The Daily Texican

The Quinceanera

2010-11-15T18:23:00.000-08:00

This weekend I went to my prima's daughter's quinceneara. It was fun and interesting. First off, my cousin's daughter, kept calling me "primo." Now, technically, for those Americanos reading this, that may be correct. I think most people would say she's my cousin once removed. But that just sounded so weird to me. Why you ask? Because I grew up calling my dad's cousins, "Tio." Even this weekend, my other cousins introduced their kids to me and said, "say hi to your tio." I'm her tio, not her primo! Now that I have a kid, my kid will call my cousins "tio" or "tia." That's just the way it is. It was just pretty funny. Nonetheless, the quinceneara was really fun and I'm glad I want.

Next, my cousins from Califas came to the quinceneara. They seemed to get a kick out of watching the way people danced. Now, you make think Mexicans here and Mexicans there and Mexican everywhere are the same - we're not. Apparently, its a phenomenon to them to see people on the dance floor moving in a circle. You know, just going with the natural flow of the traffic - kinda like on a skating rink. Isn't that just the way people dance? I'll ask my wife, she's from Califas.

I hadn't been to a relatives quinceneara in a pretty long time. This one was fun. Afterwards, we went back to my primas house and ate menudo. Kinda like a tornaboda, but a tornaquince!

The Border Wall Must Stop

2008-01-31T23:29:00.000-08:00

This week the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) is expected to take more than 100 protesting landowners to federal court in an effort to allow government surveyors access onto their land. DHS is preparing to build a wall along the U.S.- Mexico border but many landowners along the border, especially in Texas, have refused to allow surveyors onto their land. These acts are more than acts of civil disobedience – they are acts of survival. Although many of these landowners despise the fact that a government imposed wall will unjustly separate sister communities along the border, it is possible that most landowners simply do not want the government stripping parts of their land.

Along the South Texas border, many families have been on their land since the 1700s when the Spanish government provided land grants to people living along the Rio Grande. Now, in an effort to “protect” the United States from undocumented immigrants, DHS is attempting to tear away portions of people’s homes to build a wall that stretches from California to Texas.

The arguments used by activists along the border vary as much as the people making the arguments. Immigrant activists argue that a wall isn’t the solution. Property owners argue that the government doesn’t have the right to take their land. The Chamber of Commerce argues that a wall will affect business in border communities. But the argument that has rarely been voiced is the one about the American government’s history of bullying South Texas – a community that most Texans don’t understand, much less politicos in Washington D.C.

Situated at the southernmost tip of the U.S., the Rio Grande Valley is as far South as you can go along the U.S. – Mexico border. Hearing people switch from English to Spanish in any given situation is as common as hearing a Seattleite order a double latte. South Texas is a place rich in culture, where the 4th of July is celebrated by parades with local high school Mariachi groups performing. This one simple celebration illustrates the fact that these communities are separated only by administrative borders.

But this community, rich in dual cultures, also has one of the highest rates of unemployment, with more sub-prime mortgage rates than anywhere else in the country. Another incident of bullying? Perhaps. Or, perhaps this is simply indicative an unyielding economy. But why then are there high incidences of children living in colonias suffering from hepatitis? Running water or electricity seems fundamental, but in these colonias, families make do without. In a life of the haves and the have nots, most South Texans have resigned to the fact that they are forgotten by their government and instead rely on one another. These South Texans know that their only support is within the community and with each other.

But now, with architectural blue prints in hand, the government remembers that the South Texans are there. They are walking onto their lands and into their homes with billions of dollars lining their pockets – but that money is not to help ease a hungry child’s cry, or a sick child’s need for medicine. Instead, this money is earmarked for a border wall in their neighborhoods and backyards. DHS insists on tearing apart these communities despite the many, repeated protests by so many South Texas residents.

Residents feel helpless. The eyesore of a wall separating sister communities seems inevitable unless legal challenges are successful. But most distressing is the unanswered question of what this wall will do to the existing communities on either side of the border. With a wall separating neighbors, it will slowly begin to erode the support systems that have for so long helped the ever-pervasive population of have nots.

Right now, it’s not looking good. The attack on immigrants and communities of immigrants must stop. It’s our border, let’s protect it.

Geraldo Yells at Bill O'Reilly

2007-04-06T14:04:00.000-07:00

This video of Geraldo Yelling at Bill O'Reilly is the best thing I've seen in a long time. It might even inspire a comeback from this Daily Texican.

I Will Return!

2006-08-10T22:34:00.000-07:00

I'm planning on making a comeback pretty soon. Thanks to everyone who has sent emails.

Funeral For A Fallen Soldier

2006-07-01T23:42:00.000-07:00

This is the story of Pfc. Kristian Menchaca. His funeral was held in Brownsville, TX. My friend told me that it was the saddest funeral he's ever been to.

View Funeral For A Fallen Soldier.

Border Troops Helping Local Economy?

2006-06-07T09:32:00.000-07:00

I thought this was a rather interesting story. Local restaurants are gearing up for the troops arrival. Yikes.

Why I Will Boycott on May 1

2006-04-28T22:26:00.000-07:00

My younger brother wrote, "Why I Will Boycott on May 1," which appears in today's AlterNet.

I will stand with my immigrant sisters and brothers because I value their contribution to America, and because their work makes my privilege possible.

Brownsville Porter Wins 5A State Soccer Championship

2006-04-15T20:33:00.000-07:00

The Mexican kids from Brownsville Porter beat Coppell to become state champs. I'm sure Coppell has Mexican kids too, but having lived in both regions, I can tell you that South Texas lacks in formal soccer training (especially compared to the Dallas area). Coppell is a suburb of Dallas.

Congratulations to Browsville Porter!

Punishing The Walkouts

2006-04-02T00:17:00.000-08:00

I haven't written about the walkouts because I haven't been able to formulate my thoughts about this moment in history, but I am writing now because I cannot believe the punishments being doled out to students.

In Ennis, TX, seniors who participated in the walkouts were barred from attending their prom.

In Yakima, WA, at some schools, student who walked out were given zeros.

I'm sure the story is the same across the country. I would argue that these kids learned more, even if they walked out just for the hell of it, in two hours of marching down the street, than in the last two weeks of any History class.

Most of us who have participated in similar events understand that organizing is more than just coming together for a cause; it also provides a sense of community, a family, and hope. This punishment needs to stop. Schools should embrace the actions of the past week to teach students, not to punish them.

At School

2006-03-08T22:44:00.000-08:00

Whew. Things are finally slowing down, even though I have a Memo due on Sunday. I'll be flying to McAllen for Spring Break on Saturday, so I'm going to try to get this done asap.

I took a page out of Cindylu's book and decided to get involved in Student Government (Student Bar Association), so I decided to run for Diversity Representative. I won.

Now, I head back to Texas for a week. Then, on Friday I'm off to D.C. Whew. Bueno, I'll be back w/ hopefully some writing of more significance.

Professor at Supreme Court

2006-02-28T22:27:00.000-08:00

My Civil Procedure professor, Joaquin Avila, will be in front of the Supreme Court tomorrow as they listen to arguments in regard to the Texas Redistricting Case. He's 2nd chairing, so he won't really speak, but this is his 3rd time before the Supreme Court. He sent us an email telling us that he would "take a pass" if they asked him any questions. It was pretty damn funny.

The folks from Texas handling the case, hired him to be their coach. We'll see what happens. Also, here's how Texas Redistricting is affecting the Valley.

Another Valley Soldier Dies

2006-02-25T09:48:00.000-08:00

Jessie Davila, 29, originally from Raymondville, died in Iraq this week.

Descriptive Words for Texas Olympians

2006-02-24T22:53:00.000-08:00

There are at least two Texas Olympians being profiled on NBC. It seems that everytime I hear one of the announcers describe these Olympians they use words as: brash, tough, passionate, fiery. As in, the brash Texan or the Tough Texan.

So I'm wondering, is nobody else in this country tough, passionate, brash? What's the deal.

Chad Hedrick, the speed skater from near Houston, has definitely lived up to those words. He's made the news for having disputes with another skater.

Todd Hays, is actually from South Texas - Del Rio. Today's story talked about him playing high school football and growing up in a small town.

I'm glad Texas is representing at the Olympics. I guess I should be happy the announcers are using these other words rather than "These Death Row Lovers from Texas," or something like that.

Working w/in The Political System

2006-02-19T13:12:00.000-08:00

Our latest post is up at Blogeros Garcia.

Carlos:

If we want water for the Colonias, we have to lobby. If we want health insurance for our kids, we have to vote. If we want to stop the War, we have to get this President out. That's the way I see it.

Cesar:

But organizing work doesn’t happen inside a political party or around an election. It happens at the community level on a daily basis. It happens by constructing sustainable institutions that empower people on an individual level. A community comprised of individuals who are confident enough to speak out, make demands, and organized enough to create the world they want to live in, even if on a small and temporary scale, is a community that stops taking crap from other people. A chain of such communities would not be beholden to any political party. Nonetheless, it would wield political power because it could mobilize people to vote and when voting didn’t work it could mobilize people to take things into their own hands.

A Day In Court & The Mexican Comes Out

2006-02-18T08:30:00.000-08:00

Well, not a real court. My law school competition partner, Canadian Rob and I, participated in our first Moot Court competition last night. It was a blast. We didn't have much time to prepare, but it was fun to get feedback. We go into these competitions (we've done several Dispute Resolution competitions) with the understanding that we probably won't win (we have an understanding that we'll only prepare as much as won't take away from other priorities), but as a platform for learning. You would think Canadian Rob was a Mexican with how laid back he is.

So, here's the deal. My Mexicano-ness came out last night and I've been noticing it's been creeping in during classes too. I pronounced two words in a familiar, but distinctive way, during my closing arguments: Cheating, I pronounced "Sheeting"; and Precarious, I pronounced "Pricarious."

Now, I'm wondering if I'm only noticing that this is happening now. I think I've mentioned before that I never thought I had that strong of an accent, however, even my friends from Texas told me I did. Could they be right? I was on t.v. for crying out loud. I never noticied myself pronouncing words like that then. Maybe I was more conscious of how I spoke back then, since I was working with my voice everyday?

Nonetheless, I thought it was pretty funny that I pronounced those words like that. It made me laugh (inside, considering that I was giving my closing argument) and probably made me more comfortable as well.

Now I'm off to work on my memo. I don't want to have to sheet (my physics teacher in h.s. would have pronounced it "shit") to get a good grade.

Maneja Beto & SXSW

2006-02-11T15:18:00.000-08:00

Maneja Beto makes it to the SXSW stage, once again. If I can make it to Austin on the days they're playing, I can be a roadie again!!! Whoooo Hooo! I'm going to try. It was a blast last year. I'll definitely be in Texas then, pero probably in el Valle, so aver que pasa.

Congrats MB!

Cholo Word of the Day - A Huevo

2006-02-03T19:30:00.000-08:00

It seems that I'm taking special requests now. El amigo y chingon blogero Oso has requested a huevo. And I, a huevo have to do it. Aunque me da la hueva, sometimes. Pero, me faltarian hu... (you get it), if I didn't do it.

There are so many different ways of using this. I'll try to capture some. Oh man, this is tough.

Word:
A Huevo

Meaning According To DT:
Right (answer in the affirmative), by force, Yes.

Used in a sentence:
"Refugio, a huevo me vas hacer que me coma este chorizo con huevo?"

"A huevo, Reyes. Yo a huevo me como chorizo con huevo, frijoles con huevo, y hasta el huevo -- a huevo."

Translation according to DT:
"Refugee, do you truly insist on forcing me to eat these exquisite sausage and eggs?"

"Why, yes Mr. King. I would often eat the scrumptious bisquits and jam."

La Bandera - Uh Oh!

2006-02-02T19:53:00.000-08:00

A Chicano in Dallas has decided to protest the war in Iraq by flying the Mexican Flag above the American Flag. It's a pretty interesting story.

Drug Smuggling

2006-01-25T10:26:00.000-08:00

Texas law enforcement along the border is claiming that the Mexican Military is helping drug smugglers get their stash across. Read the story. It's very interesting. They've got the pictures to prove it.

A Good Fight

2006-01-24T20:58:00.000-08:00

I drove past Garfield High School on my way home from school and saw a couple of kids running across the street. It reminded me of the days kids would get into fights at school and split as soon as the fuzz or other authorities showed up. Man, we had some good fights.

I guess I'll preface this post by saying that I don't condone fighting for the most part. Junior High. These might have been the best fights. We had a field across the street from our school. One day, I dunno what the happened, but we all knew that Noe and Cris were going to go at it, at about 3:15, after the bell. As soon as school let out, everyone took of to the field. I can't believe teacher wouldn't find out or maybe they just didn't think it was their duty to stop the fight, since it was after school and off school property. Plus, the year before one of the principals had been beat up when he tried to stop a fight.

Nonetheless, Noe and Cris went at it. Man, it was a great fight. These guys both stayed up punching and kicking each other. Cars were honking. Kids were helling. I could see a couple of neighbors running to call the cops. I think the fight must have lasted 5 minutes, but it seemed like 15. After a while, people stepped in and everyone went their way. The two guys, bloody.

My freshman year in high school we had chingos of fights. My school was a freshman center comprised of all the kids in McAllen. I saw two great fights. One of them was before school started while kids were in line waiting for their physicals, to play sports. Two guys from different parts of town, schools, and rival gangs, started fighting. It was a short fight, because the coaches quickly came outside, but man, those guys were beating the crap out of each other. The smaller guy just kept swinging. I'm not sure there was a clear winner.

The other fight that is vivid is when I was taking a restroom break during one of my classes. The halls were empty and I notice a cholita hanging around. I think she was an office aid. When I came out of the restroom, they were already going at it. I'm not sure where this other girl came from, pero palos! it was on. Hair, scratching, clothes tearing. Man, those girls were tough. They weren't even crying. Even when the security showed up to break them up, they kept fighting.

Again, I don't condone fighting, even though I'm no stranger, but damn, those kids running across the street brought back memories.

Call It A Comback - Blogeros Garcia

2006-01-18T22:04:00.000-08:00

As part of my comeback to the blogging world, my younger brother and I have decided to start a blog together. It's called "Blogeros Garcia." Although we share many of the same views, we do different substantially on a number of issues.

We're hoping for comment/response format! Aver que pasa. We've recently posted our first entries. My brother's writing is far superior than mine, so the only way I can keep up w/ him is by making fun of the big words he uses.

Cholo Word of the Day - Neta

2006-01-15T12:43:00.000-08:00

Neta is usually used to affirm something.

Word:
Neta, or Es La Mera Neta

Meaning According To DT:
really!, it's the truth, no joke, i'm serious, no lie, or the one

Used in a sentence:
"Ey, shorty va ir a law school con los lawyers aquellos, y luego me puede sacar de el bote. Neta."

"Neta Chief? Dile que me tire esquina a mi tambien. Va ser la mera neta."

Translation according to DT:
"Excuse me, Mr. Vertically Challenged will be attending law school in preparation of becoming a lawyer at which time he'll be able to represent me if I am ever unjustly incarcerated.That's the truth."

"Really, Chief? Please advice him that I may seek his counsel as well. He's going to be the real deal."

Charles Lives

2006-01-14T16:51:00.000-08:00

I'm planning a comeback, but first, an amazing story here about Charles Garcia, from the Valley, and his battle to live. I wish I would have read about his blog while he was still alive.

Get On The Bus

2005-12-19T18:39:00.000-08:00

Madre Santisima. Today, I took the bus from Dallas to Austin. It reminded me of when I was a kid and my family would take the bus to visit my grandparents in Mexico. Fond memories; not necessarily good.

I got on the bus after spending several days in Dallas hanging out with some good friends and really doing nothing. My friends are doing well for themselves. The reason I mention this is because I suspect, at least in terms of privileges, my weekend was much different than that of most of the folks on the bus.

My bus took off at 10am. I paid for my ticket and ran to get in line. I made my way to the back as the long line snaked around a vending machine. The people looked tired. A couple of black folks, but mostly mexicanos. It turns out some were coming from Tennesse, Michigan, Oklahoma. There were soldiers on the bus headed to Killeen; Ft. Hood, I imagine.

The thing is, none of us really knew if we were lined up in the right place. Nobody at the bus station came to tell us. The employees weren't rude, but weren't helpful either. After a 30 minute delay, we started making our way on the bus. A guy in front of me listened to Norteño music on his headphones. A guy behind me talked to his friends about a subasta he missed. He buys cars, takes them to Mexico, then sells them. The guy next to me slept. We were crammed in like Sardines. Nobody smiled as we got on the bus. People kept a keen eye on their bags. A kid ran around with a snotty nose and a bag of Cheetos. A stranger helped him find his seat, called him mijo, and patted him on the head. I didn't get peanuts or a free drink.

I turned on my laptop as the bus took off and felt a bit weird. The guy sitting next to me and asked me how much it cost. I gave him an estimate. I started watching a movie and he watched too. Too bad I had my headphones on.

I took the bus because I wanted to save $70. The reality is that I could have easily bought a plane ticket. It would have been much easier and a helluva lot more comfortable. I was glad I took the bus. It wasn't very comfortable, but it was good to be back in a place with a group of folks a couple of years ago I couldn't NOT be a part of.

I thought of my sister's little kid. Will she ever have to take the bus? Probably not. Should she have to? Yup. I'm glad I took the bus. Do I want to do it again? Not if I don't have to.

Principal Punishes Spanish Speaking Student

2005-12-10T00:31:00.000-08:00

My little brother sent me this story about a principal punishing a Mexican kid who spoke Spanish at school.

Here's the email my brother wrote:

December 9, 2005

Mrs. Watts,

I am dismayed by your decision to suspend Zach Rubio from Endeavor
Alternative for speaking Spanish in school. Mr. Rubio's bilingualism
ought to be regarded as a benefit to all of us in this increasingly
interconnected world. Language skills ought to be encouraged not
punished.

I am sure that you are aware of the precarious legal grounds upon which
you have placed yourself, your school, and the school district. I hope
that your irrational and xenophobic decision is brought to full view in a
court of law. That said, legal issues are not the most important guiding
principles that you ignored. As an educator, your responsibility is to
prepare Mr. Rubio and other students for a productive, intellectually
invigorating adulthood. Your decision shuns the economic and social
benefits of multilingualism. Moreover, your actions threaten to quash
intellectual creativity. Your attitude, as reflected by your decision to
suspend Zach, suggests a maniacal need for control.

As a former teacher and current law student, a Chicano, and the son of
immigrants, I am profoundly proud of and benefited by my bilingualism.
Your actions are shameful and unprofessional. I hope that you begin to
amend for your actions by apologizing to Mr. Rubio and his family and
proceed to institute a far reaching language instruction program at your
school that will encourage and teach the myriad advantages of
multilingualism.

Atentamente,

xxxxxxx

jennifer watts (principal)
wattsj@turnerusd202.org
913-288-3690

cheryl waters (secretary)
watersc@turnerusd202.org

They Begin

2005-12-05T20:02:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is my first exam of the fall semester. Torts. It's interesting to see people stressing, staying up till all hours of the night, and walking around like zombies. The library was packed today with folks trying to cram before exams begin tomorrow. I'm pretty calm. I tend not to stress out over things like this. I mean, c'mon. Now, don't get me wrong, I'd like to do as well as the next guy, and I've been working my ass off all year, but if it doesn't happen, it just don't happen.

I'm going into a study group right now and one of the guys is freaking out. He's a nice guy and usually I wouldn't put up with people like that, but he's been very helpful all year. It's just interesting to see. I asked him if his parents put pressure on him to do well, and he said they did. I guess I'm lucky. My parents want us to succeed, but there's never been any pressure. Maybe it's because they never went to school, but I think it's because they realize there are more important things in life. The only pressure to do well is the pressure I put on myself, and at times that's overwhelming; that's when i sit back and eat a bowl of chips and hot sauce and remember that it's just school.

Bueno. Here we go.

Things I'll Never Do Again...

2005-11-30T01:40:00.000-08:00

I was watching the Dallas Cowboys get beat on Thanksgiving Day and I started to think of the things I'll never do again, because I don't have the opportunity to do so, or simply because I don't want to. But, some of these things kind of suck.

Things I'll (Probably) Never Do Again:
1. Play football in pads
2. Play a real baseball game
3. Stand in line for cheese, anticipating the awesome peanut butter they gave
4. Live in the housing projects
5. March in a marching band
6. See my grandparents (any of them)
7. Live with all of my siblings and my parents under one roof
8. Take a University Math class (sweet!)
9. Take the LSAT (even sweeter)
10. Wear a swatch watch

Law School & Social Justice

2005-11-13T22:19:00.000-08:00

Here's the question I've been asking myself? How can laywers serve their community, but not work for a social justice organization of public interest group. And, is it realistic that lawyers, really want to help people?

Well, the answer to my first question is probably pretty simple. Do pro-bono work. Volunteer and all those other chingaderas. But if you're already working 60+ hours at a firm and loving your work, is it realistic that you have time to volunteer? Should I be interested in providing social justice to "my community" or should I be interested in providing social justice to "MY COMMUNITY" (i.e. my parents, so that they don't have to keep working two jobs)? What's more important?

Well, the remedy, I guess is that large firms and the such should have pro-bono opportunities for their employees. In my short time in law school I've alredy dealt with large firms whose employees are out helping folks. That's a pretty good deal, but not done often enough.

Y luego, how do you convince law students, that no matter what type of job they take, they should help folks? One of my classmates said, "Like if lawyers really want to help people!" My school I think does a pretty decent job at this, even though they're hard core about getting their rankings up. So, that's exactly the issue. How can you push a social justice mission, while having a goal to really become a "high ranking" school. (btw, my school is a jesuit school, w/ a lesbian dean, and a hush hush quasi affirmative action program , w/ a social justice mission- pretty progressive, huh?). The Access to Justice Institute, helps out poor folks, and the university.

Anyway, so, here's the dilema. If you let kids in, who want to do public interest work, you're school doesn't move up in the rankings. Schools are often judged by the amount of kids that go work for firms and make a lot of money.

Also, if you have an affirmative action program (the one I'm reaping the benefits), the rankings are often hurt by default. I mean, shit, the reason I'm at SU, is because my LSAT scores sucked. If I could take standardized tests, not to pat myself on the back, but w/ my undergrad work and professional experience, I'd at least be at UT.

But nonetheless, I'm really glad I'm at a school who stresses social justice, even if they are preparing students for the corporate world. It makes me feel good when my Dean talks about race and gender issues to a room full of corporate lawyers.

Not sure if any of this made sense, I was just thinking.

Firme

2005-11-09T11:36:00.000-08:00

I'm preparing for exams and everthing is hectic, but I wanted to post because I received an email from the creator of Horchata Design telling me his launched his t-shirt designs. Man, man friend is more talented that I knew.

Check these awesome designs out. I'm glad I received this right now when I'm preparing for my exams. It reminds me of the talented and amazing people I met about 10 years ago. It makes me think of the people who I don't talk to in 5 years, but when I see them, it's like we never left.

Writing

2005-10-27T22:13:00.000-07:00

This is what I spend my time writing now:

T conveys a life estate to A and has a reversion because there is a future interest left in the grantor (T) who transfers a vested estate of a lesser quantum (life estate) than that of the vested estate (fee simple absolute) which he has. A’s heirs now have a vested remainder subject to open because the future interest is vested in a class of persons, at least one of who is qualified to take possession, but the shares of the class members are not yet fixed because more persons can subsequently become members of the class.

Not so fun, but at least my teacher is a sarcastic MoFo who likes to make fun of kids who think they know it all. He's pretty hillarious.

Racist Singers

2005-10-25T17:56:00.000-07:00

Sweet, this young little racist girls are trying to find a home in the Pacific Northwest.

She's Gone

2005-10-09T23:21:00.000-07:00

I can't put it into words right now, but I found out a couple of hours ago that she's gone.

Mexican Immigrants Targeted in Georgia

2005-10-02T23:33:00.000-07:00

This sucks.

Authorities have linked a string of home invasions that left five Mexican immigrants dead with an armed robbery that occurred last month after reviewing descriptions of weapons used in both crimes.

Javier Guzman and Juventino Leon were assaulted in their trailer on Sept. 13 by three men wielding chrome pistols and baseball bats, similar to the weapons used in the south Georgia slayings on Friday.

The Daily Scuba Diver

2005-09-25T18:43:00.000-07:00

The Daily Texican became the Daily Scuba Diver this weekend. I'm officially certified by PADI. I was probably the worst scuba diver in the class, but I made it. One of my classmates is an instructor and convinced my friend and I to take his class.

My "buddy" is a law school friend and extremely reckless. I on the other hand am extremely conservative in the water. I like things done by the book, so as you can imagine, this was a winning combination. My friend kept throwing crabs in my face and other crap he would find under water. It was pretty damn funny, except when he inadvertently knocked my regulator (breathing thing) out of my mouth 2x underwater.

I did the open water diver course and froze my ass off in the water today. Well, it's only cold for about 5 seconds. The wet suit works really well.

Spring break (yes, a 28 year old said "spring break") here I come!!

Oh, I think I'll get some pictures to post soon.

More Raza at UT

2005-09-23T11:33:00.000-07:00

I like this. It turns out that as enrollment at UT decreases, the number of Raza and others increases. Now, we have to get it higher. I think the percentage of Raza in Texas, the State, hovers around 40%.

Los Olvidados

2005-09-22T21:59:00.000-07:00

"They're forgotten man," he said. "Los Olvidados," I thought. I checked my phone messages at 11:30p.m. Wednesday night as I was leaving Sullivan Hall. My friend, a fellow Tejana living in Seattle, had left a message a couple of hours prior asking me to call her. It was urgent. It turns out a group of volunteer workers in New Orleans came upon a group of Mexicanos in dire need of medical attention. One problem. Nobody around to translate - at least to translate medical terms. Somehow the call made it all the way to me.

I called the phone number she gave me. A North Carolina cell phone number. Midnight here, 2a.m. over there. Sincere, an African-American volunteer answered.

"What's the deal," he said.
"Yea, I heard you need translators," I said.
"Yea, when can you get here, where are you?"
Silence.
"I'm in Seattle man," my voice almost cracking.

I felt helpless. Sincere told me that it was "bad." He told me a "sister" was down in the neighborhoods right now, but she needed help. He was talking about a Latina. A sister in the struggle. A sister in the trenches. The language used by organizers, activists, volunteers.

He asked me if I had family in Texas. I told him my sister in Houston was evacuating as we spoke. Rita is coming. He told me he would pray. Then he went on to tell me that the Latinos were being forgotten in this tragedy. "We're getting the attention, you know, the African-Americans, but there's a lot of Lahteenos. They don't even speak the language. And you know it's bad for everybody."

I know. My uncle lives in Mississippi. Works on a casino boat. The storm didn't hit him. I remembered back to a couple of weeks ago reading a story in the New York Times about how immigrants were afraid to receive help from government officials for fear of being deported. Chingado, man. Get some help. They won't deport you, I hope.

By now, we know what Rita did. I hope it's not too bad. The point - a thank you and applause to all the volunteers and the students at Seattle University who spent countless hours raising money, selling pizza, folding clothes, singing "Georgia" and playing the piano. Gracias.

Let's argue. Let's discuss. And let's disagree. But let's remember, there are still people dying.

She's A Coming

2005-09-21T22:03:00.000-07:00

My sister left Houston tonight. I'm not sure if she'll make it to her planned destination, Dallas, but she's left Houston, before Rita hits. So, I got to thinking about looting.

We saw what happened in New Orleans where desperate people broke into stores to get water and food to feed their families and where thugs stole t.v.'s and money. We also saw some people who were killed by criminals and not the storm. I wonder if I would arm myself? Considering we're in Texas, I wonder how many people are polishing up their weapons.

I'm not a big gun person, but man, I think I'd have my Carabina 30/30 cleaned and ready for action. It just got me to thinking.

Como Si Nada

2005-09-18T11:00:00.000-07:00

El Dies y Seis de Septiembre came and went, like nothing. There was no mention of the day on t.v., in the newspapers, by kids around school, or even at the restaurants that usually use these Mexican Holidays to capitalize on selling more Margaritas. I was kinda bummed.

I was bummed, not because I have ever "celebrated" or even attended any functions related to 16 de Septiembre, other than checking out the grito on t.v., but because NOBODY made any mention of it anywhere. I tell you Dorothy, I'm not longer in Texas.

The one thing I always do try to do, is like previously mentioned, is check out the grito on t.v. Really, I like watching the music performances and the people gathering before the event takes place. It's pretty cool.

I've been fortunate enough to visit Dolores Hidalgo and learn about some history before then, pero me aguite un poco.

Representing

2005-09-08T21:50:00.000-07:00

I turns out there's another person from McAllen at my school! Freakin' weird. I met her today, even though I had seen her around before. That's kind of cool. She went to another high school and graduated two years after me, but still cool. McAllen is in the house.

Laters. Studying.

Wow!

2005-09-01T08:30:00.000-07:00

This is an email I received from the company I used to work for. Very impressive.:

Team:

I watched the news reports on Hurricane Katrina last night for the first time, and was shocked by the extent of the suffering and devastation our neighbors are experiencing in New Orleans and the Gulf coast. I don’t know if you have seen the news, but thousands are presumed dead, tens of thousands are living in anarchy with no drinking water or food, and hundreds of thousands are displaced from their homes. It is hard to believe one of our great American cities has been destroyed overnight.

It is easy to immerse ourselves in the daily financial struggles of our own lives, and focus on the fiscal goals we have set for our own families. But as your payroll checks are direct deposited today in your individual bank accounts, I challenge each of you to consider how rich our lives really are, and whether it is appropriate to give something to ease the suffering and loss of the victims of Katrina.

One Technologies is going to give $1,000 today to the American Red Cross on behalf of our team. R., A., and myself encourage you to join us in helping these people, and therefore in addition we will match everything our employees give to charitable organizations for the next 2 weeks. Pick a charity you believe in, print out the receipts, and bring them to me and we will donate with you on the same day.

Thanks for taking the time to consider the plight of those affected by Hurricane Katrina, and don’t hesitate to come and talk to me if you have any questions.

In The Jungle

2005-08-20T23:25:00.000-07:00

I sat at my usual study area at the SU Law Library today to read the hundreds of pages required for my first day of class on Monday. Nearing the 7th hour my back started aching, my head started hurting, and I was getting a bit hungry even though I took a lunch break earlier in the day and also took many water and restroom breaks. Hijueso I was exhausted. Me estaba llevando a la chingada mi espalda.

Last week I was home in McAllen and every morning when I woke up my parents were both gone to work. My father now has an office job working in my older brother's office, but my mom still works in a factory. "Es una bodega," she says. You'd think with five college educated kids there'd be enough cash to go around so she wouldn't have to work, but because of my parent's pride and because even with decent jobs it's still not as easy as one would think, my mom has to work in a bodega. And for some reason I'm reminded of Upton Sinclair's The Jungle. It might be a stretch, but nonetheless, it reminded me.

She comes home after 8 or 10 hours of work sweating because there is no air-conditioning in this "bodega" and the temperatures are reaching 100 degrees. I hear the car when she arrives porque anda fallando. Es que las llantas ya no sirven.
She begins to tell me about her work as if it's the first time she's told me. "Ahora me dieron 250 papelitos y se los tuve que poner a los 250 abrigos que mandaron por la linia." She was attaching labels on 250 coats that flew through the line. At 57 my mom still works harder than the other workers. I've seen her work, she doesn't stop. But not, she comes home and talks about how tired she is before she begins doing house work. Yup, she getting older.

I stretched my back and kept reading. I drank some water and kept taking notes. I studied some more, just as I did this summer, and just as I've done for the last several days since I've been back in Seattle. People ask why I'm so serious about school. Well. I'm not sure if my focus will do me any good, but I want to feel like I did my all to ensure that I didn't cheat myself or anyone else of a receiving the education I am here to get. People ask why I'm so serious about school.

Un Abrazo, Two Pats on the Back, Y Besos All Around

2005-08-11T11:01:00.000-07:00

My first stop as I drove in to the Valley was at my friend's new apartment. He greeted me outside
of his apartment with the embrace customary for friends who have not seen each other in a while - the abrazo w/
two heart felt pats on the back. I knew I was home.

I find that there's a difference even among the Mexican abrazo used by men depending on what part of the state the
abrazo is being initiated. Two hours after flying into Austin Thursday night I went over to see
Maneja Beto in action. It was the first show in about a month and coincidentally it happened to be on
the same day I was flying into town. One of my friends already had a cold Lone Star waiting for me when I arrived at the bar.
He's one of my handshake friends (maybe because he's a gringo, but he's as good a friend as I have).
I took my beer and started making my rounds. Un abrazo aqui, un beso a las muchachas, otro abrazo aca. I noticed it
immediately. The abrazo was more of a warm, gentle, embrace. It was genuine and soft. No great ordeal. We talked,
caught up, and had a great time.

The next day I met a long time friend for lunch and I reached over and gave her a hug (no beso, she's a hug friend,
maybe because she's a gringita).

In San Antonio the next day I visited with some other friends. Bueno, una amiga, y sus amigas. Estas que si son
fresas (even though when she reads this I'm sure I'll get a nasty email from her professing not to be one). I was
with my primo and some of his friends. My friend arrived and of course I gave her a hug and a kiss. She soon
introduced me to her friends and one of the girls me dio un beso, las otras dos estaban sentadas and didn't get up
but smiled. At the end of the night, besos all around. At some point during the night my primo bought me a beer and
I turned around to thank him. He gave me the Mexican (or is it?) backward hand "you're welcome." You know what that
is, right? Instead of showing the palm, you show the top of your hand when you wave and add some emphasis (un
poquito de umphhh).

This week I've been spending time with my high school friends. There's an abrazo with two and sometimes three
(usually reserved for family) hard,firm,loud pats on the back. My friends and I were joking about this the other day
and one of them said that his tio is always the guy that over-does it and after the initial abrazo
either pushes him, slaps him on the ass, or says "ven paca cabron. Dejame darte otro abrazo."

I love being home.

In Absentia

2005-08-08T16:09:00.000-07:00

8/02/05 - Criminal Law Final
8/04/05 - Fly to Austin, woman at SeaTac aiport says "there's no point," after I ask her if I should get my ticket the normal way. Apparently, I'm on some list and have to be checked 100 times before getting on a plane.
8/04/05 - Maneja Beto concert in Austin
8/05/05 - lunch w/ friend, then go to San Antonio for part 1 of sister's graduation
8/05/05 - drive back to Austin
8/06/05 - drive to S.A. for part 2
8/06/05 - go out and see friends
8/07/05 - drive to McAllen (meet friend for lunch)
8/08/05 - play Mr. Mom for sis' kid

I'll post soon.

Cholo Word of the Day - Safado

2005-07-22T23:16:00.000-07:00

We used to use this word all of the time. It literally means loose. Instead of saying, estas pendejo or something, we opted for "estas safado."

Word:
Safado

Meaning According To DT:
crazy, dumb, messed, loco

Used in a sentence:
"El Chiquis esta bien safado. El etro day se fue pa' la store en sus chones. Andaba bien cuete."

"Nombre Muribindo, es que su morra lo trae a el puro pedo. No lo deja salir. Y cuando se pela, se hace take off real quick."

Translation according to DT:
"Mr. Enrique (En-Ree-Kay) is a tad bit off kilter. On the morrow he visited the market in his unmentionables. I believe he was slightly inebriated or out of his element."

"Well, Muribond, I believe the reason behind his actions are quite clear. His lady in waiting is quite demanding, so when he ventures out, he's acts with haste."

Much Ado About Nothing

2005-07-20T06:47:00.000-07:00

Emily has decided to take a detourand spare the Valley. My brother decided he would ride out the hurricane at South Padre Island. Really smart. I talked to my mom this morning and she told me they're going to leave the house boarded up in anticipation of the next hurricane. Uh huh, that means those damn things will be up for the next 5 years. Does anyone even know what I'm talking about?

Ay Emilia! Stay Away.

2005-07-18T21:14:00.000-07:00

Hurricane Emily sure is causing headaches for folks along the Gulf of Mexico. I'm lucky, I have fun hurricane stories. Today my pops called me during class to ask if I still had contacts at the local t.v. station because the city was ignoring him. He wanted them to pick up all of the debris (tree branches, rocks, dirt) next to the house (the local community college is building a parking lot) so that the winds would't send all that mugrero crashing over to the house. The city manager had already returned his call by the time I got in touch with him, before my Dad could sick the news on him. I thought it was hillarious. (this is for another post, but he would have never of thought of doing that before I became a reporter and the debris would have probably never been removed -- see, going to college does pay off).

I called home this evening and my folks told me that they had started boarding up the windows, moved all of the lawn chairs and other chingaderas that could fly away into the storage room, and cleaned out the garage to make room for a car. I think the tabla from the window to my old room stayed covering the window for about 6 years and finally fell off last year. We'll see how long those boards last this time - kinda like christmas lights.

When I was a kid, and since we lived in El Campito where the houses weren't very sturdy, we used to go to a shelter everytime a Hurricane came. The red cross ran the joint and chingos of poor families would trickle in as the rains got worse. The red cross provided food and blankets, sometimes. It was interesting. I remember looking across the hall (at the h.s.) and seeing hundreds of people just laying on the floor with their blankets. Every now and then someone would cough and then a flashlight would turn on. My older siblings made friends with the red cross volunteers and they'd become part of the volunteer team. My dad would meet every damn person there while he was walking around the halls whistling. I think I just watched and ran around the school which I thought was huge. Then, the hurricane would be over, and ya. Otra vez. Back home.

We stopped going to shelters when I got to 8th grade I think. I think I missed them for a while. Seeing all of the people there was kind of cool, even though I didn't realize we were there because we didn't have a house that could withstand the storm. I just hope people don't have to go to shelters this year. I hope Emilia stays away.

The Married Man's Best Friend

2005-07-16T00:31:00.000-07:00

Yup, that's me. Everywhere I go I happen to be the married man's best friend. Why, you ask? Because wives trust me. Why, you ask? Because my married friends can say that they stayed out all night, because I didn't want to go home. I don't mind. I'm their outlet. They're not doing anything wrong. Believe it or not, I have a conscience and I make sure they do too. Plus, my friends are of good character.

Tonight, my class had a function at the Washington State Bar and afterwards we decided to go grab some drinks. I have a married friend and I was his ride. He's pretty cool. He invites me over to his house, his wife cooks, and I play with their kids. Last weekend I went with them to a soccer game. Bien buena gente.

Today, we hit the town after the event and stayed out not so late, but apparently late for a married man. We got to his place at about 11:30pm, but made sure to stop by Wendy's before we got to his house. It would "soften the blow."

"She'll ignore me tomorrow until 3p.m. and then when we get to my brother's BBQ, she'll talk to me." Dude, she's going to hate me. "She's not going to hate you." She opens the door because my friend doesn't have a key. I have a couple of burgers in my hand. "It's not his fault." She semi-smiles at me and I feel akward. She walks upstairs and we eat our burgers.

Back in McAllen, the same thing. My married friend and I (different dude of course) went out to another friend's house. We stayed a good while and I was ready to go home at about 2a.m. He wasn't. The next morning, "hey dude, I was at your house till 5a.m." Me: "Uh, ok."

One year later the wife walks up to me and tells me: "I don't like it when he hangs out w/ you because you're a bad influence." Little does she know I'm anti-strip clubs, I rarely drink, I don't do drugs, I have a conscience, and I hate to spend cash. I take the abuse and smile.

That seems to be me. I'm the married man's best friend. I'm 28 and they can blame it on me. To tell you the truth, I don't mind. My friends are good guys. They're not doing anything wrong other than not going home at the time they're supposed to. It sucks, but it happens. I think it keeps them sane. That's the way it is and I'll continue to be that guy.

The Problem with the U.S. Soccer Team

2005-07-11T08:12:00.000-07:00

The problem with the U.S. soccer team is not that they are not good (we're ranked #10 in the world), it's the FANS.

I went to the U.S.A. vs. Canada game this weekend at Quest Field and the damn Candians were much better organized. They had chants and cheers and sat together. The Americans - Nada! My friend/classmate (when can you start calling people your friend?)offered me a ticket. He and his wife, who happened to be wearing a United States and Mexico jersey, respectively, and I went. We sat in the front row and cheered and even managed to heckle some of the Canadians and please some of the Cubans and Puerto Ricans from the previous game. The game was a blast, but the fans no valian.

I understand nobody likes soccer here. It's too slow. It's too boring. It takes forever to score a goal. It's not football. Bueno, but the fans that are at the game -- por favor.

The best part about the fans was that there was a good contingency of Costa Ricans watching the early game and they were loud and cheering and booing and doing everything fans should do. As soon as the Costa Rica game finished, they traded in their Costa Rican flags for an American flag and continued being loud and cheering and booing and doing everything fans should do.

It was fun though.

El Dia De La Virgen Del Refugio

2005-07-04T12:28:00.000-07:00

Es el dia cuatro de Julio, the fourth of July. This morning people from the neighboring towns of El Refugio, Queretaro, wake up before three a.m. to make the trek to pay homage to the Virgen del Refugio. La Fiesta Patria del Refugio has been going on for a week now.

Eight years ago today, my grandfather Manuel Hernandez, said goodbye to this world. Today, the altar is there for him, and my grandmother is once again wrapping up the novenario. The man leading the rosario would kneel in front of the Virgen holding his sombrero in one hand and the rosary in the other and begin to pray. Ave Maria Purismima....Padre Nuestro..Sin Pecado Consevida...Amen...

Today the novenario ends and I sit in a cubicle at my law school studying for the week I am about to encounter and I think about my abuelito. I think about how strong of a man he was. Then I think about how my parents are also getting older and how important family is. Irasali captured it perfectly when she talked about her grandmother.

My grandfather was a strong man. People came to him for advice and he never turned a hungry soul away, even if he too was hungry. I wrote this while I was still in Dallas:

This summer I visited the tiny Mexican pueblo of El Refugio where fences are made of stone, dirt roads are the only roads, and water is stored in wells, for my grandfather’s novenario. The nine day traditional Catholic tribute to the dead brought together old men and women, middle aged couples and the occasional child to my grandmother’s two-room adobe home. The day before my visit to El Refugio I had been sitting in a cushy chair in my air-conditioned downtown Dallas office. Now in El Refugio I stood next to the faithful while they prayed and I mouthed prayers I did not know. People paid their respects to a man who had done so much for them. He was not formally educated, but still represented neighbors when they had issues with local police, politicians, and municipalities; all of whom respected him. I have always been inspired by my grandfather’s story, leaving his young family to work in Mexico’s northern states and the United States as a bracero, but this day I was visiting his home wanting to take with me some of his courage, enthusiasm, and will to serve the people,...

Tonight the bells will toll. It's called El Doble. My grandmother, my mom, some tios, and other older people will be praying inside my abuelitas house and the church bells will toll letting El Refugio know that today we remember a great man. Some people will make the sign of the cross while they are walking to the corner store, cooking dinner, or sitting and chatting. The people inside my grandmother's house will get a chill down their spine and remember.

For more pictures go here.

Talking Race in the Pacific Northwest

2005-07-04T01:22:00.000-07:00

I have only been in Seattle for four weeks and I have already been told several times that I talk too much about race. "Why does it always have to be about race?" I feel like saying, "because it always is."

My theory is (and feel free to blast it) that people are even LESS comfortable talking about race, racism, and sensitive issues here than they are in the South. I think people here feel that because Seattle is so "liberal" that people are all equal. Everyone is on the same level. There's no reason to talk about race if everyone is on the same level. Well, I hate to break the news, but I'm still brown and most of my classmates are still White or Asian.

I make jokes about race and there's uncomfortable laughter. I make a comment in class and people look uncomfortable. C'mon. It's who we are for pepe's sake.

The other thing about being up here that people started telling me as soon as I got here is that the locals aren't very inviting. The people here are extremely nice, but that's as far as they'll go. They won't let you in. I was talking about this to a new friend over dinner the other day and she thinks it's because it's always raining over here. People tend to retreat into their homes. They shut the doors on the rain and others. She's a fellow Texican and feels that way.

No se. I'm going to continue talking about what I like to talk about. We'll see what kind of reactions I get. I don't want our society to be color blind. I want everyone to see that we're different colors, so that we can learn from each other. So that we can be better people. I want you to know that I'm a Chicano from South Texas. I want you to teach me about yourself. And I want to make fun of your dancing skills (or lack thereof).

The Person of Color Hello!

2005-07-02T01:15:00.000-07:00

It's the first day of class and you're scanning the room trying to find anyone who looks like you or whose name resembles yours. This is what often happens when college students go to class. You spot somebody, make eye contact, and acknowledge each other. We all do it, but it seems that black people are more conscious of this than Mexicans. Well, except in Seattle.

This post all goes back to a couple of days ago. My study partners, 2 black girls and one Mexicano, and I were taking a break outside of our law building before we hit the books again when a black dude walked by. The girls looked at him and he turned the other way. It was hillarious because the girls I was with started talking shit as soon as he didn't acknowledge him. One of them more than the other. The one girl, lived a long time in the South, and says that black people in the South all acknowledge each other. I'm not sure if that's true, but it sounds true.

So, I started thinking about raza. I do usually make an effort to say hello to my brethren, but even in Texas, it's not so common. Here, a couple of the Mexicanos not in my class have looked at me, but don't really say anything. The raza in my class is cool. I walked up to them on my first day of class and now I'm starting to develop a pretty good friendship w/ one of them.

It's just interesting to me how we look for people with whom we can identify.

Pentrexyl - Medicina Mala

2005-06-26T23:58:00.000-07:00

For two weeks straight my wisdom tooth felt like it was about to rip my gums open. It hurt chingos and there was nothing I could do about it. I don't have dental insurance and I don't want to go to the dentist because I can't be out for a couple of days, since I just started school. So I figured I'd tough it out. Then, I talked to my mom.

"No tienes Pentrexyl?

Why the hell didn't I think of that. I snagged a couple of pills of this powerful drug last time I was at home. Sure enough I'm feeling fantastic today. Hijueso, I should have known.

I've always taken Mexican medicine for my ailments (when yerbas didn't do the job). My allergies were terrible until I started taking Celestimina F. Even the Mexican government took that off of their shelves. Y for las vitaminas, I bet some of you used to drink the tres eses (SSS). I did.

It's different though now that I'm not living in Texas. Where the hell do I go for medicine like Pentrexyl? Can I ask my mom to mail it to me? Is that even legal? I dunno, but it worked.

Cholo Word of the Day - Mochate

2005-06-20T01:29:00.000-07:00

Surprise. Mochate is a common term. Mochar literally means to cut. Mochate used as slang can mean several different things and I'll try to illustrate them. The word can stand alone or be used in a phrase "se mocho."

Word:
Mochate

Meaning According To DT:
give me some, let me, share

When used in a phrase "se mocho" can mean "he shared" or "she put out." Actually, it's probably more than just putting out.

Used in a sentence:
"Orejas, mochate con la feria porque tengo que hacer buy un t.v."

"Nombre Pepe, no traigo ni pa el gas, pero si se mocha tu ruca, maybe we can work out una deal."

Translation according to DT:
"Large ears, please be so kind as to give me the funds owed because I would like to buy TIVO."

"Let me apologize in advance Joseph, I'm running so low on money right now that I don't even have enough for fuel. But, if your lady in waiting would like to accompany me to the movies, we might be able to work something out."

Natural Disaster

2005-06-17T19:33:00.000-07:00

It turns out there are things other than law school I should worry about. Tsunami's and Earthquakes! What the hell? I guess I should have known, but nobody told me about this crap and I didn't even think about it. This week there was a false Tsunami scare that never happened. A Tsunami! The only thing I know about Tsuami's is what I saw a couple of months ago on t.v. and that was crazy. They also have Earthquakes here - gasp. Now, mostly everyone I talked to tells me that none of these Natural phenomenons are very common, but damn, it's still scary. I mean, we have Hurricanes and Tornados in Texas, but the Hurricanes that hit have always been chafia and the Tornados, well - yea, I guess they're bad. The only thing I knew how to do in Texas was stop, drop and roll.

No Phone and the Library

2005-06-14T22:35:00.000-07:00

It's amazing how many people in law school don't have cell phones. Yikes. I've seen more people using a pay phone at my school than I have in downtown Austin. What's up with that?

Anyway, I started school yesterday and I've spent most of my time after class in the library. I'm a bit ahead of my reading and I want to make sure I stay that way. We'll see if I can continue my trend. Aver que.

I've been surprised by the Latinos I've encountered here. My Legal Writing professor is a Chicana. The Student Bar Association president is a Chicana. I have a classmate whose mom and dad are from Texas, Edinburg and Eagle pass, respectively. They were migrant workers and ended up in Easter Washington. There are two other Mexican kids in my class, but I don't really know them. I'm hanging w/ the Russian kids for some reason. My group is three Russians and me -- they're real Russians too and today one of the kids was talking about how when he was in elementary school he would go to class and the teacher would make them sit a certain way. He had to have his arms setting on the table, one above the other. You know, the typical russian pose. And, one day he forget his little tie (for his uniform) and they kicked him out of school. Oh, and he was talking about how they had this sweet ass pencil protector. That's it.

One of the Russian girls is 20 years old! She's in freakin' law school. I told her to chill out and enjoy her 20's, but apparently she doesn't subscrible to my notion of enjoying life. She took two years to finish college and she told me her sister started law school a couple of days before she turned 18. That's ridiculous, but oh well.

That's it. I'm off.

One Day

2005-06-12T20:42:00.000-07:00

I took some time visit the lake today before my first day of class tomorrow and took a couple of pictures. I was wearing a jacket and these crazy people were swimming! The temperature may have reached the low 70's and I saw people sun bathing.

While I was sitting there I realized I moved across the country to go to school! What the hell? Then I started to think of how nice it would be to have a law school in the Rio Grande Valley. I'm pretty sure I would have gone to school there if I could have. Now, I did have the opportunity to attend a couple of schools in Texas (not my first choice), but I opted not to. I figured I might as well live outside of Texas for once in my life.

This post may not make sense to most of you who aren't from South Texas, so please bear with me. It's time for the Rio Grande Valley to get a freakin' law school. It's time for the Rio Grande Valley to get a freakin' medical school. Lawmakers have worked to get a medical center to the Valley, but it's not a medical school. I think there used to be a law school in the Valley (Reynaldo Garza School of Law), but it's no longer there.

I argue the need for a law school and med school because the Rio Grande Valley is an area with over 1 million people. Mosly raza. Mostly poor. The valle includes cities like McAllen, Harlingen, and Brownsville. According to this recent Dallas Morning News article about racismat the Southwestern Medical Center in Dallas,

black and Hispanic doctors were more likely to serve minority patients than their white peers...

I think the same may be true for lawyers, even though I have no research to back that up. I think at this point a Medical school is more important than a law school, but it's sad, that I have to say I would choose one over the other. We should have both. That part of the state needs it. Is it because most of the people down there are brown? I don't know. Is it because most people down there are poor? Probably.

I hope to go back home to work for a while, but I also will not limit myself to the job limitations in the Valley. Now, on to my first day of school.

Mad Hot Ballroom - Watch It!

2005-06-11T00:21:00.000-07:00

There are certain things you do when you live in a city and don't really know anybody. I've spent my time at the library, a bit at the gym, cleaning here and there and watching a couple of movies. Tonight, under the recommendation of my friend, I went to watch Mad Hot Ballroom.

The movie is amazing and I highly recommend it. I promise you won't be dissapointed or you can throw the $9 freakin' dollar movie ticket in the attendants face. I didn't realize movies were that expensive!

Mad Hot Ballroom is an inspiring look inside the lives of New York City kids on a journey into the world of ballroom dancing, an unexpected arena where they discover new frontiers about attitude, movement, style and commitment.

My favorite kid in the documentary is Wilson. He's a recent immigrant from the Dominican Republic who doesn't speak English. You HAVE to go to the Mad Hot Ballroom web site, click on Trailers/Clips then click on Wilson/Elsamelys Competing The Rumba. This clip is great.

Where's the Chile?

2005-06-09T16:11:00.000-07:00

My first grocery shopping experience in Seattle was not a good one. They don't sell chile over here. I went to a Safeway store near my house and asked the girl for the "hot sauce" aisle. NADA.

She took me and pointed me to aisle cuatro. I looked and looked y naranjas. I looked again and there in half of half a shelf stood a lonely bottle of tabasco sauce asking me to buy it. I'm telling you, there were probably only 3 different brands of sauce and that's it. No la chingen, I thought. I don't necessarily expect them to have my Valentina sauce, pero algo si quiera. Nombre, me dejaron con el osico abierto.

Then I went to look for fajitas just in case I have a carne asada. Apparently the vacas are scarce in the state of Washinton, porque I didn't find fajitas either. How the hell do people cook out?

Maybe they all cook out like the folks who graciously hosted my brother and me this weekend. They made hamburgers and hotdogs. The cook asked, "Would you like a hamburger or a hotdog?" I thought, "OR, what the hell, or?! I want both." I don't think I had ever seen anyone take orders at a bbq. Pero, they were nice enough to have us over, so si quiera nos dieron eso.

I need to find a carniceria or something, porque this ain't gonna cut it. Looks like I'll be eating Maccarroni and Cheese for a while.

Listen And You Will Find

2005-06-08T15:12:00.000-07:00

My brother and I quickly found out that we could tell how much Raza was in a specific town by scanning the dial for Spanish-language radio stations. We figured the more stations the more raza. Chingado, the only place we couldn't find a station was for about 1 hour leaving Califas and entering Oregon (it was also difficult to get English stations in the Mountains, so that may have been the problem). We would find a station and listen to the mostly annoying d.j.:

ESTE SABADO, ESTE SABADO, EN EL GUERRERO'S BALLROOM, LOS TERMINARIOS DE CHIHUAHUA!!! ESTE SABADO, DAMAS GRATIS antes de las 8, ESTE SABADO, ALLI NOS VEMOS. ESTE SABADO!!!

How can we possibly think this guy sounds good? And it's like they clone them, because they're the same from Texas, to Arizona, thru Califas, and into Guashinton.

We drove through Arizona where we saw a sign welcoming the locos from The Minuteman Project.

We drove through the desert and the mountains where not even vultures hover over. My brother and I wondered how the hell raza crossed throgh there? It's insane. The drive was hot, lonely, deserted - can you imagine what a multi-day walk with no water feels like?

Most of my family on my mom's side crossed through Califas, but back then they used to cross through some tunnels underground. By tunnels, I imagine they mean sewer systems. I need to get some clarification on that next time I see them.

There is raza everywhere. I've talked to a couple of Mexicanos in Seattle. According to them, there are a lot, but I think we have different criteria. There are no FM spanish radio stations in Seattle and maybe one 24 hours station on AM. There are 4 that I have found total that play Spanish music part of the day. The girl at the restaurant who wrote down the stations for me told me which one she thought was the best, then made a face when she pointed at the last one and said:

"Esa es mas para los Chilangos."

We laughed.

She says: "oh, Ustedes son Chilangos?"

We said: "No"

Then she smiled and brought us some free chips and salsa.

Update: I found a spanish FM station tonight.

Settling In Seattle

2005-06-06T22:44:00.000-07:00

Damn, there is a lot of raza in this country. I'll talk more about that in future posts, but for now I find myself settling into Seattle. I arrived Saturday afternoon after driving through Texas, Arizona, Califas, and Oregon. I apologize to all of you I did not stop and visit!

We spent one night in San Diego hanging out with one of my brother's old law school classmates. He hooked us up with skybox seats to the Padres/Cubs game. It was a blast.

My brother and I have been visiting with several of his old friends. It's really cool to get to see these lawyers chatting with each other. Hopefully, it'll help me out in some way! One of the girls is working at Microsoft and in charge of the legal internship program. We'll see. I also met some other folks doing non-profit work, so it'll be a good balance.

I was watching the news when I came to visit a couple of weeks ago and guess what? I saw an old college buddy of mine. He's still doing t.v. news. George Howell is working for KOMO-TV in Seattle. He was kind enough to give us a tour of the station. It was pretty good catching up with him and I'm sure he'll be very successful.

Bueno - I'll update more as I get a chance.

I'm Off To Seattle

2005-05-31T22:26:00.000-07:00

I take off bright and early tomorrow. I've been really busy getting everything in order and saying my final farewells to folks, so I've neglected the blog. I should arrive in Seattle sometime this weekend, so that's when I'll be online again. Maybe I'll do an audio post! Bueno, I'll be back later.

A little late

2005-05-27T17:55:00.000-07:00

This is the view I had from the Hotel room in downtown Seattle. Pretty sweet.

Culture Shock

2005-05-26T12:59:00.000-07:00

My friend from the Valley and I were having a chat about my impending move to Seattle. I remarked to her how I would be one of only a handful of brown folk at the school. I told her it didn't bother me and that in fact, I thrive in those environments. She asked me if I was going to experience culture shock. I told her I experienced culture shock when I went to UT.She told me she experienced culture shock when she went to A&M. She's white and experienced culture shock when she saw so many other white people. Imagine that.

My friend grew up in the Rio Grande Valley. She's originally from Ohio, but her dad moved the family down there and started a very successful produce company. It's interesting that she says she experienced culture shock.

White people often talk about experiencing culture shock in the Valley. We could say, "It's not the same. Socio-economic class has a lot to do with it." And in some respect it does, but it doesn't mean that a gringita growing up in the Valley doesn't feel weird when she goes to a piñata. I guess we might be able to ask Oso about this, as well.

La Gallina

2005-05-25T19:58:00.000-07:00

On my way to work I turned up the radio when I heard a song I hadn't heard in many years. I just realized how ridiculous it is. I'm not sure I know how to spell any of the lyrics, so bear with me. By the way, the 3 minute song only has two verses.

"La Gallina esta cacaraciando"
"Pone un huevo luego cacaraciando"

That's it. Then the accordion plays. Oh man, I wish I could find an mp3 of this song.

Seattle Adventures and the CHOLA

2005-05-22T21:44:00.000-07:00

I spent most of the past week in Seattle. I went get my things in order before I start law school. Here are some things that happened on the trip:

1. My driver's license expired 5 days before my trip and I didn't realize it until I was getting my ticket.

2. I was chosen by the ticket agents and the airport security to undergo "special security revisions"

3. The old lady sitting next to me on the plane spilled her V-8 on me.

4. I stayed at the Westin in Downtown Seattle in a fabulous room using my Starwood Points.

5. I walked chingos and visited about 20 different apartments/studios.

6. A grocery store clerk called me a terrorist American. The conversation went like this:
Clerk: are you mexican american?
Me: yes
Clerk: you look terrorist american.
Me: what? What's that.
Clerk: you know.
Me: what do Mexican American's look like?
Clerk: accents, long hair, mustache.
Me: we're not all the same. you need to visit Texas. What's a Terrorist American?
Clerk: you know (whispers), from the middle east.
Me: oh, well, ok. have a good night.

7. I went to a Mariners-Yankees baseball game.

8. I found a place to live.

9. I met two pretty damn cool professors: Stephen Burnett and Joaquin Avila.

10. I met a representative from the student group HOLA (Hispanic Organization for Legal Advacement)

11. I got the "special security revision" on the way back as well

12. I thought of the idea to to suggest a name change for HOLA. I want to call it CHOLA -- the Chicano Hispanic Organization for Legal Advancement!

And There He Was

2005-05-12T20:18:00.000-07:00

The thing about splitting town is that a lot of people take the time to say their final farewells. Tonight I went to dinner with some great friends. My old boss turned mentor invited me to hang out with his family. I always enjoy the conversations I have with them. He's got an amazing way of talking. Today he said about President Clinton: "You can fuck one girl, just don't fuck the country." or something like that.

They treated me to dinner at a hip Mexican food restaurant. Their 14 year old daughter went along. I baby sat her and her little bro when I was in college a couple of times and it's interesting to see them grow up. She's a great artist and very sharp.

And there he was. I noticed my good friend from h.s., C., as we walked into the restaurant. There's a special place in my heart for C. He's an extremely smart and talented person. He also almost beat up our Physics teacher in h.s. C. and I first met in 9th grade. We played baseball together. I always respected C. because he wasn't afraid to be himself. He was a smart poor kid. We went to a football game together once and my folks dropped me off at his house. He lived in a small apartment. His father happened to be living with his family at the time and it turns out my dad and him know each other.

C. had an interesting relationship with his father. The man was an alcoholic. He wasn't necessarily around, but he was always pretty kind towards his family. Well, as kind as he could be. C. didn't talk much about his dad to many people. I felt pretty priviledged when he started telling me about his father. C. had a pretty rough upbringing.

It turns out C. and I both ended up at UT. Wow, that was pretty unusual. We didn't hang out much, but everytime we saw each other, we made plenty of time to catch up. We sat together when we took Art History. We almost got into a fight because some guy was talking to shit to C.

We both always encouraged each other. C. leads a very care-free life and always did plenty of drugs. He still smokes weed like he drinks water. One day I found out C. dropped out of UT. Our senior year. Why? i don't know. I ran into him again in McAllen and encouraged him to go back. He said he was, but that it wasn't the right time. I dont' know what he was going through and I didn't probe.

And there he was today. Working.

"Hey C.," I yelled.

"Orale Carnal, what are you doing here?"

"I'm here with my friends, what's up?"

"I'm finally finishing school."

I smiled and gave him a hug careful not to make him drop the salad bowl he was carrying.

"That lady is a bitch, she's driving me crazy, let me take the salad."

"Right on."

My friends and I ate dinner and talked. I saw C. out of the corner of my eye. He was hustling.

Me fui a despedir and he gave me his phone number. I'm going to call him.

As I left, he shook my hand and said, "I'm proud of you man." I don't think he knows how much that means to me. I'm proud of C. He's back in school. Probably supporting his father and mother. He'll do well and I wish him the best.

Secretary's Day Everyday

2005-05-11T21:22:00.000-07:00

I had an amazing conversation with my teacher friends a couple of days ago. It turns out that Secretaries and Custodians rule the school. No seriously! You're probably thinking what I thought - how the? I thought principals wielded all the power.

Well, according to the teachers, the secretaries have control over who gets a new desk, who gets dibs on the copy machine, who gets reimbursed for expenses, who shows you how to file certain paperwork, who gets away with turning attendance in late. A teacher might as well say good-bye to a nice clean room or even a door that doesn't squeak if they piss off the custodians. One of my teacher friends says the custodian who doesn't like her crashes into the room like a tornado and messes everything up.

My friends even told me that the UT Education department makes it a point to let students know they have to get along with the secretaries. The story was hillarious when my friends where telling it.

Para Los Imigrantes

2005-05-08T18:23:00.000-07:00

Maneja Beto played a benefit concert for Casa Marianela last night. And they danced. They laughed.

Casa Marianella is an emergency shelter serving immigrants and refugees in Austin.

Casa Marianella has room to sleep 21 men and seven women and children each night. Under regular circumstances, a resident is given one month to stay at the house. The residents primarily come from Latin America, the majority from Mexico.

The show was very appropriate. I've heard the lyrics my friends sing, but hadn't really paid attention to all of them until last night. I wish more of the lyrics were posted on this page, because this isn't a true representation of what I am talking about. Some of the music talks about the immigrant struggle. It talks about the young immigrant men who didn't stop dancing all night. Casa Marianela invited it's residents to the show last night. It was interesting to see. Young immigrant men, young white hippies, and a good number of Chicana/os. I imagine most of the men at the show were not from Mexico, but from South and Central American countries. And they danced. They laughed.

The band opened up with a cumbia tribute to Rigo Tovar. They packed the dance floor and waited during songs. The band played. And they danced. They laughed.

I sat at a table looking at the dance floor, but thinking about many things. I wondered where these men/kids were from, how they got here, and what family they had to leave back home. I thought about how five hours earlier I was at work interviewing a young man from Guatemala trying to get his papers in order. He told me it took him three months to get to the United States. He walked, took the train, the bus, and walked some more. He was robbed three times. He had to leave some people behind. He swam across the river and now lives in North Carolina. He told me he can't go back to Guatemala, because there's nothing for him there. No jobs. No money. No food. "De que vive la gente?" I was curious to understand how people survived. "Me da verguenza decirte, pero roban." I couldn't believe that people stole for a living, but he insisted. His grandparents have been robbed three times in the last two months. He talked about the president, corruption, and leaving his country.

I watched the men dancing and thought of my cousin Edgar. He's still living somewhere near here. I don't know where. He's doesn't have papers. I haven't looked for him. What would we talk about? I could be him. Es primo. First cousin. He's not the only one. I have many cousins here de mojaditos (the addition of --itos, for oso). Am I so far removed. Yes, but not really. They danced. And they laughed. Then the band played my favorite, a rendition of Carabina 30/30 and I danced. I laughed.

Raza Payment Plan

2005-05-04T08:47:00.000-07:00

I'll be eating chorizo for the next week. My brother's client gave it as a gift yesterday. This isn't the first time. The other day he got bananas and he's received bottles of liquor, pan dulce, cookies, gift baskets with fruit and candy, and a bunch of other stuff.

Getting gifts isn't new. It's been like this all my life. People would take my dad oranges or onions for doing something for them (oranges and onions grow in the valley). I've also seen people receive crazy things like parrots, little chicks or even furniture they made, but that's more rare.

I think we give food because that's what we have. That's what most people have and need. I wonder if it ties in to our need to make sure all people are fed? I always make fun of people taking home "el platillo" from a party, but there's probably a very practical reason as to why we do it without thinking twice.

And yes, sometimes we use products and services as payment instead of cash - because that's the only thing we have. I remember coming home to find all kinds of fish in our freezer one day. A man who owed my dad money went fishing, caught a bunch of fish, and brought them to my family. The debt was paid. My cousin has a new patio because some dudes owed him cash.

Paying with services even extends to municipalities in South Texas. My mom got a ticket for no insurance or something once and couldn't pay the fine. She talked to the judge and offered to work cleaning the court's office for a couple of days. The judge said, ok. It worked.

Cruz de Madera Gringa

2005-05-01T21:05:00.000-07:00

I went from one extreme to the other today. My cousin invited me to her kid's b-day party. She married a gringo. They live in a very affluent part of Austin and have very affluent neighbors. I felt like I was the only Mexicano at this 5 year old b-day party. I give her her credit for buying little Ethan a pinata.

I don't think it sinks in to those folks that my prima is a Latina until they see me. They don't treat me any different, but I see them do a double take. I wonder how my cousin is ok with only having gringito kids at the party. I know that's where they live, that's the environment they are in, but damn, I would just feel weird. I would feel like I'm denying my kid his culture. There were no black kids either. There was one Asian. I wonder if I would think this if there were only Mexican kids at the party? Would I wonder if my brother-in-law would feel weird if there were not gringitos there?

I stayed for a while and hung out. I love playing with the kids. I wanted to talk to my cousins. None of my siblings talk to them. I'm the only one. They don't dislike each other, but our families were never close. We don't have much in common. So I stayed and I talked. I talked like I write. In Spanish and English. And they laughed. And they joked. And the entire time I thought about what I was going to do in a couple of hours and how my cousins would never go to something like that.

I was going to watch Michael Salgado at the Old Pecan Street Festival. The raza was out in full force. Kids with mullets and silver teeth, just like their parents. Pelados wearing sombreros and gold chains. Girls wearing tight pants. And the regular raza was out too. Some dude standing behind us offered my friend and me weed, "hey man, wanna hit this?" We kindly refused, but said thanks. We waited until Michael Salgado played one of my favorites, Cruz De Madera (not sure the MP3 is working), then we went to eat a hot dog. I thought, "I wish my cousins were here," but I knew they would not feel comfortable. I know it's hard. We assimilate and acculturate. It's happened to me, but I hope I never lose my culture. Listening to Michael Salgado - that's not my culture, but it's part of what my culture has evolved to. I just hope there's something I still hold on to later in life. Something I pass down to my kids or sobrinos and sobrinas.

And I'm Gone!

2005-05-01T01:42:00.000-07:00

One month from now I will take the next step in my life. I'm moving to Seattle. I'm making the drive from Austin, TX to Seattle, WA. I'll be driving my pickup truck all the way and I hope to make stops in El Paso and L.A. I know I haven't really discusses my move on here, but I figured I might as well let everyone know now. I'm going to attend the Seattle University School of Law. I wanted to go to a school in Texas, but my LSAT scores, which I took five years ago,were ridiculous.

I opted for Seattle University because I read a little bit about their program and it seemed interesting. There were a couple of faculty members I was really intrigued by and my brother went to the same school. Well, it turns out I made a pretty good choice. Seattle University School of Law is ranked near the bottom of the top 100 schools, BUT I just found out that it's ranked #1 for their Legal Writing program. The school is also ranked #5 for its Trial Advocacy program.

I'm really looking forward to moving to Seattle, but I'm also a bit hesitant. I've never lived outside of Texas, but I understand this might be my only time to do it. It won't be my only opportunity, but maybe the only time I will want to live outside of Texas. Aver que.

The last 5 months in Austin have been great. I've been able to hang out w/ my old college friends and meet some new fantastic people. I've been doing stuff I love. I'm comfortable. I look forward to finding an apt. in Seattle and getting situated. I look forward to starting school, even thought I haven't been in school for the last 5 years.

English Only - Plis

2005-04-30T10:21:00.000-07:00

I spent a good chunk of yesterday calling government offices in Laredo. I was looking for a pickup truck that was seized along the border last week. I called the Laredo Border Patrol, U.S. Customs, D.P.S., Webb County Sheriff's Department and a couple of others. During my conversations I found myself reverting to my old ways of talking (at least, the way I talked when I lived in Laredo). I always found that the more jokes I make and the more Spanish and English I throw in, the better reception I get. I mention this because I also made a couple of calls to the Williamson County Sheriff's department and although I did make one joke, the conversation was much more stuffy (and professional). In both cases I got the information I needed.

I learned while working as a reporter in Laredo that people feel at ease speaking to someone that talks like them. It's just the way it is. I guess adapting to the environment.

That wasn't even the point of this post. I noticed that with all of the folks I talked to on the border I always heard chatter in the background. The chatter was always in Spanish and English. I was calling THE BORDER PATROL and they were speaking Spanish, not because I was requesting it, but because that's the language they were comfortable using. The same thing happened at U.S. Customs, the folks in charge of keeping people out of the country, and even more so at the Sheriff's department.

I'm not sure why all of this caught my attention, because when I lived there I never thought twice about it. Most of the people working in those offices grew up along the border and speak like border people. I guess this is just part of the conflict that Raza faces everyday along the border. Our cousins are border patrol agents and undocumented immigrants. Our brothers are D.P.S. troopers and jail inmates.

Bueno, Hola, Hello, Bueno, Juan, Estas alli?

2005-04-28T19:37:00.000-07:00

I'll probably go to hell for this and a couple of other things I've done, but I'll go ahead an say it. Have you noticed Mexican people 60 and over are cell phone and answering machine challenged? Now, I know many people have problems with technology, regardless of race or age, but older Mexican folks trying to figure out cell phones and answering machines are hillarious. At least those are the people I've seen.

Today I was checking my brother's office messages and an old woman left three messages. The first one you could hear kids in the background yelling.......then click. The second message...."Bueno, bueno, Raul, Raul, Raul, me oyes...ah, yo no se usar esta cosa." Third message..."Si, Licensiado, habla Maria, por favor me llama."

I called the lady back and she told me, "ay me choca dejar mensajes. No me gusta mi voz."

Then there's my mom. She knows how to answer the phone sometimes. She doesn't know how to check messages and half of the time she's got the phone off. "Hello, hello (yelling), me oyes.." "Yes, mom..." "..ME OYES..."

ok. I'm out. I have to call my mom.

In The Slammer

2005-04-27T19:56:00.000-07:00

I went to jail today. One of my brother's clients is being held at one of the Travis County Correctional Centers and I needed for her to sign some papers. I've visited plenty of jails and prisons in the last five years mostly as a reporter. I interviewed women in Webb County about the time they get to spend with their children. I talked to Americans being detained in Nuevo Laredo declaring, "I did nothing wrong." Yea right. I talked to drug dealers at the same Prison in Nuevo Laredo just after a riot. The Mexican Federal Police (Policia Judicial Federal-PJF) busted in, arrested the director of the Cereso, and transferred El Borrado to Almoloya, a Maximum Security prison. The inmates rioted because El Borrado paid many of them, including the directors. I walked into a holding cell with 100's of inmates at the Cameron County Jail to interview a suspected serial killer. The guard pulled him out of the cell as I shoved my microphone in his face and he pleaded his innocence (i'm sure plenty of laws were broken).

The point is that in every facility I've visited there's always a group of wives, moms, dads, kids, and husbands waiting for their loved ones. It seems that it's harder for them than it is for the folks locked up. Maybe they're thinking that they should have done something else or did something wrong. The inmates usually aren't depressed or at least don't show it. Maybe because it would be a sign of weakness. Maybe because a lot of them are there for a reason.

I just feel for the families. They show up so that a guard can tell them visiting hours were over 2 hours ago. They sit in the sun for 3 hours before they can get inside to see their family member. They sit and ask questions and talk. "He's my brother." - "He's my son." - "We can't afford a lawyer." etc...Unfortunately, many of these people leave the waiting room only to come back six months, a year, or even days later. That's the sad part. That's what sucks.

Working The Yard and No Kids In Sight

2005-04-26T19:15:00.000-07:00

My brother takes good care of his lawn and since he's out of town I'm in charge of watering the yard and flowers. Tonight I did just that. A couple of days ago I took it upon myself to cut the grass at the house. I haven't done yard work in a while partly because of my allergies, but mostly because I don't own a house with a yard. Now I've done some yard work two days in one week. I miss it.

Don't get me wrong. I hated cutting the grass when I was a kid. Especially because my mom would wake my ass up at about 8am to get started. During the summer the temperature in McAllen, Texas loves getting into the 100's. I could see the sun smirking while I pushed the Briggs & Straton lawn mower, carried the gas weed eater (much better than electric), or used a simple asadon to work the yard. The sun would then laugh as it saw me hunched over ripping the weeds out with my bare hands, without fear of espinas sticking me.

My older brother would somehow convince all of the barrio kids that it was cool to cut the grass and trim the trees, when we lived in El Campito, the McAllen labor camp. I guess everyone figured the sooner we finished with the yard, the sooner we would all get to play. And that's the thing. We were always outside playing. We finished as soon as possible on the rare occasion that the kids didn't help so that we could join them in playing baseball, marbles, football, stickball, or bote sonado. Even when we moved out of the campo and lived out of the projects - the kids were still there. I'd crank up the lawm mower and there they were. Riding their bikes or throwing the football around.

Not anymore. Not here. My mom was in town when I was cutting the grass and she looked across my brother's neighborhood and said, "porque no salen los niños?" I don't know. I wonder if it's a South Texas thing, a Mexican thing, or maybe even a poor person thing.

The neighbors here say hi to each other, but they don't know each other. My friends' parents in Dallas don't even know their neighbors. I bet my sister in Dallas couldn't name three of her neighbors. I go to McAllen and my dad is across the street talking to Juan, or Jaime is out working on his yard next to us taking his time because he's stopping to chat with my mom, or Ivan and his three junior high friends are out waving around a woman's calzones which they've placed on a stick all the meanwhile making sure my mom doesn't see them. Who knows where they found them. The point is: it's a community. People are outside. Talking. Evesdropping. Getting to know each other. Getting after and keeping and eye out on each other's kids.

I lived in a pretty swanky area in Dallas, so I never saw families. I had a little brother though and he lived in East Dallas - the barrio. People were always sitting out on their porches when I would go pick him up. The kids were running around. It was 10pm - but they were outside. Maybe the house was too small for all of them to be inside. You know, some families cram chingos of people. Maybe the kids didn't own an X-box or a Nintendo, but I suspect they did. Maybe they didn't have A/C. Who the hell knows. All I know is that they were outside.

I miss seeing kids playing outside. I usually take my brother's dog out for a walk or just play fetch with her after work. There are no kids. A mom will brisk by pushing a stroller every now and then. She turns her head the other way in order to avoid eye contact. I don't know what's going on.

Cholo Word Of The Day - Alivianate

2005-04-25T20:14:00.000-07:00

I heard my sister of all people say this word the other day. I'm not exactly sure why she said it, but I think she told my mom.

Word:
Alivianate

Meaning According To DT:
calm down, relax, take it easy, don't worry

Used in a sentence:
"Goyo, alivianate ya! El Lore como queira va a brincar a el Secundino."

"Yo se, pero se debe de alivianar con todo ese pedo. Al cabo que su sister ni lo pela."

Translation according to DT:
"Gregory, please relax yourself. Mr. Lawrence is still going to quarrel with the dry one."

"I know, but he should relax with all of that nonsense. It's of no consequence because his sister pays him no mind anyway."

Fast Food Movies

2005-04-24T22:21:00.000-07:00

I finally finished reading Fast Food Nation, but that didn't stop me from eating a #1, no onions, from Whataburger for lunch and dinner on Saturday and lunch again on Sunday.

My last Cine Las Americas movie was a doozie. Temporada De Patos is another great film.

Flama and Moko are two 14-year-old boys planning to spend their Sunday afternoon playing video games, ordering pizza, and taking advantage of their parents’ absence from the apartment. Their adolescent plans, however, get interrupted by a power outage, a pretty teenage neighbor who stops by and stays, and a pizza delivery man who refuses to leave when the boys refuse to pay him.

This film about urban teenagers eschews common themes of guns and violence, using the natural performances of the young actors to capture the fun, the confusion, and the loneliness of adolescence.

I think the festival was a huge success. It's the first time I went and I really enjoyed it.

I know I've mentioned that I really enjoy this city, but damn, when I leave I'm going to miss a lot of stuff. I'm going to miss hanging out with my friends. I'm going to miss the easy access to cultural events. I'm going to miss the concerts and live music. And I'm going to miss the new people I've been meeting. I guess - more on all of this later.

Kung Fu Catholics

2005-04-23T10:30:00.000-07:00

I went to watch Kung Fu Hustle with some hipster friends last night. My ride made me run late, so in the rush to get inside the movie theater, I blindly led my friend into the wrong showing of the movie. It turns out the flick was showing on two screens, at 7 and 7:50. It was 8pm when we arrived at the theater so we thought the movie had just started. We walked in to the 7pm showing and consequently missed half of the show. We didn't realize till we walked into the lobby, to wait for our friends, who had so inconsideratly not waited for us. Ooops. Then we walked to the theater where we should have been and there they were - two seats, just waiting for us. Too bad we had already seen the 2nd half of the flick.

After the movie we went to have a couple of drinks at Manuel's, which happens to be in the same center as the theater. The conversation somehow led to religion. Two atheists and two catholics (I being a member of the latter). One of the a-friends started talking about cultural catholicism. Hmmm, I wonder if I'm a cultural catholic. This web site is pretty harsh of cultural catholics, but here's what they define it as:

The majority of Catholics in the world probably fit into the category of cultural Catholics. This group is unlike any other type we have considered above. Their identification as "Catholic" is simply more cultural and social than religious. They might rightly be called "womb to tomb Catholics." They often are born in a Hispanic, Irish, Polish, French, or Italian families -- and are therefore baptized, married, and buried in the Catholic church -- but have little or no concern about spiritual matters. Cultural Catholics do not understand Catholicism, nor do they seriously follow its ethical teaching. But they nevertheless have an emotional commitment to the Catholic church. When they attend Mass, it is out of habit or family obligation, not religious conviction. Being Catholic to them is essentially a cultural identity (they may even be secular or humanistic [or postmodernist] in their thinking). This is not unlike how some Jews are merely ethnically or culturally Jewish, rather than adherents to Judaism. It is also like the person who is Lutheran only because he happens to be born into a German family, or the Anglican who is only Anglican because she was born into a British family. You see, it happens in Protestantism as well. Nominal Catholics, like nominal Protestants, do not understand Christianity, and they do not have a relationship with Jesus Christ. With all due respect, President John F. Kennedy would seem to have fit well the mold of a cultural Catholic.

The conversation was good, the different points of view interesting, and the chips and hot sauce satisfying. It made for an enjoyable evening.

La Vida No Vale Nada

2005-04-21T21:28:00.000-07:00

They compared Rancheras to Blues. I checked out La Vida No Vale Nada for my 2nd Cine Las Americas event. The flick was a documentary about Jose Alfredo Jimenez.

Mexican music is amazing. The words, the sound, the meaning. I love how you can feel the passion when someone sings. It reminds me of my childhood, and visiting mexico, and being in the valley, and just hanging out with friends. The music makes me wish I was a poet, a singer, and a musician. It makes me want to write love letters to girls. It makes me want to have a girlfriend or a wife, whom I could sing these songs to, just for those 3 minutes at least (i can't add enough disclaimers to this statement). It makes me want to send my mom a serenata for mother's day. It makes me want to explain to all of my non-mexican music listening friends what each song means. It makes me want to do a grito. Mexican music makes me want to sign with my dad - hacerle la segunda. It wants to make me go to my parents church, where they convert old Mexican ballads, into Catholic hymns.

I drove him after the documentary and popped in a cassette (i'm old school, no cd player) of Vicente Fernandez and Jose Alfredo Jimenez. I sang along and I did do a grito. I missed a call on my cell phone, because I couldn't hear it. Then me throat hurt, but it felt great.

Machuca This!

2005-04-20T21:46:00.000-07:00

I saw an amazing movie tonight at the Cine de Las Americas Film Festival premiere.

Machuca follows the friendship between Gonzalo Infante and Pedro Machuca, two eleven-year-old boys living in the capital city of Santiago, Chile, in 1973. Gonzalo comes from a well-to-do family, and Pedro comes from an illegal shantytown recently settled not far from Gonzalo’s neighborhood. Their worlds are separated by boundaries that some, in an age full of revolutionary hopes, want to break down.

My friends from Maneja Beto hooked me up with the pass.

Although not as severe, the story reminds me somewhat of my childhood. I think of my friend Kevin who always had the coolest G.I. Joe's. He gave me some, but I always knew we were different.

It also reminds me of some of my current friends. I by no means am hurting financially, but I'm not doing as well as some of my other friends. They don't make me feel any different, but it's evident that there is a difference.

The movie makes me think of human relationships and how people from different places and environments can come together, develop bonds, but there's still something there. What that is, I don't know.

Soy Tio

2005-04-18T21:05:00.000-07:00

My oldest sister gave birth to a little mugre today. She was born at 1:25 am. This should be exciting. My sister went old school and didn't find out the sex of the baby until she popped out.

A couple of observations:
1. The first day my mom found out my sister was pregnant, she looked at her and said, "Va ser niña."

2. My other sister noted that my oldest sister's dominant language is Spanish. During labor she never once spoke (yelled) in English, unless she was talking to the nurse.

3. the kid's name is Itzel, of Mayan origin.

4. My sister put together a list of Juegos De Dedos, Cancionces de Arrullo, Nursery Rymes to teach Itzel. Including, but not limited to: Tortillitas, Papas y Papas, Sana Sana, Tin Marin de dos Pingue, etc.

5. I don't see how women do it. Yikes, pain.

Cholo Word Of The Day - Escamar

2005-04-17T19:23:00.000-07:00

Escamar can be used in several different ways. I'll try to remember all of the phrases which and context in which I've used it.

Word:
Escamar, No te Escames, Se Escamo, Te Escamaste, Se va Escamar

Meaning According To DT:
freak out, get scared, worry

Used in a sentence:
"Lore, viste como se escamo el Tony cuando se dio cuenta que iba tener un chavalio."

"Clarinches Poncho, ahora si va tener que chambiar mas."

Translation according to DT:
"Lawrence, did you see how Antone was a tad bit concerned when he learned he was having a child."

"Of course Alfonse, no he's really going to have to bear down and apply himself more at his occupation."

Update: Sometimes we would sneak up on someone and say, "Pssst, no te escamas," when they flinched. Similar to a "Psyche!"

The Man Date

2005-04-15T09:18:00.000-07:00

This NYT article about the man date is hillarious. I think I've gone on plenty of man dates. It's usually a lunch or dinner, and it's funny, we always do seem to follow the same guide lines as outlined in thie article.

Hmmmm, I don't think I've ever gone on a man date with any friends from back home.

The delicate posturing began with the phone call.

The proposal was that two buddies back in New York City for a holiday break in December meet to visit the Museum of Modern Art after its major renovation.

"He explicitly said, 'I know this is kind of weird, but we should probably go,' " said Matthew Speiser, 25, recalling his conversation with John Putman, 28, a former classmate from Williams College.

The weirdness was apparent once they reached the museum, where they semi-avoided each other as they made their way through the galleries and eschewed any public displays of connoisseurship. "We definitely went out of our way to look at things separately," recalled Mr. Speiser, who has had art-history classes in his time.

You've Seen Them!

2005-04-13T20:07:00.000-07:00

I had a pretty good laugh reading El Mas Chingon's post Czech Yourself. He talks about young hipster parents dressing their kids like young infant hipsters.

For some reason, I immediately started thinking of Raza that mess their kids up from inception. You know you've seen them! You've seen the family walking around w/ their little 2-year old boy wearing earings. Or the 3-year old little boy w/ some gold chains (probably a cross or virgen mary), bracelets, rings, and sometimes a tooth. Or, how about the little kid with the sweet ass mullet.

I think those people are trying to be hipsters. Cindy thinks brown people can't be hipsters. I may agree, in this instance.

They Call Me Mijo

2005-04-12T20:41:00.000-07:00

I took notice of this a while back. My oldest sister and older brother call me mijo. My oldest sister is 9 years older than me and my older brother is 6 years older than me. The sister that 4 years older than me doesn't call me mijo. I think my oldest siblings do call her and also my younger brother mija and mijo, respectively.

I wonder if most families do this. We have always looked to my older siblings for guidance, for some reason. We still do. I just found it interesting that they use this as a term of affection.

Se Le Queman Los Frijoles

2005-04-12T20:38:00.000-07:00

I drove my parents to a casino in Louisianna today. They were worried about my driving, but after some dude passed me up, my dad said: Se Le Estaran Quemando Los Frijoles!

LAY-A-WAY

2005-04-11T11:40:00.000-07:00

My friend told me she put something on lay-a-way the other day, but made me swear I wouldn't tell anyone. She was embarrased. When we were kids we always knew where the lay-a-way counter was. It was part of life. My mom would go to the store, find some clothes for us, then put it on lay-a-way. She didn't have a credit card and she didn't have the cash, so why not make payments on it.

I hadn't thought of that concept in a very long time until my friend brought it up. There used to be a story in McAllen called Anthony's. That's where my mom would do all of our shopping. We had shorts on lay-a-way, shoes, shirts, pants (husky for my brother, slim for me), and anything else we needed. I know she would go in and give $10 or $20 every week, until we got our stuff. It just seems like such a hassle though, but I think most places don't charge you any interest, so it's better than a credit card. I'm not sure what the terms are now.

However, I'd rather use my credit card, which award me points now. No lay-a-way plan for me.

Selena - Tanto Pedo

2005-04-07T09:24:00.000-07:00

I'm writing this at the risk of sounding like a hater. Que tanto pedo le hacen a Selena.

Mind you, I skipped my Literature class the day the Movie Selena came out, stood in line with middle-aged woman wearing Selena t-shirts, carrying roses and crying, just to be there for the premier.

I remember the day Selena died. I remember what I was doing. It was my senior year. I was walking to my class and my friend Cesar, who happened to have a walkman, spread the word. SELENA IS DEAD.

I watched Selena in concert, before she was big. I think my friends and I left the festival in McAllen as soon as she got on stage - they didn't like that type of music and Selena was a nobody then.

Oh yea and I had a Selena cd.

Selena's music was good. I enjoyed it and I was sad when she was killed. She was great. She was beautiful. She could dance.

I didn't know it was the 10 year anniversary of Selena's death until I started hearing radio commercials advertising free tickets to a "Selena Vive" Concert. Then, I started seeing her picture on the front page of every local newspaper.

I admit. She was huge. She was great. She was a pioneer. People loved her. Young Latinas saw a beautiful brown woman perform and it made them feel good. I just don't understand why people devote so much time to this, but don't even remember when the great Cesar Chavez died.

Somebody told me, "Porque le hacen tanto pedo a Selena?" I don't know.

It's sad that mainstream America didn't know who she was until she died. I wish they would have. However, is all the borlote needed? I mean, I was a fan of hers before the death, before the fame, but I just don't get it. Maybe my camarada Lucio is right. He says I'm part of the system, part of the problem, and probably a sellout. Hmmm.

I do think it's good that we celebrate he accomplishments and remember her death. However, I wish it were the same for other greats.

Their Story - Everyday

2005-04-06T18:16:00.000-07:00

It took her three months, but she got here. She took the bus, she walked, she jumped on trains, she swam across the deadly Rio Grande, took a bus past the Laredo checkpoint and made it to Austin. The Salvadoran woman told me her story yesterday. This isn't only her story, but yesterday as I listened to her, it was the only story.

She was in the office filling out forms petioning the government to make her young son a resident. "No lo conocia," she told me. Her son came to Austin, from El Salvador, last year on September 16, 2004. He took the same route. It took him three months. I looked at her. She looked at me and repeated, "No lo conocia." I just stared. How could you not know your son? You didn't tell me he was adopted, I thought.

"Es que nada mas nacio, y me vine," she told me, while looking away. She left El Salvador just after her son was born. I'm not sure how long, but it must have been only a couple of months. She had to leave her son because she had no money. She also left a now 18 year old girl and a now 19 year old girl. Her son is 10 years old. She hadn't seen him in 9 years. He didn't know her. She didn't know him.

"Ayer vino con su primera tarea en español," she said. He brought his first English homework. His older sister helped him with it. The mom cried. He told her he felt he was free here. Free, because there's a big playground next to his apartment complex. Free, because he has a bicycle which he can ride around the neighborhood.

The woman mentioned that a gringo had told her he would marry her so that she could fix her papers. He has a house and lives down the street. He said she wouldn't have to pay him. It sounds fishy. My brother told her that if they got married and tried to fix her papers, he would have to go with her to her interview in San Salvador. She laughed.

The Law On The Border - The Larger Problem

2005-04-05T16:04:00.000-07:00

A State District Court from the Valley killed himself yesterday. 46 year old Judge Edward Aparicio was found with a gunshot to the head. He left behind 5 boys and his wife.

There are many rumors flying around as to why the Judge killed himself. What is known is that last year the FBI raided his home. The judge was the target of an investigation into allegations that he had taking bribes. It's a pretty interesting, but sad story.

This case reminds me of when I was a reporter in Laredo. I covered the corruption trial (i was a t.v. reporter, so no links to my stories) of several men with ties to the district attorney's father. Most of the men, including the DA's father, brother, cousins, and several assistant district attorneys were convicted.

I guess the question that comes to mind here is: Is there that much corruption along the border? Are only Mexican-Americans committing these crimes?

I don't know. I don't know if Raza in office go crazy or if it's that they're not as careful. I've seen cases like this in Dallas and other big cities, but not to this extent. We can make arguments for/against crooks everywhere. We can site Nixon, Clinton, and even Bush. (I threw Clinton in to the mix to please(sp?), my Republican friends)

Is it that gringo politicos are more careful or they just don't get caught? I don't know. Maybe, I pay more attention to cases like this because they are from home. Is it that the feds are all gringos and the politicos getting caught, mostly raza? (these allegations were raised many times during the laredo trial).

One person I talked to about this mentioned that he believes this is due to the the compadre system we seem to follow down there. We exchange favors - and nothing is thought of it. I think it's a beautiful thing in certain circumstances, but it can get out of hand. Who knows? I really don't know the answer to any of these questions. I just know this poor man felt he needed to end his life. That sucks.

Don't Cry! Are You Hungry? Not Any More.

2005-04-02T14:47:00.000-08:00

I'm not sure which on of you fellow bloggers had a picture of a woman breast feeding her kid while she met the President of her respective country, but it came to mind today.

I'm filling out some forms for this 82 year old woman accompanied by her grandaughter, when the young girl decides she's going to breast feed her kid. Now, I'm no prude, but damn, that was freakin' weird. The young girl just took it out, right there, about 2 feet from me. The only thing between me and her was the desk.

I know a lot of you commented that it was a great and natural thing to do, but damn, I'll tell you, I was still surprised. I didn't even pay attention to it after about 30 seconds, but it did stun me. The kid stopped crying, so I guess that's good. And I reckon' good for her that she's comfortable enough to do so. I won't lie though - it was weird for me. Maybe that's something I should work on.

Things to do: don't be surprsied when a woman breast feeds next to you.

Rock, Helmets, Action

2005-04-01T13:53:00.000-08:00

Three games out of the year the band, football players, cheerleaders, and any other student organization attending away football games were given the same instructions by teachers: Leave all bus windows closed at all times and always keep your helmets on. (i don't know what cheerleaders did).

The three towns: Rio Grande City, La Joya, and PSJA.

My friend and I were talking about this a couple of days ago. For some reason, win or lose, after every football game played in any one of these towns, the fans (kids) would decide to throw rocks at the bus. It's actually pretty funny, but I guess could have been dangerous.

That's why every year we had to follow the same procedure. I do remember getting pelted. Nobody got hit and I think someone in my bus actually mooned the students first. Either way, it was pretty damn funny.

Organic Milk

2005-03-31T14:57:00.000-08:00

My mom flipped through a newspaper ad while talking about who knows what. She looked at the milk section and says, "Ah, esta es la leche que compro Cesar."

So, of course I look. Cesar is my little brother. He's a hippie (like most of the readers here - I would imagine). He moved to the East Coast when he graduated high school. My cousin bought him a baseball cap that said "Brown Pride" with a little cholo on it - because he was going to "Brown University." I digress. Now the kids in law school and he's still a hippie.

I guess he bought some organic milk when he won't home and I laughed. My mom asked me what organic milk was. The best way I could figure out how to explain it was to tell her that it was like milk from the rancho. Is that right? Basically, I told her, the don't screw w/ the cows.

Then she told me how when she was growing up, the neighbor kid Silvano, would run up to the cows, grab a tit, and squirt milk into his mouth. That was his breakfast. I said, yup, I think that's organic milk.

Fideo for Lunch

2005-03-30T13:56:00.000-08:00

UPDATE
I asked my mom about fideo and she said my grandmother used to make that for them when she was a kid in rural, rancho, Mexico. This is back in the 40's.

I had fideo for lunch and then I read this.

Banking!

2005-03-30T13:04:00.000-08:00

One thing about staying in McAllen to help my brother out is that I get to do little things like go to the bank. This morning I drove to the bank to deposit some money. There were about 10 people in front of me and the line was moving slower than the traffic on the McAllen-Reynosa International Bridge coming in during Semana Santa. I waited not-so-patiently and watched as people talked to the pretty bank tellers. I noticed that part of the problem was that about 75% of the people in front of me were not customers.

"Tiene cuenta con nosotros," pretty bank teller would ask. "No," woman carrying child, man with big bigote, or older man with slacks and cell phone on hip would answer. "Es que tengo que cambiar un cheque."

The pretty bank teller would then advise the customers that they would need a second form of identification, "tarjeta de credito, passaporte, driver's license, credit card." I thought maybe tarjeta de credito and driver's license meant two different things - or maybe the pretty teller just wanted to give multiple options.

I stood behind the man wearing gray slacks, a colorful shirt, and black SAS shoes. The entire bank soon found out that the woman standing behind me recognized this catrin.

"Oiga, se acuerda de mi," the woman excitedly asked. "Si, claro que si," the catrin answered. The woman soon revealed that this man had been her English teacher. He was no longer teaching English and she said she was still looking for a good teacher who could teach her the language. They asked how each other's family was and again the woman asked "pero, si se acuerda de mi." The man replied, "pero claro," but I could clearly see that he didn't know who the hell she was. He was being polite as is customary. I think the woman would have felt like caca if he had said, no, because by this time everyone had already been metiches and was listening in on their conversation.

The pretty tellers asked another client, "tiene cuenta," they replied, "no." The clients were soon advised it would cost them five bones to cash their check. "Esta bien."

Man, five bucks. I'd be pissed. I complained when they wanted to charge me four dollars for a money order when I was applying for law school. The dude ended up giving them to me for free.

I thought to myself, why the hell don't these people have a bank account? Where do they keep their money? Then I realized it wasn't until about 10 years ago when my folks got a legit account. I didn't get a bank account until I went to college and needed some place to store my fat financial aid check. So, I came up with the following reasons:

1. They don't trust banks
2. They don't have enough money to put in the bank
3. They don't have the proper identification
4. They just don't know what banks can do for them
5. They don't trust banks

I finally made it up to the front for my pinchesio deposit and I didn't even get one of the pretty tellers. I got some dude. Nice, but a dude. He didn't even ask me if I had a bank account. I just gave him the cash, the slips, and was out in two minutes.

I exited the parking lot into the street and a dude in a red truck and cowboy hat zoomed up to my rear. He was making all sorts of hand gestures, so I moved over to the right lane to let him by. We came to a stop at the light and I rolled down my window and smiled. He was upset. I laughed. That was my morning.

It's HOT!

2005-03-30T13:02:00.000-08:00

I'm still in McAllen and it's 94 freakin' degrees outside. Damn, it's burning up. Whew. Ok, not back to recreating a post I wrote yesterday, but Blogger killed!

Just Chatting

2005-03-30T12:41:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting in my brother's small office in McAllen and it's getting packed. Complete strangers sat quietly for about five minutes. Six minutes later - they're ALL chatting it up. Laser Surgery, the cola at the bridge, a work permit, el doctor "chinito."

Ok, one dude just walked in. I'm sure he'll join in the conversation in about 3 minutes.

Cascarones

2005-03-25T09:42:00.000-08:00

I passed San Antonio south on I-35 on my way to the Valley and there was no doubt in my mind that Easter was near. I drove by vendors parked on the side of the streets with homemade signs letting everyone know they were selling "Cascarones" - Easter Eggs. Red, blue, yellow, blue and yellow, orange, purple, etc...

It reminded me of Easters as a kid. We'd go to church then go to the park. Every year, we would try to eat as many eggs as we could, so that when Easter came around we could have about 20 dozen cascarones. My mom would carefully break the top of the eggs when she was about to cook them. Then, we'd put them away till the week before easter when we would color them and fill them with confetti. Sometimes we would fill the cascarons with harina or every now and then someone would get crazy and stick a raw egg in there. I like to tell people that we used to eat: papas con huevo, chorizo con huevo, frijoles con huevo, jamon con huevo, y huevo a huevo!

I was talking to my friend a couple of days ago. She's from McAllen, but currently lives in Ohio. I asked her if they were going to make the cascarones and she told me people up there didn't do that. I said, WHAT?! I didn't know that. She also told me that kids don't crack the eggs over each other's head. Again, I didn't know that.

We always had the kid that would get too excited and start cracking eggs with the pointy part of the cascaron over the old ladies' heads! Oh man, after that it was on. Some of those suckers hurt. It was fun. No cascarones this year - but it was fun!

Music At The Office

2005-03-24T14:26:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting at my brother's office in McAllen, where my pops serves as the office manager, and a guy that grew up in the same neighborhood where I did just brought in a couple of CD's. This guy's dad, is a song writer. The man's name is Alfredo Garcia and he wrote Al Pie De La Tumba. Ricardo, his son, just brought in La Contestacion De Al Pie De La Tumba, sung his cousin, Oscar Garcia.

The guys all lived in El Campito. That's where we know them from. Alfredo Sr., was great friends with my grandfather. His wife Ermila was my grandmother's best friend. So, right now, we're sitting at my brother's office, listening to this song. It's so powerful.

Al Pie De La Tumba is one of my favorite's song, even before I knew that this man had written it. I was playing it one day and my dad told me, "sabes quien escribio esa cancion? Era Alfredito Garcia."

Me fui al cementerio
a soltar el llanto
A ver si llorando
te puedo olvidar
Ahora comprendo
que es imposible
Por que ya ni muerta
te dejo de amar

Al pie de la tumba
mirando el cielo
Quisiera escuchar tu voz
quisiera abrazarte
Quisiera besarte
pero es imposible
Tu ya estas con dios

Dormido te sueno
despierto te miro
Muy dentro de mi alma
siempre viverás
No puedo olvidarte
yo quiero seguirte
Que me lleven lejos
adonde tu estas

Al pie de la tumba
mirando el cielo
Quisiera escuchar tu voz
quisiera abrazarte
Quisiera besarte
pero es imposible
Tu ya estas con dios

Wow. There's so much history here.

Even If Your Friends Aren't

2005-03-21T18:51:00.000-08:00

I've been talking a lot to a friend lately. He and I have chingos in common, but we also have plenty of differences. We're both from the Valley and we both went to UT. We were both raised in a similar fashion. Now, we both send money to our parents, but he's at a different level. I send money home to my folks to help them pay for my mom's health insurance. He sends money home to pay for his mom's house - which they're about to have to sell off.

We've had several discussions about this because I think he wants to talk about it. I know he feels that I can relate to him.

In college I was living the life! I had more money than I've ever had before. Mind you, they were loans and I worked, but what the hell. People would always complain about how little money they had and I would just listen in amazement. I had a decent apartment, could buy new shoes if I needed to, send some of my financial aid money home (just randomly), and almost had my own room! What could I complain about? At home I didn't get a bed until I was 13. Anyway, my point is that I sent money home even then.

My friend is in a totally different ballgame though. He's basically the sole income provider for his mother. They live over 300 miles away from each other. It sucks because he has to worry about that and then paying his own bills. They're going to lose the house because he can't keep making all of the payments.

What kind of sucks (and doesn't) is that nobody really knows about this. Nobody knows that he helps his mom or that I send my parents money. Why? Because most of the people we associate with (although raza) have never had to do this.

I'll bet you none of my gringo friends know. Are they bad people? Hell no.
Those dudes would do just about anything for me (as long as it doesn't interfere w/ their plans)!

So, even if our friends aren't worrying about things, we are. I've always been very impressed with this dude, because he's a freakin' hard worker. Our recent conversations have revolved around having the drive to do things. He definitely does has the drive. He'll do well.