That's a good story. I remember my dad (a white German) howling, too, when
the mariachis would sing and play at our church fiestas. He may have had a
beer or two, but he would let out that characteristic howl, can't put it
into words, but I remember that more than the way it is supposed to sound!

I never realized until hearing the Las Mananitas song and in remembering the
mariachis, how much of the Mexican culture was in my upbringing and in my
hometown in So. Cal., mostly connected to my church. I know that the
Catholic church in Mexico was a focal point for villages, as churches used
to be in this country. I loved the activities and people in my church, the
fiestas, the families that kept having baby after baby, the long history
with so many of them from having gone to the same church for years and
years. All the pancake breakfasts, spagetti dinners, potlucks, doing
yardwork around the priest's home, cleaning the altar with my mother every
Saturday morning, praying to the statue of the Blessed Mother after
confession. I would look at the snake she had under her foot and want to
touch it! Those were good times. I'm very glad and very proud of that
heritage, that background. My church was a community rich in Mexican
culture, even though the region was an Italian stronghold (I've heard a lot
of polka music, too!).

Corrine