FoxFire Project

The Foxfire Project, begun by Eliot Wigginton and his students in the 1960s, was designed to save from oblivion the local color of a particular Southern region: the dialect, customs, recipes, antiques, manners, clothes, games and rituals of a particular area.

As a class, the students enrolled in Ms. Rojo's AP English Language and Composition class have compiled their own stories for their own version of a “Foxfire E-Magazine” renamed "Leafing".

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Farewell



One of my first memories, when I was still a little kid, is a bievent that happened in my family. I remember that there was a huge family reunion with my family from all over the place; all twelve of my mom’s siblings came, even my uncle Ruben from Washington who I had never seen before. It was almost like Christmas but more melancholic somehow. My memories are fuzzy but I remember that I was confused for a big amount of time like a rat lab going through a maze that doesn’t know is being studied. I remember my mom and her sisters making an enormous amount of food to feed everyone in the family. I remember the smell of burrito after burritoproduced by my aunts while my uncles were having conversations which I was not allowed to be part of by the chimney holding their tecate beer in one hand. I remember that I stained my little overalls with food that day, normally my mom would’ve made a big deal about it and I was expecting some kind of punishment but she seemed to be away, she didn’t care about it. I got to hang out with a lot of my cousins that day but I couldn’t understand why there remained such a depressing tone in everyone’s conversations.
Then, my dad tried to explain me what was going on. He told me that my grandmother Josefina had gone to heaven and that I wouldn’t be able to see her anymore. I still didn’t understand, at that age the only information I had related to death was when you die in a videogame and that is indefinite. Anyways, I asked my dad why did this had to happen and he told me that some this was just part of life. When I saw the coffin I did not really understand the reality of it. My little mind was not able to handle death, especially not my grandma’s.
After that day my mom got in a very deep depression that even made her cry during some nights. She was and wasn’t there at the same time somehow. 
Now that I think back to it I understand everything. I remember that my grandmother’s death damaged everyone in some way or another but I didn’t see anyone as hurt as my mom. She was only 24 years old when this happened and she was very close to her and she got devastated. 

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