Los Bomberos

Whenever Senor Vasquez took a long trip without Miguel, he would always bring home a toy car. One of Miguel’s favorites was a large red fire truck. It was complete with hook and ladder.
Miguel settled himself upon the small circular carpet between his bed and dresser. He arranged building blocks to form city buildings and small homes. He also opened the dresser drawers to create balconies for an imaginary skyscraper.
He pushed the fire truck around the carpet, making siren sounds and honking the horn. He stopped the truck in front of the dresser, rescuing toy soldiers from the top of each dresser drawer.
“Meego?”
Miguel turned around. His sister Juneta stood in the doorway..
“Notice anything different about me?” she asked.
“Not really.”
“Today is my fifteenth birthday.”
“Oh. That’s right. Would you like to play ‘Bomberos’ with me?”
“I’m too old for toy trucks,” replied his sister.
“Nobody is too old for Bomberos,” said a voice from the hallway.
“Uncle Juan!” she exclaimed.
“Buenas Tardes, Junie!”
Most of Junie and Miguel’s relatives (including Uncle Juan) worked for the Mexico City Fire Department. In Mexico, firemen were called “Bomberos”. In fact, Sr. Vasquez was the only one of his brothers and sisters who was not a Bombero.
“Where is everyone else?” asked Juneta. She knew that wherever one Uncle or Aunt was, another was close by.
“Angelina and Andres are unloading the car.”
Juneta rushed out to meet them. Aunt Angelina was carrying a large cardboard box.
“What is this?”
“Junie, it’s a surprise,” said Aunt Angelina.
Juneta knew the box was for her Quinceanera. The fifteenth birthday was the most important birthday for any Mexican girl. She would receive a special dress and there would be a special ceremony at the church.
As Juneta tried spying on Angelina’s surpsise, her mother came up the stone path leading to their house.
“Leave her alone, Junie.”
“Mama…”
“You can help me,” she said.
Juneta grabbed one of the grocery bags from Sra. Vasquez’ arms. She looked inside.
“Tomatoes and chili peppers and tortillas. What are you making?”
“Since we have some very special visitors, I thought I’d make Bomberos.”
“Bomberos!” said Andres.
Bomberos was not only a nickname for firemen, but for a sauce that they used in enchiladas. Just like firemen inside a burning building, Bomberos were fiery and hot. Bomberos was Juneta’s favorite dinner. It was everyone elses, too.
As everyone came through the front door, Juan got up from his kneeling position beside Miguel.
“We’d better see if they need help,” said Uncle Juan.
Miguel groaned.
“We can always play later,” promised Uncle Juan.
Everyone was crowded into the kitchen. Sra. Vasquez had everyong doing something. Angelina and Juneta were cleaning vegetables while Andres sliced them. Even Sr. Vasquez was helping, slicing the chicken into small cutlets so his wife could cook them on the stove.
“Is there anything we can do to help?” asked Juan.
“You could set the table for me.”
“That’s woman’s work,” said Miguel.
“Meego!” exclaimed Angelina, “There is no such thing as woman’s work.”
“It would be our honor to set the table,” said Juan proudly.
Miguel followed Uncle Juan around the table, placing silverware around the dishes. Then, Aunt Angelina brought out the first platter. It was the grilled chicken. Miguel reached out for a piece.
“Be patient,” she said.
As each successive dish came out, they brought their own delicious smells. First it was the mint from the iced tea. Second were the soft tortillas. Third was the fried rice. Finally, mother came out with the Bombero sauce. With its hot chilis and green onions, the smell of the spicy Bombero sauce filled the air.
When everything was on the table, everyone took their place. Senora Vasquez led everyone in The Lord’s Prayer.
After the quietness of the prayer, everyone and everything began to move. From oldest to youngest, plates were passed to Sr. Vasquez. He filled everyone’s plates. It was not until Miguel received his plate that everyone ate.
Sr. Vasquez scooped chicken and rice into the soft flour tortilla. He added just a small amount of hot sauce before rolling it into a cylinder.
“That’s no Bombero! That’s an enchilada!” exclaimed Juneta.
“I know, but Bomberos are too spicy for Miguel.”
“Meego,” interrupted Aunt Angelina, “we made a second salsa, just for you.”
She passed a small bowl of salsa across the table. Miguel investigated it closely. There were tomatillos and corn, but no green peppers and no red chilis. Miguel dipped the edge of his fork into the salsa for a taste test. It was very mild. Miguel dipped a portion onto his enchilada and made himself an anti-Bombero.
“Bien?” asked his mother.
“Bien,” he replied.
As Miguel enjoyed his dinner, Junie thought about the Bomberos of the Vasquez family.
“Papa, if Angelina, Andres, and Juan are all firefighters, why aren’t you?”
“I never thought of becoming a firefighter,” he replied.
“The real question is why didn’t we become something else,” joked Angelina.
‘What do you mean?” asked Junie.
“About the time I was your age, I wanted to be a biologist, but was having trouble with my science classes in college. Uncle Andres was already a firefighter and Juan was studying to be a paramedic. I was helping him with his classes and that’s when I decided to become a paramedic, too.”
“Then why did you want to be a firefighter, Uncle Andres?”
“As far back as I can remember, I wanted to be a firefighter, just like my father. When I was a little kid, he’d come home some days and smell like charcoal and his face would be dirty. He was my hero.”
“I think he was a hero to all of us,” said Junie’s father.
Everyone nodded.
“Then you should have become a firefighter,” said Junie
“Not everyone wants to run into a burning building,” said Angelina.
“Some of us just want to build them,” said Sr. Vasquez with a chuckle.
Junie thought about it for a while as she finished her spicy enchilada.
“I wonder what I’ll be when I grow up.”
“You don’t have to worry about that for a little while,” said her father.
He said that, knowing it had all gone by very quickly. After dinner, all the Aunts and Uncles returned to the fire station.
Tomorrow, Junie would be fifteen and the day after that, she would be in church celebrating her Quinceanera. At bedtime, Sr. Vasquez tucked his little girl into bed. She still had every stuffed plush alligator he had brought her from his road trips. These were the same road trips where he bought toy cars for Miguel, too.
Junie reached up and kissed her father goodnight. After that, she tucked the largest of the alligators – the one she called Gus Gator – under her head.
“Suenos Amables,” said her father, which meant sweet dreams.
“Suenos Amables, Papa.”
Just like she had done a thousand times before, Juneta Vasquez used her furry little alligator as her bright green pillow.
And of course, all her dreams were sweet.