Juana "Jenny" Pinto turned 15 on Jan. 18 but didn't celebrate until six months later.
It took that long to plan the bash. This wouldn't be just another birthday party.
In keeping with centuries of Hispanic tradition, Jenny's parents on Saturday threw her an elaborate coming-of-age celebration known as a quinceanero. Held on or near a girl's 15th birthday, the day-long event blends religion and culture and resembles a wedding more than a party.
It has been adapted through the centuries to fit varying Pan-American cultures. Hispanic parents in the United States - like Leandro Pinto and Eva Pinto-Barajas of Burlington - routinely spend thousands of dollars on quinceaneros. No corners are cut on food, drink or dress.
"It's a very important thing in our culture," says Mr. Pinto, 43, a processor at Redken Laboratories in Florence. "If I didn't do this for my daughter, I don't feel like I'm a good father."
Indeed, Mr. Pinto went all out for Jenny. He and Mrs. Pinto, 42, a machine operator at Van Melle USA candy company, also in Florence, spent $3,000 on the event, though they planned to spend twice as much.
Jenny wore a $500 white chiffon and lace dress with an 8-foot train. She and several of her 17 attendants and ushers rode in a limousine to St. Aloysius Church in Elmwood Place. A florist, caterer and portrait and video photographers were hired. The family rented a hall and reserved the church.
"It's great," says Jenny, looking a lot like a woman on her wedding day but still sounding more like a girl. "I'm having a blast."
The ceremony is common throughout Central and South America and in areas of the United States with large Hispanic populations. Wealthy families in Los Angeles and Miami are known to spend tens of thousands of dollars on quinceaneros.
In the Tristate, where Hispanics account for less than 1 percent of the 1.8 million residents, there have been only a handful of quinceaneros. But as the Hispanic population continues its slow, steady rise, more will be celebrated here. Several Northern Kentucky families attending Jenny's quinceanero say they already have plans for their daughters' events.
Rite of passage
The quinceanero compares to a Jewish girl's coming-of-age ceremony held commonly at age 13, the bat mitzvah, says Jose Luis Mas. He is executive director of the Ohio Commission on Hispanic - Latino Affairs, a state agency in Columbus.
"The influence of affluence in our adopted country has put the emphasis on expenditures," he says. "But like the bat mitzvah and other religious events, we gather as family and friends to show our love for the girl. We let her know she is special. We are proud of her and are telling her we will be around to support her."
In Judaism, boys have their own ceremony, the bar mitzvah. There is no equivalent ritual for boys in Hispanic culture.
For some families in the predominantly Roman Catholic culture, the quinceanero marks a young woman's recommitment to her baptismal vows.
Earlier traditions, which date back to the indigenous societies of Latin America, such as the Aztec, say a girl is eligible to marry at 15.
Today's quinceanero is a melting pot of these traditions.
For example, the 15th birthday brings permission to date for many Hispanic girls living in the United States.
During the quinceanero, this transition is marked by the throwing of a small doll into a group of adolescent and teen-age girls.
Jenny stands with her back turned - just as a bride would to throw her flowers - and tosses the doll over her head.
"It's saying goodbye to my childhood, to dolls, goodbye to toys," she says.
And hello to boys.
But not right away. Jenny has not been allowed to date, and she won't date for a couple of years, her father says.
"She has a lot to do, go to school, go to college, all those things I didn't do," Mr. Pinto says of Jenny, a Ryle High School sophomore. @subhed:Standing taller
The throwing of the doll was just one of many symbolic events unfolding during the day-long celebration.
Before the 2 p.m. Mass held in her honor at St. Aloysius Church, Jenny is fitted with her first high-heeled shoes. Her father removes a pair of flat shoes - symbolizing childhood - and replaces them with the heels.
Jenny, who is escorted into church by her parents, walks out by herself beneath a floral canopy. Her parents and attendants follow. A guitarist plays and sings "De Colores," which means "So Colorful."
Kyle Long, 13, and one of Jenny's neighbors in Burlington, is an usher.
"I think it's crazy to spend all this money on (the ceremony)," he says. "But it's a great party. I've learned a lot about Mexican food and other customs from her family. I'm glad to be here."
The family mailed hundreds of elaborate tri-fold invitations that would have done any bride proud. Fifteen raised candles sparkled from the cover. It read, Quince Anos (15 years), Jenny.
Tinged with sadness
Despite the family's careful planning, the party wouldn't go off exactly as planned.
Two weeks before the ceremony, one of Jenny's aunts, Maria "Chuy" Barajas, died in California of cancer. She was 44 and the sister of Jenny's mother and godmother, Lucila Arana-Barajas, 32, of Elsmere.
"We almost canceled," Mrs. Arana says. "Our sister had her plane ticket. But we decided to go ahead."
Jenny's coming-of-age ceremony takes on an ages-old lesson. Life goes on even in the wake of death. The paradox is not lost on her. On a day that marks the beginning of her adult life, Jenny leaves this message in the church's book of intentions: "Please pray for my aunt Chuy."
Her aunt's death made for a smaller ceremony. The estimated guest list of 300-400 shrunk to fewer than 100. Food and drink were scaled back. A disc jockey replaced the live mariachi band.
The Pinto family's cost went from almost $6,000 to $3,000. Every dollar - even the initial estimate - was a dollar well spent, Jenny's parents say.
Mrs. Pinto did not have an elaborate quinceanero, merely a new dress and a homemade cake. She and her future husband grew up in poor families in Juanacatlan, Mexico, a rural town near Guadalajara. They were married and soon moved to California, where Mr. Pinto found work with Redken 17 years ago.
He moved his wife and three children to Northern Kentucky in 1994 after an earthquake damaged Redken's plant in Canoga Park, Calif.
They have since joined the roughly 200 Hispanic families living in and around Florence.
Guests at Jenny's reception include many non-Hispanics from the area.
A catered dinner of roast beef, mashed potatoes, vegetables, fruit and sandwiches is served shortly after 6 p.m. at the Erlanger Lions Club hall. The bar is open. There will be a champagne toast. Jenny cuts a three-tier cake.
Then the attendants and ushers line up for introductions.
In keeping with tradition, Jenny collects a red rose - six in all - from each of the ushers. A traditional waltz, the valses, ends with Jenny and her partner, 19-year-old brother Mario, dancing in a circle of six other couples.
Jenny's first solo dance with a man is reserved for her father. "It is very emotional, yes," Mr. Pinto says. "She is a girl no longer. She is now a woman."
The proud laborer holds his calloused brown hand against the back of his daughter's lacey white dress. She smiles up at him. He purses his lips tightly beneath the dark mustache that's streaked with gray. He thinks of his family's past and considers his daughter's future.
He can't hold back.
In full view of everyone, his tears flow freely.
