My name is Karen Quintana and my story began back in 1987 in beautiful Los Angeles, California. My father, a recent immigrant from El Salvador, and my mother, a recent immigrant from Guatemala, had just welcomed me into this world. They had both left their home countries to escape the civil war that went on for years in Central America. And like many others that come here, were in search of the many opportunities the U.S. had to offer.
Growing up my parents would always tell me stories about “cuando yo era niña” or “cuando yo era niño” – you know those “when I was a kid” stories parents tell their children. My dad’s stories were always filled with the many jobs he had as a child. My father had to stop going to school at a very young age to help support him and his mom as the “man” of the house. My mother on the other hand, had many stories of helping raise her siblings (she was 1 of 12 children). She also had to give up the opportunity of going to school in order to help at home. They shared these stories as motivators for me and would always emphasize how important education was so that one day I would not need to work as hard as they did.
Fast forward to today and their eyes gleam with joy at my accomplishments. They look at me as living proof that the American Dream exists – you know college graduate, married, 2.5 kids (does our dog count as the .5 kid?), and homeowners. They tell me how proud they are of me and always say “sigue adelante, mija!” But really, I reflect on my parents’ stories and cannot express how proud I am of them.
My father is the king of DIY. He can literally do ANYTHING. That late 1980’s fixer upper we bought; he’s done most of the remodeling. Lighting, plumbing, landscape, – you name it, he can do it. Need a mechanic? He’s your guy. He’s a man of many talents and a man with a creative mind. He’s truly an artist.
Then there’s my mom, who is my very own personal doctor. I need some remedy to cure something, she will tell me what I need to do or take. Did I mention that she is also a chef? Because no one and I mean no one beats my mom’s cooking, although one of my Tia’s comes close but don’t tell her I said that. She always makes us savory dishes from her country and is so talented that has also picked up how to cook Salvadorian dishes and Peruvian dishes (my husband is Peruvian.) I mean really, she can cook anything. However, don’t ask her for a recipe because one thing I have learned is that there’s no measuring tools in her kitchen, it’s all by feeling and tasting.
The most important lessons I have ever learned were from my parents. They taught me the meaning of hard work, they taught me the importance of family, and they taught me love. Their experiences are part of my history, my identity. I am forever grateful for their lessons, as they have helped shaped the wife, mother, and woman I am today.
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