpretation of them, how I have applied them, and how you the reader can use the dichos to enhance your own life. While I provide an English translation of each dicho, it may not be literal. What I am providing is the moral of each dicho.

"Lo que bien se aprende, nunca se pierde"

(What is well learned is never lost)

In order for a culture to have any kind of longevity, its participants must actively study each stitch of thread that has created the culture and holds it together. Both young and old should learn and live by their culture's wisdom so that it can continue to flourish for future generations. Every culture possesses its own way of passing this wisdom on from generation to generation.

In the Latino culture, dichos act as that intergenerational gateway. Dichos are invaluable proverbs and sayings that succinctly deliver a serious message, value, or belief. They are used to help make a point, teach a life lesson, and validate life's trials and tribulations. Dichos serve as profound lessons to be learned from the life experiences of our forefathers, each incorporating the astuteness of past generations and serving as teaching tools for us to live by today and tomorrow. In learning and living by los dichos we continually breathe life into the inspiring, humorous, and philosophical proverbs that have woven themselves throughout Latino culture for centuries while being blind to educational, economic, and class systems. Dichos are history translated into words.

Thousands of dichos exist -- some humorous, some serious, and some specific to certain countries. Each has a particular meaning that is generally universal and crosses over all cultures.

Dichos provide messages of hope, direction, and guidance just when we need them. When for some reason or another a basic truth escapes us, dichos put us back on track. When we face challenges, dichos offer clarity and direction.

Because of these reasons and many more, dichos are the rules that I live by everyday.

"De tal palo, tal astilla"

(The apple does not fall far from the tree)

This dicho is similar to the English sayings "The apple does not fall far from the tree" and "Like father like son." My parents migrated to the United States from Colombia in the 1960s. They came to this country with essentially nothing except each other and the dream of a better life for themselves and their children. My father is from a large family of modest means, with thirteen brothers and sisters. In fact, my grandmother, my father's mother, was pregnant twenty-two times. My mother is also from a large family of eleven brothers and sisters. My family is a walking and talking billboard for the big Latino family.

Shortly after they were married, my parents decided to move to the United States "temporarily," as is frequently the intention of many immigrants. Their plan was to work and save enough money to one day send my father to medical school and return to Colombia. Forty-plus years later our family is still here.

DARÍO'S STORY

My father's dream was to become a doctor like his uncle in Colombia, whom he worked for as a young man. The United States, as my father puts it, was the land of "possibility and potential." So he and my mother arrived in Bronx, New York, in 1963, in a country where he and my mother did not know a soul. The idea was to stay for six months and find work. If my father could not find work, then they planned to return home.

An educated man, my father looked for a job wherever he could. His English was not the best, but good enough. However, it seemed that no one had any available openings that he could fill. He recalls being turned away the moment the potential employer looked at him or heard him speak. He resorted to employment agencies that were also of no help. Finally, he found a job at a hospital, in housekeeping, and worked as a janitor. The hospital was one and a half hours away from the Bronx. He earned fifty dollars a week and would spend at least one third of his pay traveling to and from the job, so he was forced to live at housing provided by the hospital. He visited my mother only on the weekends. At the time, she was pregnant with my sister.

After a short while, my father decided he needed a better job and for thirty days, he walked the streets searching. He finally found a new job with a watch company in Manhattan and was able to reunite with my mother. He also moved her to a safer neighborhood in Queens. My father worked there for over five years doing piecework on an assembly line. At this time, the watch company contracted with the United States government to make, among other things, timers for bazookas used in the Vietnam War.

My father felt like he experienced plenty of discrimination at this job from other employees who had been working there for a long time. The most senior pieceworkers were comfortable in their environment and the guy who produced the most pieces was admired as the "stud" of the workplace. When my father came along, he believed that the senior workers were threatened by this new one-man workforce. You see, my father the future surgeon, was very good with his hands and worked fast. Instead of respecting him for his good work they made fun of him. They would chastise him, saying things like, "Of course he has to work fast! He can't speak English very well so that's all he has to do." My father didn't take it personally because he knew that job was a stepping stone, but for the other workers it may have been their final destination. Nevertheless, the workers made it so uncomfortable for my father that the supervisor finally told him, "Don't worry about these jokers. If you can make more pieces than anyone else, do it because we pay by the piece. Knock yourself out." He received $1.79 per one thousand pieces. The average worker made 1,000 to 1,200 pieces per hour. My father knew he had to push himself to provide for his growing family (my brother had arrived by then), and to realize his dream of becoming a surgeon. He pushed himself to produce over 2,300 pieces per hour.

While working full time, he decided to enroll full time at Manhattan Medical School to become a laboratory technician. After graduating, my father, finally armed with improved credentials, was able to obtain better paying jobs with different hospitals in New York City and eventually became a laboratory supervisor at a blood bank.

My father's principal goal during this time was to move his family to a better neighborhood. After continually being told he could not afford it with only fifty dollars in his checking account, he bought our first home in Bethpage, New York. He borrowed all he could and for the next five years he worked two full-time jobs and one part-time job until he paid off his loans. He even managed to save enough money for medical school.

At that moment my father felt that he had worked enough -- it was time to obtain his medical degree and become a doctor. He reminded himself of his goal: "I came to the United States to find work, make money, and pursue my goal of becoming a doctor." Obviously, he could have just continued working for the rest of his life at jobs that paid the bills and supported his family but did little else. He asked himself, "Why did I come to America?" He feared that he had almost given up his dream for the complacency of the daily grind. Enough of that! It was time to go for it.

With a family of five to support, attending medical school in the United States was financially out of the question. In the early 1970s, he applied to foreign medical schools in Guadalajara, Mexico, and in Salamanca, Spain. It was more cost effective to maintain a family abroad while attending medical school on a full-time basis. Spain was not an option, as the travel cost would break him financially. So he decided to attend the Universidad Autónoma de Medicina in Guadalajara, Mexico, a university associated with the American Medical Association. We drove cross-country from New York to Mexico so my father could attend medical school.

In a short period my father had gone from a decent paycheck in an unsatisfying job to no paycheck at all in medical school, his dream. Now imagine this -- he was a full-time student, had some money from student loans, but had no job to provide for his family of three children, all under the age of twelve, and a wife. How did he and my mother make it? Simple: during his vacations and holiday breaks from school, whether it was one or two weeks or summertime, my father would drive or fly, sometimes with the entire family, to the United States to work and save money to bring back to Mexico.

My father finally graduated from medical school on time in the late 1970s. But let me tell you, he did not just "graduate." Out of over nine hundred students, he was valedictorian of his class. I remember that ceremony. I remember my brother getting so mad about dressing up and wearing a bowtie. I recall sitting in a room filled with over two thousand people, in the front row with my family. I felt special. I watched my stoic mother following my father with her eyes as he so proudly and humbly took center stage. I have to be honest, I don't remember what he said. I can only imagine. But as I look back on it today, I am convinced that this experience was a defining moment in my life.

So you might think now that my father had really made it -- he was a doctor, and an educated man. He could find work anywhere, right? Wrong! Upon returning to the United States as a foreign medical graduate, my father faced other forms of discrimination. You see, there appears to be an unwritten, backroom, behind closed doors policy to discriminate against foreign medical doctors, regardless of nationality. As my father explains, and I witnessed firsthand, the feeling from the American medical community is that the training and education received by foreign doctors is inferior to that received by doctors educated and trained in the United States.

To compensate for this perceived inferiority, after graduating from medical school my father was required to complete two years of servicio social (social service). He was accepted at a respected hospital in Tijuana, Mexico. So we moved again, this time into low-income housing ("the projects") in San Ysidro, California, a developing community at the time. San Ysidro is located in the most southern part of San Diego on the Mexican border, the busiest international border crossing in the world. San Ysidro was then and remains now very ethnically diverse. During our two years there, we met people from all walks of life. It was particularly exciting because we were exposed to a culture that was half American and half Mexican.

While working in the hospital, my father again struggled as a medical resident, working endless hours (usually on call for up to fifty-eight hours at a time), studying for exams, and providing for his family. In addition, my father had to work across the border in Tijuana. Because of this hectic schedule and the commute, he only saw us every four days. It was lonely for him, but he was comforted knowing that we were all together as a family. The experience was difficult but fruitful because it exposed him to every facet of medicine, and made him truly realize he was destined to become a surgeon.

After his two years of service in Mexico, my father was accepted to complete his surgical residency at a prestigious hospital on the east coast. We moved once again. From the outset, the chief of surgery gave my father a hard time. He had to constantly prove himself. Like many others at the time, this man probably thought that foreign medical graduates were not good enough to succeed in America. I remember my father coming home after feeling that his self-esteem was constantly being chipped away. I could see the frustration in his eyes and the disappointment in his face, and I heard it in his voice, that after all the obstacles he overcame he still wasn't being seen for his potential. He was still viewed as a foreigner, an immigrant first and a doctor second. I can't help but think that if I'm still having such a strong reaction to this, what must the impact have been on my father? What must he have felt in his gut and in his heart?

Time has since proven that foreign medical graduates have excelled in all areas of medicine, often overshadowing the accomplishments of their American-schooled counterparts. My father excelled here and eventually became the chief resident. In fact, my father was elected the best teaching resident by the medical students.

It took my father almost twenty years to accomplish his dream of becoming a surgeon, attaining the highest honor as a Diplomate of the American Board of Surgery. With great satisfaction, in the mid-1980s we moved to a Los Angeles suburb. My father established his medical practice in Glendale, California, where he still practices today. Consistently improving his medical skills and knowledge while achieving significant accomplishments along the way, he has won esteem and respect from the medical community, his peers, patients, friends, and family.

With my father's help, nine of his brothers and sisters eventually immigrated to the United States. As one of my uncles said to me, "Your father's titanic effort in coming to the United States in pursuit of a dream has been and will be the legacy and the definition of this family."

ARACELLY'S STORY

My mother's experience, while similar to my father's, differed in many aspects. The move to the United States was emotionally challenging for her. With my father working, she was alone most of the time. She was also frustrated that she was not able to speak English well enough to communicate, frustrated because she was unfamiliar with the United States, its ways, culture, and customs, and made miserable by the severe cold and the severely warm humid New York weather. And she was scared of the future.

In New York, the neighborhood my parents initially lived in was not safe. My mother was pregnant and lived on the fifth floor of an apartment building with no elevator. Initially, she only saw my father on weekends. All she ever heard were sirens and at times she felt she was going crazy. It even crossed her mind to return to Colombia and wait for my father there. But she had promised to be with him during the good and the bad. How could she leave her husband alone? Her love and commitment to him carried her through many of these difficult times. Her mother's example and her religious and conservative upbringing allowed her to sacrifice for my father and her children. For her, family always comes first. She sounds too good to be true, right? You should meet the woman.

Eventually, my mother enrolled in English classes so the time would pass more quickly while she cared for her children. And yes, of course, she could work but who would take care of the children? Who would have the house clean and ready when her husband came home? Who would make him dinner after a long day of work? These were vitally important issues to her then and still are today. But it was hard for her to make friends because everyone always seemed busy. She was surrounded by Americans for whom English was a first language and who wouldn't give her the time of day. With no family members to talk to (her relatives were in Colombia and phone calls were an unattainable luxury), she felt like she was suffocating at times. But Guadalajara felt like home.

She could relate to the people, the culture, the traditions, and the language. In Guadalajara, my mother was able to work part time translating documents for medical students. But she believed her primary responsibilities were to take care of her husband, her three children, and her home. Our place in Guadalajara was always bustling with my father's friends; everyone was welcomed with open arms. After all, my father was the top student in his class and a great study partner. Despite the fact that my parents struggled, there was usually a home-cooked meal waiting for anyone who came to study or just to visit. My mother would say, "Donde hay comida para uno, hay para dos, tres, cuatro . . ." This meant where there is food for one there is food for two, three, or four.

Pretty quickly the Pérez Casa became the place for medical students to hang out. I've since asked my mother if this was a burden on her. She said, "No, on the contrary." She loved the company and loved to be able to support my father in any way she could, for these were precious times for him. She said it was our personality as a family that attracted so many to our home.

My mother further explains that although for over eleven years my father was essentially absent from our family, and she could have gotten upset, complained, and rebelled, but she did not. In her own words, she could not just think of herself. Her goal was to make it as easy as possible for my father to accomplish his lifelong dream. At the time, this was her sole purpose. My father worked so hard to become a physician in order to give us a better life. Unfortunately, this meant that he was often missing from our lives while we were growing up. Yet my mother managed to raise three children while carrying on the strong presence of my father in our home. She never let us forget our identity as a family. As she explains to me, she relied on the strength and wisdom she gained from her mother.

She acknowledges today that all of this was a risk because as a couple, they were becoming disconnected from each other. So she made sure she talked to my father and stayed connected by taking care of him and his family. It was her faith and trust in my father and the notion of family that empowered her, and most important, the love they have for each other that made her stick through it all. My mother did the best she could with what she had to work with. She always knew in her heart, guided by an unseen but deeply religious faith, while at the same time watching how hard my father worked, that everything would work out. She constantly had the intense faith that their dreams would come true.

I once asked my mother what living the American Dream meant to her. She said it meant my father becoming a surgeon and her children having good lives and pursuing their dreams. My mother raised us the only way she knew how -- the way her mother and father raised her -- with strong values and traditions. For example, she always wanted her children to speak Spanish as their first language. She clearly let me know that she is not and never was embarrassed or ashamed to be Latina. Even with her heavy accent, she made herself understood and still does today. Maintaining culture within her family was critical to my mother.

THE PÉREZ LEGACY

Through hard work and dedication, my parents made a better life for my family. They allowed us to develop a new identity in a new country. More important, they have given me access to better educational opportunities and a better way of life. My life was (and still is) so rich in many ways. In search of this better life my parents exposed my sister, brother, and me to living in different places and respecting each as if it was our very own. Little did I know then, but that, coupled with the dichos I learned from my mother when I was a child, would be my greatest gifts and lessons in life.

Because of my parents, I lived in some of the most ethnically diverse neighborhoods in this country. I was exposed to many different walks of life, cultures, and problems in each of these communities. But what I experienced most profoundly is the openness and honesty that my family provided to us, our friends, and everyone they met, regardless of ethnicity or economic stature.

I watched my father's never-ending commitment to his dream and his family, while he provided service to others as a physician. To this day he always educates his patients on ways of improving themselves to live longer and healthier lives, never denying service to anyone whether or not they have money or insurance, and taking on the challenges of medical and governmental administrations to give medicine back to the community. I watched my father for over twenty-five years doing this every day, never expecting anything, not even a thank you.

My father's story is what inspired me to pursue my dreams. I watched my mother support my father and our family through those trying times. My mother's story, her legacy, is what motivates and drives me to never give up and continue forward. Her tireless and selfless example has armed me with the most important lessons that I try to live by.

Ironically, as a young woman, it was my beautiful mother who wanted to be a lawyer. But as the eldest daughter, she had to care for her brothers and sisters. She was the backbone of her family and is the backbone of our family. My father's story is truly exceptional and awe inspiring and if it were a movie it would likely win a few prestigious awards. However, my mother would win the Best Director award. Without my mother, my life would not be what it is today.

When I asked my father what he felt was the definition of the American Dream, he replied: "Simple -- the opportunity to work, raise and provide for my family, and my children, as well as obtaining the best education possible." He added, "What you can do in this country, you cannot do anywhere else in the world."

Because of them, I am truly living out the American Dream. Through varying circumstances and despite limited options, my parents integrated our culture as a necessary part of this dream. Our culture did not take away from the experience of making it in the United States. On the contrary, it was an equally important and necessary tool to make our assimilation easier.

I believe that within the American Dream culture must continue to thrive. It is vitally important to teach your children to learn, and live by the traditions of your own culture, including, if possible, language. We must be proud of every aspect of our dynamic culture and upbringing. I am constantly told that we (Latinos in general) are the best looking, the best dancers; we have the best cuisine, and can throw one heck of a party. We are likely the loudest on the block, too! Also, we are unique, in that many of us are able to use two languages in one conversation. I am blessed because my first language is Spanish. I learned English around the age of ten. However, I made it my goal to perfect both languages.

My husband is a second-generation Puerto Rican. His parents decided not to teach him Spanish; they felt their children would have better opportunities if English were their dominant language. But does the fact that he does not speak Spanish perfectly make him less Latino or cultureless? In my opinion, no, it does not. In fact, when I first met Christopher I could not believe how passionate he was about the rights of his community. He had the same fire that drove my parents and drives me. He felt indignant over the same injustices toward his people. He made me reflect on my own commitments.

Culture is part of who we are. It makes up our basic essence. My husband and I share so many of the same values, morals, passions, expectations, and experiences. We both love talking, we are people's people. He is loud -- sometimes too loud. You name it -- family, business, work ethic, friendships, food, we also share many of the same traditions. He can walk into any room and just work it! He is dynamic in a way I can only describe a Latino man to be. I know it is our culture that connects us. It was definitely what attracted us to each other. Well, of course, Christopher is not bad looking either!

As with both of the homes we grew up in, we also expect that our house will be the most crowded with our daughter Sofia's friends. It is funny how that worked out -- all of my non-ethnic friends always felt most comfortable in this Latina's house. It must have been the Spanish and I guess a little of the fun, flavor, and food.

I am honored to be asked to speak around the country to my community peers not just on immigration issues, but as in this book, about life experiences. I owe all of this to my upbringing. In comparison to what my parents have conquered, I do not think I have done enough. There is always more to learn and more to do for others.

Today, I am more sure of myself, of my identity, and of my purpose than ever. Yes, I could attribute this to age and experience. But I think it is also in the blood. I always say that I can do anything because "Tengo la sangre de una mujer latina -- tengo la sangre de mi madre" (I have the blood of a Latina woman -- I have the blood of my mother). So when people ask me: Cristina, how do you do it all? I answer with the most appropriate dicho: "De tal palo, tal astilla" (The apple does not fall far from the tree). These few words have been my secret and inspiration for knowing I can succeed at anything I set my mind to. It is the legacy my parents began and one that I will continue.

My Wish for You

This book celebrates culture and my beliefs about a woman's role within it. It is also a celebration of your own culture and your role within it. I will address many questions I am constantly asked, including: How, as a Latina, can you make it in a so-called man's world? How do I win respect in a bilingual world? How am I able to successfully balance a family and career? As a Latina, how have I been able to blend in successfully in the United States? But do not be misled, as this book is for everyone regardless of race, gender, or age.

Today, more than ever, there seems to be a denial of culture among young Latino women and men. Not only does society question who we are, we try to define what it really means to be a Latino in the United States. We try so hard to make it in mainstream America that we forget and sacrifice the very things that make us unique -- our culture and identity. We look to others for inspiration and instruction, when we should be looking to ourselves, our parents, our ancestors, and our cultural traditions.

My wish is to teach, guide, and inspire pride in all people, especially the younger generation. The key to success is to stay connected to your culture. The answers to all our questions lie within us. As my mother tells me and as I will tell my daughter, "Lo que bien se aprende, nunca se pierde" (What is well learned is never lost).

Copyright © 2006 by Cristina Pérez Gonzalez

Table of Contents

Contents

INTRODUCTION: When Hollywood Calls on Tradition

SECTION I: Defining Los Dichos

CHAPTER ONE: De mi vida para tu vida (From my life to your life)

CHAPTER TWO: A Tapestry of Tradition

CHAPTER THREE: Life: Powered by Dichos

SECTION II: Lessons for Relationships and Marriage

CHAPTER FOUR: Surviving Your Relationships

CHAPTER FIVE: Maintaining a Marriage

CHAPTER SIX: Crisis Management

SECTION III: Lessons for Family and Parenthood

CHAPTER SEVEN: A Solid Foundation

CHAPTER EIGHT: Setting a Positive Example

CHAPTER NINE: Carrying on Culture

SECTION IV: Lessons for the Workplace

CHAPTER TEN: Confused Feminism

CHAPTER ELEVEN:Values at Work

CHAPTER TWELVE: Cultural Identity

SECTION V: Lessons for a Woman's Spirit

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Battling Each Other

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Secrets for Staying Young

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Mentorship

SECTION VI: Lessons for the Immigrant Soul

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: English as a Second Language

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Remembering Our Roots

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: America: The Great Patchwork Quilt

SECTION VII: Living by Los Dichos

CHAPTER NINETEEN: Living for the Moment

CHAPTER TWENTY: Living by Los Dichos

Afterword:

A Letter to Cristina, from Aracelly and Darío Pérez

A Letter to Sofia

Bibliography

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