The Angry Man, the Baby Girl, the Rain, and Me

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It’s rainy, everyone trying to stay dry.

I get onto the light rail train and a homeless gentleman is blocking my way and I’m half-in, half-out of the door. The man is furious because I ask him to move, he starts yelling and, in my defense,  other passengers yelled back to him. I was all squished into a corner and he didn’t move and, necia yo, neither did I.  I didn’t feel like arguing with him or anyone at that point.

I decided to let God deal with him until he wanted to get off of the train.  There happened to be a lady with 2 cute baby girls in front of him.  The woman asked him if this was his stop, and he proceeds to yell at them to move.  The woman had a lil one in a stroller and a tiny one standing near her.  When the man started yelling, the lil girl walks out of the train.   If the other passengers were angry when the man yelled at me, it was straight-up bedlam when he yelled at this family and when we saw the little girl, afraid, walking out of the train to let him pass.  Everyone went in to keep the doors from closing on this lil bebita so she wouldn’t be separated from her mom.

This man got angry because, according to him, no one cared about him or his things.  I used to be very rude to these folks until my sister told me one day,  ‘you know, people who are on the street aren’t all bad, mad or crazy, even though having no food or roof on your head can make you seem like you’re crazy‘.  I tried to have compassion because, you never know, it could be me on hard times.

What got me was, that this man wanted things his way a huevo… at the expense of this cute lil bebita, who in her little pea coat and Mary Jane shoes, could not hurt him.   He just wanted his way.  Kind of reminded me of 45 and the children in the cages, government shutdown, 45’s temper tantrum because he did not get his way, people suffering for some madness the HE created.  It was obvious that this man on the light rail felt the same way, especially as he kept yelling racist remarks and cussing at us as he walked off of the train completely enraged.

I was so happy to see that people did the right thing working together to protect this child and her family, and these were people of many colors who jumped in to help.  I saw more good people than bad on this day.  Gives me hope.  Hope that people are united by doing good for others instead of tearing them apart.

God bless those bebitas and their mother.  God bless that angry man. God bless our country.

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Reading Into 2019

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Excited with my first reading list for 2019.

I used to have a designated reading corner in every house I lived in. However, it’s been harder now that I’m at the Ranch.  Plus, at some point, those books did eventually make the move to any or all of the following locations:

1. My purse or bag
2. The bathroom
3. The bedroom

When I noticed that my phone started taking over and I was starting to click into articles, etc., I decided it was time to think about how I read. I love having a book in my hand, I love going through the pages, if there are pictures, I spend time checking out the pictures and, as square as it may sound, I really love physically opening and closing the book, like I’m going in and out of another world.

I can do Kindle, or read sometimes off of my smartphone,  but it’s not the same, it feels like I do when I’m chisme-scrolling through social media, email, etc.  It’s easy to click things, dismiss them, or worse, forget about them as you chisme-scroll.  It becomes more difficult to lose myself in Kindle/Phone and I really do love to lose myself in a good book.

Yesterday, my family celebrated Christmas (on 3KingsDay) and my lil niece was very excited about a ‘chapter book’ that she had received as a gift. I loooove that she likes to read and looks forward to it.  My goal has become to expose my lil ones to reading, to going to the library, book fairs, book sales, you name it.  I have seen folks checking out something like 40 or 50 books at a time for their children, I don’t know if I’d go that far but it would be fun to go for it if my littles wanted to do it.

I remember always checking books out from the library even as a little girl.  I’m still a library girl at heart and tend to go straight to the ‘new’ book section as it is a big section and I always find something.    I had a goal once to read all Latino authors from A to Z;  I think I got to the G’s and got off track, I should revisit that goal.

Either way, I have decided that, no matter how busy life gets, that I will go through 2019 with a ‘libro’ in my hand.   I’m searching for a place to create a reading corner, for now it’s in my Jeep, where I spend the majority of my time and I almost finished “An Unlikely Journey” by Julian Castro over the weekend in the peace and quiet of the car.   Highly recommend this book especially if you grew up as I did:   culture, both of them,  front and center, activists as mentors, student activities, and working with and for your community.

Doesn’t matter where you open a book, or how you open that book, whatever and wherever works.  Just read.

 

QueQUE? Celebrating A Solas

It was December 31st.  I was sitting at home and feeling hesitant and excited at the same time.

I had decided that I wanted to spend my New Year’s Eve alone and found what I wrote over the weekend:

I want to spend New Year’s Eve alone, I do not feel like fake sentiment, I do not feel like hearing the noise of ringing in another year. Don’t get me wrong, I feel grateful to see another year, and admit that I’m not as jodida at the end of this year as I had been in other years. However, I feel the need to rejoice and celebrate in complete silence, in a very quiet way. I do not want to babysit anyone, to ensure that everyone is having a fun time, I want to be still with myself, my thoughts.

Celebrating alone is not something that I have really ever done, I’ve never admitted that I wanted to be by myself for once, who would believe it?  After all, my family’s holiday has always been New Year’s Eve, always with a huge party/dance, ever since I can remember.  I’ve always been involved in some event or another all up in the mix from start to finish.  I think that the last time I stayed home on New Year’s Eve was when I was packing up my place in Denver, getting ready to come back to California.  I was so busy, I didn’t think about it.

This time, however, I felt the true need to recharge, not only was I burnt-out physically, I was burnt-out spiritually.   The thought of being able to stay home and not have to be “on” felt almost like I was going to go out, party and throw down shots, that’s how exciting it was for me.

When the clock struck midnight, I was watching a movie and lounging in the recliner in my clean, quiet, house and I even whispered “Happy New Year” to myself.  Relaxed, rested, rejoicing in the promise of what 2019 will bring and thanking GodJesusVirgenOfG that my family understood my need to celebrate a solas and to start thinking about how I want to spend this new year.

Sometimes you have to shake things up to get yourself back on track.  Worked for me.

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2018

First time since the end of AUGUST that I’ve blogged. Wow.

I had come to a point where I felt that I had nothing left to say. So much going on in the world like the children in cages, the election year, made me so overwhelmed that I just didn’t know where to start to write about anything. I made a decision to live life instead of reporting on my life for a while. Didn’t think that it would last for months.

I miss writing. I will challenge myself to write one article a week (at least) on anything. I spent so much time wondering what people would want to read/see/hear that, when it came time to write, I was already tired.

Taking breaks are important and, now that I look back, a lot has happened in 2018 in no particular order.

1. Decided to take a Interpreting class to keep myself sharp and focused as I try (again) to pass the State Interpreting Exam. Got an ‘A’ in my class and found that I was on top of this stuff, I really took it seriously this time around.

2. Got together with my friends for the first time in a YEAR. Fun to catch up and to relax away from my projects.

3.  Lost one of my really good friends a couple of weeks ago.  It’s sad because it’s one of the first of my college friends to leave this earth, couldn’t sleep for the first couple of days after I got the news.  It made me think about taking care of my business (one never knows).

4.  My godson nephew was named Teacher of the Year for his region for his work with special needs kids, he’s blessed.

5.  Am loving watch my godson nephews come into their own music-wize from high school band for one to La45 for another

6.  My off the charts smart niece goddaughter is a top candidate for valedictorian, how cool would this be?

7.  Enjoyed meeting my baby godson nephew for the first time when he visited us from Texas.  I tell Dad that this was how HE must have looked at that age.

8.  Lost one of our cousins to a stroke a few weeks ago and remember how it felt the day that Mama had her stroke, while Mama was lucky and always able to speak, it was a struggle for her from that day forward.  I confess that it scares me that one of us will have a stroke and it’s time to make taking care of ourselves a priority.,

9.  Watching my sister make the decision to live healthier and to work out and watch her meals has been an inspiration to me.   I can’t wait to see what 2019 holds for her.

10.  Dad still going strong at 83.   It’s easy to forget his age because he still drives, goes out to hear mariachis, and is fun-loving.

11.  Trying to be there for my lil niece goddaughters and to be a good example for them.  Taking them places and showing them different things is important.

12.  Made a couple of chisme road-trips to Phoenix and Denver – no sightseeing required, just wanted to visit with fam/friends, it was so fun.

13.  Got a killer bronchitis flu that knocked me out, hoping that never happens again.

14.  4 years and one month without Mama.   We never stop missing her and we keep moving forward together thank God.

15.  Ita is with us for the holidays, she’s looking great.   Had fun with my Tias at Ranch Christmas, thank God for them.

16.  RIP Aretha.

17.  Got off track with Mama’s traditions, I did pretty good for 4 years and now it’s time to get back to it and to leave the guilt behind.

18.  Committed myself to being very informed through the political madness in which we now live.   It’s one thing to get all mad and react nomas porque si, it’s quite another to get all mad and react with the facts in hand.   Always praying that this country finds its way back from the cruel, divisive, dark, angry, racist corner in which it now resides.

19.  Saw some concerts this year and it’s so much fun that I must do more of this in 2019.

20.  Went through a lot of personal cleansing of personal demons.  My life is no longer dependent on what certain people do, think, say, or want.   December 12th is an important date in this regard for me — when I got to December 12th and realized just how many years had passed since my personal desmadre, I decided that, yes, I had done a lot of work in facing that mess, dealing with PTSD, and, thank GodJesusVirgenOfG, I’ve really put the majority of this mess behind me.

2019 will be dedicated to closing the circle on some important personal goals.   Getting my personal business in order, bringing that debt down, striving to work drama and desmadre-free, finding the joy (again) in putting events on and smiling more.  I’m also committed to bringing this lonja down and live healthier, going to Mass, clearing my life of the clutter that I tend to collect,  working smarter, not harder, doing the right thing, spending time with familia and friends, to be PRESENT and not stressed about it.

The way I see it, I was stopped in my tracks for a few years, no more, it’s time to finish everything that I’ve started.  More chingona. Less pendeja.

Happy 2019 All.

 

Stunned Into Silence At the Carwash

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As I was taking my Jeep into the car wash earlier, and the water was shooting out onto the car, there was no signal for the radio (yes, I always listen to the radio), so I saw that I had a CD in the player. A saber which CD, it had been so long since I listened to the CD player.

It happened to be one of my homemade driving CDs – I usually make these for myself and my sisters. This happened to be one that we all loved. So, I’m sitting in the Jeep enjoying the music as the car was covered with soap bubbles and brushes went back and forth removing copious amounts of dirt and grime, the black Jeep looked gray from the dust and dirt I’m embarrassed to admit.

And then a song comes on and I was stunned into silence. It was a song that took me back to a final conversation after a breakup. OMG. The words were almost verbatim what I had told him! The song is called, “I Try” and, while she is not the original singer of this song (it is Angela Bofill),  the version that hit me straight in the face is sung by the great Maysa Leak of the band Incognito, a favorite vocalist of the Torres Sisters.

So I’m sitting in the car, completely into this song, eyes closed, nodding my head to every beat of the music, and thinking back to that final conversation…you know the one, where you have nothing else left to lose, where you throw it all out there, where you are at your most vulnerable and, dare I say it, your most straight-up honest. Nothing was said in attempts to get him back, I always sensed that there was no turning back thus it wasn’t as elegant as I would have liked at times. It was the moment to throw it all in his face, calmly. So, imagine when I heard Maysa Leak sing “my” words….

…I try to do the best I can for you, but it seems it’s not enough
…Can’t you see that you’re hurting me, and I want, I want this pain to stop
…You know that I tried to be with you
…You know that I wanted to see it through.
…You know that I needed to make you mine.
…It was only a matter of time.

Looking back, this was one of the best conversations ever. I may have been very hurt, but I saw this man for what he was and wanted no part of this drama anymore because, in my heart of hearts, I knew that he would not change and besides, there was already someone else in the picture to deal with his mess. Mujeriego. We all have had at least one.

Another song to add to the personal soundtrack of my life. When you think about it, we all have at least one song that can transport us to another time and place, good or bad. While I almost wished that I had this song around then to get me through this sad time, I loved the fact that I could now listen to the words of the song and still dedicate it to myself (and him) LOL It’s more bittersweet for me now than bitter. Love how music, in the end, always heals, always makes bad times more bearable, makes good times even more awesome.

By the time I left the car wash, my Jeep was sparkling-clean, and I felt as if my soul had also taken a refreshing shower as well, so I was all smiles as I went off to finish conquering the day.

 

Enjoy Maysa Leak’s version of “I Try”

 

An American Job: Tapiando Cebolla

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Driving home an hour or so ago, I was driving thru what we call the ‘islands’ from the Bay to the Ranch. It’s one of the richest agricultural areas nestled between cities in the San Joaquin Delta. Just about all you see are fields, cornfields, tomato fields, onion fields and more.

On my way thru early this morning, all the workers were just getting situated in field after field. I thought to myself, “wow it’s early, they’ll be done for the day around 2 or 3 this afternoon.”

As I passed thru this evening, I was stunned to see workers STILL working. They had those huge work lights going to light their way. Now what really got to me was WHAT they were harvesting.

Tapiando cebolla”. Topping onions.

It must be said that I have not spent my entire life working the fields. However, I did work a few summers. Topping onions is one of the most unpleasant tasks of them all. This work involves shears and you are to trim off the long green stems of the onion and the stringy thin stems at the top of the onion and proceed to fill up sacks with the ‘topped’ onions.

The goal is to top all the onions in the long rows and put them into the sacks. I still remember looking down the row to see that we had sooooo many sacks left to fill to finish an entire row. Not only was I not the fastest worker, sometimes I’d cut my fingers with the shears…OMG imagine the stinging of the juice from the onions mixed with dirt, aaaaay! Miserable.

My eternal respect for those who harvest the food that we eat daily. It’s harvest season thus they are working hard around the clock. Topping onions is difficult enough in the light of day, but at this hour of the night, albeit it’s much cooler out of the hot sun, it must be even more complicated to work at filling those sacks in the dark.

As I write this entry, I shake my head, these folks are the topic of so much debate, so much racism and so much negativity yet there they are, en chinga, working it to get these crops harvested. And leave it to Latinos to find humor in even the worst work situation: I could actually hear them joking and laughing and the music going strong as they worked. These workers seemed so far removed from the intensity of the immigration debate…doing what they always do…working it.

I can only imagine how much more these folks could produce if people were actually grateful to them for providing food for their tables but, no, these workers and their families have to live in fear for so many things, discrimination, separation of familias, injury, illness…all this in the name of “American Jobs” which, by the way, no “American” wants to do.

My short time working in the fields was enough motivation to work at something else, anything else, but the fields. God bless our Latino brothers and sisters who take it for the team day (and night).

A Joyous Moment

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Just looked on my drafts, unwritten posts, unfinished essays, and find that I have over FOUR HUNDRED of them.

Every one who writes has a perfect situation where inspiration and creativity flows like a cool breeze or a gentle stream.  No drama, no craziness, no rush, no interruptions.

Here is my Joyous Moment:  Right now, here I sit, alone, in the living room of the house, all windows and doors open at this hour, music blasting, with only the light of Mama’s table, the TV, my laptop and a little flashlight, and me writing.  I’ve been at it for a few hours now and haaaaaappppy!

Especially as event season is upon me, I tend to write a lot every day, but I write proposals, copy points, event timelines, etc.   My mind is beyond busy with constant ‘to-do’ lists, what needs to get done, what has been done.  Granted, this helps me immensely to keep things moving and in order, and while it is joyous when events go well, it does not give me enough of these kinds of joyous moments, where I am ‘me’, at peace with the world, recharging my batteries, doing things that I love to do.

It helps that the house is completely quiet this weekend, as Dad is out-of-town.  Usually all of the lights are on, he’s working on some project or another, his music or TV shows blasting, and it doesn’t feel like a girl’s house LOL.  This type of night reminds me of almost every night when I lived in my own place.  While I still come and go as I please, it’s different with roommates and you know how it is, it’s a little harder to find those “me time” moments.  Don’t get me wrong, there’s no where else I’d rather be, but sometimes, it’s the BEST to be able to do whatever you want, whenever you want.

So tonight, I will sit back and enjoy this Joyous Moment, Me Time, Girl Time, blast MY favorite music, and write until I get sleepy…or write all night like I’ve been known to do.

I must make time for these Joyous Moments (and writing) more often.

 

Aretha

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Aretha Franklin passed away this past Thursday, August 16th. Her influence on the world of music was monumental, the first woman voted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, the first (and undisputed) Queen of Soul, the first women to successfully fuse gospel and soul, winner of so many accolades and awards, an activist, a musically integral part of the Women and Civil Rights Movements.  Her songs were full of pain, love, and hope.

Being that I was raised in a musical household, I remember hearing Aretha songs from waaay back and I was proud of myself when I learned how to spell R.E.S.P.E.C.T. But I didn’t really get into or appreciate her music until later, when I was heartbroken and trying to find music to match some of the moods that I was in. I remember hearing Bonnie Raitt saying that “I learned more about men from listening to Aretha Franklin than I could have ever learned from any man”.   So I went back and listened and many times, closed my eyes, and said a silent “yep”, because I could totally relate.

Needless to say, the Aretha songs that really got to me on those times when I couldn’t think of how to move forward from a heartbreak are the ones that remain my favorites.


How many times have we walked straight into a wall (sometimes time and time again) when we were all into some man?  Take “I Never Loved A Man The Way I Love You”,  I smile today on the birthday of a certain man for whom this song was tailor-made, and when I was convinced that everyone was wrong, and that we would be together forever.  Yeah, yeah, I told myself this many many many times and, at first, I’d listen to this song with straight-up defiance, and then I’d only listen to the title of the song, as if to will him to straighten up and respect our relationship.   As reality began to hit, I slowly realized that he would never change, ever.   For a time, that was enough.  But it took me listening to this song over and over and over, maaaany times, alone, not talking to Mama or sisters or friends or anyone, to get me to finally accept that this was over.

So many of Aretha songs STILL stop me in my tracks at certain times:  “Ain’t No Way“, “Daydreaming” , “Oh Me Oh My, I’m A Fool for You Baby”, “Baby I Love You“, “Chain Of Fools“, “Until You Come Back To Me” along with the super classics “Respect“, “Natural Woman“, “Think“, “Dr. Feelgood“, “Do Right Woman Do Right Man” and so many more.

One of the greatest to ever sing it like it is, Aretha’s classic music will live forever and likely serve as Life Education for so many of us who are unable, or too embarrassed, or too messed up in love, to put their feelings into words…that is, until they can get their power back and most important, get their R-E-S-P-E-C-T back.

RIP Aretha Franklin.

 

Rest In Peace?

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Today’s is my lovely Mama’s birthday may she RIP.

I’m known to post regularly about Mama: random memories, how many months it’s been since she’s left us (44 months in a few days), pictures that I find around the house, pictures of her table that we update with each holiday, her tradition of giving treat bags to her friends (which, by the way, I’ve passed two holidays because my life got crazy-busy, yes, I feel guilty) and more.

More than once, I’ve had folks tell me that I should let her go, that I should let my mother rest in peace, that I have separation anxiety issues.

Having gone through the trauma of losing my mother, I’ve realized a few things:

  1.  Everyone grieves differently.
  2.  Everyone honors their loved ones in their own way.
  3.  The greatest gift that Margaret gave us, her familia, was sitting us down and telling us how she intended to live out her life, that she loved us and knew that we loved her, and that she knew that we would always be together.

Mama was right.  When she was gone, we would have each other to hold on to, we would know that we were loved, and we would know that she was going to be happy in her eternal home.

So the fact that I celebrate my mother constantly does not necessarily mean that I want time to stop, that I want her back, that I want things to stay as they always have, that I’ve not accepted her departure.  Wrong.  Margaret told us she would be alright, that she was ready to leave, that she would be happy.  There is no way that I would want Mama to be sad or suffering here on earth when she was clearly ready to go HOME.

It took me much longer than my siblings to accept this harsh truth when Mama first told us what was what.  However,  I became so convinced that Mama was right as we took care of her those final weeks:  no food, no water, no medicine and she didn’t look weak or emaciated or sad or suffering.  When it was time, it was time.

When she was with us, we Torres5 would always marvel about the crazy positive reaction would be on social media to anything we posted about Margaret, she would be a little shy when we’d tell her or read folks’ birthday wishes or comments to this or that post, but then you would see her famous little quiet smile.  Mama used to always tell me, “omg, this isn’t a competition!” to which I’d answer, “Of course it isn’t, you always win!”

Happy Birthday Mama/Mother/Mom/Negra/Prieta/Marga!

 

The Phone Call

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Marisa ran toward her desk when she heard the phone ringing.  “This is Marisa” she answered.  From the line, she heard the words that she had been dreading, “You Gonna Talk to Me Now Bitch?”.   Marisa could feel the color drain from her face and then shoot back up, her heart felt as if it would jump out of her chest, she could barely keep her composure, she couldn’t completely go off as she was, after all, in her office cubicle and others would have surely heard this conversation had she ‘gone there’.  Marisa’s mind raced a million miles a millisecond, “whaaat? how? hoooooow? OMG! what do I do? chiiiingao! what do I do? omg.  How? HOW? Hooooooooooooow in the f@#$ did he find me? What do I say to him?”

“Answer me bitch!  Did you think that I wouldn’t find you? Noooow talk your shit bitch!”  Marisa was taken aback, stunned.  “I really can’t talk right now” was all that Marisa could get out of her mouth and she hung up.  A few seconds later, the phone rang again…and again…again…and again.  After finally turning the ringer off and saying a silent prayer hoping that no one in the office noticed what was up, Marisa gathered her things and left the office for an “appointment”.

Once in the “safety” of her car, Marisa was completely in disbelief and shock.  Should she cry? scream? call someone? call him back? quit?  what?   Ten minutes seemed like an eternity sitting in that car, completely unglued and uncertain of what her next move should be.

It was apparent that Marisa’s getaway plan had not worked as she had hoped.  This was job number FOUR and, for this one, for the first time, Marisa had to change cities.   If he was able to get to her direct work line, then he HAD to now know where she was working, did he know where she lived too?  Taking deep breaths, looking right to left, searching for signs of her coworkers, for anyone strange, for him, she put her head down, trying to hide the tears streaming down her face, and quietly drove away, unsure of where she would go next.

Sadly, this is typical when a woman finally finds the nerve to remove herself from a bad situation.  She leaves thinking that ‘things will be better’, almost hopeful, almost positive that she’s done the right thing.    No one tells her that leaving is the beginning of almost uncontrollable drama.  There are still more roads that lead to  fear, anger, humiliation, shame, sadness, and sometimes, violence before it’s all said and done.  No one tells her that the madness will come at her from any/all sides, with sometimes double/triple/quadruple force.    That this will the most difficult and dangerous time of all.  That there are no guarantees that she will come out of this journey intact, much less alive.   Life truly becomes day-by-day, hour-by-hour, minute-by-minute where all she does is question herself and her decisions.   Everything gets even more complicated and overwhelming.   For every time she puts her head up, she must continue to put her head down in order to get through the day, to show her family and friends that she is alright, to strive for some semblance of normalcy in a world that has come crashing down in front of her.

These stories are part-me and part some of the women whom I’ve met along my journey of finding my way back from similar abusive situations, these women understood me from minute one, and helped me to regain my balance and my sense of self.  From time to time, I’ll share a story in hopes that someone reading this finds the courage to say “ya estuvo”, get their power back and change their life.