The Kid With the Mixtapes

Obsessing over my uncle’s music didn’t make me cool, it made me… me

You know that moment in the shower, when you’re relaxing under the hot water, maybe singing, and generally feeling like everything’s perfect?

Or that split second just before you fall asleep. You’re drifting away to dreamland, when suddenly…

BOOM! An embarrassing memory from deep in your subconscious returns. You shudder as it hits you, ashamed and scared.

Well, during a shower three years ago, one of those memories came back to haunt me. And I want to share it with you.

I think a lot of us had a personal hero growing up. Someone we looked up to and thought of as an exceptional person.

For me, that was my Uncle Alfredo—or Tío Felo, as I would dearly call him.

I thought my uncle was the coolest dude in the world.

He was young (but older than me). Tall. Great hair. Big smile. Good-looking. He had a charm and charisma that could melt anyone.