Category: Our Words, Our Lives
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Who’s Driving That Damn Car?
I don’t know why, but the end of spring semester at the university is excruciating, for everyone. I talk with my colleagues, they’re all worn out from teaching. The students are exhausted. If you look into one’s eyes, you’ll see the images of seven to ten unwritten essays floating around in her skull. We are…
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“They killed him. They’ll kill her too.”
After reading his Bible in the mornings in his rose garden, my grandfather Papa Polo walked three miles into the country with an empty pail in his hand. He kept a young cow which gave fresh milk for all of us. He handed the pail to the cook to boil before serving it at our breakfast; the…
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Grandmamá Martina and Papa Polo
I was close to my grandfather, Papa Polo. He was an intelligent man, spoke English like a Brit; and he saw in me an eagerness to learn. He ordered El Tesoro de La Juventud (The Book of Knowledge), an encyclopedia of 20 volumes, just for me! He had a very serious conversation with me: I had…
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Amanda’s Story
(The above is a photo of my mother Amanda in 1929, in El Salvador) This is my mother’s story, in her own words: I have been on an off and on merry go rounds with my writings; well, I just have to get on it for real and DO IT!! I am over ninety years…
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Know Their Past, Know Thyself
Dear Readers of TWB, This is an essay from the archives, regarding my parents. For the next few days, my mother is going to take over. She lives with us, is ninety years old, and has been writing her life down on paper. This essay is an introduction to her world. I’ve written on the…