Polka on stolen instruments

It’s always the same conversation.

“How can you be Hispanic?” someone asks. You’re way too white and your name is Nathaniel Miller. Nathaniel Andrew Miller.

It’s not the name I chose for myself, I try to explain. My mom’s mistake was marrying a white guy and taking his name.

“Yeah, but how are you Hispanic?” they always ask.

I then end up explaining my family history. My mother’s maiden name was Rocha. Her middle name is Guadalupe. My grandmother’s maiden name was Ramos. To drive it home, I usually go further on down the family tree.

But none of that matters. My mom married a white Oregon boy stationed in San Antonio while with the Marines. Now I have a light skin tone. Love does strange things to people.

Even after my birth, mom’s family members would ask her why she gave me the name she did.

“What ever happened to good Mexican names like Jose and Pepe?” They asked her upon hearing my new name. It didn’t matter what they thought, she said; she loved my name and said it was her gift to me.

I told her if she wanted to give me a gift, she should have gotten me a bicycle….

Read more:Polka on stolen instruments- Odessa American Online.

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