What Became of la Muñequita Linda?
The behind-the-scenes story
Abuelita poured her love into her muñequita linda. From the reflection in her eyes, I was pint-sized with dainty gold jewelry, the frilliest of party dresses, long raven curls, she made sure I owned feminine power since birth.
I lived life to the fullest, I worked hard for what I had. Trained under the Biddy Pinchard, Irene Hayes, Bill and Bobbie Irvine, met gypsy souls on the same page and sped ahead. Getting wise before my time, unwilling to compromise.
“Don’t be in the streets!” My abuelita would scold. “Girls should be at home, be careful Linda”
But how could I when I was insatiable. That fire in my belly would burn me alive if I didn’t explore. Every hobby, whim, from ballet to the West End. The cities I’ve lived in, the epic eras, pure energy. I outgrew abuelita’s muse. But now I had wings. I didn’t know what I was craving, or where life would lead, but dolled up in heels and red lipstick I kept rolling. Danced in posh, underground clubs, brunched with the “in crowd” downtown, evenings in college coffee houses and lounging in jazz clubs on Folsom.
“Where are you going Linda?” My abuelita would scold. “Don’t be in the streets”.
Lakeside summers with girlfriends, winters skiing, coastal roadtrips. How could I explain to my immigrant abuelita, the world I was seeing, all this?
While I ran around “in the streets” or my equivalent, sometimes sexy, sometimes flirty, as girls do when becoming women, because it feels good inside because our bodies are beautiful and we feel alive, and because, because.
When I was young I lived life to the fullest, experiences I thought abuelita couldn’t imagine, experiences I instinctively knew were my fortune.
Years of adventures led to my calling. Fighting social injustice, learning society and polite, rebellious creativity. Sitting at the table with the City’s grand dames on top of San Francisco’s most beautiful building. I learned about social responsibility, my mentor, the most charming, exquisite, Marsha M.
Help was needed at shelters, at schools, and soon I mentored, for years. Women’s health, women’s rights, #FemTruth. I was squeezing as much out of life that I could. Like the speed of my maturity was on a timer, ready to expire. I lived my life to the fullest, soaking in every last sparkle, because now things are, dyer.
I lived life to the fullest so I can understand gratitude, community, humility. Because now “in my prime” I sit here unable to soar — now stagnant — but whether for me, or humanity, I can still use my soap box and bull horn to scream “Own each opportunity!”.
Abuelita linda, I see your worry, the Kahlua bottle in your night stand and the wooden crucifix in your hand. You were watching over me praying. You understood. I was you. The same timer, the same fire,…the same wisdom, the same worry.
I lived life to the fullest, because even though you scolded, you instilled in me the confidence that I could. You gave me my superpowers. It was always you that understood. Youth is for living, and freedom is fleeting.
