|My daughter Mini Me and her then-boyfriend. |
(It soon became obvious there was
a Brazilian elephant in the room ... )
Anyway, it's funny you should ask because this is a topic of some consternation in my family. Since I was knee-high to a caipirinha I've been telling people I am three-quarters Brazilian. This used to drive my father nuts. Dad was born and raised in Brazil, and married a Canadian of Irish descent. How I got "three-quarters Brazilian" out of that never ceased to annoy him.
I tried to explain to him that I felt connected to my Brazilian heritage on a spiritual and a cellular level. One of my brothers felt much more connected to his Irish heritage. It's not a choice one makes, it just is. (And also, I suck at fractions. There's a reason I became a writer and that reason is math = yuk.)
What's really great about this bloodline is that it is growing purer with every generation. One of my daughters, the one I call Mini Me for reasons that will soon become obvious, got herself into quite a pickle when she met a boy and told him she was 100 per cent Brazilian. She who has never set so much as a three-quarters-Scottish toe on Brazilian soil.
"You've gotta back me up if he asks!" she told me one night in a panic.
"Honestly, Mini Me!" I scolded. "I do not know where you get this fibbing streak from!"
"Well I didn't think I'd ever see him again and now we're going steady!" she wheedled. "Please? Please tell him I was born there?"
"Fine. Let's rehearse our story . . . first of all, you didn't tell him my real age, did you?"
Well this charade eventually had to be put to a confusing death when the young man proposed to her, and I sure hope he doesn't read this blog because he has now just discovered that his beautiful bride is in fact only five-eighths Brazilian. Which is still tudo legal . . .