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Saturdays with “Salena” (the movie, of course) and my Grandfather Define My Childhood
Why the Humanities Still Matter to Me
Whenever I think about Selena, I’m instantly transported, legit…like muscle memory I never meant to keep, back to my grandfather’s living room. His cops of that old DVD, the soft static buzz of the TV warming up, the familiar opening beats of “Como La Flor.” My siblings and I would curl up on the couch with him, sharing a blanket and a bowl of chips, watching the story unfold like we hadn’t seen it a hundred times already.
But we had…and it didn’t matter…it never got old. Every time my grandpa pulled out the DVD case, we were already leaning in. And every time, he’d start humming along before the music even kicked in. Sometimes he’d get emotional during the scenes with her dad. Other times he’d crack a smile and say, “That’s exactly how it was back then.”
It wasn’t just a movie…it was a memory we returned to, a space we shared, a story that belonged to all of us.
Now that he’s gone, watching Selena feels heavier and brighter at the same time. It’s not just the story of a Tejana icon. It’s a reminder of my grandfather’s warmth, his pride in our culture, and the kind of love that doesn’t need to be spoken out loud to be felt deeply. That film became a container for…
