Tortillas and peanut butter

My grandmother was a proud Mexicana from San Antonio Texas, born in 1921 she survived the depression, a world war and countless racial obstacles. She and my grandfather had 12 children total and their legacy continues to live on today. I'm a third generation mexican born and raised in Northern California, I wouldn't know a scythe from a c.d. player, have never seen a field in my life and I own not one Tigre de la Norte record, my parents moved us away from the "bad" side of town before I even started school, no one on the "good side" of town spoke Spanish then, no one else had homemade burritos for lunch, so I slipped into their world. A world I was taught held hope, promise, education and sophistication, so I learned to hide away a part of myself, unless someone should find out that I didn't belong there. But in doing so I became rootless, I lost my way more than once, and forgot who I was. So how do I reconnect to my family? How do I find my way back to the rich and vibrant culture that is by definition a mixture of several great ones? I think part of the way back to being who I was meant to be is to hear you, hear how your family has taught you, influenced you, what your story is, because maybe then I can better understand my own and write a happier ending.