I have to admit that I have a thing for Latinas. Dark hair and dark eyes has always floated my boat, but there is something extra about Latinas, whether they be Tejanas (Mexican-American) or Mexicana. You might say that the "hot blooded" description is cultural oppression or whatever, but from my own personal experience, there is an ineffable difference in Latinas and white suburban women that phrase comes closet to catching.

Lucky for me, I grew up in Austin, Texas, and I was bussed into a mainly Hispanic junior high. Soon enough, I started "dating" a young lady from the neighborhood, and that worked out well for a couple of reasons; her Dad did not like me at first, but when I told him that my uncle had been a Marine in Vietnam and that I was planning to join the Marines when I was 18, he changed gears fast. He had been a Marine and in Vietnam himself, and we watched The Sands of Iwo Jima a few thousand times together. But what really made it work was that her brother became a friend of mine as well, although separately...I didn't meet her via him nor vice versa; we had the same advanced classes and we both sat on the bench on the football team. So I ended up staying over at their house quite a few times in junior high.

Now I say "dating" because she basically had my foot nailed to first base. Her older sister had gotten in the family way at 16, so I think that factored into that quite a bit. It doesn't matter how funny or charming I was, she was incredibly agile in keeping my hands outside her shirt. Well, that was fine. She was beautiful and smart and I liked being with her, despite my lack of hands-on access. That her family liked me didn't keep them from making sure her brother hung out with us all the time. Again, that was fine, as we all had a good time.

She lived a few blocks away from Martin Junior HIgh, where we went. Martin is right down by the Colorado River. The school itself wasn't big on Halloween, but my girl and her brother begged me to stay over the weekend of that Halloween night...that was something else the three of us shared, a love of Halloween. I got permission from the folks - they didn't know I was "dating" this girl; the racial aspect wouldn't have phased them, but I was "too young to date", according to them. See how it worked that her brother was my friend? ;>

By Rodtico21 (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

In some Tejano families, Día de Muertos is mixed right in with Halloween. Their house was a panacea of jack-o-lanterns and sugar skulls! We started out with horror movies, and The Fog put us in the right mood for ghost stories. They told me of La Llorona, "the weeping woman", a legend I had never heard of. The ghost of a mother whose children had drowned, so she haunts the river looking for them...and her name was Maria, the same as my love's!

I convinced them that we should go to the river and look for La Llorona. Although it wasn't Halloween, it was close to midnight, and it was a new moon, so it was spooky and dark.

source

We went down to the river by the school, to the place where I usually went when I cut class (they wanted to go to Fiesta Gardens, where there would be people, but what kind of crazy ghost shows up where people are?)

And as soon as we got down there, hidden from view, and stumbling around in the dark, and the faintest hint of fog which put the fear of that movie right back in our minds...we hear crying.

Is that a white shape approaching us in the night? Is that a woman crying? Wow, it is!

I don't know why we didn't run, but we stood there as this white shape closed the ground. The weeping woman says something in Spanish, of which I know dirty words and phrases, but little else.

My Maria says
NO!

La Llorona repeats what she has said. Maria and her brother grab me and start running.

We run back into their house, out of breath and more than a little hyper. Maria's Dad laughs at us and tells us no neighbor better complain about TP on their house.

Now her bother starts laughing. He punches his sister in the arm
Tell him

She scrunches up her face
NO!

I ask
Tell me what?

She shakes her head, but her brother starts talking. Before he even gets La Llorona out of his mouth, she has leaped upon him, punching him and choking him. He is still laughing too hard to finish what he started saying.

She stops hitting him, then glares at him. Then she glares at ME.

OK, what the hell? Why are you pissed off at me?

She throws her nose up in the air like I did something wrong. But I sort of know her tricks now, and I know she is useless to resist one thing...tickling. So I hold her and start tickling her, and her brother joins in. She finally gives in. Tearfully, she says
La Llorona wanted a kiss from you

Then she slaps the hell out of me.

I did forget to mention one ting that does mar the perfection of femininity of Latinas. They can be jealous. Even of a ghost.

Happy Halloween!

This is the third year in a row that I have shared this story, which I wrote my first year on Steemit; not only is one of my favorite pieces, but I think that it is my best writing

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