"[first lines; narrating] Sometimes, I think I'm cursed. Because of something that happened before I was even born. See, a long time ago, there was this family. The papá, he was a musician. He and his family would sing and dance and count their blessings. But he also had a dream, to play for the world. And one day, he left with his guitar and never returned. And the mamá… She didn't have time to cry over that walk-away musician. After banishing all music from her life, she found a way to provide for her daughter. She rolled up her sleeves, and she learned to make shoes. She could have made candy, or fireworks, or sparkly underwear for wrestlers, but no, she chose shoes. Then she taught her daughter to make shoes. And later, she taught her son-in-law. Then her grandkids got roped in. As her family grew, so did the business. Music had torn her family apart. But shoes held them all together. You see, that woman was my great-great grandmother, Mamá Imelda. She died way before I was born. But my family still tells her story every year on Dia De Los Muertos. The Day of the Dead."