I am still here. I haven't written much in the blogs because, well, it's just plain ol dangerous!!!!
I will get back into it
Until then
Peace
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Since the start
I figure that is a good way for me to start something. I wanted to write "beginning" but it would have felt stolen from one of Pinero poems.
I am going to start somewhere around the time my father decided to move the family to Texas. My father was invested in a display company who had ambitions of of getting more productivity coupled with cost efficiency. Someone came up with the bright idea of moving the whole factory to Texas. In Texas they could hire at a lower per hour base and get more product out to their clients. Well, that was mistake number one.
Anyhow, I was too young to remember the decision making process but I figured the one who made the most money had more clout between my parents. My dad could see himself letting a job go that had him in the high 90's. My mother was making about 40 g's. So the moving van was called and our small apartment was packed and off to Texas we went.
We moved to a small city about 60 miles from Brownsville; McCallen Texas. It was a small city with no buildings taller then 5 stories. What I first recalled was the flatness of it all. On each street, you could see for miles. I was looking for hills but we didn't see anything at all. No hills, mountains, tall buildings, skyscrapers, bodegas. Oh yea, I just said bodegas. One of the stangest things to me was no bodegas. I was clearly distraught as I wanted to know where I was going to get my Maltas.
My father went ahead to Texas a few weeks before us and put into place some great sleeping arrangements. He scored a huge 2 bedroom apartment in a townhouse. It had two bathrooms and a balcony. It even boasted central air conditioning. This was a palace compared to the small shack we left in the Bronx.
Texas was a new place to me. I didn't know much about the culture. I had to learn things as I went along. I say this because the differences were hard for me. I left NYC where I was typically an average kid with plenty of friends. Many who looked like me and related to me. Many who liked the same food as me and spoke my same language.
My first school day wasn't like any other. My parents took me to Roosevelt elementary. I have no idea why they picked that school but it was the one they wanted me in. I recall being in the principals office with my parents. She looked my parents dead in the face and told them "your son has to go to Ben Milam Elementary". There was no discussion on her part. She just did not want me in her school. I never figured it out until a few years later. My mother turned on her Puerto Rican swagger (bad attitude for those of you who don't understand) and flat out refused to have me go to Milam. They rushed me into a 6 grade class and I was somewhere new. Here I am, walking into a class with an older white lady and two red faced Puerto Rican parents. They opened the door and every face that looked up at me was new. They all looked different. A few kids looked at me and snickered. A few kids looked at me in disbelief. I was there and I didn't feel comfortable.
I made it to school the next day and knew I had to make that class. I depended on the wonderful transportation provided to us by the county. The school bus picked me up and once again, I saw the sea of faces glaring at me. This bus had older kids and they weren't as inclined to hold back there distaste with me being on the bus. From the back some said "hey wetback, sit right here". I went to the chair and sat down. I didn't know what to make of it and had no clue what a wetback was.
I made it to the school and went to class. The walk to class was uneventful. The start of my class was a different story. Like a banshee demon out of hell, the principal came into my class and told me to pack up my stuff. I went with her and walked to her car where she promptly drove me to Ben Milam. She dropped me off in front of the school and said to go to the office. I walked into the main office and I sat down. It was 9am and I had no idea where I was at. I didn't know what to do as my communication skills with adults was non-existent. I sat in the main office all day until 5pm. When the last person was leaving the school (the principal of ben Milam) I started crying. This is when she asked me my name.I told her and she said "you don't go to this school". I told her I didn't and that other principal dropped me off here this morning. Right now, I didn't know my house address, number, or even how to get home. My parents showed up to the school and my parents immediately attacked me. "Que tu Hiciste?" What did you do?. I came out with the best answer possible. And out of my mouth came "I didn't do anything". Oh yea, that was a priceless moment.
We went home that night and I remember my parents fighting. My mother had to take me to Ben Milam the next day. It was hard because I knew my mother was angry and that didn't make my life so peachy. When I got to the school, I was placed in a 6th grade class with Ms Montgomery. I walked into that class at about 10am. The door opened and this class looked like one in NYC. The kids didn't pay much mind to me and this made me feel a little better.
The first day was a blur as Ms Montgomery just gave me all the books and rules of the class. She also gave me the bus information that will take me closest to where I was living. She drilled this into me and I can't tell you how embarrassed I was.
3pm comes and I couldn't wait to get home. Ms Montgomery's voice was banging over and over again in my head "wait outside and stand in line three". When I get outside I see every elementary school kid just standing around. I didn't see a line, bus, teacher, or anything else that I thought I could help me. Out of nowhere this lady comes out screaming, "GET IN YOUR LINES!!" She was a short fat little latina lady. I didn't know if she was Puerto Rican or not because her spanish sounded different. Miraculously, three line were formed and I guessed which bus I had to take.
I sat down in the back of the line and this is where it begins. When you sit down in the indian position, your buttcrack tends to smile at the world. I was sitting there and I felt something at my butt crack. I reached around and this kid Oscar was pouring sand down my crack. I got up and without questioning or talking I swung at him and connected at his face. Every kid got up and in typical school fashion started instigating with the oooooooh's and aaaaaaaaah's. I heard this one girl yell out "beat him up Oscar". Well, Oscar didn't beat me up. Oscar didn't even get a good punch in. After that little melee, I was sent back to the place where I was crying the day before, the Principals office. I would live here alot within the next couple of months.
So, it turns out that once you get into a fight. They give you this brand new thing I never heard of, detention. Ok, so I figured I might as well take this detention they give me. Detention if after school and that lovely bus does not wait for you. Then after detention, you are not allowed to leave unless someone picks you up. So the only way home was to take the small piece of paper out of my pocket and call my mother to come get me.
OK, now in Texas, there was no way in hell to get around unless you knew how to drive. The public transportation system was about as convenient as a kick in the face. My mother would walk about 5 miles to come pick me up everytime I had detention. MY mother walked about a combined 500 miles my first school year.
My first year in Texas was hard for me. There were kids who call my mother aunt Jemima and wetback spic. They were people who spray painted Swatztikas on our driveway in neon orange spray paint. They were kids who thought that spitting on me when I got on the bus would be cute early in the morning. Little by little I felt this thing inside of me. It was a small pain similar to a fire in your belly. I am going to call it "Anger". I was angry most of the time in my first year in Texas. I went through so much and I didn't know I was going through it years afterwards.
Part 2. Lamar Junior High School
I am going to start somewhere around the time my father decided to move the family to Texas. My father was invested in a display company who had ambitions of of getting more productivity coupled with cost efficiency. Someone came up with the bright idea of moving the whole factory to Texas. In Texas they could hire at a lower per hour base and get more product out to their clients. Well, that was mistake number one.
Anyhow, I was too young to remember the decision making process but I figured the one who made the most money had more clout between my parents. My dad could see himself letting a job go that had him in the high 90's. My mother was making about 40 g's. So the moving van was called and our small apartment was packed and off to Texas we went.
We moved to a small city about 60 miles from Brownsville; McCallen Texas. It was a small city with no buildings taller then 5 stories. What I first recalled was the flatness of it all. On each street, you could see for miles. I was looking for hills but we didn't see anything at all. No hills, mountains, tall buildings, skyscrapers, bodegas. Oh yea, I just said bodegas. One of the stangest things to me was no bodegas. I was clearly distraught as I wanted to know where I was going to get my Maltas.
My father went ahead to Texas a few weeks before us and put into place some great sleeping arrangements. He scored a huge 2 bedroom apartment in a townhouse. It had two bathrooms and a balcony. It even boasted central air conditioning. This was a palace compared to the small shack we left in the Bronx.
Texas was a new place to me. I didn't know much about the culture. I had to learn things as I went along. I say this because the differences were hard for me. I left NYC where I was typically an average kid with plenty of friends. Many who looked like me and related to me. Many who liked the same food as me and spoke my same language.
My first school day wasn't like any other. My parents took me to Roosevelt elementary. I have no idea why they picked that school but it was the one they wanted me in. I recall being in the principals office with my parents. She looked my parents dead in the face and told them "your son has to go to Ben Milam Elementary". There was no discussion on her part. She just did not want me in her school. I never figured it out until a few years later. My mother turned on her Puerto Rican swagger (bad attitude for those of you who don't understand) and flat out refused to have me go to Milam. They rushed me into a 6 grade class and I was somewhere new. Here I am, walking into a class with an older white lady and two red faced Puerto Rican parents. They opened the door and every face that looked up at me was new. They all looked different. A few kids looked at me and snickered. A few kids looked at me in disbelief. I was there and I didn't feel comfortable.
I made it to school the next day and knew I had to make that class. I depended on the wonderful transportation provided to us by the county. The school bus picked me up and once again, I saw the sea of faces glaring at me. This bus had older kids and they weren't as inclined to hold back there distaste with me being on the bus. From the back some said "hey wetback, sit right here". I went to the chair and sat down. I didn't know what to make of it and had no clue what a wetback was.
I made it to the school and went to class. The walk to class was uneventful. The start of my class was a different story. Like a banshee demon out of hell, the principal came into my class and told me to pack up my stuff. I went with her and walked to her car where she promptly drove me to Ben Milam. She dropped me off in front of the school and said to go to the office. I walked into the main office and I sat down. It was 9am and I had no idea where I was at. I didn't know what to do as my communication skills with adults was non-existent. I sat in the main office all day until 5pm. When the last person was leaving the school (the principal of ben Milam) I started crying. This is when she asked me my name.I told her and she said "you don't go to this school". I told her I didn't and that other principal dropped me off here this morning. Right now, I didn't know my house address, number, or even how to get home. My parents showed up to the school and my parents immediately attacked me. "Que tu Hiciste?" What did you do?. I came out with the best answer possible. And out of my mouth came "I didn't do anything". Oh yea, that was a priceless moment.
We went home that night and I remember my parents fighting. My mother had to take me to Ben Milam the next day. It was hard because I knew my mother was angry and that didn't make my life so peachy. When I got to the school, I was placed in a 6th grade class with Ms Montgomery. I walked into that class at about 10am. The door opened and this class looked like one in NYC. The kids didn't pay much mind to me and this made me feel a little better.
The first day was a blur as Ms Montgomery just gave me all the books and rules of the class. She also gave me the bus information that will take me closest to where I was living. She drilled this into me and I can't tell you how embarrassed I was.
3pm comes and I couldn't wait to get home. Ms Montgomery's voice was banging over and over again in my head "wait outside and stand in line three". When I get outside I see every elementary school kid just standing around. I didn't see a line, bus, teacher, or anything else that I thought I could help me. Out of nowhere this lady comes out screaming, "GET IN YOUR LINES!!" She was a short fat little latina lady. I didn't know if she was Puerto Rican or not because her spanish sounded different. Miraculously, three line were formed and I guessed which bus I had to take.
I sat down in the back of the line and this is where it begins. When you sit down in the indian position, your buttcrack tends to smile at the world. I was sitting there and I felt something at my butt crack. I reached around and this kid Oscar was pouring sand down my crack. I got up and without questioning or talking I swung at him and connected at his face. Every kid got up and in typical school fashion started instigating with the oooooooh's and aaaaaaaaah's. I heard this one girl yell out "beat him up Oscar". Well, Oscar didn't beat me up. Oscar didn't even get a good punch in. After that little melee, I was sent back to the place where I was crying the day before, the Principals office. I would live here alot within the next couple of months.
So, it turns out that once you get into a fight. They give you this brand new thing I never heard of, detention. Ok, so I figured I might as well take this detention they give me. Detention if after school and that lovely bus does not wait for you. Then after detention, you are not allowed to leave unless someone picks you up. So the only way home was to take the small piece of paper out of my pocket and call my mother to come get me.
OK, now in Texas, there was no way in hell to get around unless you knew how to drive. The public transportation system was about as convenient as a kick in the face. My mother would walk about 5 miles to come pick me up everytime I had detention. MY mother walked about a combined 500 miles my first school year.
My first year in Texas was hard for me. There were kids who call my mother aunt Jemima and wetback spic. They were people who spray painted Swatztikas on our driveway in neon orange spray paint. They were kids who thought that spitting on me when I got on the bus would be cute early in the morning. Little by little I felt this thing inside of me. It was a small pain similar to a fire in your belly. I am going to call it "Anger". I was angry most of the time in my first year in Texas. I went through so much and I didn't know I was going through it years afterwards.
Part 2. Lamar Junior High School
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
IF they find me, It was meant to be. That is the simplicity of it. I am doing well. I am still working the new job and I am loving it. I have been feeling very tired lately but I find the energy to still get the job done.
Last night was Acentos. 5 full years later and I am hosting as Rich found his way to Kent to teach some poetics. Maria Also played bellvue so I had to hold down the insane asylum all my my lonesome.
It was one of those evenings where we started late. I wish we started early but it was worth waiting around. Last night I feature was Johanny Vasquez Paz. She is down with teh Palabra pura crew out in Chicago. It was the utmost pleasure having her read. We had a good turn out. All this despite NO ONE PLUGGIN AT ALL.
Our next show is with Bonafide Rojas. I would have never featured his ass. This is his third time on the Acentos stage and he is not that special. I got wind of another great poet named Madaline Millian and I think we are gonna throw her into the mix. She has been around and I think she's a great connection to the Puerto Rican diaspora of poets who have kept their distance.
All in all. I'm good
Let see how far it is before my blog is found by the masses
Last night was Acentos. 5 full years later and I am hosting as Rich found his way to Kent to teach some poetics. Maria Also played bellvue so I had to hold down the insane asylum all my my lonesome.
It was one of those evenings where we started late. I wish we started early but it was worth waiting around. Last night I feature was Johanny Vasquez Paz. She is down with teh Palabra pura crew out in Chicago. It was the utmost pleasure having her read. We had a good turn out. All this despite NO ONE PLUGGIN AT ALL.
Our next show is with Bonafide Rojas. I would have never featured his ass. This is his third time on the Acentos stage and he is not that special. I got wind of another great poet named Madaline Millian and I think we are gonna throw her into the mix. She has been around and I think she's a great connection to the Puerto Rican diaspora of poets who have kept their distance.
All in all. I'm good
Let see how far it is before my blog is found by the masses
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
we love to make people smile
We had a great time tonight at Acentos with Johanny. She knew that she was home. She felt it deep into her bones.
I state anew today
I state anew today
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