Tucki tac-túk-tac Tucki tac-túk-tac

Sitting next to my mom at a unique concert tonight was a special occurence. I don't think she knows how much I value where we come from--where she comes from; how much I value her heritage that she's passed down to me. But seeing her face tonight, I could tell she was being taken far beyond 136 Mass Ave. into dance halls of the 1960s in Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic.
What a beautiful memory to have... Cheerfully walking in groups to the town dance; girls patiently waiting for young gentlemen--or not-so-gentle-men to ask them to dance. Tucki tac-túk-tac--Tucki-tac-túk-tac, the congas she knew sang to her. These congas are not your wanna-be Latin music-immitations on American radio stations. These congas were accompanied by guiros and accordians. This was classic merengue, played to the sound of seashores and not-so-distant memories of a struggle for freedom from "El Jefe." Mami lived in the Time of the Butterflies, next to the Boulevard.
She was probably taken back to the alto of her house, where her windows flew open and closed by the wind of the near-by sea---a place I've had the opportunity and privilege to witness.
When the young 20-year old Dominican led that orchestra in a classic merengue tune, and sang about salchicón and café con leche, we all joined him together in Santo Domingo, remembering Juán Luis Guerra's "Niagara En Bicicleta" and those Dominican commercials about Induveca salami.
Mami was the expert tonight in Nueva York. Cambridge Housing Authority and all of those who offer subsidized services to her lost their power between 8:15 and 10:00pm tonight. Mami knows best when it comes to home.