Culture Clash: Muddy Bay

We had a lovely day today. Got up early, I made waffles, and then we went for a family walk with the dog. My husband and I talked about show business, and some interesting things I was reading in a book about human dominance/submission or status relationships and how we communicate them subliminally. We were discussing people and family members in that context as we enjoyed the unusually balmy November day.

Then this afternoon, we went to a giant barbecue for my son's soccer team -- which is part of a soccer empire, the Oakland Internationals, started by one man. They have quite a few teams in the club. I had a great time eating, talking with other parents, and eating more. Unfortunately, at the end of the afternoon my son did something that really set off his dad, and to me illustrated a cultural rift between Mexican and American attitudes -- although I might be wrong about that.

My son can be a bit of a clown. For some reason which he claimed was not his fault, he and another boy ended up in three feet of mud and silt in the Bay, and he lost his shoes. A crowd of 40 kids of all ages gathered around on a dock and shouted out directions as to where he should dig in search of his shoes. In doing so he caked his new medal in mud, along with his arms. I found out this was going on second hand, because some parents came to my table and began rolling their eyes and gossiping in Spanish about what my son had done. They weren't aware that I understood, until I responded in Spanish and asked where he was and what had happened. I played it off as funny but I could see that the other parents, who are mostly Mexican, were viewing this as a faux pas. Un paso malo, to be precise.

So I go over there and my husband is livid. Ultimately we left shortly thereafter, having lost the shoes and socks to the SF Bay forever. My son was clowning until we got to the car and my husband began yelling. I defended my son a bit, and on the way home I tried to explain to him that Mexicans really take it seriously when you clown or embarrass your parents. Americans, or at least the ones in my circle, might in a social situation laugh about such a thing. The operative word being "might." Anyway, I think my son learned an important lesson about his dad's culture today.