Yesterday I heard the most interesting conversation between two workers at Lotaburger.
The girl was trying to explain Ash Wednesday to someone who didn’t grow up here in New Mexico.
Girl, perplexed: “Wait, you never heard of the ‘Catho-leek?'”
Guy, helpfully: “Naw, man, when I first moved here and saw that sh** on people’s heads I was all like, what the f**?! What is this sh** on their heads?”
Girl, still perplexed: “Really? You never heard of the Catho-leek?”
Guy: “No, we never heard of the ‘Catho-leek’ (chuckles, so I guess he is poking fun at her pronunciation). Seriously though, where I grew up, man, we would walk around the village and ring a big ol’ bell. It was cool, all old and sh**. Like from when the English came. A big ol’ heavy a** bell. And then you could say the name of your family members who were gone and stuff but not the rest of the year. We would eat, too. It was like your day of the dead, here. But not that stuff on your head and sh**.”
Girl, pondering: “Well, we like can’t eat meat on Fridays and stuff. But like, I can eat fish then. And I have to give stuff up. Because that’s what we do.”
Guy: “That’s cool, I can respect that. But you should just say you’re vegetarian, man. It’s less complicated.”
And that, my friends, is how these conversations should go.