El Paso Matters – Read excerpt: ‘My Crazy Tía’ from Daniel Chacón’s ‘The Last Philosopher in Texas’

Can you step into the past to see how things used to be – or jump into the future to see what awaits? 

Those questions are at the center of “My Crazy Tía,” one of more than 30 short stories in El Paso author Daniel Chacón’s “The Last Philosopher in Texas: Fictions and Superstitions.”

The creative writing professor’s seventh book is the latest pick in the El Paso Matters Book Club, which brings readers online Q&As and in-person discussions with featured authors, as well as book reviews. Now, the book club brings you excerpts from selected books – a peek into what you can expect when you dive in and join us in reading.

In “My Crazy Tía,” the protagonist’s “crazy aunt” offers to show her how to time travel – and see her dead mother.

Below is an excerpt from “My Crazy Tía,” with permission by the author and Arte Público Press, the book’s publisher.

“My Crazy Tía”

Tía came from Fresno to visit us for Christmas, and one morning as I was having hot chocolate and pan dulce in my grandmother’s kitchen, she was sitting across the table from me. I was reading a book on the Kindle app of my phone, but I could feel her looking at me. Everyone else was still asleep: the cousins, the uncles and aunts, the cats and dogs. Crazy tía smelled like patchouli oil and sweet fabric, as if her clothes had been hanging in a closet for two generations.

“Do you want to know how to time travel?” she asked me.

“What?”

“I can show you how to time travel, m’ija. You could go anywhere in time that you want.”

“Sure, you can,” I said.

“I swear. I’m being serious. But … “

“But what?”

My aunt wore a colorful dress. a long flowing robe and all kinds of gaudy jewelry: bracelets, necklaces, a big bright ring on every finger. She looked like a high priestess of some woo woo Religion.

”There is one thing,” she said.

I know she wanted me to say, “What?” But I didn’t want to, so I shrugged my shoulders and went back to reading the book I had downloaded to my phone. It was good.

“Okay,” she said. “If you don’t want to time travel, that’s fine with me.”

“Tía,” I said, “time travel is impossible. Science proves it.”

“Okay, Miss Intellectual. Tell me why it’s impossible.”

I was only sixteen at the time and just remembered in a science class our teacher telling us that it’s impossible according to the laws of physics, but I didn’t remember why.

“It just is,” I said. “It’s a scientific fact.”

“Qué scientific fax! I can do it. Any place in time that I want, and I can show you how. M’ija, haven’t you ever wanted to visit the past to see how things used to be? Or jump into the future to see how you’re doing?”

“Okay, fine,” I said, like I was indulging her craziness, but really, I wanted it to be true. I wanted to go into the past. I wanted to see what my mother was like. She was twenty-two when she died.

“Let’s do it,” I said, trying not to sound too much like I believed her. “Teach me how to time travel, then.”

“There’s only one rule,” she said.

“What?”

“You can only go as far as your lifetime. From the time you were born until the time you die. You can’t go back 100 years. You can’t go hang out with Frida Kahlo in Coyoacán. Not going to happen. You weren’t alive then. Only your lifespan. Do you want to try this?”

“Sure. Whatever.”

My heart was pounding so loud I think my aunt heard it. I wanted to see my mother. I was four when she passed. All I have are blurry images of her face and the smell of lotion or soap and how her arm felt on the back of my head, soft and warm. She was young. Did she like having a baby? Was she still young enough to want to have fun? Did she like to party? Did she laugh with her friends?

You can read “My Crazy Tía” in its entirety in “The Last Philosopher in Texas,” which is available at Literarity Book Shop. Profits from sales of the book purchased from Literarity benefit El Paso Matters. 

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