Month: January 2018
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When Our Children Die
I don’t know if Martita is still alive. If so, she’s thirty. But I have my doubts. At the time, her hair, once Guatemalan-black, had turned a dry, dirty-straw color. It was starting to fall out. Her stomach, held in place by weakening muscles, had gotten more distended in the weeks following, crammed with worms,…
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Love, War, and Revolution, Central American-Style
Michelle and I moved to Central America in the mid eighties (that pic is of us in our first glory days of living in a Nicaraguan war zone). We were part of a small population of liberals who were protesting U.S. policy in the region. We moved to Nicaragua, to gather reports on atrocities that…
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The Mission District, Google, and My Pissed-Off Salvadoran Blood
Sometimes I visit the Mission District of San Francisco, where I was born. It’s not the same, and it’s getting worse. Google moved into the neighborhood. On the east side of Valencia Street, it’s still Latino. I walk by and smell the tacos and pupusas, and hear Spanish conversations in the lilts of Mexico, El…
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Writing from the Classroom: Jessica del Castillo and the Fascistic Principal
This is an essay by Jessica del Castillo, a student at Mount St. Mary’s University. I remember doing this “knock-out” trick when I was in school…surprised no one got killed doing it. Ms. del Castillo brings the anguish home, of having to deal with a fascistic principal. When I was younger, I was easily…
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Read Adult Books to Your Children
I started reading to the kids when they each were in the womb. All through their childhoods, after supper, we stayed seated around the table while I read for half an hour. Afterwards we hung out another twenty minutes talking about what just happened to Harry Potter, and whether or not he would find the…