Food For Thought
Mike Ditka the dog spots his camp on the road ahead, while Clint drives.
Today I drove Mike Ditka the dog to camp. He has been excited about it for some time, and apparently the sweet potatoes and chicken at camp taste better than they do at home. I am a little sad, but I know it is a selfish sad, because I miss. He seeks enrichment and loves sleepaway camp.
Actually, it is this time of year that makes me sad. Please don’t misunderstand me. I love the Winter Holidays, but those who know me well know that I can get a little extra blue around this time of year. Still, this is best time of the year for cozy movies and television specials—A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving and all the Hallmark-like movies. I love all the music,- especially every Mariah Carey song!
When I was nineteen years old, my friend Kenichi- who I had spent countless hours with during my first year-and-a-half of college—graduated. On Christmas Eve he flew home to Chiba, Japan to start his career. I fell into a funk. I wanted to cheer up but was struggling. I was home from college living with my parents, and I didn’t want them to see me sad. That night after the Christmas Eve Vigil, I drove around listening to the radio. The Texaco was open. I went in and used all the dollars and change I had to buy the best individually wrapped Danishes that a person can find at 10:55 pm on Christmas Eve in a farming town of 1,100. When everyone was asleep, I put individually wrapped gas station pastries in all the stockings.
The next morning I was still sad, but as my family tried to figure out how the questionable desserts got in their stockings I realized that there still is wonder in this world—even when you have to help it along.
This year has been intense. I feel wonder is needed more than ever. On August 15,a goal to instigate wonder was achieved thanks to my son, my old friend Bubs, and my new friend Kemish.
For more than a year I had been making paintings of taqueria trucks, small bakeries, and independent tire shops. I painted them because I think these places are beautiful , but also to celebrate these small businesses that are run on passion, sacrifice, and a lot of hard work.
It was on that hot Friday night in August, that I was doing a pop up art market just down the street from El Taco Express. My son was helping, and Bubs was visiting. We were sweating, and we were hungry. I gave what cash I had to my son and asked him to go to the taqueria truck and get us food. Bubs said that he would walk with him, so somewhat in jest -and somewhat in curiosity- I grabbed a painting I had done of El Taco Express and asked them to see if we could trade art for food.
Twenty minutes later they came back smiling carrying food and horchatas. They were so happy, and my son said, “Dad, you need to go down there. Kemish wants to meet you.”
Kemish and Clint trade art and food, and they smile a lot.
That is how The Taqueria Truck (@thetaqueriatruckproject on Instagram) started. Kemish added so much joy to our lives that evening, and I think we added joy and wonder to his night. Both parties traded something that they put their hard work and passion into.
A week or so later, my son and I went to Taqueria Mi Ranchito #4, a bright red truck that we had visited several times and I had painted once. We walked up to window. I introduced myself, and I told the gentlemen what we were proposing. He smiled and said his name was Luis. We traded what we passionate about and put our hard work into. We talked and smiled a lot. My son and I went home and ate some ridiculously delicious spicy pork tacos. (Seriously, you should go try them. The truck is located at the corner of NW 36th and Pennsylvania in Oklahoma City.) That night Luis and I messaged back and forth over the phone. By trading what we passionately put our efforts into and acknowledging each other, it felt like we had an experience that was as much relational as it was transactional.
Luis and Clint trade food for art. Clint still talks about the spicy pork tacos there.
Last evening, I traded a painting of the Antojitos Estela truck on Route 66 near El Reno, OK, for some mouth-watering quesabirria tacos and a mango aqua fresca that I swear tasted like eating perfectly fresh fruit. The food was incredible, but what was most memorable was meeting a family that loves what they do and loves being together as a family.
Tony and Clint trade art for food and delicious mango agua fresca.
At the time of this writing I have traded at fourteen food trucks and one bakery. What I will remember far longer than the food (I will be back to all these places eventually to purchase food in the traditional way) is the conversation and the camaraderie, even if it’s just in the moment. I currently plan for The Taqueria Truck project to be 40 visits, trades, conversations, etc. I am tempted to name everyone that I have met so far, but I recognize that this rambling has gone on long enough. I will end with what Sergio told me. He showed me one food item and told me that it is what he is known for. It was incredibly beautiful as well as delicious. Then he brought out another food item and said that this one is what he built his dreams on. Have you ever asked yourself, “What am I known for?” and “What have I built my dreams on?” If not, I encourage you to. I also encourage you to go Taqueria Rodriguez (N May Avenue near NW 32nd Street, Oklahoma City) and try the quesabirria and the flautas.
Some of my closest friends and artists that I admire, do not understand my intentions with The Taqueria Truck. Sometimes as I am getting ready to approach a truck, I question my intention or sanity. It can be terrifying to walk up to a truck and say, “I know how hard you work, and I made a painting of your truck.” When I get to the part about asking if they want to trade, I often feel like my middle school self summoning up the courage to ask someone that I liked to dance with me. I also think that is where part of the wonder is. It’s just plain weird, but maybe we need more weirdness—and dancing—in our lives. Maybe we could all look for opportunities to develop relationships and grow our community rather than speed through life in a series of transactions.
Well, it has taken me more time than I thought it would to write this. Mike Ditka the dog is probably settling in for a nap and dreaming about the sweet potato and chicken dish that will soon await him.