Maximiliano

Yesterday evening, I was at El Huizachal with my cousin, Juan José.

We had just eaten steaks from the grill with nopales, and he brought up something I had never heard before.

He said that our great-grandfather on my dad’s mother’s side, Román Orta, may have been the son of a soldier who served under Maximiliano.

I knew that Maximiliano was executed in Querétaro in 1867. After that, not every man connected to that side of the war simply disappeared. Some French troops left. Some foreign soldiers may have stayed. Some Mexican soldiers also fought for the imperial side. And some men had already been in Mexico long enough to have relationships, children, work, language, and a life.

Maybe there is a baptismal record for Román Orta. Maybe a marriage record. Maybe a death record. Something that names his parents. Something that shows whether his father was French, foreign-born, a soldier, or simply gives us a name so we can keep looking.

But even before finding the records, the conversation has stayed with me. Identity potentially expanding through fragments of the past.

Family stories do not always come to us as clean facts. Sometimes they come in pieces. A name. A date. A possibility. A cousin saying, “I heard this,” while you are sitting together after a meal.

And maybe the work is not to exaggerate the story or dismiss it.

Maybe the work is to respect it enough to keep asking better questions.

Staying curious.

That feels true for family history.

It feels also true for life. Manteniendo curiosidad.

My Auténtico Self™