Chase Goats Like No One is Watching

Nuvia C. Ruland
Nov 28, 2016
2 min read

Although I grew up in Los Angeles, I feel most at home when I’m at my grandfather’s ranch in Valle de Guadalupe, Baja California. Learning how to make cheese, caring for farm animals and identifying plants are some of the activities I did as a young girl at rancho Nevarez that inspired me to pursue biology. The valle has changed a lot since I was a little girl, but the rancho always feels, smells and looks the same to me. Here I am childlike, curious and carefree. So when my parents let me know they were visiting my aging grandparents on Thanksgiving, my husband and I jumped at the opportunity to disconnect for a few days.

Hands down this was the best Thanksgiving. As soon as I arrived I began to cook for our Thanksgiving dinner later that evening. I chopped vegetables and listened to my grandfather chat with my parents. Two weeks ago he turned 95 years old and still has most of his hair, and very little of it has turned gray. Although he still has a sharp memory, his body can’t quite keep up to his desire to be independent.

As soon as night fell we sat down for dinner - spiral cut ham with all the trimmings (tofurky for me), kale salad, mashed potatoes, bread, lentil soup - because my grandparents go to bed by 7pm. Quickly after the food was blessed my grandfather began to share the story of his birth, then his life as a campesino in the sierra of Durango. He then told a hilarious story about the first time he learned how to dance.

I sat there listening overwhelmed with feelings of gratitude. Life was beautiful in the mountains, but it was also extremely hard. While herding cows through the mountains he lived off of plants for days, and he feared dying young in lawless towns torn apart by family feuds. He decided to move his family to Baja California in the early 1970s. If he hadn’t had the courage to make that move, I wouldn’t be where I am today.

This week, as you prepare to share your stories, I encourage you to be as fearless as our parents, grandparents and ancestors had to be. When you own your story, the words you use to tell it will be a comfort to you, even if sharing that story feels scary. Too often we let the fear of what others might think or say stop us from speaking the truth. Be fearless and know that you have the love and support of your teachers and peers.

I guarantee you won’t look as silly or foolish as I did while chasing a baby goat around my grandfather’s rancho, but you just might feel as free.