Tuesday, August 05, 2025

Love, Horror, Evil, A Dementia Caregiver's Story

Review: Hiroko Falkenstein. Sinking Together. Honorable Acts with Love. Dallas: USA Book Services, 2025. ISBN (paper) 978-1-967178-32-2

Michael Sedano

I am living After Alzheimer's. Dementia books provide valuable insight for spouses or families. When undertaking caregiving for a person living with dementia, it's like taking on a new career. Reading and research provide valuable insight into what's to be. Here is such a story.


Sinking Together
brings readers a horror story of unadulterated evil people exploiting an elderly couple. Sinking Together is also a story of the power of cultural mores, and above all, a story of love and character, reflecting the book’s subtitle, Honorable Acts With Love.

Haruko is a Japanese-born daughter-in-law whose cultural norms demand she be caregiver to her estranged husband’s parents. Bill, Jr., doesn’t visit his parents and grows to resent Haruko’s presence in their lives. “You’re in it for their money,” he whimpers. 

Marriage difficulties create a parallel world of misery and resentment even as caregiving provides joy and fulfillment. Life continues its pace irrespective of the singular importance of caregiving.

The old couple, Bill and Mary, are easy prey to a series of daytime caregivers. One after another enters the home and begins stealing and conducting themselves in brazen, shameless, manners. One moves her husband and kids into the main house while Bill and Mary live in a smaller studio. Instead of paying bills, caregivers write themselves generous checks. One takes an “all-expenses paid” vacation to Hawaii on her employers’ money. When confronted, the thief lies and gets away with all sorts of crap because finding caregiving is difficult.

These are not isolated, nor rare,  occurrences. My own in-laws hired a caregiver who, like Mary and Bill’s caregiver, started feeding her husband and kids in the home. Rosemary and her husband cleaned out my in-laws’ checkbook. "I had their permission," she said. And that was so. I hired a caregiver for my wife who inflated her hours to three-times the hours she’d actually performed. Did she think I didn’t notice? I discharged her and the agency repaid the theft. 

It's not just caregivers who spot easy prey. Haruko rescues Mary and Bill—she calls them Daddy and Mother—by relocating them to their mountain cabin. It’s a two and a half hour drive, but Haruko visits regularly and responds to calls for help with frequent unplanned drives out and back again. Bill hires a “carpenter” to build a greenhouse. The thieving louse buys wood for his other jobs, expensive tools, and the greenhouse never gets finished. Haruko confronts them while they're eating Mary's lunch, one of the bennies of the job. 

A reader turns the pages wondering how this evil exploitation can happen, not just once, but caregiver following caregiver does this stuff. At first the caregiver is all nice and considerate. When no one’s around, Bill gets punched and bruised. Another uses psychological torture to terrorize helpless Bill, who’s by that time, blind in both eyes.

Mary is a domineering woman whose Alzheimer’s Dementia hasn’t been diagnosed as the book opens. Mother’s behaviors reflect symptoms of dementia but, like many families, the behaviors are attributed to other causes. A former dancer, Mary’s strength challenges Haruko and the caregivers. Mary’s behavior is dangerous, not to herself alone but Bill.

Mary demands to see Bill’s eye under an eyepatch. The surgeon instructed Bill to keep the eye covered, and he refuses Mary’s demand to see the wound. Irate, Mary punches Bill in that eye and he loses that eye.

Mary’s dementia doesn’t incapacitate her. She wants to be Bill’s caregiver. But she burns the food when she cooks, and leaves the house unkempt. Caregivers complain to Haruko that Mary interferes with their work caring for Bill.

A reader will wonder why Haruko doesn’t hire better people? Haruko relies upon recommendations that so-and-so is a good Christian woman the recommender knows from church. These good Christians emerge as brazen thieves and elder abusers.

When Mary begins to wander—a typical Alzheimer’s behavior—Bill can only call police when Mary’s “escaped.” Why not move Mary to a memory care facility? Out of the question; the couple’s Will specified they would not be placed in nursing homes. Not many families can afford Memory Care, so in-home is their only option. I told my wife that I'd find us assisted living but Barbara told me she wanted to remain in her home. Of course, I acceded to my wife's desire and it was the right thing to do. I am so relieved my story is not Sinking Together.

Haruko is trapped by her Japanese culture. Bill, Jr., wants nothing to do with her parents and wants Haruko to obey his commands and find other people to care for the parents. In the middle of the book, they divorce. Haruko, however, remains dedicated to her culture and her commitment to Daddy and Mother.

Culture doesn’t fully explain why Haruko does the right thing. This is character. Faced with onerous demands, Haruko complies without complaint. A late-night phone call for help summons Haruko’s presence. Bill and Mary live only a few blocks away. But when they’re up in the mountains, that call obligates the loving daughter-in-law to make that two and a half hour drive up to Idylwild and back to Laguna.

Haruko is the nom de plume of the author, Hiroko Falkenstein. The author wrote the book thirty years ago and only this year, 2025, has the experience and memory bubbled up to the surface driving Falkenstein finally to tell this story.

Dementia of the Alzheimer’s type is a growing health issue in the world, not just the U.S. Falkenstein’s/Haruko’s experiences are neither rare nor unexpected. Sinking Together, Honorable Acts With Love, offers a cautionary message for spouses or families beginning their own careers as caregivers to a loved one stricken with this uncurable, untreatable disease.

Vetting caregivers comes first. No one can be a full-time caregiver without help. A spouse has to find respite hours, if not daily, regularly. This subject is not entirely absent from Falkenstein’s narrative. Haruko takes a European vacation and feels guilty about leaving her in-laws to the hands of such strangers.

Consequences come into demand when a thief is discovered, but only one gets jailed. Haruko accepts feeble excuses, in part because she is “nice” and in part because firing a caregiver without a replacement puts the onus on Haruko to devote 24/7 to Mary and Bill, while still working to please that resentful husband. Jail time would be a suitable reward to elder abusers of the ilk whom we encounter in Sinking Together. My mother's elder abusing, thieving, caregiver was a family member whose crimes go unpunished to this day. 

Dementia behaviors are unique to the individual. Mary’s outlandish behaviors were particular to her personality, the book is not a prediction of anyone else’s Alzheimer’s Dementia experiences. There is only one Mary, only one Bill, in the world.

Much of the narrative, however, is universal to all dementia caregivers. Adult diapers. Bathing. Diarrhea covering the floor and person’s body. Impatience and anger both from the cared-for and the caregiver.

And death. Mary dies with Alzheimer’s but Bill won’t learn the fact until later. An ugly later, as a caregiver torments Bill telling him Mary’s dead.

Falkenstein ends the story with tenderness.For his 90th birthday, Haruko locates several of Bill’s former friends and employees. These people celebrate their memories of a generous, kind and giving, boss. Bill’s gratitude to be reminded of who he used to be provides a boost to his spirit. It’s that Bill, not the weak exploited abused husband, who lies on his futon on his final day.

 Readers will be aghast at the depths of human depravity, reading about the bad caregivers. But there’s respite for readers, tenderness as Falkenstein closes the story with Bill’s death. He lies on a futon with Haruko and another caregiver holding his hands. “It’s OK to go, Bill.”

Falkenstein keeps her focus on behaviors without moralizing on the depths of depravity she witnesses. The book reflects the work of a talented story-teller. Despite the awful events, readers will keep turning pages, led by the writer’s foreshadowing of events at the ends of chapters and the arresting details of living with dementia and old age.

Reliving events like these brings profound trauma. I admire Falkenstein’s strategy. Hiroko Falkenstein maintains a safe perspective on the developments by turning her first-person story into the third-person story of Haruko. I have not yet been able to write extensively about my five-year career as a dementia caregiver. It took Falkenstein thirty years to get this story into public.

  

Sunday, August 03, 2025

“Brota vida” por Xánath Caraza

“Brota vida” por Xánath Caraza

 


En las desnudas

puntas de los árboles

rojos arabescos renacen

la vida insiste en latir.

 

Árbol, satura

con las áureas

ramas la mirada.

Báñame de luz.

 

Vida desbordada

no te esfumes

muévete entre

las células de mi sangre.

 

Brota vida desde

la carmín memoria

dorada sombra

eras.

 

Xanath Caraza

Emerge Life

 

On naked

treetops

red arabesques are reborn

life insists on beating.

 

Tree, saturate

my gaze with

golden branches.

Bathe me in light.

 

Overflowing life

do not slip away

move within

the cells of my blood.

 

Emerge life from

carmine memory

golden shadow

you were.

 

“Brota vida/ Emerge Life” is part of the collection Sin preámbulos / Without Preamble (2017). Sin preámbulos was originally written in Spanish by Xánath Caraza and translated into the English by Sandra Kingery. In 2018 for the International Latino Book Awards Sin preámbulos / Without Preamble received First Place for “Best Book of Bilingual Poetry”. 

 

In 2019 Sin preámbulos / Without Preamble / Fără preambul was translated into the Romanian by Tudor Serbănescu and Silvia Tugui.

 

 

 

 

 

Friday, August 01, 2025

Poetry Connection: Connecting with Teens and Typewriters

 

Melinda Palacio, Santa Barbara Poet Laureate 2023-2025

 








I had the pleasure of offering a writing workshop to teenaged poets who are part of Simon Kieffer’s Teen Arts Mentorship sponsored by the Arts Fund. All county students aged 13-18 are eligible for the teen mentorship. A wide variety of arts professionals are on hand to show youth the ropes of living an art-filled life. With typewriter mentorship in mind, I shared some writing exercises to help get the creative inspiration flowing. A popular questions remains, ‘how do I get started?’. I often find that it is easier to complete a poem, chapter or writing assignment when I come to the computer with words or ideas that are first written on paper. In this case, students were working on typewriters.


There’s an added challenge when composing on a typewriter. Most of the students had never used a typewriter. Unlike a computer, a typewriter requires physical force and effort just to type one letter, let alone a few words or entire poem. Simon showed the teens how to load the paper into the typewriter and how to return the carriage and use the backspace button. He suggested typing with two index fingers, think of Snoopy, the beagle author. We had a good laugh wondering how a beagle uses a typewriter; Charles Schulz somehow made it happen.

I recall a very different method for typing. This is where I date myself. When I was in Junior High School, I took a typing class and learned touch typing. I can still hear the teacher singing out the letters. You would hear, ‘J, J, J, J,’ over the clatter of 30 students pounding on typewriters, drowning out the teacher’s soprano voice that was somehow off key. The repetitive pressing of each key several times over helped our fingers memorize where the letters were on the typewriter’s keyboard. Speed and accuracy gave a student the better grade. Speed is no longer as important as it used to be, especially when composing poems.

Simon does a great job explaining the ins and outs of typewriters to the teens. I was impressed by how quickly they learned how to compose on the typewriters. While I spent a whole semester in Junior High learning how to touch type, the students were able to quickly get the hang of typing within minutes. Of course, knowing how to use devices, such as a computer and cell phone, with built in keyboards helped their swift learning. Even more impressive were the poems they came up with during our session together. How I wish I could share the wonderful poems they wrote in my workshop, but I respect their privacy. Although a few offered to send me their poems, I have yet to receive them. Maybe, next time. I am happy that they wrote on both paper and on typewriters. I look forward to seeing their future work. I could tell that they will all be wonderful poets. 

 

This post is also published in the Santa Barbara Independent. 


Thursday, July 31, 2025

The New Elites and the War Against Knowledge

                                                                                   
The Breadth of Knowledge
                              
     I’m sitting back and watching the big boys go after each other, the government attacking CBS, Paramount, ABC, manhandling the most prestigious law firms in D.C., and shaking down major universities, like an old-time Mafia boss, threatening them all for millions of dollars, that or break their kneecaps. 
     Powerful institutions, like Harvard, Columbia, Princeton, Duke, the University of California, cowering under the pen of the Justice Department. Ironic, U.S. presidents, vice-presidents, Secretaries of State, department heads, Washington lawyers, judges and legislators have received degrees from many schools like these. Why don't universities put up more of a fight, many of them endowed with millions, if not billons, of dollars in reserve? 
     What have they done to receive such ire? The main infraction they committed was refusing to bend a knee to the government’s demand that they follow the ultra-conservative education agenda set down by the Heritage Foundations’ Project 2025, the new administration's agenda, of which the president during the elections said he knew nothing, and anti-immigrant brain, Stephen Miller, when asked about Project 2025, looked confused and said he knew little about it. 
     The universities have really done nothing wrong, so the government created infractions, such as antisemitism and racial discrimination on campus. If those don’t work, the government falls back on the old time-tested boogey man, DEI, “Diversity, Equality, and Inclusion,” a policy meant to increase the enrollment of black and brown students in college classrooms but is seen as divisive by the New Elites. 
     DEI encouraged faculty to design a university classroom curriculum that reflects the true history of the United States, including the contributions of immigrants who helped build the country. This isn’t new. In the 1960s, under a federal policy called Affirmative Action, different states designed their own equity programs. 
     In California, Cal State and UC campuses instituted the first (EOP) Education Opportunity Programs, which assisted “underrepresented” students in college admissions. Some academically talented high school graduates, unaware of university requirements, were admitted provisionally. They showed potential to complete a university education, and, according to studies, most did, becoming teachers, doctors, and lawyers. 
     It was during this time, around 1969, that I, a blue-collar kid from a working-class family, completed my stint in the Army and decided to enroll in a community college, not really understanding anything about the process since no one in my family had completed a university education. My mother did receive a cosmetology certificate from the local community college.
     I’d come from a military institution steeped in diversity. I remember one day sitting with some friends, looking across an army post, and commenting about all the soldiers of every color and creed walking the pathways. In Vietnam, we were an integrated military, in every squad, platoon, and company, Whites, Chicanos, African Americans, Puerto Ricans, and Native Americans. Naively, I took it for granted college would be the same, a place of learning filled with people of different ethnicities and religions. 
     It wasn’t, not in Santa Monica, not in Los Angeles, and not across the state of California. Even though our parents’ tax dollars helped support public higher education, we weren't benefitting from it, and we had every right to be there. 
     My first days on campus, I saw hardly any black or brown students anywhere. I saw a sea of “White” kids from L.A.’s influential Westside communities, even a few friends from high school. In time, my eyes adjusted, like moving from the dark into the light, I began seeing small pockets of Chicanos and African American students tucked away in corners of the cafeteria, a classroom, the library, or auditorium. The weird thing was my college sat right across the street from one of the largest Mexican and Black communities on L.A.’s Westside, Santa Monica’s Pico Neighborhood, where Mexicans had begun migrating as far back as 1920, when my grandparents first arrived from Mexico and settled in the area. 
     It took Mexican American students and teachers to walk out of high school classes in protest, getting their heads busted by police in the process, to bring awareness to the problem. Students wanted to attend college. Finally, federal and state governments facilitated the increase of Affirmative Action programs at more colleges and universities The numbers of minority students began to change, albeit slowly. According to a UCLA study, by 2006, Latino students, the largest population in Los Angeles, reached a whopping 7.6 percent enrollment at UCLA. African American student remained less than 5%, and Native American kids barely reached 2%. 
     As Affirmative Action staff scoured the local high schools for bright students, informing them how to register and survive the system, enrollments climbed. Today, the percentage of Latino students at UCLA is about 22 percent, Asian and Pacific Islander 35.5, Blacks and Native Americans still under 5 percent, and White students about 25 percent. 
     Of course, “White” students from Los Angeles, many educated in premier private schools, have the choice of attending universities across the country, both private and public institutions. Los Angeles Latino and Asian students remain closer to home and attend local public and some private universities, like USC. Los Angeles is the home to the largest number of Latino and Asian Americans in the U.S. In West L.A., Japanese Town is only a few miles from the UCLA campus.
     However, when I think of DEI, I recall a story I heard about the history of higher education in the United States. Diversity, Affirmative Action, or any other name we give equity programs, weren’t originally started for students of color. In the 1920s and ‘30s, Ivy League colleges began to see themselves as incestuous, years of breeding the same types of students, New England and East Coast blue bloods from the same privileged background who attended the same prestigious prep schools. 
     As the story goes, somebody in the Admissions Office of one school, asked, “What about the brilliant farm kids from Kansas and the steel workers' kids from the Great Lakes region? Shouldn’t we open our doors to them, so our students can have a more well-rounded understanding of the country?” Of course, this is a paraphrase of the actual conversation, which was longer and much more complex.
     The first so-called diversity programs enrolled “White” non-traditional students to the Ivy Leagues, males only, no females. It would take time to diversify and allow females to attend, in fact, not until 1972 at Harvard, 1968, at Yale, and 1969 at Princeton. Though many opposed females on campus, many educators and students saw the benefit of bright females on campus, a step forward. 
     This helped to open minds, to offer new voices, perspectives, and experiences, just as inclusion of Black and Brown students does today, the real America, not the manufactured, limited version. Faculty reevaluated their curricula and started researching and teaching the history, art, social sciences, and hard sciences of a greater, wider, and stronger America. 
     It must have been a cataclysmic transformation, since, education, like a large cargo ship at sea, turns ever so slowly. Liberal? A myth. Most universities might preach liberalism, but, at heart, most are traditional, orthodox, and, yes, conservative in their approach to education. It's an institution that doesn't handle change well. Most professors don’t really like change. They prefer to do it the old way, the way they've done it for years, especially in English and foreign language departments, where tradition reigns supreme. 
     Still, even with their so-called liberal bent, the Ivy League schools must have been enticing. Among its graduates it counts, Republicans like Donald Trump, his sons, Henry Kissinger, J.D. Vance, Pete Hegsteth, Steve Bannon, Mike Pompeo, George W. Bush, William F. Buckley, Josh Hawley, Ron DeSantis, and Oath Keeper founder Stewart Rhodes, among others, including Founding Father John Adams. 
     Though, today, they demonize DEI, Affirmative Action, gender and ethnic studies programs, they all chose to study and receive their degrees from the same universities they now attack. Most were educated during a time when DEI was common in the college lecture. They benefitted from learning about other ethnicities, whether they wanted to or not. Now, they reject the concept, or they must face the wrath of the constituents they themselves have courted. 
     Their base is the largely non-college educated, hard-working laboring class from the red states., who somehow believe these Ivy League New Elites have their best interest at heart. What do Ivy Leagers have in common with coal miners from West Virginia and Kentucky, farmers from across the Bible Belt, or labor unionists from Michigan, Ohio, and Pennsylvania? They want their Base to believe they see no value in diversity, so they demand their alma maters revert to a time and place where exclusion led to an education closed off to reality. 
     While the New Elite in government received the finest educations in the country, they destroy education opportunities for the masses, as other totalitarian regimes have done, both left and right, following the same playbook, silencing intellectuals, writers, educators, banning books, and shuttering universities. The New Elite wants us to believe we should remain in an intellectual darkness and avoid the light, to stay asleep or distracted and never “wake.” 
      It is a travesty universities aren’t fighting for their First Amendment Rights. Legal experts say, in the end, though they might end up with a few broken bones, they will win. Instead, they are caving to their boards and the profit margin. Maybe that really is the state of higher education today, bigger and more beautiful buildings for the children of the New Elite, while the working class eats “cake,” an old term for stale biscuits. 

Wednesday, July 30, 2025

Lotería Remedios Oracle: A 54-Card Deck and Guidebook Cards

Written by Xelena González. 

Illusttrated by Jose Sotelo Yamasaki.


*Publisher: ‎Hay House LLC

*Print length: 144 pages

*ISBN-10: ‎1401974724

*ISBN-13: ‎978-1401974725


A beautifully-illustrated 54-card oracle deck that reimagines the iconic game of Lotería by using the traditional symbols for divination, reflection, and healing.

La Rosa. La Muerte. El Nopal. These are just a few of the 54 iconic symbols that appear in the beloved card game Lotería, also known as Mexican Bingo. Since reaching modern-day Mexico in 1779, the deck has seen many artful incarnations, and across Latinx cultures, it has served the multilayered purpose of practicing the Spanish language, bringing loved ones together, and of course, trying our luck.

But Lotería Remedios enters the cards into the canon of cartomancy: it uses the traditional symbols for divination, reflection, and self-healing. Here author Xelena González, a member of the Tap Pilam Coahuiltecan Nation, is continuing the work of her great-grandmother, a curandera sought-after and highly respected for her abilities. Through beautiful illustrations and lyrical written remedios, La Sirena (The Mermaid) becomes an invitation to view your own magic and beauty. La Bandera (The Flag) suggests the need to wave your flag high, so that you may discover who is ready to join your cause. And the much-loved La Luna (The Moon) encourage you to look within, and understand that night will always find its morning, that the tide always changes.


Xelena González practices the healing arts through writing and movement. She is a storyteller, dancer, and visiting author who centers self-love in her multi-disciplinary workshops for all ages. Her picture books include the multiple award-winning ALL AROUND US (Cinco Puntos Press, 2017), the recently-released WHERE WONDER GROWS (Lee & Low, 2022), and the forthcoming title REMEMBERING (Simon & Schuster, 2023). Xelena’s storytelling skills were honed as a public librarian in her hometown of Yanaguana/San Antonio and in Guangzhou, China, where she served as head librarian for an international school. Through her author visits, she has introduced a method of “tai chi storytelling” to more than 100 schools, museums, and libraries around the globe.

Jose Sotelo Yamasaki is a San Antonio based painter, screenprinter, and illustrator. He has garnered a national following as the owner and operator of El Fin, an exclusive online gallery showcasing the vibrant artwork that has made San Antonio a cultural mecca. His work is heavily influenced by Mesoamerican design, Mexican folk art, and Japanese Zen art. In this way, Jose’s creations pay homage to his mixed ancestries.




Tuesday, July 29, 2025

On-line Floricanto features Angel Guerrero

La Bloga-Tuesday proudly shares poetry from a recently-debuted poet, Angel Guerrero. Guerrero’s work has taken an upward trajectory ever since the poet made her initial public reading at the Eagle Rock branch of the Los Angeles Public Library in  May 2024. 

Since the reading, Angel Guerrero’s been published in Don Campbell’s So Cal Steps and the upcoming on-line Altadena Poetry Review. Guerrero has shared her work at Casa Reyna's Poetry Garden in a backyard floricanto. This is Angel's first On-line Floricanto appearance.

Guerrero enjoys a diverse artistic life. She’s a noted collector of Chicana Chicano artists, she studied sculpture and painting with Magu, Angel Guerrero was assistant to Pola López for the restoration of the Daniel Cervantes indigenous faces mural at the foot of Los Angeles’ endangered Southwest Museum.

Editor's Note: La Bloga's On-line Floricanto series started in 2010 in collaboration with Francisco X. Alarcón qepd, in anticipation of that year's three-day Festival de Flor y Canto: Yesterday • Today • Tomorrow, organized by Michael Sedano. Francisco and Michael reasoned that that Fall's reunion of poets from the first Flor y Canto in 1973 shouldn't be limited by geography, hence we took the opportunity to share established and emerging work, particularly work submitted to the Face group, Poets Responding to SB1070, via La Bloga-Tuesday.

Angel Guerrero, left, Pola López, right, restoring a heritage mural in northeast Los Angeles 

On-Line Floricanto Featuring Angel Guerrero



KEEP CLIMBING
by Angel Guerrero

I’ve been climbing these stairs, 
For what seems like forever. 
I’ve climbed Seventy-One, 
Each one has my name engraved on it. 
This is my path, and it is well-worn. 
I step carefully nowadays, 
gone are the days of 
Skipping and jumping 
and daring myself to fly, 
Slipping and falling to the bottom, 
only to start again. 
That energy has faded, 
and caution has taken its place. 
I dare not look down 
a dense fog threatens to overtake me. 
So, I look upward 
and refuse to lament the past.
I climb slowly, 
I am unsteady, 
but some days I get excited 
to see what awaits on the other side. 
But every step has its own lessons and wonder, 
One day soon I’ll reach my destination 
So, for now, 
I will continue climbing.


THINGS LEFT BEHIND
by Angel Guerrero

I run around my bedroom frightened by the familiar voice on my cell phone, 
The voice sends out warnings of 
Amber Alerts, Flashfloods, and Earthquakes. 
And now that voice insists, 
we must leave, leave our home, 
Our art, sculptures, books, our love letters,
Small and large items, mean something only to me. 
Everything is precious,
 our photographs, the kind you can hold in your hand, 
The images of life together, our youth, 
And family members we will never kiss or hold again, 
We must get out now, “it’s only stuff.” 
So instead, we gather necessary items, 
our survival kit is small, 
And our time is short. 
I search out my husband's eyes, 
His still-strong arms envelop my quivering body and still my fears. 
As we turn to leave, he whispers in my ear 
“It’s only stuff.” 
I realize that the things we leave behind are no longer 
more important 
Than our fingers holding on tightly to each other. 
He leads me down the staircase 
just in time to hear 
That the warning was not meant for us, 
But for another community of people.
We stand frozen. 
Our hearts are pained for them, in shock, for them. 
For the many who will now have to deal 
with this horrific loss 
we pray that your families survived 
And that it is only their things that were left behind.

*to be published in 2025 Altadena Poetry Review


CHARRED STAIRS
by Angel Guerrero

 I went to search for you, 
but could not find you. 
Everything was gone, 
Charred rubble, 
which was once precious memories, 
Was all that was left. 
Gone was the beauty that had once existed, 
All was scorched beyond recognition. 
So, on and on I walked, 
So sure, I would find the path that led to you. 
Finally, I looked up and there was your street. 
I followed the now-broken road 
Once edged by everything that was lush and green. 
I walked until I saw the stairway that led to your home,
 It was stark and blackened by the ravenous flames. 
My heart was filled with dread, 
but I climbed on. 
Once at the top, I fell to my knees in tears, 
As if it had been my home, 
As if it had been, my loss, my pain. 
Finally, I turned and slowly walked down those stairs, 
Which no longer led, 
to anyone or anything, 
I once knew. 



Saturday, July 26, 2025

Interpretamos la niebla / We Interpret Fog por Xánath Caraza

Interpretamos la niebla / We Interpret Fog por Xánath Caraza

 


Interpretamos la niebla en la concavidad infinita. En el alba reconocemos la opalescencia en las montañas y el aroma a madera penetra la piel. Descubrimos las aves en las frondas de la aurora mientras la lluvia se desliza en las calles empedradas y golpea los techos de teja. El rocío, en las violetas, se vuelve bruma con los áureos rayos de sol mientras un colibrí busca miel. Las sombras de los ancestros, bordadas en el follaje de los cedros, se vislumbran cuando la luz del amanecer las traspasa.

 


We Interpret Fog



We interpret fog inside the infinite concavity. At dawn, we recognize opalescence within the mountains while the scent of wood penetrates our flesh. We discover birds upon the fronds of first light as the rain slips along cobblestone streets and strikes tile roofs. The dew, on the violets, turns to haze in the golden sunlight while a hummingbird hunts for honey. When the morning light soaks through it, the shadows of the ancestors, embroidered within the foliage of cedars, can be discerned. 

 


 

Poema incluido en el manuscrito De niebla y olvido de Xánath Caraza. Traducido por Sandra Kingery.

 

Xanath Caraza

Friday, July 25, 2025

New Literature About a Pair of Icons of Resistance

Presenting two very different books, about two very different people. And yet ... Are you resisting? Need role models?  Inspiration?  Resurgence of hope?  Then these books should be on your TBR pile.  

_______________________


Mafalda: Book One
Quino
 
Translated by Frank Wynne
Elsewhere Editions -- June 10, 2025

[from the publisher]
Six-year-old Mafalda loves democracy and hates soup. What democratic sector do cats fall into? she asks, then unfurls a toilet paper red carpet and gives her very own presidential address. Mafalda’s precociousness and passion stump all grown-ups around her. Dissident and rebellious, she refuses to abandon the world to her parents’ generation, who seem so lost.

Alongside the irascible Mafalda, readers will meet her eclectic entourage: dreamy Felipe and gossipy Susanita, young-capitalist Manolito and rebellious Miguelito. You can clearly see Mafalda is small, when she is dreaming in bed or soaring on a swing — “As usual, as soon as you put your feet on the ground, the fun finishes,” Mafalda grumbles — but her hopes for the world and her heart are as huge as can be. Generations of readers have discovered themselves in Mafalda’s boundlessly adventurous spirit, and learned to question, rebel, and hope.

_________________________



Edited by Josephine Metcalf and Ben Olguín
Edinburgh University Press - July 31, 2025

[from the publisher]
Luis Rodríguez is a prominent Latinx poet, memoirist and activist renowned for his candid visceral accounts of urban working-class life that includes youth gang violence, incarceration and drug abuse, grueling factory work and union organizing activities and collective approaches to redemption and political empowerment, which have resonated across multiple communities in the United States and abroad. Accordingly, whilst Rodríguez has been the focus of some critical scholarship, huge segments of his life, work and legacy remain unexamined. This anthology has commissioned new and unique critical essays and reflections on Rodríguez’s life and works, putting forward new ideas about bringing the voices of 'barrio organic intellectuals' to the fore. The anthology deliberately includes traditional academics as well as more public intellectuals and creative writers from across Europe and the Americas to reflect Rodriguez’s own diverse outputs as a prisoner author and activist.

Later.
______________________________________


Manuel Ramos writes crime fiction.

Thursday, July 24, 2025

Chicanonautica: Chicano Art Interrupts This Pogrom . . . Program . . . De-Program . . . Re-Program . . .

by Ernest Hogan



One of the perks of being the Father of Chicano Sci-Fi is that people send me weird shit. And I love me some weird shit.


So, in the middle of this jam-packed bizarro summer, a small, slim, unsolicited package appeared in my P.O. box. It was from L.A. The handwriting, name, and address were all unfamiliar to me. I grabbed my Swiss Army knife and sliced.


It was a paperback book: Aztec Leisure Suit Or Brown People Under Fluorescent Light. Sounds like a Chicanonautica kinda thing. The author was Vincent Ramos. The front cover and the blurb on the back intrigued me.


Flipping through it, I found that there weren’t many words. Most of it was photos reproduced in full color on slick paper. They were of collages.


They fit perfectly with the title.


Collage is a good art form for Chicanos—do it myself on occasion—because we are collages.



Once at an event celebrating Latino science fiction, I met a brown girl who looked like she could still be in grade school. She wanted to be a writer and asked me and Rudy Ch. Garcia what the rules for being a Chicano writer were. We both immediately told her that there weren’t any. She looked confused.


You see, just being a Chicano is a do-it-yourself project. Rasquache!


I wonder -- what happened to her? Is she currently writing stuff that will soon astound the world? Or was she shocked into her senses and became a doctor, lawyer, teacher, or something else reasonable?


Weird, mixed-up, rasquache stuff makes me smile. It makes me feel at home—it’s not just where I come from, but what I am!


Some folks think I’m trying to be avant-garde, but we’ve been doing this stuff for centuries, since before diverse cultures got together in the marketplace of Teotihuacán, when we were smuggling the wisdom of the Centipede God and Giant River Serpents up from lost garden cities of the Amazon . . . 



This little book is a brain-battering barrage of conflicting symbols. Andy Warhol probably couldn’t handle it. It’s like a visual version of William S. Burroughs and Biron Gyson’s cut-up/fold-in technique and J.G. Ballard when he was writing The Atrocity Exhibition (aka Love and Napalm: Export USA) and “Why I Want to Fuck Ronald Reagan.”


Make art not war? Nah. Art is war.


That is, if you’re doing it right . . .


Someday scholars will study Aztec Leisure Suit, searching for clues to the arcane mysteries of Chicano (and its ever-mutating Siamese twin Latino Latin, Latine, Latinx . . .) identity as if it were an untranslated codex from a lost civilization. The problem is, we aren’t lost. We’re right here. We’re everywhere. 


Some people’s sensory arrays get overloaded when they try to focus on us.


“Ya got any ID?” they keep asking.


Good question .  .  .


Maybe I should carry around a copy, and when ICE asks who and what the quehquetza I am, I’ll hand it to them.


I wonder if their brains will explode.



Ernest Hogan is descended from Mexican circus performers who sometimes dressed like bullfighters.

Wednesday, July 23, 2025

A-Ztec: A Bilingual Alphabet Book


Written and illustrated by Emmanuel Valtierra.

 

 

*Publisher: ‎Levine Querido

*Publication date: ‎September 9, 2025

*Language: ‎English

*Print length: ‎64 pages

*ISBN-10: ‎1646145674

*ISBN-13: ‎978-1646145676

 

Chocolatl

and Axolotl

Guacamole

and Quetzacoatl.

Open up this treasury

Aztec words--

from A to Z!

 

From singular artist Emmanuel Valtierra comes a spectacular introduction to twenty-six words, concepts, and gods central to Aztec and Mexican culture, presented in both English and Spanish.

 

Emmanuel Valtierra is a Texan Mexican illustrator. He studied graphic design at the Visual Arts Faculty in Monterrey, Nuevo León. Since 2016, he has focused on creating different projects related to the Aztec culture, among which stands out Codex Valtierra that won the Sidewise Award for Alternate History in 2018. Through his work, he intends to instill Mexican pre-Hispanic cultures and to show its ancestral arts to new generations.



Tuesday, July 22, 2025

Late Tuesday Antojo: Enfrijoladas

Flashback to 2016

Something makes a person hungry; for a certain taste, a particular food, a quién sabe que longing. An antojo, a feeling all antojado for enchiladas suizas, or all antojado for freshly squeezed jugo de toronja, or quién sabe que, right?

Today, el Gluten-free Chicano was hanging out with Michael Sedano and both of them got all antojado for enfrijoladas. So we looked into La Bloga's twenty almost 21-year archives to see if we'd previously featured this resplendent elegance of simple ingredients and memorable deliciousness worthy of an antojo that has to get satisfied pronto.

voilà



It was the department party for the TAs. A pot luck. The department would supply the beverages, the TAs brought the food. One of the TAs came up to me and, in a gesture of camaraderie, warned "Watch out for the enchilados, they're really hot."

The myth of Mexican food had struck again. The dish prepared by The Gluten-free Chicano is anything but chiloso. Some tastebuds are more sensitive than others, and that particular crowd, it turned out, was typical of many. "Mexican food" means burn your mouth delicious.

By now, most diners understand "Mexican food" doesn't have to start out chiloso, but that's always an option, either in the preparation or serving a hot salsa on the side.

The enfrijolada can be made really hot by adding any number of chiles to the mix. Serving a pot luck or dinner crowd, the Gluten-free Chicano tones down the fire.

Pre-heat the oven to 350º.



Cube chicken meat (the Gluten-free Chicano used a COSTCO roasted chicken and removed the breasts for this dish).

Mince a medium-sized onion, six or eight branches of cilantro, a couple teeth of garlic.

Add ⅓ can of diced tomatoes.

You can use black olives but the Gluten-free Chicano wanted a more piquant flavor so this preparation added a dozen pimiento-stuffed green olives.

If serving people with appreciative taste buds, finely mince two serrano chiles.

Add a cup of grated sharp cheddar cheese.

Fill generously.

Soften a good quality corn tortilla in hot olive oil in a small frying pan. The Gluten-free Chicano prefers Diana's brand of extra large tortilla de maíz. The manufacturer uses only corn, lime, and water, no xanthan gum and no additives.

Using tongs, dip the first tortilla on both sides until it is flexible. Transfer that to a plate. Dip the next tortillas on one side, and place the oiled side up on top of the stack.

The tortillas will cool enough to roll by hand.

Add a large pinch of filling and spread it across a softened tortilla. (You can soften the tortillas in a microwave oven. Wrap them in a dish towel and microwave for 30 seconds on high. But work quickly because microwaving makes them sticky as they cool).


Roll into a tight bundle
Roll the tortilla around the filling, packing it toward the edge. Slide it over and roll another one.

Repeat this until the baking dish is filled. If you run out of space while rolling, just roll on top of the done ones.

Fill the baking dish snugly
Prepare the frijoles. If you like the consistency of fried beans, make them a bit watery so they spread easily across the rolled surfaces.

Top with left-over stuffing
More than likely, you'll have some chicken remaining. Save that for tacos, or for a deluxe dish, spread the tops of the enchiladas with the mixture.

Add a layer of beans; fried or de la olla.
These are frijoles de la olla, straight from the refrigerator.

Slather sour cream or crema mexicana across the surface
Use a spatula or a fork to spread a layer of crema across the top.

Garnish with shredded cheese
Garnish with shredded cheese. Here you can get fancy and add queso fresco crumbles.

Set the timer for 45 minutes if using cold ingredients, 30 if using warm filling.

There are two schools of thought on service. I prefer to find the open-ends and spatula a single enfrijolada to each plate  (or two for larger appetites). You can cut through the top like a casserole and serve a 4" square.

Bake. Note the open ends for serving

Enfrijoladas is a low-cost, highly nutritious, and gluten-free dish. Beware "gourmet" tortillas as the "gourmet" part means some menacing industrial entity has added wheat to the masa.

A crisp green salad, a hearty red wine, or lots of Bard's Gluten-free beer will make the meal a major hit.

"Damn," one of the TAs said, pushing away from the table to get seconds, "I didn't know Mexican food could be so delicious! I'm sure glad you're in the program."