tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-93679212024-03-19T01:00:30.985-06:00La BlogaThe world's longest-established Chicana Chicano, Latina Latino literary blog.Contributing Bloguistas:http://www.blogger.com/profile/13054190814722049711noreply@blogger.comBlogger5744125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9367921.post-81575809195019988332024-03-19T01:00:00.039-06:002024-03-19T01:00:00.127-06:00Guest Review: Infidelis by Vincent Cooper<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #660000;"><span face="Aptos, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Review: Vincent P. Cooper. </span><i style="font-size: xx-large;">Infidelis</i><span style="font-size: x-large;">. <br /></span></span></span><span face="Aptos, sans-serif" style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>MouthFeel Press October 2023, 79 pages, $16</span></span><span face="Aptos, sans-serif" style="color: #660000; font-size: large;"> </span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #660000; font-size: x-large;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Rey M. Rodríguez</span><span face="Aptos, sans-serif"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"> <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://www.mouthfeelbooks.com/product/INFIDELIS-VINCENT-COOPER/56?cp=true&sa=true&sbp=false&q=false" rel="nofollow" target="_blank"> “Infidelis,” written by Vincent Cooper (link) </a>employs poetry for its most noble purpose – to lift up Chicano voices and those who are often the first to go to war. At a moment when conflicts in the Ukraine and the Middle East harken back to World War II because of their potential contagion to larger, multinational dangers, Cooper’s book reminds us of the cost of resorting to violence to resolve disputes at a societal and personal level. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGHIkdbnucyUNiTplGvzjzOOnJrF54C8QKf6QUHb8jCSqRoL1Uhies_1S3p9XFJQd-naH13ILBa5xJI5qYiN4vuYkTHwWzOxhTcSx9lRB2zfnFxKt8qdfXyOnPRTs6OvSxNxIwKIuFHrxAT8abz_fv_E5ZESS9I4L_9gu0FpHcxLtX-dWVZqs/s1166/s260868663836110382_p56_i3_w776.png.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1166" data-original-width="776" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGHIkdbnucyUNiTplGvzjzOOnJrF54C8QKf6QUHb8jCSqRoL1Uhies_1S3p9XFJQd-naH13ILBa5xJI5qYiN4vuYkTHwWzOxhTcSx9lRB2zfnFxKt8qdfXyOnPRTs6OvSxNxIwKIuFHrxAT8abz_fv_E5ZESS9I4L_9gu0FpHcxLtX-dWVZqs/s320/s260868663836110382_p56_i3_w776.png.webp" width="213" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I was drawn to this book because, although I did not live this experience, my brother did and countless other Chicanos who wrestled with the decision to sign up for service. With the flick of a pen marking a commitment to the military their life’s trajectory dramatically shifted, and not always for the better. Sometimes the need to escape poverty or a small town served as the reason for this momentous decision and other times who knows what is going through the mind of an 18 year old. In Cooper’s case, it was a girlfriend. He writes in his poem, “Then: The Ultimatum”: </span><div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I had fallen in love with Carmen, who worked with me<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">at the downtown Marriott. I was a pool boy in aqua/khaki<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">and didn’t have the balls to tell this teary Chicana in the car, <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">that I wanted to leave her. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I stare at her hard. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> <i><o:p></o:p></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I pulled the door handle, <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">bolted out of the driver’s seat of her father’s ivory Sedan De Ville <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">and joined the United States Marines Corps. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> The reader might think this is a laughable reason to base such an important decision, but to so many teenagers, boys and girls, who do not have a caring adult to serve as a sounding board, then this reason is as good as any other. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> Cooper’s ability to draw us into his poetry with stark honesty runs throughout the book. A perfect example is, “Phone Booth.” <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">J: Hello . . . What’s up babe . . . you okay? <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">V: I fucken cheated . . . I cheated on you. I am sorry. I’m so sorry. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">J: Who was it? <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">V: Some girl. I don’t know her. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Dial tone. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">This poem, on its face, supports the reason for the title of the book, “Infidelis,” which means in Latin “not faithful.” But Cooper’s book goes beyond the infidelity of a young man towards a woman. His poems suggest this word also refers to the infidelity of a democracy to its citizens, especially Brown and Black people, when it calls them to military service or to fight a war. In “Chicano During Wartime,” he writes: <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Afghanistan was not a war at first. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">It was a business proposition. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Contracts, chess, checkers, choices, Cheney <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">—everyone wanted in. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Already there was infidelity to the country’s aspiration to equality as inscribed in the U.S. constitution when Mexican-Americans returned home from service after World War II, such as Cleto Rodríguez, who received the Congressional Medal of Honor from President Harry S. Truman to become the first Mexican American in the Pacific theater of operations to receive the nation’s highest military award, only to be treated as a second class citizen. But if this infidelity was not enough, then the pain faced by Chicano veterans returning from Vietnam certainly did the trick. In “The Chicano Hero,” Cooper writes: <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Hippies of the sixties protesting the war <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">keep “baby killer” in their mouths, <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">tight like the clothes in your seabag. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> You strut on through. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> The cab driver is one of the few to say <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">“Thank you for your service.” <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">You don’t remember his name. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> At home, on the westside of San Antonio, <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">no welcome party, <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">just Dad watching T.V., <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">no friends on the front lawn waiting with a beer <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> . . . Nothing <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">“Infidelis” is a Chicano perspective, but it is also a universal U.S. story. One where the newly-arrived immigrant and marginalized people are used as fodder to fight often unnecessary conflicts for a government and a country that finds them expendable and less than citizens. It is for this reason that “Infidelis” is such a relevant and vibrant poetry book that should be widely read. “Infidelis”offers the reader a counter-narrative to a view of military service held by a majority, seemingly color blind, because Cooper shows how ultimately racist the Corps is in practice. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">If the United States is deciding to enter another ethically unsupportable war, maybe, just maybe, policymakers will be confronted by the human cost brought to light by these poems and other nonviolent voices. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">At the very least, some Chicano from San Antonio, or anyone else who is trying to avoid breaking up with his girlfriend by enlisting to become a Marine, may read this book of poetry and change his mind. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I believe that art saves lives and “Infidelis” in the right hands definitely has the power to do so given how accessible and honestly Cooper writes. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> </span><span style="color: #660000; font-family: times; font-size: large;"><b>Meet la Bloga's Guest Reviewer: <span>Rey M. Rodríguez</span><span><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimaZyU0cZZOyKGEdJ0jzTU__3KJIVK7ueiLUpEzvCuaXEF98jQbD9KAByjEyjH5q0nWV9AibcrrWRohP0AHJ8TXNAoQbJCWyVURaS8azgRDXt-iwNJ_VL-USEOTRS9aEv3ODWU6Ffz04PumZ-1WabiVkyKUD-OrGpQM9lC6om6lzXQ0JWQ7ro/s2071/IMG_9705.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2071" data-original-width="1779" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimaZyU0cZZOyKGEdJ0jzTU__3KJIVK7ueiLUpEzvCuaXEF98jQbD9KAByjEyjH5q0nWV9AibcrrWRohP0AHJ8TXNAoQbJCWyVURaS8azgRDXt-iwNJ_VL-USEOTRS9aEv3ODWU6Ffz04PumZ-1WabiVkyKUD-OrGpQM9lC6om6lzXQ0JWQ7ro/s320/IMG_9705.jpg" width="275" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /><i>Rey is a writer, advocate and attorney, who lives in Pasadena, CA. He is currently working on a novel set in Mexico City and the Mayan Underworld and a nonfiction book on Proyecto Pastoral at Dolores<br />Mission, a nonprofit serving the immigrant community of Boyle Heights for over 30 years.<o:p></o:p></i></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><i> <o:p></o:p></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><i> </i></span><span face="Aptos, sans-serif"><o:p></o:p></span></p></div>msedanohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09527530005391318421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9367921.post-63346043122834666872024-03-18T01:01:00.094-06:002024-03-18T01:01:00.159-06:00“Chicano Frankenstein” is out in the world!<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmMOSWjzZ276bFn793FwOha-7W8ZNnMvENOfaqrBAjbriUa_HbS3TLqWpkbCJe1MXsNt7zHRRYpRfduGwaYJNgVwwJZBhdAUO9lNgLF8La0SlD939InJdDSHikkvTqrHhxVsA1PtiFzA4DK08LOR4nL5kDoxG4IYDIUCsJAwi953-jSSXgTDdzaw/s2700/Chicano%20Frankenstein%20-%20two%20blurbs.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: right;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmMOSWjzZ276bFn793FwOha-7W8ZNnMvENOfaqrBAjbriUa_HbS3TLqWpkbCJe1MXsNt7zHRRYpRfduGwaYJNgVwwJZBhdAUO9lNgLF8La0SlD939InJdDSHikkvTqrHhxVsA1PtiFzA4DK08LOR4nL5kDoxG4IYDIUCsJAwi953-jSSXgTDdzaw/w426-h640/Chicano%20Frankenstein%20-%20two%20blurbs.png" width="426" /></a></p><div style="text-align: right;"> </div><p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">On
March 5, my eleventh book, <i><a href="https://bookshop.org/p/books/chicano-frankenstein/20274428?ean=9781942436591&ref=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.google.com%2F&source=IndieBound&title=Chicano+Frankenstein">Chicano
Frankenstein</a></i>, was published by Forest Avenue Press of Portland, Oregon. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The next night, we had our official book launch at Vroman’s Bookstore in Pasadena.
We packed the house! I was interviewed by the wonderful writer, Désirée
Zamorano. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I want to thank Vroman’s and all of my friends, family, and strangers
who showed up in the pouring rain to celebrate my new book. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here are a few
photos of the evening. You will recognize some of the faces, no doubt. And if
you missed it, Vroman’s has autographed copies <a href="https://www.vromansbookstore.com/book/9781942436591">available</a> in
store or online.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4dGRnTz8GqK_RYqbMDcPRu47syCahbcOKbLIkrwWuPXwdlCsWTGu0xXpE806StXBJxfCsy91gOuEdUKDl6A3IS1tDKbgQFEzThpk8RP6Z9R4tc9VvFHB319dCHgwuDNE87E9vxVAU2NmBoZMbg39X4YYZ4YUJT3rbDwE1AlFj25OxpNnQvMfoWA/s1414/Screenshot_20240311-232004_LinkedIn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1414" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4dGRnTz8GqK_RYqbMDcPRu47syCahbcOKbLIkrwWuPXwdlCsWTGu0xXpE806StXBJxfCsy91gOuEdUKDl6A3IS1tDKbgQFEzThpk8RP6Z9R4tc9VvFHB319dCHgwuDNE87E9vxVAU2NmBoZMbg39X4YYZ4YUJT3rbDwE1AlFj25OxpNnQvMfoWA/w488-h640/Screenshot_20240311-232004_LinkedIn.jpg" width="488" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBPPxIrgrImCUVEUiRNjCSWKyzGuQTs7KAAQ1ZCW8bx_A5Z8bUzZsnjVI41Q7LDEUxznRUdS4N4MS8mrTIJlmzjVLSmnzeDLL8qYdF_47QhnjE4bi2owPMsgWtEqKfjsx58UoDo5ZNIBtbj4h-ajNN_itvKre8oWsuz5StALWwhva-e7m3nfU6WA/s1170/108769%20(1).jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJhFaXSi5RCTIPC-mL7nLvl_8ryboY1OlocJQ3h8DZiDPCZ9C6-8JvCG-BCu05kRAwP940wDu34Uzd5bFEpPqtrjM4xi9oBQI6uKoNEPNEdsiV2gUGnm4k2xc6Bg_TDDsjK6t7MWrXKi17qtU2TAodTNLwAaBwPMrFLNoINLvBTF2_YEkFarSiOA/s1024/108644.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJhFaXSi5RCTIPC-mL7nLvl_8ryboY1OlocJQ3h8DZiDPCZ9C6-8JvCG-BCu05kRAwP940wDu34Uzd5bFEpPqtrjM4xi9oBQI6uKoNEPNEdsiV2gUGnm4k2xc6Bg_TDDsjK6t7MWrXKi17qtU2TAodTNLwAaBwPMrFLNoINLvBTF2_YEkFarSiOA/w640-h480/108644.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8U11vhrA4gkjysWR7XzEvrfNZRzrZ1LiRpSOv2yrAh9vAonl1sAAhI-orhPIPVl0pYfYfPDADo6blPLkLCKgClGstvFihaPA-q1LENATUL4RJhqXyF4YVXYYLN1e9I5pV7I1OlAw9bUw1vBG_yvPE7cdJrynTGviF0NJWPX-AuDeb6CcZUofjKg/s1024/108645.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8U11vhrA4gkjysWR7XzEvrfNZRzrZ1LiRpSOv2yrAh9vAonl1sAAhI-orhPIPVl0pYfYfPDADo6blPLkLCKgClGstvFihaPA-q1LENATUL4RJhqXyF4YVXYYLN1e9I5pV7I1OlAw9bUw1vBG_yvPE7cdJrynTGviF0NJWPX-AuDeb6CcZUofjKg/w640-h480/108645.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_PJlSvsDlI86xriPZOMk6oXfR3xCJjPU08lA6dfPgp8Zub9CJqRcK4WskEWTFyTbey2BFf16JJuyf1XGeyWrt9tZNIlf4SA8gIchSdYAKFZIKpVJ6cRI2oZTHP7Hfxj0Kacsnxp6MztYrCZyBQwpijAyNLKBN53r-QCdTxxNVjFnISpX3qMGfXw/s1024/108840.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_PJlSvsDlI86xriPZOMk6oXfR3xCJjPU08lA6dfPgp8Zub9CJqRcK4WskEWTFyTbey2BFf16JJuyf1XGeyWrt9tZNIlf4SA8gIchSdYAKFZIKpVJ6cRI2oZTHP7Hfxj0Kacsnxp6MztYrCZyBQwpijAyNLKBN53r-QCdTxxNVjFnISpX3qMGfXw/w480-h640/108840.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">And a few days later, it was off to the Tucson Festival of Books where I signed
copies of </span><i style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Chicano Frankenstein</i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> and saw old friends. I also got to
celebrate with my publisher, Laura Stanfill, and her husband, Jonathan. What a
lovely time!</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSeSPWMiYQIRCEhn2sAD7bodHJkaPZ0bq4_mCAFwHCrSZ49CwFa_lvr9M-nVlR8YYRDiYF3F1pTbuvbAqv7_tIfCCgF72v3FnLlZT2JyBIeWUuIryqTh6UtqIJp2nt2uM4SG74NW1h0T08w_HjsdDdkHG7nMcqvHrI1xr-tCnDh6DQC2SmptVNmA/s1280/109297.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSeSPWMiYQIRCEhn2sAD7bodHJkaPZ0bq4_mCAFwHCrSZ49CwFa_lvr9M-nVlR8YYRDiYF3F1pTbuvbAqv7_tIfCCgF72v3FnLlZT2JyBIeWUuIryqTh6UtqIJp2nt2uM4SG74NW1h0T08w_HjsdDdkHG7nMcqvHrI1xr-tCnDh6DQC2SmptVNmA/w640-h480/109297.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhan5LyA9xpEHOJG5Jh-bUn5gv4BiXdoVqM7fEVRaMnopMK_Qo2pY62DHMDtE8wBuVFHgWWAHQJ7m6L5hCeT0JFbEc3MzoDTjCeoKaasl8kOowweED2p-ZjdaY549wNcDNRB5RuwjMnUQAWPleXdEPHFdxtptzbdVJn1ugKhvvYe9ZAVPTUrxWSzg/s4032/20240310_114804.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhan5LyA9xpEHOJG5Jh-bUn5gv4BiXdoVqM7fEVRaMnopMK_Qo2pY62DHMDtE8wBuVFHgWWAHQJ7m6L5hCeT0JFbEc3MzoDTjCeoKaasl8kOowweED2p-ZjdaY549wNcDNRB5RuwjMnUQAWPleXdEPHFdxtptzbdVJn1ugKhvvYe9ZAVPTUrxWSzg/w640-h480/20240310_114804.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8NLPCpulUCyjeX0xuBsZyb6LhsHktYazKBcLYSCFcwy_gtdKiD_c841wn0rsliypK3ne-C_Mmugeb4WEOiMZYVBsCHzx5DIhM_AEn8hMduoAtpN9zyqRXMMOiDITj6oZlQTKB6ezyMUEekYogk25Y1a2yxboYX65DqhQqnFu6lcGf2osU-DUoGw/s4032/20240310_112422.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2736" data-original-width="3648" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSEgLMQ5JcfSXfFeV34JaAACTBybNHsj9Q6JR5wEh32DYEuNkgP1KPWaB-YYzTo05uPC-Y2UIviDW7-_mGbtYapaNUC_WJkdCvqwfE7wjcS-yy8z71DLUStf54igt29fpANMs-93w-ajX70uBJ9-WdMNmekrhkajhUOBCUTUAZerdpv4uP9s3DDQ/w640-h480/20240309_170137.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcWmz1UeN_OBg2wa7dLSXys-tPubCHk3dSeWFXcQVqG4QCvEW4EszUVasoOh79HjE1TDzVVhTwtZWUJmMhNAhIb6xweCFdEtNTqiVL9TDkFj3j6rLG4YERsxsi7lGECoA5pMouUmKjolhEpJZMkr2SDvyJT2i3Kpz4c8lQ44DSAXAzsb7-_Zwbww/s4032/20240309_160250.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcWmz1UeN_OBg2wa7dLSXys-tPubCHk3dSeWFXcQVqG4QCvEW4EszUVasoOh79HjE1TDzVVhTwtZWUJmMhNAhIb6xweCFdEtNTqiVL9TDkFj3j6rLG4YERsxsi7lGECoA5pMouUmKjolhEpJZMkr2SDvyJT2i3Kpz4c8lQ44DSAXAzsb7-_Zwbww/w640-h480/20240309_160250.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I
have many more events set for this year with more being planned, so if you missed
me at Vroman’s or the Tucson Festival of Books, there will be other opportunities. Check out my <a href="https://danielolivas.com/">website</a> for my events page. Also, if you are interested in having me as a guest on a panel, classroom presentation, or other literary events, drop me a line at olivasdan (at) aol.com.</span></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">***<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">In
other news, the venerable <a href="https://teatroespejo.com/" target="_blank">Teatro Espejo</a> in Sacramento will be producing the
world premiere of my play, <i><a href="https://newplayexchange.org/plays/524129/waiting-god%C3%ADnez">Waiting
for Godínez</a></i>. The play will run each Friday, Saturday and Sunday from April
5 to 21. You may purchase tickets <a href="https://danielolivas.com/events">here</a>.
My play had previously been produced in readings in Los Angeles and New York,
but this is the first fully staged production (an abridged version was staged in 2021 by Playwrights' Arena under the title <i><a href="https://playwrightsarena.org/theater/waiting/" target="_blank">Waiting</a></i> in light of pandemic protocols). We have a magnificent director
and cast! I will be attending the April 13th performance and will participate in
a talkback afterwards. I hope you can join us for an evening of live theatre!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHhq8hppSYhfbojfbLM8_mD-kdVXXrurIOVuabu1RWHnuGAJmvHN93JczFCichPZ3oIFaOBwzYy9M5762p2lrvinwfyu0I6ylj-KJPt_XvQU9Yw4ia02Wy1twI6OvXlrLI7JwO2MtI5QEwxZsVgPALVgexmI5oXHQmYCfVOuBs-E6ZCOWDLuzpcw/s1080/Screenshot_20240308-222242_Chrome%20Beta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1080" height="632" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHhq8hppSYhfbojfbLM8_mD-kdVXXrurIOVuabu1RWHnuGAJmvHN93JczFCichPZ3oIFaOBwzYy9M5762p2lrvinwfyu0I6ylj-KJPt_XvQU9Yw4ia02Wy1twI6OvXlrLI7JwO2MtI5QEwxZsVgPALVgexmI5oXHQmYCfVOuBs-E6ZCOWDLuzpcw/w640-h632/Screenshot_20240308-222242_Chrome%20Beta.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIWfVkSO6Ul80UhmN9kaR4h0LCxtwIUVBPG2TXA9GrTXRxoXrRmWZFXhFoO4fDAT93Nj8bulFLq4mzgWHFSgWA3zmdbVWpxVzEbvSIDHu9Db-dy7Ybl9kGwDDLXB9aNuJm4Wsf9oeheSIEJEM8BMx_nk8fyzduvwtegZH6zx2bYYUIoi1G8umcnQ/s1305/Screenshot_20240308-222019_Chrome%20Beta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1305" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIWfVkSO6Ul80UhmN9kaR4h0LCxtwIUVBPG2TXA9GrTXRxoXrRmWZFXhFoO4fDAT93Nj8bulFLq4mzgWHFSgWA3zmdbVWpxVzEbvSIDHu9Db-dy7Ybl9kGwDDLXB9aNuJm4Wsf9oeheSIEJEM8BMx_nk8fyzduvwtegZH6zx2bYYUIoi1G8umcnQ/w530-h640/Screenshot_20240308-222019_Chrome%20Beta.jpg" width="530" /></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3usOL0bW599vh59XBXzsTN9oE7m28xNSZxVB09Krk0Zs7Crro0u58dR8X2vCV_zhwgT4gfGyrijkjuWvOrW3NG1Qrf6eBcBoRDXMlTQtW5E4yqEeRjKcOTe19xEq6xrbCpl7nKFHDV6xj4h1FuU8tkM3bjKvz83f4vt56eYTbua7bujTOv8jy3Q/s1080/Screenshot_20240312-191228_Chrome%20Beta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1075" data-original-width="1080" height="638" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3usOL0bW599vh59XBXzsTN9oE7m28xNSZxVB09Krk0Zs7Crro0u58dR8X2vCV_zhwgT4gfGyrijkjuWvOrW3NG1Qrf6eBcBoRDXMlTQtW5E4yqEeRjKcOTe19xEq6xrbCpl7nKFHDV6xj4h1FuU8tkM3bjKvz83f4vt56eYTbua7bujTOv8jy3Q/w640-h638/Screenshot_20240312-191228_Chrome%20Beta.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Daniel A. Olivashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02483784846354950778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9367921.post-36885153329596633222024-03-14T01:00:00.041-06:002024-03-15T12:34:59.154-06:00Discussing the "Great" Books<div> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBFH_BAaxKY7MXLhkCII1nsLpJqzmJUwNyTEvEP5HXgy6qLn2DeCMdqez2X5Qm92H-MplRwCAhKNeoUSMgvjcoz5WUph6Ur0aXfRmq8JwH5YK6UbIOFf73RkWXMKzrMWgooKKiOtz_5ycmfDSE4bWRMVwggArMf4iewHBnuJ5oyKags1d2AVgs/s2816/IMG_2913.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBFH_BAaxKY7MXLhkCII1nsLpJqzmJUwNyTEvEP5HXgy6qLn2DeCMdqez2X5Qm92H-MplRwCAhKNeoUSMgvjcoz5WUph6Ur0aXfRmq8JwH5YK6UbIOFf73RkWXMKzrMWgooKKiOtz_5ycmfDSE4bWRMVwggArMf4iewHBnuJ5oyKags1d2AVgs/s320/IMG_2913.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Is there such a thing as a "great" book, like greater than a '57 Chevy?</td></tr></tbody></table> <br /> I got to thinking about a discussion I was having with two friends in a low-end restaurant, oh, sometime back in early ‘80s, when students still frequented the Westwood Village. </div><div> Both were Chicano grad students studying at UCLA, one finishing a Ph. D. in Latin American History, the other a Ph. D., also in history, focusing on the Southwest, the closest, he said, he could get to a doctorate in Chicano Studies. I was finishing an M.A. in English, at a local state university.
I was listening more than talking. </div><div> Anyone who has ever watched two grad students argue over any given academic topic understands their passion, which was fueled as much by a few downed pitchers of beer than the heady topic under the microscope, so to speak. </div><div> The one studying history of the Southwest said he was pissed because he’d wanted a doctorate in Chicano Studies, but no university was offering it. The other argued, of course no university offered it. There wasn’t enough documented information to warrant a Ph. D. “What’s there to study?” </div><div> The future Southwest historian offered, “How can there be enough documentation if no universities offer advanced degrees for students to search the archives, personal letters, records,” etc., etc. Well, that opened the way for the Latin Americanist to argue, “What is Chicano studies, anyway? Chicanos can’t even agree about who is Chicano and who isn’t.” </div><div> The other said, “What about the documentation going back to the sixteen and seventeen-hundreds, the first explorations into Aztlan? That’s a lot of history,” to which the other responded, “That’s not Chicano history. That’s Mexican American history, not even, it's Hispanic history. Chicanos didn’t even start using the word “Chicano,” until the 1900s, probably the 1940s, the Pachuco era. How much documentation do you think pachucos left behind?” </div><div> And so it went, for at least an hour, getting louder and louder, nearly unruly, and students at other tables gawking at us, three Aztecas going at it in Westwood. My two friends finally calmed down, looked over at me, and said, something like, “And you, what?” They knew I was studying for one reason, because I wanted to write, not to research or teach, like them. “So," one said to me, "when you going to write the great Chicano novel?” </div><div> I told them I’d be happy if I could write a few good short stories.
Funny, how ideas and past events come into our heads, with no warning, like this discussion I had with my two friends over thirty years ago. It must mean something or why would it stay locked in my memory? </div><div> After I recalled this discussion, I got to thinking about what we didn’t talk about -- this great “Chicano” novel I was supposed to write. What is it? Has it been written, yet? Maybe, maybe not.
What is a “great” anything? Who is to judge? </div><div> Is the idea of writing the great Chicano novel a noble enough effort, or is it limiting? Why can’t a male or female Chicano, Mejico-Americano, Hispano del norte, set out to write the “great” American novel, up there with the big boys and girls, Hawthorne, Alcott, Hemingway, Harper Lee, Melville, Twain, Dos Passos, Faulkner, Mailer, Morrison, and all the others? What is this "great" novel that is supposed to be written, anyway? Is it finished or are readers still waiting for it? </div><div> As for the "greatest" novel, some might give the nod to Cervantes’ <i>Don Quijote</i>, even though many readers couldn’t hang with an old man and his hefty sidekick fighting illusions for 780 pages. Others say Tolstoy’s <i>War and Peace</i> is a might effort, even if it is, at times, confusing and too long, another rambling war story. How about Dostoyevsky’s <i>Crime and Punishment</i>, the study of a psychopath’s mind? Naw, when all is said and done, it's just another who-dun-it, a moping killer suffering an existential crisis. Maybe Dickens' the <i>Tale of Two Cities, </i>Bronte's <i>Wuthering Heights, </i>or Orwell's<i> 1984</i>?</div><div> <i>Moby Dick </i>took the world by storm, yet some critics said Melville was just passing off a boy’s adventure sea story as a classic, not enough adventure and way too much working-class moralizing and philosophizing. How about Victor Hugo, <i>les miserables, </i>a hit not only in print but in cinema and, most recently, on Broadway? Some beautiful writing, solid visions of France’s penal system, but also bewildering and meandering; easier to watch the <i>Fugitive</i>, with Tommy Lee Jones. </div><div> Recently, I read Norman Mailer’s WWII classic, what some claim the Great American War novel, the <i>Naked and the Dead</i>. Coming in at 700+ pages, a true epic but also, with that many pages, how can any writer develop the “great” novel, some say a little too sentimental and wandering? A pleasant surprise, to me, was Mailer's portrayal of a Chicano recon infantryman, Julio Martinez, of San Antonio, who had a significant role in the book, even if Mailer got the accent wrong, more native American than Mexican, but his courage and exploits, in the narrative, showed how Chicanos were important to the war effort. </div><div> Many consider Gabriel Garcia-Marquez’s <i>One Hundred Years of Solitude</i>, a “great” novel, and a beautiful work, poetic, line by line, but overall, for many readers, overwhelming, a long narrative having trouble sticking to one of its hundred characters and storylines. </div><div> I am not a Mexican/Latin American literature expert, not even close, but I do know writers from south of the U.S. border can write some of the best, short novels, in the spirit of an epic and “great” novels, from Mexicans Mariano Azuela, Juan Rulfo, Elena Poiniatowska, Carlos Fuentes, Rosario Castellanos to Mario Vargas Llosa, Julio Cortazar, Jorge Luis Borges, Isabel Allende, and so many others. To even think of a “great” novel is mind-boggling. </div><div> In the U.S., Ana Castillo, Oscar Hijuelos, Sandra Cisneros, Arturo Islas, Victor Villasenor, Luis Alberto Urea, Rodolfo Anaya, Americans of Latino descent, to name but a few, have written some powerful novels, but is any one of them considered the “great” Latino (or Chicano) novel? Some say Victor Villasenor’s <i>Rain of Gold</i> came close, one of the longer Chicano epics. </div><div> Then, we always get back to what is a “great” novel, or for that matter, what is a "great" anything? Do writers set out to write “great” novels?
Many writers, some of the best and most beloved, have said they had no idea if their book would be “great” or “best”. That wasn’t on their minds as they wrote. What took up most of their brain power was simply -- writing a good story, for whatever reason, like John Steinbeck exposing the plight of Okie farmworkers in the 1930s, or Heminway telling a love story, between an American and a British nurse, in Italy, during some of the worst fighting during WWI. </div><div> Alfredo Vea’s novel, <i>God’s Go Begging</i>, something of murder mystery, touched on so many other issues, like the Vietnam War, and it kept the reader glued to the page. Mark Twain set out to write a simple story about the great Mississippi River, from a child’s perspective, and he hit upon the <i>Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, </i>and the complexity of slavery. </div><div> I believe writers sit down at a desk, or wherever they write, to tell a story, the best story they can. They spin a yarn that will entertain, and maybe even teach. They don't think their writing is representing a nation or an ethnicity. They write one word then another, sentence after sentence, paragraph after paragraph, entertaining themselves as they write, and maybe, just maybe, somebody might pick up the book once it’s written and tell a friend, “Hey, this is a great novel. You should read it.” </div><div><br /></div><div><i>Daniel Cano's most recent novel, Death and the American Dream, was presented first place, historical fiction at the 2010, International Latino Literary Book Awards</i></div>Daniel Canohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13296372136737175858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9367921.post-64102803249550930252024-03-13T01:00:00.001-06:002024-03-13T01:00:00.135-06:00 Let's Play in the Park / Juguemos en el parque <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi_cdguEHWmGYEud1-6m5TeAlSTYIP81Z8Y8c4v1r3xJh-JPxbkaK_ex-2ozbGrOOu1AdPp8bvuIey65uxCYYpp5sImb8CBE0e3_clXQB-g5B41eVMdsp4iMqBEuZqzb6UiwV_MZNTSvBeL6AOf__ebRLuBsWsy77VuwPnqI-Js2n-aY0LwYD0/s1500/81TzwbKYmKL-1._SL1500_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1159" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi_cdguEHWmGYEud1-6m5TeAlSTYIP81Z8Y8c4v1r3xJh-JPxbkaK_ex-2ozbGrOOu1AdPp8bvuIey65uxCYYpp5sImb8CBE0e3_clXQB-g5B41eVMdsp4iMqBEuZqzb6UiwV_MZNTSvBeL6AOf__ebRLuBsWsy77VuwPnqI-Js2n-aY0LwYD0/w495-h640/81TzwbKYmKL-1._SL1500_.jpg" width="495" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Written by René Colato Laínez<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Illustrated by Nomar Perez<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Publisher: <span lang="AR-SA"></span>Holiday House <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Language: <span lang="AR-SA"> </span>Bilingual edition: English, Spanish<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Hardcover: <span lang="AR-SA"></span>40 pages<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">ISBN-10: <span lang="AR-SA"></span>0823453812<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">ISBN-13: <span lang="AR-SA"></span>978-0823453818<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Reading age: <span lang="AR-SA"></span>3 - 7 years<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Grade level: <span lang="AR-SA"></span>Preschool - 2<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Joe and José play games in the park in this third bilingual picture book in the My Friend, Mi amigo series.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Two friends, an English speaker and a Spanish speaker, go to the park for a day filled with games and making new friends.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Hi, José! Let's go to the park. Hola Joe! Vamos al parque.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I like to climb. Me gusta subir.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I like to slide. Me gusta deslizarme.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Perfect for preschoolers, kindergarteners, and first and second graders who are learning to speak or read English and Spanish. A delightful reading experience for bilingual families.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">René Colato Laínez, a teacher in a bilingual kindergarten classroom, has crafted an ingenious story that authentically and naturally uses conversation to introduce children to English and Spanish. The fun friendship story engages children, while simple words, short sentences, and a glossary reinforce learning.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Nomar Perez, Pura Belpré Honor winning illustrator of best-selling children’s books as well as greeting cards, has a bright, bold, colorful, kid-pleasing style that invites readers to befriend the characters in this book.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">René was raised in El Salvador and Nomar in Puerto Rico.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">You will also like Let’s Be Friends, Seamos Amigos and We Play Soccer / Jugamos al fútbol by René Colato Laínez and illustrated by Nomar Perez.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b> </b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>Book 1<o:p></o:p></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>Let's Be Friends / Seamos Amigos</b><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxdbnd1I7GNPvY2KiNVG5LWSG6BGVT6c-bvJhnURwuIgKeDebHLb9QSm6YCHto9DKBV1oytlUyvvhvGLOvGxmZRKg0H0fcxj8HPyqh6AUpmsZ9lxk1y4NyZyCL7KpGdjCeh_zmCGREWR_iMaL6p3lVWsyCUVX_G1I6_nUV8a2Fi7KUuRS8LhHF/s1500/81YngjmDdFL._SL1500_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1159" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxdbnd1I7GNPvY2KiNVG5LWSG6BGVT6c-bvJhnURwuIgKeDebHLb9QSm6YCHto9DKBV1oytlUyvvhvGLOvGxmZRKg0H0fcxj8HPyqh6AUpmsZ9lxk1y4NyZyCL7KpGdjCeh_zmCGREWR_iMaL6p3lVWsyCUVX_G1I6_nUV8a2Fi7KUuRS8LhHF/w309-h400/81YngjmDdFL._SL1500_.jpg" width="309" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Hi! ¡Hola! A friendship story in English and Spanish! <span lang="ES">¡Un cuento de amistad en inglés y español!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span lang="ES"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Hi. Hola.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">My name is Joe. Mi nombre es José.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Let's paint. Pintemos.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Two boys, an English speaker and a Spanish speaker, meet at school. They paint together and learn about colors. In the end, they declare, "Let's be friends. / Seamos amigos.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>Book 2<o:p></o:p></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We Play Soccer / Jugamos al fútbol </span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-EsxJS8RyY2yKCh5et3xJR8linzjttKR7yMCH-HgDWBtXLVu79MFLxx_oR9GeRtMej_jJpoEVGLYaYMu9lUTzxt36VKGVYc65dREFTaFmsVx_K_XVtA1yShYUoCQxKqrysfu4xxfKnWNQabVs4tgsfiDAKjs4vvSbPi9qNCn2kcdBnY82wdHf/s1500/81H26w2x9uL._SL1500_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1159" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-EsxJS8RyY2yKCh5et3xJR8linzjttKR7yMCH-HgDWBtXLVu79MFLxx_oR9GeRtMej_jJpoEVGLYaYMu9lUTzxt36VKGVYc65dREFTaFmsVx_K_XVtA1yShYUoCQxKqrysfu4xxfKnWNQabVs4tgsfiDAKjs4vvSbPi9qNCn2kcdBnY82wdHf/w309-h400/81H26w2x9uL._SL1500_.jpg" width="309" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: left;"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Joe speaks English. He loves soccer. <span lang="ES">José habla español. A José le gusta el fútbol. </span>This story is in English and Spanish!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Hola, Joe. Hi, José.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I have my uniform. Tengo mi uniforme.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I am ready. Estoy listo.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Two boys, an English speaker and a Spanish speaker, are on the same soccer team. They have their uniforms and their cleats. They can both juggle the ball. At first, the boys must wait on the bench. But when the coach lets them in the game, both Joe and José score goals. “We win,” says Joe. “Ganamos,” says José.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p>Rene Colato Lainezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17703224889676377655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9367921.post-43348931900059981882024-03-12T01:00:00.041-06:002024-03-13T07:46:12.063-06:00Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo's Incantation: Love Poems for Battle Sites<i>La Bloga-Tuesday welcomes Michael Sedano's Guest Reviewer, Tisha Marie Reichle-Aguilera, PhD, especially with today's review of Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo's latest collection. La Bloga and Michael Sedano celebrated Bermejo's first collection, <a href="https://labloga.blogspot.com/2016/11/twelve-bermejo-launches-posada.html" target="_blank">Posada, Offerings of Witness and Refuge</a>, in a <a href="https://labloga.blogspot.com/2016/11/twelve-bermejo-launches-posada.html" target="_blank">living room floricanto (link)</a>. It's a double pleasure welcoming this review of Bermejo's newest offering and welcoming Tisha Marie Reichle-Aguilera, whose own YA book is due for a review here at La Bloga. </i><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #660000;"><br /></span></h1><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #660000;">Guest Reviewer, <i><b>Incantation: Love Poems for Battle Sites</b> </i>by Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo</span></h1><p>By Tisha Marie Reichle-Aguilera, PhD</p><p>Anyone who knows me knows that love poems aren’t my thing. When I taught high school English, I selected obscure love poems that didn’t exactly jive with teenage notions of love. Even now when I include the theme of love in my creative writing classes, I tend to select poems that capture this notion of love from an unexpected viewpoint, in forms like letter and list that my students have not seen before.</p><p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGPiECSpoWgqy5rKj_lO_S9gCaGjNZbK1hwmzqYX6tr9gp0gbZjtSJLyNHmjKi_zilROw3AVHMcW6fwsqYAhcYeHsG04GlxsWVD3G_XrcMoOdrLXUxAF9RNMhpZyn9avjcKTpJmvRXzbtihtnCqTyF8hQ1_oeGxU8Lx2MfWlFoCfzPTTJEfPA/s445/Incantation.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="445" data-original-width="339" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGPiECSpoWgqy5rKj_lO_S9gCaGjNZbK1hwmzqYX6tr9gp0gbZjtSJLyNHmjKi_zilROw3AVHMcW6fwsqYAhcYeHsG04GlxsWVD3G_XrcMoOdrLXUxAF9RNMhpZyn9avjcKTpJmvRXzbtihtnCqTyF8hQ1_oeGxU8Lx2MfWlFoCfzPTTJEfPA/s320/Incantation.jpg" width="244" /></a></b></div><b>Incantation: Love Poems for Battle Sites</b> changed my perception of love and the way various poetic forms can be used to express love to the people around us. Bermejo’s poems offer a complex juxtaposition of various kinds of love and the trauma of different types of battles. With these incantations, she summons the wisdom of the ancestors and using their guidance, offers consejos of her own for the next generation. <p></p><p>With three distinct parts, the collection revels in love: maternal and romantic, love of friends and kids, love of nature and music, and perhaps most importantly, love of self. Bermejo provides different perspectives on the joys and pains of love during times of battle.</p><p>In Part One, many of the poems center youthful innocence. The nature imagery in “Dancing to the Tree of Their Own Mum” and “Beach Evening Primrose” reveals the joy of children and mothers; it offers hope. There are also several concrete poems throughout the collection. My favorite is “The High Dive,” which captures both joy and defiance. Several other poems resonate with Tía love and caution. Through “Even in War,” Bermejo reveals a closeness not all extended kinfolk know. This poem about a tragic topic also echoes joy. </p><p>Bermejo includes found family in her love, penning poems for friends in 2020; she supports teacher efforts in the strike and momma memories of more relaxing days. She also dedicates other poems to people who have experienced tremendous struggle. </p><p>In poems like “Birthday Candle for Breonna Taylor” the speaker addresses key moments in our history and reminds readers how they are relevant to our present day. With these words, Bermejo offers respite from the pain. She also pays homage to place. I’ve heard a previous version of “For the Love of Home” and shared it with students to inspire their own writing about their homes. The expanded version has surprising new details and an altered rhythmic structure that increases the impact of each moment.</p><p>In Part Two, Bermejo plunges readers into the battle, confronts the ghosts of war and the monuments to our tragic US history. Yet it is only one version, she realizes, and fills in the gaps with images, rhythms, and movements of words that dance across the page. They carry us to the other side with love. </p><p>Embedded within the Gettysburg National Monument poems are testimonies of confronting racism along the creative journey. Bermejo exposes how she engages white people in difficult conversations with “Comfort Food for White Spaces.” The speaker in “Self-Portrait of Expectation” embraces the haunting in order to empower herself, in order to overcome the loneliness society has convinced her she should feel. With her strength, she changes the narrative. “Counting the Dead” chronicles the death, grief, and loss that originated at the battle site, but there is far too much death and grief and loss to be contained there. The poem summons memories of loved ones lost and the pain of that lost love; the tragedies beyond the battles, loss that should not be. The poems in Part Two also offer an alternative to a redacted history or, rather, a neglected one. Bermejo reinserts brown people in places where they’ve been overlooked or erased.</p><p>In Part Three, Bermejo juxtaposes the end of love with the trauma when love does not come. Only then is the speaker empowered to revel in the erotic, to subvert the expectations of sadness and shame. Bermejo embraces the body and celebrates its power. She invokes the wisdom of Frida Kahlo and Audre Lorde as she illustrates how self-love can empower women through the darkest times. Appropriately, the collection ends with “Ritual of Wholeness,” which brings together the pieces of what has been torn apart by the battles.</p><p>This is a collection of poems in a variety of forms that can alter readers’ perspectives on love. When I create my next syllabus, I will expand my love unit to include Bermejo’s poems. Follow @xochitljulisa on Instagram so you can join her on her book tour.</p><div style="text-align: left;"><b><a href="https://www.mouthfeelbooks.com/product/Incantation-love-poems-for-battle-sites/57" target="_blank">Incantation: Love Poems for Battle Sites (link)</a></b></div><div style="text-align: left;">ISBN: 978-1-957840-21-5<br />Publication Date: October 2023<br />Format: Paperback<br />Pages: 97<br />Publisher: <a href="https://www.mouthfeelbooks.com/product/Incantation-love-poems-for-battle-sites/57" target="_blank">Mouthfeel Press</a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><h2 style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #660000;">La Bloga welcomes Guest Reviewer, Tisha Marie Reichle-Aguilera, PhD.</span></h2><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgqjYbJArp7hm2X21YLhof_N1Kau4J6O4FxpZzeKbbhxSM1CMSz8wSDdTwEhDa4W8I9yuFyt3gYqf2DRItq57X4rVESVY-cYlbvoHn5wwTWPLSPmWRxFoe0ZZBT6kXvxf1oGcxJLHRNWW4EXUk1zkL4O7Sh5inof760loAwVVntMGv7xttHLD0" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="627" data-original-width="418" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgqjYbJArp7hm2X21YLhof_N1Kau4J6O4FxpZzeKbbhxSM1CMSz8wSDdTwEhDa4W8I9yuFyt3gYqf2DRItq57X4rVESVY-cYlbvoHn5wwTWPLSPmWRxFoe0ZZBT6kXvxf1oGcxJLHRNWW4EXUk1zkL4O7Sh5inof760loAwVVntMGv7xttHLD0" width="160" /></a></div>Chicana Feminist and former Rodeo Queen, Tisha Marie Reichle-Aguilera (she/her) writes so the desert landscape of her childhood can be heard as loudly as the urban chaos of her adulthood. She is a Macondista and works for literary equity through <i><a href="https://womenwhosubmitlit.org" target="_blank">Women Who Submit. </a></i><p></p><p style="text-align: left;">A former high school teacher, she earned an MFA at Antioch University and a PhD at USC. Her short stories have been anthologized and nominated for awards. Her play Blind Thrust Fault was featured in Center Theater Group Writers’ Workshop Festival. </p><p style="text-align: left;">Reichle-Aguilera's <a href="https://inlandia-institute.square.site/product/breaking-pattern/203" target="_blank">YA novel, <b>Breaking Pattern</b>,</a> is available from Inlandia Books. </p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">About <b>Breaking Pattern</b></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Work Sans";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiewNlyyXCpFr3IFTawAjlxIF7FqxecC-gpm1j84IhizRH4Ql31iDLSz9vddqECpI9OAQdPcOrUvA4s4DUG9wkNQ4QVTvw8s8oekALjhDzKCGWnDV0NwYChWTN4kLVtEx7HXOxfZ16VrCjcmNi4cUDib9qEwxmaA2MaKiIfIi6Fx9eAUsVjs7U" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1030" data-original-width="686" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiewNlyyXCpFr3IFTawAjlxIF7FqxecC-gpm1j84IhizRH4Ql31iDLSz9vddqECpI9OAQdPcOrUvA4s4DUG9wkNQ4QVTvw8s8oekALjhDzKCGWnDV0NwYChWTN4kLVtEx7HXOxfZ16VrCjcmNi4cUDib9qEwxmaA2MaKiIfIi6Fx9eAUsVjs7U" width="160" /></a></div></span></span></div><p><span style="font-family: "Work Sans"; font-size: large;">Adriana Elizabeth Herrera Bowen, a Latina living in Riverside California, is an eleventh grader who loves horses more than people. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Work Sans"; font-size: large;">School is hard. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Work Sans"; font-size: large;">She wants to win the All-Around Cowgirl saddle more than anything, but her parents make choices that disrupt her plans and force her to make drastic decisions.</span></p><div><br /></div>msedanohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09527530005391318421noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9367921.post-69789429967947703012024-03-11T02:30:00.009-06:002024-03-11T02:30:00.145-06:00Poesía y Música en el Día Internacional de la Mujer por Xánath CarazaPoesía y Música en el Día Internacional de la Mujer por Xánath Caraza
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0UmvqwErQAW7f_HtTpEfNFQ18Dtsk2NpUOTmB0aOmV_fjG-uMKgmfUz86cLzwI9IplqfGZi-R5UR8y2a_88qEy351M30WQ1THCIQxpFXyx3Q0115UsEpS2ujZATW-aksY-DFyfqHx3tm9jUrng8P3e9AZM1Zd-PP6He1Q4YcWAXmhNZirttv52g/s1118/1.%20Encabezadoposter.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="613" data-original-width="1118" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0UmvqwErQAW7f_HtTpEfNFQ18Dtsk2NpUOTmB0aOmV_fjG-uMKgmfUz86cLzwI9IplqfGZi-R5UR8y2a_88qEy351M30WQ1THCIQxpFXyx3Q0115UsEpS2ujZATW-aksY-DFyfqHx3tm9jUrng8P3e9AZM1Zd-PP6He1Q4YcWAXmhNZirttv52g/s600/1.%20Encabezadoposter.jpg"/></a></div>
El pasado viernes 8 de marzo nos dimos cita de manera virtual, a las 7 p.m. hora del Centro, para conmemorar el Día Internacional de la Mujer de 2024. Esta ocasión recordó a Lisa Lopez-Galvan quien fue asesinada en la Ciudad de Kansas el pasado 14 de febrero durante el rally de celebración de la victoria del esquipo de los Chiefs de Kansas City.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3TWYIui0w5HbaeZG_BXHHsdtZjaXQQeJD10moAObmFXGhgxZv_w_JmZTFd7VCtIDJm5so8fcdYaRtCZ2NfTxNDf6zzOdGZuQEko9jf-EeajpK8wjwfUQO4egKWC_4GG2wJFrMLzdtgL-XLU9kd_wnc8VfP0Pa-zeWJ_hQ_NfxzioXkE-i0nz5CQ/s654/2.%20Hatice.png" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="421" data-original-width="654" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3TWYIui0w5HbaeZG_BXHHsdtZjaXQQeJD10moAObmFXGhgxZv_w_JmZTFd7VCtIDJm5so8fcdYaRtCZ2NfTxNDf6zzOdGZuQEko9jf-EeajpK8wjwfUQO4egKWC_4GG2wJFrMLzdtgL-XLU9kd_wnc8VfP0Pa-zeWJ_hQ_NfxzioXkE-i0nz5CQ/s400/2.%20Hatice.png"/></a></div>
Hatice Guneri, Presidenta de la Asociación Estudiantil de Diálogo Intercultural de la Universidad de Missouri en Kansas City abrió la noche con unas palabras dedicadas a Lisa Lopez-Galvan.
Hatice fue la maestra de ceremonias este 2024 y también agradeció a los copatrocinadores del evento. Dichos patrocinadores fueron la Asociación Estudiantil de Diálogo Intercultural de UMKC, el Centro de las Mujeres de UMKC, el Programa de Estudios de la Mujer, del Género y de la Sexualidad de UMKC y el Dialogue Institute de la Ciudad de Kansas.
Las presentadoras que formaron parte de la velada fueron Flor Lizbeth Cruz Longoria, DaMaris B. Hill y la que escribe. Flor Lizbeth Cruz Longoria es una flautista que radica en la Ciudad de Kansas y DaMaris B. Hill es ensayista, poeta y narradora radicada en Kentucky. Para los que no me conocen, soy poeta, narradora y traductora.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlLPDyiwYWhf8mVyyBXJjnEhkDlWmIdysiLdSeZ5jFQzZt0LFm-CxLoLPOSGdXwpVywQ82jl69evMeuMZq64dNU0DSWr3RkToF5ZT5UBk5VzgAwK1RrRYSUMTtuo2whWuGtaLal0TX5F7y9NH_53Am8C6ZmAnensFVPxN4GhLRzqvcyugZd53lWw/s920/3.%20publico.png" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="314" data-original-width="920" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlLPDyiwYWhf8mVyyBXJjnEhkDlWmIdysiLdSeZ5jFQzZt0LFm-CxLoLPOSGdXwpVywQ82jl69evMeuMZq64dNU0DSWr3RkToF5ZT5UBk5VzgAwK1RrRYSUMTtuo2whWuGtaLal0TX5F7y9NH_53Am8C6ZmAnensFVPxN4GhLRzqvcyugZd53lWw/s600/3.%20publico.png"/></a></div>
A continuación, unas fotografías de este evento. Las imágenes son de Steve Holland.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2nfWbbnVUKS94HzAx2-7lrvJgYlvUoDJRcOMV8R9twb3VkRnsUD1mbBUAM5tBk4QKFlq8u-0_keEpY-BfK8whmJ7pYh0gRDI42x7sqlvJsEqsFzi2soHzsrkw5xoaR0eoy5vySSquSzS9NR68Ny0lOcD5ym81dz82fzLOQ3cp1hFJ_-Nldnf24g/s2020/4.%2024%208%20marzo.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="400" data-original-height="2020" data-original-width="1073" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2nfWbbnVUKS94HzAx2-7lrvJgYlvUoDJRcOMV8R9twb3VkRnsUD1mbBUAM5tBk4QKFlq8u-0_keEpY-BfK8whmJ7pYh0gRDI42x7sqlvJsEqsFzi2soHzsrkw5xoaR0eoy5vySSquSzS9NR68Ny0lOcD5ym81dz82fzLOQ3cp1hFJ_-Nldnf24g/s400/4.%2024%208%20marzo.jpg"/></a></div>
Tuve la fortuna de empezar con una lectura de poesía de mi más reciente poemario, Tejerás el destino, You Will Weave Destiny, que fue publicado por FlowerSong Press recientemente. Este poemario celebra la vida de Macuilxochitzin.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK_6fRvWndsX3jcA_e9R5iyWpwQO0_JMuN3KoQz1WXIsCggB5ZifKWbJDAcRAx6pf4TBWxtgfarYd1LiPCFJMne4o2_ZamAXD1vlA07lRKDlfexZ0a42RrWOBsnS5djskQCumPBnaQ1wl_DUI1sYYsesrC-eUdvl0ua8tm0N3GYHMPQA6l8tjLdA/s431/5.%20Florliz.png" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="400" data-original-height="431" data-original-width="339" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK_6fRvWndsX3jcA_e9R5iyWpwQO0_JMuN3KoQz1WXIsCggB5ZifKWbJDAcRAx6pf4TBWxtgfarYd1LiPCFJMne4o2_ZamAXD1vlA07lRKDlfexZ0a42RrWOBsnS5djskQCumPBnaQ1wl_DUI1sYYsesrC-eUdvl0ua8tm0N3GYHMPQA6l8tjLdA/s400/5.%20Florliz.png"/></a></div>
Flor Lizbeth Cruz nos deleitó con su voz y la interpretación de un par de canciones.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh01YBkJj9OTpb2nwo8ra-H_zMlDxuC2mTqaQmI2HysNadsfDscxPZOvB0DZjt5DVt0MpREd2bZZuHbMZXxcZaIMUABz_04eM-cTEKwujV9u6QfO0kkXxcQh6r1jYUh_0SWLfzAzEDRiUpVcTTcM-Tyy6yStD5Kudi_xjEQsRjlv3DY8qtJLmEMFQ/s736/6.%20DaMaris.png" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="469" data-original-width="736" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh01YBkJj9OTpb2nwo8ra-H_zMlDxuC2mTqaQmI2HysNadsfDscxPZOvB0DZjt5DVt0MpREd2bZZuHbMZXxcZaIMUABz_04eM-cTEKwujV9u6QfO0kkXxcQh6r1jYUh_0SWLfzAzEDRiUpVcTTcM-Tyy6yStD5Kudi_xjEQsRjlv3DY8qtJLmEMFQ/s400/6.%20DaMaris.png"/></a></div>
Cerramos con la Doctora DaMaris Hill y su excelente poesía.
Para terminar, tuvimos una sesión de preguntas y respuestas donde el foco fue el proceso creativo. También nos entregaron certificados de participación a cada una de las presentadoras. A todos los que asistieron e hicieron que en esta noche hubiera casa llena, muchas gracias. Hasta la próxima.
Xánath Carazahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00664195819118897402noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9367921.post-61385208530230070652024-03-08T00:01:00.048-07:002024-03-08T00:01:00.141-07:00The Spirit of 76<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi8U7kfUGB7wF0acf8r8BBNoj2zHhky5NqDhF4RklkjQkWCgsvIXgXeaY1EohelemvUJd97k6r51RzfIzLG9MJzZ2R_V4FJPZVqUoxTselO-Q4Ttdf6hY9ck5M0T9swNUw7DRjQce_Lf3cfrsqGDpZ-1RHFElO1PH1hfFbtJTHRNOW9JWxAOfo-" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi8U7kfUGB7wF0acf8r8BBNoj2zHhky5NqDhF4RklkjQkWCgsvIXgXeaY1EohelemvUJd97k6r51RzfIzLG9MJzZ2R_V4FJPZVqUoxTselO-Q4Ttdf6hY9ck5M0T9swNUw7DRjQce_Lf3cfrsqGDpZ-1RHFElO1PH1hfFbtJTHRNOW9JWxAOfo-=w272-h272" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhOZZzjBIEbk43VY9pXculA7e8-93RBcTef1HQcZFIWLG1LoOrX6p31a0At4sgZBH8i2vugh-knZpF6kmuRfTjC96chRjxr-qIUDu2cIbfYYT43-E-_T2fjKmsBT4XF1ATYvgxsiv8tD8ymN7rbSYdEx1Cc8w-naVaL0ZLrMeMKraxDKEfdh6zM" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhOZZzjBIEbk43VY9pXculA7e8-93RBcTef1HQcZFIWLG1LoOrX6p31a0At4sgZBH8i2vugh-knZpF6kmuRfTjC96chRjxr-qIUDu2cIbfYYT43-E-_T2fjKmsBT4XF1ATYvgxsiv8tD8ymN7rbSYdEx1Cc8w-naVaL0ZLrMeMKraxDKEfdh6zM=w263-h263" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: large; text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="text-align: center;">AI generated images. Tech magic. Welcome to the future? Harbingers of the apocalypse?</span></p><p><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">A </span><span style="font-family: arial;">bit of self-reflection on the occasion of an anniversary.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I </span><span style="font-family: arial;">had a birthday this week, my 76th. I celebrated with a French toast doughnut with breakfast. It seemed appropriate. </span></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjwq6QOR4EoS9vEb4LGlcCfjRT-lEz0rQxGXZ9M9kphr3CiXn2JCQItW3gIOrw7xWTbhJ9CkvvbyaqQx_qBBc2r6GB5FcAHmkIZaTyknclW1lbBIs6_l2aiRuO4c3zm77jSKL6cgFgk9Wlo2jgNHTgD6HvfQLCMzWLtNpK6xncpWZyb5f_4F5yS" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><img alt="" data-original-height="176" data-original-width="219" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjwq6QOR4EoS9vEb4LGlcCfjRT-lEz0rQxGXZ9M9kphr3CiXn2JCQItW3gIOrw7xWTbhJ9CkvvbyaqQx_qBBc2r6GB5FcAHmkIZaTyknclW1lbBIs6_l2aiRuO4c3zm77jSKL6cgFgk9Wlo2jgNHTgD6HvfQLCMzWLtNpK6xncpWZyb5f_4F5yS=w320-h257" width="320" /></span></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">I tell myself that I will finish a Gus Corral novel this year. Other goals in the Spirit of 76 include getting back to model cars, traveling to someplace I haven't been to yet, and maintaining a high level of exercise (physical and mental) and social activity.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">There are reasons why I may not reach these goals. The number one obstacle, in my view, is the speed of progression of my Parkinson's Disease. The exercise goal is my major response to Parkinson's symptoms. I attend several exercise classes each week that are designed to help combat PD. My days include sessions on an exercise bike, repetitive routines that help balance, stamina, and cognition, yoga poses to stretch and relax stiff and ungainly muscles, and aerobics. That strategy appears to be working, in terms of slowing down PD. Can't say it's done much for writing, traveling, or modeling. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Like the song says, I'm not the world's most physical guy, and there are days when it all feels like too much. And then there are days when it all falls into place. As another song says, that's life. No?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Later.</span></p><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><b style="color: #800180; font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">____________________</span></b></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /><b><a href="http://manuelramos.com/">Manuel Ramos</a> </b>writes crime fiction. Read his latest story, <b><i>Northside Nocturne</i></b>, in the award-winning anthology <a href="https://www.akashicbooks.com/catalog/denver-noir/"><b><i>Denver Noir</i></b></a>, edited by <b>Cynthia Swanson</b>, published by <b>Akashic Books.</b></span><br /> <p></p>Manuel Ramoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10360072661844419063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9367921.post-34636268364061978172024-03-07T00:00:00.012-07:002024-03-07T00:00:00.154-07:00Chicanonautica: Dispatches from Artsy-Fartsy Cowboy Land<p><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;">by <a href="http://www.mondoernesto.com" target="_blank">Ernest Hogan</a></span></span><a href="http://www.mondoernesto.com" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></a><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span></span></p><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"></span>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEikUYXAMiYY8cbcp9pqPyGDf81nVVIG2L2PXQdmTdYZHWc1kGx83yFKCjWUr3In41FMEFkKAup87ilcAZWqBVazUhKVKffqNzYv7UEKixxEemxDO_6e9Au9FLZeGmGM44LWeXc1SZrikNqUSSuQqXoqLAmGylkur72VHsrXq4AT6nApj_t8AvrrCQ" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="249" data-original-width="360" height="138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEikUYXAMiYY8cbcp9pqPyGDf81nVVIG2L2PXQdmTdYZHWc1kGx83yFKCjWUr3In41FMEFkKAup87ilcAZWqBVazUhKVKffqNzYv7UEKixxEemxDO_6e9Au9FLZeGmGM44LWeXc1SZrikNqUSSuQqXoqLAmGylkur72VHsrXq4AT6nApj_t8AvrrCQ=w200-h138" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: times; font-size: 18pt;">Lately, the news gives me déjà vû. I feel like
I’ve been whisked back in time, once again reading the new wave spec fic of my
adolescence in the early Seventies, when a man named Nixon (not Mojo) was in the
White House, the Vietnam war was grinding into a faded preview of the heat
death of the universe, and the counterculture was imploding.</span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><p></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><style> </style></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><style>@font-face
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<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjNkNa-KegIlhSXtlp1sVWL4CY-JSE7tsKQwQofAS5_xr27-xA3H3rUUlfUgXZ4qMJf1laExFw0fUSRByw-vdKAXzD04xXF4zrCUDm0r6-taWpD69lF80IO9jJSc45KDBua5bK-ZSCwVyY9wwbc1-tUtWIPoL_eA6Kx559s99j73s8OxeoX-5KNJw" style="clear: right; float: right; font-family: times; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4284" data-original-width="5712" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjNkNa-KegIlhSXtlp1sVWL4CY-JSE7tsKQwQofAS5_xr27-xA3H3rUUlfUgXZ4qMJf1laExFw0fUSRByw-vdKAXzD04xXF4zrCUDm0r6-taWpD69lF80IO9jJSc45KDBua5bK-ZSCwVyY9wwbc1-tUtWIPoL_eA6Kx559s99j73s8OxeoX-5KNJw" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;">Since Arizona politics as they affect those of us in the Latinoid
continuum is part of my beat, I promised to cherchez le weird about it while my wife Emily and I took a quick jaunt to Sedona and Prescott. There’s usually some weird shit going on.</span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;">It used to be that during a presidential election, the Republicans
started out screaming about the border, and brown invaders, then veered off into other issues. Now they can’t stay away from it. </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhR3TGVFt-MzGwYkB7CzzBCxdlPl5-nFWNkrnZlkfjUCkVW1RtNUg4xDFlpkMLTk_pNoupA0tqDQgM8cbCR4ZtCpLKDPKizlwFcoeqLWSaKJwXLv5JqVosDgrClHL8c5UVZ7oQ_H5ReinkFF5kVVQdzdUcDWGhX0nZR7GL1wRU6SxuegEFA5j0Pdw" style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: times; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="5712" data-original-width="4284" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhR3TGVFt-MzGwYkB7CzzBCxdlPl5-nFWNkrnZlkfjUCkVW1RtNUg4xDFlpkMLTk_pNoupA0tqDQgM8cbCR4ZtCpLKDPKizlwFcoeqLWSaKJwXLv5JqVosDgrClHL8c5UVZ7oQ_H5ReinkFF5kVVQdzdUcDWGhX0nZR7GL1wRU6SxuegEFA5j0Pdw=w240-h320" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;">Trump has just defeated Haley in the South Carolina primary. And what he had to say: “They’re coming from Asia, they’re coming from the Middle East, coming from all over the world, coming from Africa, and we’re not going to stand for it . . . They’re destroying our country. . . We have languages coming into our country . . . they have languages that nobody in this country has ever heard of. It’s a horrible thing.”</span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;">The immigration bill failed because it was linked to aid for the
Ukraine. And there is a surge of undocumented border crossings.They aren’t just bad hombres from Mejico any more. Bad politics are bringing them to the land of the free from Venezuela, Nicaragua, India, China, and others in a worldwide failure of democracy. Even Arizona’s Democratic governor Katie Hobbs wants to call out the National Guard, but to do what, help fill out forms? And yet, nobody likes Kari Lake, even the Republicans, who are advancing a bill allowing people to legally kill someone accused of “attempting to trespass or actively trespassing on their property.”</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhK5BmR6cLc_Xst0J_hvjU73-32aDWSc1qksyJRauPRsI0zjnkrEWyZagmM1V567G2RSCV_HwTIfAypJ07LZJvj0JKxGug_FlCTmwQxr6Oyoxq6ouhZ_GR41LzIU5-TkMyUxAxOXyfbyxIE6NpInwGh1sTJnK2mN3VRjN3zJ7cgsNO2nxCDqLqZEQ" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="5712" data-original-width="4284" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhK5BmR6cLc_Xst0J_hvjU73-32aDWSc1qksyJRauPRsI0zjnkrEWyZagmM1V567G2RSCV_HwTIfAypJ07LZJvj0JKxGug_FlCTmwQxr6Oyoxq6ouhZ_GR41LzIU5-TkMyUxAxOXyfbyxIE6NpInwGh1sTJnK2mN3VRjN3zJ7cgsNO2nxCDqLqZEQ=w240-h320" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: times; font-size: 18pt;">It’s been strange in a different way in
2024. Once you get away from the news feeds, it’s hard to tell that an election
is going on. No bumper stickers, or signs. No declarations in public places. An
eerie quiet.</span>
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{page:WordSection1;}</span></style><p></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;">As we left the Metro Phoenix area, it was the same, even though I was scanning the streets. The only mention of politics was some incomprehensible babble at a restaurant at breakfast. I couldn’t tell who the guy was for or against. He seemed to be influenced by conspiracy theories, but it was without form and vague.</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;">It was the same on the drive up to Sedona, where at a store John
Lennon's “Imagine” played and a little old lady sang along.</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;">Little old ladies aren’t what they used to be.</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh3gpz3hY7xPVfI66BZKNzifkSNd77bWut_r1xllJ2DA9PPn94RwrSNtk4KlpXJz5D6CloU6EcTGBuwRha3fPbq_P-m40-5i1rLH-kmBdgPMrBhrN2QTaPegP55sYsDgYQAdflYqgfOXrSnRthIayIoB_W7nGNSBGPtTSYDdRc_ab0p7mLWKMgovw" style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: times; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="5712" data-original-width="4284" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh3gpz3hY7xPVfI66BZKNzifkSNd77bWut_r1xllJ2DA9PPn94RwrSNtk4KlpXJz5D6CloU6EcTGBuwRha3fPbq_P-m40-5i1rLH-kmBdgPMrBhrN2QTaPegP55sYsDgYQAdflYqgfOXrSnRthIayIoB_W7nGNSBGPtTSYDdRc_ab0p7mLWKMgovw=w240-h320" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;">But then, this was Sedona, a New Age Mecca. As I overheard someone say in a trendy thrift store: “We’re artsy-fartsy cowboy.”</span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"></span><p></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"><br />However, amid the colorful shops, was this one place selling T-shirts proclaiming DONALD TRUMP MATTERS and LET’S GO BRANDON!</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;">Later, while we were hiking on the Huckaby Trail, a California Trump fan with psychic tendencies sent me some texts. She was having dystopian dreams about oppression and militarization.</span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;">When we headed to Prescott, home of the world’s oldest rodeo, I was expecting things to be different. And they were more conservative, but still, no election signs or bumper stickers. The roadside sellers of flags, especially TRUMP 2024, had gone missing. The cowboys were becoming un poco más artsy-fartsy.</span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;">I contemplated that while sipping a mocha in the Art Deco splendor
of the Hassayampa Inn and listening to old time jazz.</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEja7geNh6AVTnBdPZoGlplt7gMQQCsJ-2G4dzr87lX7YQnMkTc3yflV9LuRNRW62xOO_2e_k3ukFkWsgEOn7lq0eDnAyyrWEVrrVAdUBHa6l83zyr-90BkPW0QULQsxCdJp7P2tSg9XwQrjFVjmcNpsXkmQu8GvJsNoXen7QSNgGfSg2t05bPKpAQ" style="clear: right; float: right; font-family: times; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4284" data-original-width="5712" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEja7geNh6AVTnBdPZoGlplt7gMQQCsJ-2G4dzr87lX7YQnMkTc3yflV9LuRNRW62xOO_2e_k3ukFkWsgEOn7lq0eDnAyyrWEVrrVAdUBHa6l83zyr-90BkPW0QULQsxCdJp7P2tSg9XwQrjFVjmcNpsXkmQu8GvJsNoXen7QSNgGfSg2t05bPKpAQ" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;">Biden and Trump won the Michigan primary. No surprise. Everything went as expected.</span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"></span><p></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"><br />But I’ve learned to expect the unexpected.</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;">Like the only political thing we ran into in Prescott, while Biden and Trump were doing political theater at the border, was a young black man on Whisky Row trying to collect signatures to get RFK, Jr. on the ballot for president.</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;">The deadline to apply for <a href="https://www.amazon.com/stores/Ernest-Hogan/author/B001K84GKQ?ref=ap_rdr&isDramIntegrated=true&shoppingPortalEnabled=true" target="_blank">Ernest Hogan</a>’s online class on <a href="https://www.mexicanos2070.com/spring-2024-palabras-del-pueblo" target="_blank">Gonzo Science Fiction, Chicano Style</a> has been extended to March 12.</span></i></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</span></style></p>ERNEST HOGANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16540897948215678872noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9367921.post-91569246345333153802024-03-06T01:00:00.001-07:002024-03-06T01:00:00.138-07:002024-2025 Tejas Star List<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB8sZQUUX-_90ag-vxYko5w05tKYGO_w-5x87Du1kSjElePN6JcbF0pEgbolOSppvxH8OUr-bFw6VQgXKSQPlJKMe8LvgHcr9ewHckSUTTOLI0BgghkwcPxQgfrD4Ajbg-aG1UQ0lPfvWnHQ-0w9C_yw1hBh6iL28utlSFNkTNN-jYSDWhRU0B/s287/20210601_TejasStar_287.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="287" data-original-width="287" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB8sZQUUX-_90ag-vxYko5w05tKYGO_w-5x87Du1kSjElePN6JcbF0pEgbolOSppvxH8OUr-bFw6VQgXKSQPlJKMe8LvgHcr9ewHckSUTTOLI0BgghkwcPxQgfrD4Ajbg-aG1UQ0lPfvWnHQ-0w9C_yw1hBh6iL28utlSFNkTNN-jYSDWhRU0B/s1600/20210601_TejasStar_287.jpg" width="287" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://txla.org/tools-resources/reading-lists/tejas-star/current-list/ The Tejas Star Reading List (TSRL) provides a recommended reading list to encourage children ages 5-12 to explore multicultural books and to discover the cognitive and economic benefits of bilingualism and multilingualism. The Tejas Star Reading List is intended for recreational reading, not to support a specific curriculum. Alma, de Pies a Cabeza/Alma, Head to Toe by Juana Martinez-Neal, illustrated by Juana Martinez-Neal (Candlewick, 2023). Benita y las criaturas nocturnas (Benita and the Night Creatures) by Mariana Llanos (Barefoot Books, 2023). Bla. Bla. Blá (Gib.ber.ish) by Young Vo, illustrated by Young Vo, Translated by Gabriella Aldeman (Levine Querido, 2022). El Campo Flotante (The Floating Field) by Scott Riley, illustrated by Nguyen Quang and Kim Lien, Translated by Zab Translation (Lerner Books, 2023). Con Cuba en el bolsillo (Cuba in My Pocket) by Adriana Cuevas, translated by Alexis Romay (Square Fish, 2023). Las escultoras de la luz (The Sculptors of Light) by Margarita Engle, illustrated by Cecilia Puglesi (Reycraft Book, 2023). El español es la lengua de mi familia (Spanish is the language of my family) by Michael Genhart, illustrated by John Parra, translated by Ana A. Izquierdo de Alba (Neal Porter Books, 2023). Etnias del mundo edited by Tres Patas y Pico, illustrated by Laia Berloso (Tres Patas y Pico, 2023). ¡Las mascotas mandan! Mi reino de tinieblas (Pets Rule! #1: My Kingdom of Darkness) by Susan Tan, illustrated by Wendy Tan Shiau Wei, Translated by Abel Berriz (Scholastic, 2023). La falda morada de Leo (Leo’s purple skirt) by Irma Borges, illustrated by Francesco Fagnani. (Nubeocho, 2022). Jovita llevaba pantalones: La historia de una mexicana que luchó por la libertad (Jovita Wore Pants: The Story of a Mexican Freedom Fighter) written and translated by Aida Salazar, illustrated by Molly Mendoza (Scholastic Inc., 2023). Los Nachos de Nacho: La Historia de la Botana Favorita del Mundo (Nacho’s Nachos: The Story Behind the World’s Favorite Snack) by Sandra Nickel, illustrated by Oliver Dominguez (Lee & Low Books, 2023). Noche Antigua (Ancient Night) by David Alvarez, adapted by David Bowles (Levine Querido, 2023). Rizos (Frizzy) by Claribel A. Ortega, illustrated by Rose Bousamra, Translated by Jasminne Mendez (First Second, 2023). Selena Gomez (Selena Gomez) by Claudia Romo Edelman y Karla Arenas Valenti, illustrated by Alexandra Beguez, Translated by Terry Catasús Jennings (Roaring Brook Press, 2023). Sobreviví los ataques del 11 de septiembre de 2001 (Graphix) (I Survived the Attacks on September 11, 2001 (Graphix)) by Lauren Tarshis, illustrated by Scott Dawson, translated by Scholastic Inc (Scholastic Inc, 2021). Superheroínas y superhéroes. Manual de instrucciones (How to Become a Superhero) by Davide Cali, illustrated by Gómez (Nube Ocho, 2023). El viaje de Yenebi a la escuela (Yenebi’s Drive to School) by Sendy Santamaria, Translated by Hercilia Mendizabal Frers (Chronicle Books, 2023). Vlad, El vampirito fabuloso (Vlad, The Fabulous Vampire) by Flavia Z. Drago, illustrated by Flavia Z. Drago (Candlewick Press, 2023). Wepa/Wepa by J. de la Vega, illustrated by J. de la Vega, Spanish & English (Lil’ Libros, 2023)."> https://txla.org/tools-resources/reading-lists/tejas-star/current-list/</a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The Tejas Star Reading List (TSRL) provides a recommended reading list to encourage children ages 5-12 to explore multicultural books and to discover the cognitive and economic benefits of bilingualism and multilingualism. The Tejas Star Reading List is intended for recreational reading, not to support a specific curriculum.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRSdR2o-ffdrO1dlvyORjvoGXRK8EfESqy5qym5B6HBR2iVMSBla02Xp89kBqGPLdXT747y_25CHQKx59cD9p6_G5OJuMvYJ_tMlVEeyDSz0IiTIlxFhr6byCM6PpZkjyZsU0TW2i1hnk0Nl5NKNxj53BNTsn8Kc4xKOcYSpWVYAJv47oEVsCb/s768/Tejas-Star-Composite-2024-2025-1-1-768x768.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRSdR2o-ffdrO1dlvyORjvoGXRK8EfESqy5qym5B6HBR2iVMSBla02Xp89kBqGPLdXT747y_25CHQKx59cD9p6_G5OJuMvYJ_tMlVEeyDSz0IiTIlxFhr6byCM6PpZkjyZsU0TW2i1hnk0Nl5NKNxj53BNTsn8Kc4xKOcYSpWVYAJv47oEVsCb/w640-h640/Tejas-Star-Composite-2024-2025-1-1-768x768.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Alma, de Pies a Cabeza/Alma, Head to Toe by Juana Martinez-Neal, illustrated by Juana Martinez-Neal (Candlewick, 2023).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Benita y las criaturas nocturnas (Benita and the Night Creatures) by Mariana Llanos (Barefoot Books, 2023).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="IT">Bla. Bla. </span>Blá (Gib.ber.ish) by Young Vo, illustrated by Young Vo, Translated by Gabriella Aldeman (Levine Querido, 2022).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;">El Campo Flotante (The Floating Field) by Scott Riley, illustrated by Nguyen Quang and Kim Lien, Translated by Zab Translation (Lerner Books, 2023).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Con Cuba en el bolsillo (Cuba in My Pocket) by Adriana Cuevas, translated by Alexis Romay (Square Fish, 2023).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Las escultoras de la luz (The Sculptors of Light) by Margarita Engle, illustrated by Cecilia Puglesi (Reycraft Book, 2023).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;">El español es la lengua de mi familia (Spanish is the language of my family) by Michael Genhart, illustrated by John Parra, translated by Ana A. Izquierdo de Alba (Neal Porter Books, 2023).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span lang="ES"><span style="font-family: arial;">Etnias del mundo edited by Tres Patas y Pico, illustrated by Laia Berloso (Tres Patas y Pico, 2023).<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span lang="ES"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="ES">¡Las mascotas mandan! </span>Mi reino de tinieblas (Pets Rule! #1: My Kingdom of Darkness) by Susan Tan, illustrated by Wendy Tan Shiau Wei, Translated by Abel Berriz (Scholastic, 2023).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;">La falda morada de Leo (Leo’s purple skirt) by Irma Borges, illustrated by <span lang="ES">Francesco Fagnani. (Nubeocho, 2022).</span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span lang="ES"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span lang="ES"><span style="font-family: arial;">Jovita llevaba pantalones: La historia de una mexicana que luchó por la libertad (Jovita Wore Pants: The Story of a Mexican Freedom Fighter) written and translated by Aida Salazar, illustrated by Molly Mendoza (Scholastic Inc., 2023).<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span lang="ES"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span lang="ES"><span style="font-family: arial;">Los Nachos de Nacho: La Historia de la Botana Favorita del Mundo (Nacho’s Nachos: The Story Behind the World’s Favorite Snack) by Sandra Nickel, illustrated by Oliver Dominguez (Lee & Low Books, 2023).<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span lang="ES"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span lang="ES"><span style="font-family: arial;">Noche Antigua (Ancient Night) by David Alvarez, adapted by David Bowles (Levine Querido, 2023).<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span lang="ES"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Rizos (Frizzy) by Claribel A. Ortega, illustrated by Rose Bousamra, Translated by Jasminne Mendez (First Second, 2023).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Selena Gomez (Selena Gomez) by Claudia Romo Edelman y Karla Arenas Valenti, illustrated by Alexandra Beguez, Translated by Terry Catasús Jennings (Roaring Brook Press, 2023).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Sobreviví los ataques del 11 de septiembre de 2001 (Graphix) (I Survived the Attacks on September 11, 2001 (Graphix)) by Lauren Tarshis, illustrated by Scott Dawson, translated by Scholastic Inc (Scholastic Inc, 2021).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Superheroínas y superhéroes. Manual de instrucciones (How to Become a Superhero) by Davide Cali, illustrated by Gómez (Nube Ocho, 2023).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;">El viaje de Yenebi a la escuela (Yenebi’s Drive to School) by Sendy Santamaria, Translated by Hercilia Mendizabal Frers (Chronicle Books, 2023).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Vlad, El vampirito fabuloso (Vlad, The Fabulous Vampire) by Flavia Z. Drago, illustrated by Flavia Z. Drago (Candlewick Press, 2023).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Wepa/Wepa by J. de la Vega, illustrated by J. de la Vega, Spanish & English (Lil’ Libros, 2023).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><br /></p>Rene Colato Lainezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17703224889676377655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9367921.post-251009686474604522024-03-05T01:00:00.027-07:002024-03-05T01:00:00.125-07:00Four Laureates Here: Can You Too?<p><span style="color: #660000; font-size: x-large;">Four Laureates Shine in Altadena Spotlight</span></p><p>Michael Sedano</p><p>I saw the poster and patted myself on the back for having the good sense to be living in Altadena, California where in a few days I'd get to hear four Poets Laureate read in a celebration organized by Carla R. Sameth and Peter J. Harris, Altadena's current Co-Poets Laureate, and sponsored by the Altadena Library Foundation, the Academy of American Poets with funds from the Mellon Foundation, and supported by Poets&Writers, and Women Who Submit. </p><p>My thrill comes not simply from hearing poets in propria persona--Hazel Clayton Harrison, Teresa Mei Chuc, Elline Lipkin, and Thelma Reyna--but from knowing my community is unique in having an active and long-lived Laureate program.</p><p>And it strikes me: Altadena doesn't have to be unique.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihuH0iCyUgUE4JfVdA47uhZ6QbiMfc_uGAgNjlAocl0CukybTTt_440zgSIAaqOZFfTNdELNM0s4DjHwlNGXEKrft7Y88INXBODTUF37B2Ifc7LdtPghUn45fES-F_J3KFzwfODIs97TvQRqido9LNKITQO2BWHopwpGSJjrNZBruHAI7Dixw/s4800/IMG_7622.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3200" data-original-width="4800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihuH0iCyUgUE4JfVdA47uhZ6QbiMfc_uGAgNjlAocl0CukybTTt_440zgSIAaqOZFfTNdELNM0s4DjHwlNGXEKrft7Y88INXBODTUF37B2Ifc7LdtPghUn45fES-F_J3KFzwfODIs97TvQRqido9LNKITQO2BWHopwpGSJjrNZBruHAI7Dixw/s600/IMG_7622.jpg" width="600" /></a></div>Laureate Carla Sameth and Nikki Winslow, Altadena Libraries District Director, concentrated on an important detail a few moments before opening the program. A last-minute rush of people doesn't faze Winslow, whose staff springs into action to accommodate the gratifyingly loud crowd. People come excited at the program. As it happened, the massive California storm abated long enough to let people walk in dry.<div><br /></div><div>The event reflects Altadena Library's unwavering support for literacy, it's raison d'etre que no?, and the Poet Laureate program that reflects the most sublime form of literacy. The reading tonight spotlights Laureates Emerita dating to 2014, when the program launched its annual anthology as<a href="http://www.goldenfoothillspress.com" target="_blank"> The Altadena Literary Review Antholog</a><a href="http://www.goldenfoothillspress.com" target="_blank">y (link to preorder)</a>. The Review's precursor, Poetry and Cookies, is honored as the title of the year-end celebration and publication release of the Review.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBGPs83rUXhF9Jxt-1u4KXMx2YkUS1ap1M-zo06gZ7TrbNAJv6_5tuApxhFuL7VqTKy1ZmDdGsjqfibTD8Tma5RLhxupt9DxhvYOPlTWAUD7c3re1axXdveJpMUbTVyOR8yqSQ7_jSP_52RIfxs1hTv6G0Q19AbPY4tjIpZBtaKYyXocHqmJA/s4800/IMG_7625.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3200" data-original-width="4800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBGPs83rUXhF9Jxt-1u4KXMx2YkUS1ap1M-zo06gZ7TrbNAJv6_5tuApxhFuL7VqTKy1ZmDdGsjqfibTD8Tma5RLhxupt9DxhvYOPlTWAUD7c3re1axXdveJpMUbTVyOR8yqSQ7_jSP_52RIfxs1hTv6G0Q19AbPY4tjIpZBtaKYyXocHqmJA/s600/IMG_7625.jpg" width="600" /></a></div>Altadena, an unincorporated city at the northwest corner of Los Angeles County's San Gabriel Valley, supports a lively poetry community. Hundreds of poets--not exclusively from the region--submitted to the upcoming 2024 <a href="http://www.goldenfoothillspress.com" target="_blank">Altadena Literary Review Anthology (link Golden Foothills Press, 2024, Spring)</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sabes que? Your community is not all that much different fron my community.</div><div><br /></div><div>Altadena has a Laureate program because there are lots of people who write and listen to poetry. Around here, and around your locale, there are lots of people who write poetry. And you probably have a local library. And your local library employs librarians who love literacy and love poetry and don't have a lot of time to organize readings.</div><div><br /></div><div>That's where poetry supporters come into the local picture. Altadena's forward-looking library has beauteous media and innovative lending programs like tools and 3-D printers. The "head librarian," Nikki Winslow and her staff support the readings by providing a meeting space, streaming technology (Laureate Harris lives in Florida and attends the reading virtually), and a vivacious welcome from Winslow at the end of a long day.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am willing to bet--and I don't gamble--that your local library has a Nikki Winslow clone who will support anyone with the energy to bring ideas to fruition. Years ago, in Altadena, the person was Paulie Dutton, a librarian who shephered the modest program from 2003 until 2014 when Dutton envisioned the current iteration of the Altadena Laureate honor.</div><div><br /></div><div>Being Laureate is a lot of work! The search recently closed for the town's next co-Laureates. Dutton, and former Laureates, comprise the search committee. Sameth and Harris are leaving large shoes. Altadena poets seem to have large feet ready to walk five miles in the shoes of the predecessors. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's like that in your town, too.</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="color: #660000; font-size: x-large;">A Library Community Room Floricanto: Four Altadena Poets Laureate </span></div><div><br /></div><div><div><b>Teresa Mei Chuc </b>was born in Sài Gòn, Việt Nam and fled her Vietnamese homeland with her mother and brother shortly after the Việt Nam War, spending three and a half months in a freight boat stranded in the South China Sea before being rescued. Teresa is the author of three full-length collections of poetry, Invisible Light (2018), Keeper of the Winds (2014) and Red Thread (2012). </div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYevRy24Nj0GdOLzYvGVf-kC5ilcwWwSXD8Zh95e_lfnyl3UQY7ESkTJzpyBxSF1DzhLVXOB9kEDpp8wPzx-TeRjCelQhzgIzwLwBZTp3BF5bptZjrV8ieLyz329emTL3bPBhYNc5aphFBUjtR-enoqTHPCSBAGJ2-dnJYLD1vN_9cX4z8Z_o/s4800/IMG_7638.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3201" data-original-width="4800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYevRy24Nj0GdOLzYvGVf-kC5ilcwWwSXD8Zh95e_lfnyl3UQY7ESkTJzpyBxSF1DzhLVXOB9kEDpp8wPzx-TeRjCelQhzgIzwLwBZTp3BF5bptZjrV8ieLyz329emTL3bPBhYNc5aphFBUjtR-enoqTHPCSBAGJ2-dnJYLD1vN_9cX4z8Z_o/s600/IMG_7638.jpg" width="600" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div>Her poetry chapbook, Incidental Takes, was published by Hummingbird Press in 2023. She teaches literature and writing at a public school in Los Angeles. Her poetry chapbook, Incidental Takes, was published by Hummingbird Press in 2023. She teaches literature and writing at a public school in Los Angeles.</div><div>IG @tue_my_chuc • FB: Tuệ Mỹ Chúc</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5RybkKqQF613izn8UkoEi_1TWcva6ufWIVtwRcpKjn6heaJSI0ojFrDqbKSP7pqsCGRri1AILvyoeqIYSu4YRUsw-ktVaGCrWwjTR-_-hU-TvOd8EkfAo5JCyoDap4KF18Kd3WRl14N_g9OHMImNmpd58EYFqLoyX6oRvirt4xlSFMnZs2LY/s4800/IMG_7656.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4800" data-original-width="3200" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5RybkKqQF613izn8UkoEi_1TWcva6ufWIVtwRcpKjn6heaJSI0ojFrDqbKSP7pqsCGRri1AILvyoeqIYSu4YRUsw-ktVaGCrWwjTR-_-hU-TvOd8EkfAo5JCyoDap4KF18Kd3WRl14N_g9OHMImNmpd58EYFqLoyX6oRvirt4xlSFMnZs2LY/s600/IMG_7656.jpg" /></a></div><div><br /></div><b>
Hazel Clayton Harrison</b> is an author, editor, educator and a storyteller. A retiree from corporate America, she is a co-owner of Jahlight Media (<a href="http://jahlightmedia.com">jahlightmedia.com</a>), an editing, training, and publishing company. She served as a 2018-2020 poet laureate for the Altadena Library District and is a Pushcart Prize nominee. Her poetry and fiction have appeared in numerous publications. <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicbl2z0HX_U3696SyUR7eRjp0dfB9IQEyQ0SnrFHbeZ1-PcZQGyWlEghTitp4_PGYQM1FieAm5QyVAlUn-jqPyFSidbA8PFAUsftFOgF4urEjB7BqiufFYWBFeALclacqMp0wPzw3remOKu8ZPVxT5z0Z91wkQLxPc4Moccu151S-DfUaZY-4/s4800/IMG_7673.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3200" data-original-width="4800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicbl2z0HX_U3696SyUR7eRjp0dfB9IQEyQ0SnrFHbeZ1-PcZQGyWlEghTitp4_PGYQM1FieAm5QyVAlUn-jqPyFSidbA8PFAUsftFOgF4urEjB7BqiufFYWBFeALclacqMp0wPzw3remOKu8ZPVxT5z0Z91wkQLxPc4Moccu151S-DfUaZY-4/s600/IMG_7673.jpg" width="600" /></a></div>She is the author of a children’s book, The Story of Christmas Tree Lane, a memoir, Crossing the River Ohio, and a book of poetry and prose, Down Freedom Road. As a member of the Pasadena Rose Poets, she recites poetry at local venues. Additionally, she does public speaking and facilitates workshops at writing conferences and seminars. IG/FB @hcharrison11<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZptllAVr1FRpgbTzMJXDFKsJhdiJy50SBqtC8UTrhnscnA_FHwJXmQdL2Vym3Kt5nfGXSTKKW2JLnaC46ThzifCnor01k2TqyGbhdgCVEPAjkCiTvEQVt7p0MzxlzAJH5Wf7zJhJjLfTxUuIJMaGpyIE5bAvDlXqnk8XCyj14q23oWr5JFQ8/s4800/IMG_7713.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4800" data-original-width="3200" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZptllAVr1FRpgbTzMJXDFKsJhdiJy50SBqtC8UTrhnscnA_FHwJXmQdL2Vym3Kt5nfGXSTKKW2JLnaC46ThzifCnor01k2TqyGbhdgCVEPAjkCiTvEQVt7p0MzxlzAJH5Wf7zJhJjLfTxUuIJMaGpyIE5bAvDlXqnk8XCyj14q23oWr5JFQ8/s600/IMG_7713.jpg" /></a></div><b>Elline Lipkin</b> is a poet and academic. Her first book, The Errant Thread, was chosen by Eavan Boland for the Kore Press First Book Award. Her second, Girls’ Studies, was published by Seal Press. Her poetry has been published in many contemporary journals and she has been in residence at Yaddo, the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts, the Dorland Mountain Arts Colony and Yefe Nof. <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDwgiqjeVAZScsy072amGRFY1V0HazxM7OpGJh8PJa5GqutWot8ZXFfaQJUnZ1o17mgVgCag_QzQqDOHT7pnOWj3a4LjEqcx3MDkPku-XKvmHPis4je0xrBRkT9VqETAToPAqT2k-QxItzTHgyPOSD2-XMmiY-qr-_3l5mgGgRvcM1-98tkGE/s4800/IMG_7719.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3200" data-original-width="4800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDwgiqjeVAZScsy072amGRFY1V0HazxM7OpGJh8PJa5GqutWot8ZXFfaQJUnZ1o17mgVgCag_QzQqDOHT7pnOWj3a4LjEqcx3MDkPku-XKvmHPis4je0xrBRkT9VqETAToPAqT2k-QxItzTHgyPOSD2-XMmiY-qr-_3l5mgGgRvcM1-98tkGE/s600/IMG_7719.jpg" width="600" /></a></div>
She teaches writing workshops and is currently a Research Scholar with UCLA’s Center for the Study of Women. From 2016-2018, she served as Poet Laureate of Altadena and co-edited the Altadena Poetry Review. Her website is <a href="http://www.ellinelipkin.com">www.ellinelipkin.com</a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkpcsIGYFpC-9Z02IfFEPISs-q0rrgdYhLDuHZpkiJQxaLm3tQBQJCSf7NPx-gvHkhbhW0nBl4xEIxfwU_huldAdeLFfznzXjylC003idY1zcYAzSSs2BbWrYtz-dbTcGP4CsqjqMDxgBqDtttqqgL6mM5b4ysVqxks0TMQh6yJnDFPWYI_Wg/s4800/IMG_7726.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4800" data-original-width="3200" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkpcsIGYFpC-9Z02IfFEPISs-q0rrgdYhLDuHZpkiJQxaLm3tQBQJCSf7NPx-gvHkhbhW0nBl4xEIxfwU_huldAdeLFfznzXjylC003idY1zcYAzSSs2BbWrYtz-dbTcGP4CsqjqMDxgBqDtttqqgL6mM5b4ysVqxks0TMQh6yJnDFPWYI_Wg/s600/IMG_7726.jpg" /></a></div><div><br /></div><b>Thelma T. Reyna’s</b> books have collectively won 22 national and international literary awards. She has written 6 books, edited 3 anthologies comprising about 200 authors, and co-edited the anthology, Doctor Poets & Other Healers (2022). Her fiction, poetry, and nonfiction have appeared in literary journals, anthologies, textbooks, blogs, and regional media for over 30 years. <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFWzltqtn0skLaZJ3ZH79dC7M_nX7xAW6_duYwi2L3isk45Uh8XY2durFqppLndas4sY0YHOI5nAgoGATeR7PPhPm12qsIBW_xORaryb1aLF8lMf_mC1MEWqCYccFOAfhUXb3JGgeDjr9sdxvSNJPtUYRBXW5DawZ8GLdhOy6WT6S6CjReDGA/s4800/IMG_7749.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3200" data-original-width="4800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFWzltqtn0skLaZJ3ZH79dC7M_nX7xAW6_duYwi2L3isk45Uh8XY2durFqppLndas4sY0YHOI5nAgoGATeR7PPhPm12qsIBW_xORaryb1aLF8lMf_mC1MEWqCYccFOAfhUXb3JGgeDjr9sdxvSNJPtUYRBXW5DawZ8GLdhOy6WT6S6CjReDGA/s600/IMG_7749.jpg" width="600" /></a></div>She was Poet Laureate 2014-2016 in Altadena, CA, and was a Pushcart Prize Nominee in Poetry in 2017. She is the Founder/Chief Editor of the award-winning Golden Foothills Press in Pasadena, Calif. Her Ph.D. is from UCLA. Contact Thelma at <a href="http://www.goldenfoothillspress.com">www.goldenfoothillspress.com</a> or at <a href="mailto:Thelma.reyna@ymail.com">Thelma.reyna@ymail.com</a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigngXzRGZ2z3XQ-OT-uKITR6kh1_SqronlXQWvJfkDdHTUI5s4arYS-QKiR5tCesLwHeVUSmkuyDDudaN8BgZS6DPMU9m396DEaHtvxBfomNfgSXla9tt1krQMMlgkI6ez3JiiosO1czSyeaS8qyXkFENVfZnLQSjmIbcAdjobDTo5rdM-pIE/s4800/IMG_7779.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4800" data-original-width="3199" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigngXzRGZ2z3XQ-OT-uKITR6kh1_SqronlXQWvJfkDdHTUI5s4arYS-QKiR5tCesLwHeVUSmkuyDDudaN8BgZS6DPMU9m396DEaHtvxBfomNfgSXla9tt1krQMMlgkI6ez3JiiosO1czSyeaS8qyXkFENVfZnLQSjmIbcAdjobDTo5rdM-pIE/s600/IMG_7779.jpg" /></a></div><br /></div>msedanohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09527530005391318421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9367921.post-43686876179343921492024-03-04T01:01:00.076-07:002024-03-04T01:01:00.130-07:00It's alive! "Chicano Frankenstein" will be launched at Vroman's Bookstore on March 6, 7:00 p.m.<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI35jdQus_-20R92-AjNtG5QEl7VzEYkCiEFTdMU_0lqbVifjmOqgpGQ8wbdq2vxrHE7Mv0bmGiuLJujcRErBINnLuJ8aPenPrXNpZgDWGzGwlWUDh2jIS-Jqa-xmgWc5xk_9QClvQ-4bLmOtlCi5VchjaeHlrUW0_iOxF4tUA1uKVa_x-CNNG2A/s5400/Daniel%20A%20Olivas%20Banner.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="5400" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI35jdQus_-20R92-AjNtG5QEl7VzEYkCiEFTdMU_0lqbVifjmOqgpGQ8wbdq2vxrHE7Mv0bmGiuLJujcRErBINnLuJ8aPenPrXNpZgDWGzGwlWUDh2jIS-Jqa-xmgWc5xk_9QClvQ-4bLmOtlCi5VchjaeHlrUW0_iOxF4tUA1uKVa_x-CNNG2A/w640-h284/Daniel%20A%20Olivas%20Banner.png" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">La Bloga friends, I wanted to let you know
that Vroman’s Bookstore will be hosting the book launch for my forthcoming
novel, <a href="https://bookshop.org/p/books/chicano-frankenstein/20274428?ean=9781942436591"><i>Chicano Frankenstein</i></a> (Forest Avenue Press), on March 6, 7:00 p.m. Here is
the link with <a href="https://www.vromansbookstore.com/Daniel-A-Olivas-with-Desiree-Zamorano-discusses-Chicano-Frankenstein">details</a>. I
will be interviewed by the wonderful writer, Désirée Zamorano. I hope you can
make it!</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">We’ve been receiving some
beautiful early reviews:</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">"Part science fiction
and part political satire, Olivas’s timely latest explores the pitfalls of
assimilation and probes what it means to be 'human.'"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> —<a href="https://www.publishersweekly.com/9781942436591"><i>Publishers Weekly</i></a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">"The way Olivas
builds on the classic Shelley story and sets it within a futuristic context
makes it an intriguing read that will speak to disenfranchised voices and spark
discussion among its readers."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> —<a href="https://www.libraryjournal.com/author?query=Olivas%2C%20Daniel%20A."><i>Library Journal</i></a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">"With witty dialogue
and beguiling glimpses of Chicano life, the book probes existential questions
about identity and political questions about immigration and race.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> —<a href="https://www.forewordreviews.com/reviews/chicano-frankenstein/"><i>Foreword Reviews</i></a><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">"Blending together
elements of science fiction, horror, political satire, and romance, the story
explores ever-relevant issues of belonging, assimilation, bigotry, and
humanity."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> —<a href="https://hiplatina.com/books-latinx-authors-2024/"><i>HipLATINA</i></a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">I hope you can make it! And if you have a book club or bookstore event where you'd like to feature <i>Chicano Frankenstein</i>, let me know! You may visit my <a href="https://danielolivas.com" target="_blank">website</a> and use the message function to send me an email.</span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiQgb0JI4Cq12apzaZhaHktb6D5AhxzL8feMInKCm0lngCVhhjDi5gfYUS2KbHeOK24jJJZPclzckr4aqPUxFuNv_sEPLELZ6k5RmJVLN8G2i7Tyizm6Z3DpGy4OYmxWkIfRaPjyd7CQZhs-2e4JYWiiPvOrllSypA6neJq4URyMQOt2n_99dFFg/s2700/Chicano%20Frankenstein%20-%20two%20blurbs.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiQgb0JI4Cq12apzaZhaHktb6D5AhxzL8feMInKCm0lngCVhhjDi5gfYUS2KbHeOK24jJJZPclzckr4aqPUxFuNv_sEPLELZ6k5RmJVLN8G2i7Tyizm6Z3DpGy4OYmxWkIfRaPjyd7CQZhs-2e4JYWiiPvOrllSypA6neJq4URyMQOt2n_99dFFg/w426-h640/Chicano%20Frankenstein%20-%20two%20blurbs.png" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;">***</span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3sjsgT3vxeT9VKgr_zC_tGONG1Q0tT0ObHu0e7NJH9OqqR3wz7vmhJzJ0M2lmyxRw3uvFQxP5O-XMs_v8AriVmZkoF7kK48SMJMJkIE9n4uF8doAMb4UQgA9lbtE3EL14IpYREMATS2HClU6Wn7ZqTBHDrbqJx9Rbm1gBRAoift0sFsGmh_9Tjw/s400/TFOB%20logo.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3sjsgT3vxeT9VKgr_zC_tGONG1Q0tT0ObHu0e7NJH9OqqR3wz7vmhJzJ0M2lmyxRw3uvFQxP5O-XMs_v8AriVmZkoF7kK48SMJMJkIE9n4uF8doAMb4UQgA9lbtE3EL14IpYREMATS2HClU6Wn7ZqTBHDrbqJx9Rbm1gBRAoift0sFsGmh_9Tjw/w400-h400/TFOB%20logo.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">And also in honor my my new novel's launch, I will also be at the <a href="https://tucsonfestivalofbooks.org/">Tucson Festival of Books</a> on the beautiful University of Arizona campus, March 9 and 10. I will be signing <i>Chicano Frankenstein</i> at the Indie Authors tent on Sunday, March 10, 10:00 a.m. to 1:00 p.m. My wonderful publisher, <a href="https://laurastanfill.com/">Laura Stanfill</a> founder of <a href="https://www.forestavenuepress.com/">Forest Avenue Press</a>, will join me. You may v</span><span style="font-family: arial;">iew this venue on the Festival <a href="https://tucsonfestivalofbooks.org/?action=map&lat=32.23179919529738&lon=-110.95009759068489">map</a>. Drop on by and say hi! Also, check out all of the wonderful writers who will be signing books and presenting on panels.</span></span></div><div><p></p></div>Daniel A. Olivashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02483784846354950778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9367921.post-50531470460730728032024-02-29T23:00:00.001-07:002024-02-29T23:00:00.138-07:00Featuring Lynne Thompson, Los Angeles Poet Laureate Emerita (2021-2022)<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Melinda Palacio, City of Santa Barbara Poet Laureate</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"> (an earlier version of this column was published in the Santa Barbara Independent)</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">A poetry connection I’ve made over the years is with Lynne Thompson, the 2021-2022 Poet Laureate for Los Angeles. I have had the pleasure of reading with Lynne over the past fifteen years. Lynne is the daughter of Caribbean immigrants. To close Black History Month and with permission from the poet, I’d like to share some of Lynne Thompson’s poems here. Her lush poems are playful, sexy, and thought provoking. Of her poetry, Natasha Trethewey says, “Thompson is a poet who revels in language.” Do you have a favorite Lynne Thompson poem? <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">START WITH A SMALL GUITAR<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Lynne Thompson<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">(previously published in Start with a Small Guitar, What Books Press 2013)<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">although you already know: this was never a real guitar.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">What you hear is the melody once resident inside you<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">and you know this too: it’s only my silhouette you see<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">dancing, dancing. Step into this splendid suggestion or<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">flotsam. Then are those my eyes, filling, or yours?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">or start again with a small guitar<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Of course, you already know: this was never a real guitar.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">But here are all of my fingers longing to coax its duende.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">What you hear is the melody once resident inside you as it escapes, suddenly, and I am there just in time to pluck it<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">From the innocent air & slip it around my wrist like a cuff.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">You must know this too: it’s only my silhouette you see<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Dancing, dancing. Step into it: this splendid suggestion,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">this flotsam. Then, are those my eyes, filling? Yours?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">I ASK THE MALAGASY<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Lynne Thompson<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">(from Beg No Pardon, Perugia Press 2007)<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Where are my ancestors buried?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><i> In the feathers of a yellow bird.<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">How do you remember me?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"> <i>As seven wishes.<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Where will I find the shape-changers’ magic?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"> <i>In fields of hydrangea.<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><i> </i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Who teaches your tantara?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><i> A fox behind closed doors.<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Where are your elephant birds?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"> <i> In ruby and absinthe afternoons.<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">And where is the sawfish beak?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><i> In the dayshine of trees.<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">How deep is your river Betsiboka?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"> <i>Twelve earthquakes deep.<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">What time did your soil turn red?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><i> When calves bent their knees . . . . .<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">ELEGY FOR THE RED DRESS<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Lynne Thompson<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">(from Beg No Pardon, Perugia Press 2007)<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Good morning, Red Dress,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">double strand of pearls, faded rose<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">perfume clinging to the bodice,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">the slip, the silk of the sleeve;<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">molten to my hips, my breasts, <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">the drum of my heart, hem<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">softly pleated to a permanent party. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Hello and hey there, Red Dress—<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">heavy with seat<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">of Love Wants to Dance. Scented<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">with hopes of Shy Man, Bold Man,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Begged-to-take-you-home Man.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Still crumply down the back<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">From the hanker in their hands.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">BALLAD FOR YESTERDAYS<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Lynne Thompson<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">(from Beg No Pardon, Perugia Press 2007)<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Buzzing like a hawk over high<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">cotton—in a trance—I saw you<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">where human lust is electrical, all <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">gyration and heartbreak, a July’d<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">moon and sun. Drowsy with beauty,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">we spooned in sweet, fallow fields so<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">which of us is more mad? (Or is this<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">melancholy just a corn cob dipped <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">in red roux?) Still, we were lovebirds.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Perhaps we invented our own jazz;<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Sweets, we were mornings’ glitter.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">And yes, there were afternoons of scat,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">of bee-bop. But there is no loving that<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">won’t splinter from itself and we know<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">time is just a honey dripper. Yet, I’m all <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">dreams and hunger all these years later.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Melinda Palaciohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09723387105472411698noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9367921.post-16338187792316715942024-02-29T01:00:00.007-07:002024-03-09T09:38:15.180-07:00Elysian Fields in the Suburbs<p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSsaw86lzReH6Laf9a1Poxuq26HTQAyiPdVTKr0ap_NtDNbphiBp2lxQ43eSe2x2EYxfdIeUsFMKTH8O6NgXhsAEprviBwRWCOnlwsjekWGVodKlQbhoH9QXBdJXO4MSKgriU5R4Inwv0zuZatZEg_B-F6KCStlfmvTGiUDK6tj_EVePTpJLQg/s640/76207B13-915B-4C33-9955-126E505D82BF.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSsaw86lzReH6Laf9a1Poxuq26HTQAyiPdVTKr0ap_NtDNbphiBp2lxQ43eSe2x2EYxfdIeUsFMKTH8O6NgXhsAEprviBwRWCOnlwsjekWGVodKlQbhoH9QXBdJXO4MSKgriU5R4Inwv0zuZatZEg_B-F6KCStlfmvTGiUDK6tj_EVePTpJLQg/s320/76207B13-915B-4C33-9955-126E505D82BF.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Palisades Park, Santa Monica, painting by Daniel Alonzo</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> I was about </span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">ten years old, so it must have been 1957, a casual Sunday at the "Park," or Stoner Recreation Center, they call it today, a small Elysian oasis surrounded
by post-WWII stucco homes, in a neighborhood known as Sawtelle, a diverse community in the greater West Los Angeles area. The "Park" was just down the street from the home my parents purchased in 1954,
for something like $10,000, on the G.I. Bill. Most communities had them –
“parks,” that is, but according to sociologists, not nearly enough for a city
the size of Los Angeles.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
probably the same in most American cities, the dearth of recreational public
space, even the great New York, without Central Park, a wasteland of public
spaces, mostly kids stuck in concrete jungles, with shabby basketball courts tucked away between old brownstones. Ask
the kids. They knew how to get find the parks. At least, that’s how it was for us
out west. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In L.A.’s
working-class westside, Santa Monica, south of tony Wilshire boulevard, the
kids had Memorial and Jocelyn parks, and a little way south, along the border
with L.A., there was Pen Mar Park and Mar Vista Park, and a few miles to the west was Oakwood, in
Venice. Culver City had Mar Vista Gardens and, another, Memorial Park. East
toward the wealthier communities of Rancho Park and Cheviot Hills, they had the
mother of neighborhood parks, across the street from the Twentieth Century
movie studios, Cheviot Hills Rec Center, a park with its own mountain and pine
trees, long stretches of grass, an archery range and dog park. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the
1950s, parks were a big deal, a kid’s Eden, an escape from school and problems
at home. At many of the parks in Los Angeles, the city built Olympic size swimming
pools, monstrosities, so swimmers from around the world had a place to
practice for the 1932 Olympics. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At Stoner
Park, the “Big Pool,” we called it, was packed
with teenagers jumping from the tower and the diving board, their hollers of
ecstasy echoing across the fields and tennis courts. The smallest kids, under
their mother’s watchful eyes, ran and splashed in the “little” pool, a large,
round cement pond, barely two feet deep in the center. <br />
They also played on the swings and jungle gym, while older men, my dad’s age, mostly
WWII veterans, reformed pachucos now responsible for families, hid beer wrapped
in brown paper bags as they sat on the large boulders in the Japanese Garden, dubbed
the “Rocks,” shaded by tall elm, sycamore, cedar trees. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
particular Sunday, our artificial Eden was shattered by violence. I was playing with friends out by the "little pool" area when the chaos broke out. Big kids, high schoolers, some a
little older, in “tricked out,” Chevys and Fords, sped into vacant spots, their
brakes screeching. Before anyone knew it, these guys were chasing other guys
through the park. Some wore jackets, their club names and insignias splashed
across the back. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were
serious. I remember one guy taking a thick chain from the back of a lowered,
yellow pick-up, a decorated metal plaque, “Falcons, W.L.A.” in the back window.
A few cars sported the plaque Cobras, Santa Monica, out their back windows. It
all happened fast, guys fist fighting, sometimes two guys duking it out, one on
one, knuckles cracking into bony jaws, other times three on one, a guy on the
ground covering his face with his arms, rolling around, as two guys kicked him.
The guy with the chain swung it over his head and chased another guy. I heard
some yell out, “Godfrey, the cops!” The other side of American culture.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mothers scooped
up their kids and, quickly, shuttled them off to safe spaces, their fathers
running over to help. People rushed in from everywhere to watch. From a
distance came the sirens, just like that, a few minutes later, black and white LAPD pulled up, officers pouring out. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The guys
fighting tried to scatter, but not before getting in a few last punches and
kicks. I saw a football fly through the air. All of the guys who had been
fighting were calling out to each other, like friends, and it didn’t matter whether they were
Falcons or Cobras. They gathered in a wide-open grass area, and, as if they’d
rehearsed it, took up various football positions, and started running plays,
tackling each other hard. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The cops grabbed
some guys who tried running from the park, tossed them up against a chain link
fence, and handcuffed them, but, for the most part, LAPDs finest didn’t seem to
be in a hurry. It was like they enjoyed the chaos, watching these kids go at
each other, even laughing at them. A few cops decided to stroll up to the car
clubbers-turned grid iron stars and started questioning them. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> “Gang fight! What, us?” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I moved in
close to get a good look. The guys on the field, blood oozing from cuts on
their faces, the corner of their eyes and mouths, played dumb when a cop asked,
“What about you?” One “clubber’s” long blonde pompadour had gone flat, but his
ducktail survived the ruckus. The kid tapped at the blood on his cheek and said
he’d been hit hard trying to run up center, or some such ridiculous excuse. When
the cops threatened to arrest them, the clubbers started vouching for each
other, saying they’d been there the whole time, playing tackle, and didn’t “know
nothing about no gang fight.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure, the
cops knew they were lying, but what could they do if nobody wanted to finger
the other guys? The cops told them to beat it, get the hell out of the park,
and not ruin a Sunday for decent people trying to have a good time. I could
hear muffled laughs as the guys walked off, opposite club member giving each
other dirty looks, but, I guess, respecting each other for not ratting. These were the days before American culture turned gun crazy. A man's mettle was in his fist, even if a chain might be dangling from it, or a switchblade in its clutches.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, like kids
in every American city, even, as young as ten, I’d heard about gang fights, heard
my older teenage cousins talk about them. Guys would meet-up for fist fights, after
school, at the park, often in the “Rocks,” like the time a guy named David
Arujo fought Ryan O’Neil to a standstill. Right, that O’Neil, he of movie star
fame. Santa Monica and University High schools filled with the kids from the elite side of town.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> It was a time when </span>Hollywood blasted television dramas, like Marlon Brando in the <i>Wild One</i>, Glen
Ford in the <i>Black Board Jungle</i>, or re-runs of the 1930s and ‘40s, gangster
movies, romanticizing rebel culture, an integral part of American culture, life
on the open range, so to speak, the “Wild, wild west,” but what we saw on a
calm Sunday afternoon, wasn’t a movie. This was the real deal, real blood, kids getting hurt. The
noises still ring in my head. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a
strange period on the 1950s westside, different, than say, East L.A. or Pacoima,
where car clubs were already segregated into ethnic groups. On the westside of
L.A., there was a mixture of ethnicities, White boys, Mexicans, and Japanese, barely
a handful of African Americans, except in Santa Monica and Venice, where they
congregated in their own neighborhoods, or mixed with Mexican. So, the car
clubs, and the rowdy rebels, were more like the kids in James Dean’s <i>Rebel
without a Cause</i>, more whites than Mexicans, even. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of my
cousins told me the only reason the Mexican even started their own car clubs
was because the Whites started getting selective about who they let in. The Cobras and Falcons were in transition, still a mixture of whites and Mexicans.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> Where I’m
going with all this? I have no idea, but only to say that the Elysian fields
and Edens, Americans like to portray to the rest of the world, never “was,” or “were.”
The wonderful sounding “Make American Great Again” slogan, is pure propaganda. American never was
great, no greater or worse than any other developed country, and I can point to a few
members of my family who succumbed to the myth to prove it. hell, even Paris and Madrid have better parks than we do, unless you play golf. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> No one out-beats us in the number of golf courses, but that's, as they say, another story for another time. For now, I'll just keep enjoying the solitude of the "Rocks."<o:p></o:p></span></p>Daniel Canohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13296372136737175858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9367921.post-2357798534590776202024-02-28T01:00:00.001-07:002024-02-28T01:00:00.231-07:00IT FEELS LIKE FAMILY / SE SIENTE COMO FAMILIA<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrZQziYDxTGU8AWFi-he2Qdlwt8UtJAs6GZe9mk6IU4Kpn93QZ5p8Mgp0oNdOshL2RKugjPvHEcUwuvj2YatyVFdLSy8zDfpHG6Y3tfoMnylOsFPsTvRxS7j-VuNcUH3AP4MNrJOLw6FKmqSKGY6DeuWzoNc85rfpqyE-927XrjoRl1JXBaOEv/s1332/9781558859906_f3220.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1332" data-original-width="1000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrZQziYDxTGU8AWFi-he2Qdlwt8UtJAs6GZe9mk6IU4Kpn93QZ5p8Mgp0oNdOshL2RKugjPvHEcUwuvj2YatyVFdLSy8zDfpHG6Y3tfoMnylOsFPsTvRxS7j-VuNcUH3AP4MNrJOLw6FKmqSKGY6DeuWzoNc85rfpqyE-927XrjoRl1JXBaOEv/w480-h640/9781558859906_f3220.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">By Diane de Anda</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Illustrations by Roberta Collier-Morales<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">ISBN: 978-1-55885-990-6<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Publication Date: May 31, 2024<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Format: Hardcover<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Pages: 32<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Imprint: Piñata Books<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Ages: 5-9<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">This bilingual picture book explores children’s resiliency in the face of divorce, while emphasizing the importance of extended family. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Elena and Miguel’s parents don’t live in the same house anymore. Now the kids live in two, Mami’s during the week and Papi’s on weekends. “At first,” Elena says, “it felt like I left half of me behind each time I changed houses. And it didn’t feel like family anymore.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Elena wonders if Rico the cat misses Papi; surely, he too senses the change. At the movie theater, only three share the big tub of popcorn. The kids help their mom pick the oranges off the tree, something their dad used to do. On weekends, Papi makes pancakes for them, but they’re not quite like the ones their mom makes. “It doesn’t feel like family anymore.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Gradually, the siblings begin to adjust to their new lives. At birthday parties, they’re surrounded by relatives and “in the circle of cousins, it felt like family again.” And when all four grandparents and both parents cheer Elena on at her soccer game, their obvious pride in her feels even better than the points she scored. “It feels like family!” This bilingual picture book for young readers explores a difficult subject experienced by many children—divorce and the resulting changes in their lives—while highlighting the importance of relationships with extended family members.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">DIANE DE ANDA is the author of numerous books for young readers that feature Latino themes and families. Her picture books include The Patchwork Garden (Arte Público Press, 2013), The Day Abuelo Got Lost (Albert Whitman & Company, 2019) and Mango Moon (Albert Whitman & Company, 2021), winner of a Paterson Prize for Books for Young People and a Skipping Stones Honor Award. Her books have received numerous awards and been named to multiple recommended reading lists such as the New York Public Library’s Best Books in Spanish and the Bank Street College of Education’s Best Children’s Books. A retired UCLA professor who prepared social workers to help kids and their families, she lives in Los Angeles.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">ROBERTA COLLIER-MORALES has illustrated numerous books for kids, including Sofi Paints Her Dreams / Sofi pinta sus sueños (Piñata Books, 2019) and Salsa (Piñata Books, 1998). A member of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators, she lives and works in Longmont, Colorado.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p>Rene Colato Lainezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17703224889676377655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9367921.post-30019763767824603772024-02-27T01:00:00.829-07:002024-02-27T11:07:20.896-07:00Weekend of Arte and Poetry: Chicanarte Blossoms Again<span style="color: #660000; font-size: x-large;">Wondrous Weekend of Arte: Poetry and Paintings and People</span><p>Michael Sedano </p><div><br /></div>The penultimate week of February 2024 arrives with a sense winding down the interminable drag of the GOPlague. Around here, Southern California exhibits slow evolution from masked fear to unmasked "what, me worry?" fatalism.<div><br /></div><div>All this caca began in 2019, remember? People caught the sniffles and before anyone could stop it hospitals set up morgues in the parking lot to handle the bodies. And the then-president scoffed at wearing masks and shirked the common defense. Here we are now, emerging into a bright blossoming cornucopia of events that bespeak a cultural explosion after the Dark Ages of the GOPlague.<br /><div><br /></div><div>My weekend begins on Thursday with a spur-of-the-moment drive to Riverside. Heavy freeway congestion on the Westbound side makes us happy to drive Easterly on spacious lanes exceeding 70 miles per hour and being passed by Teslas but keeping pace with fleets of sixteen wheelers hauling freight out to the boonies.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://riversideartmuseum.org/visit/the-cheech-marin-center-for-chicano-art-culture/" target="_blank">"The Cheech" (link) </a>has become the definitive museum of Chicanismo en Arte, and has made itself a travel Destination. The art museum has given gente a reason to make the drive or take the trainride from anywhere in Southern California. The place is freeway close to you-name-it; for example, it's about seventy miles from L.A. airport to the Cheech. The famous Mission Inn Hotel and Spa sits across the street.</div><div><br /></div><div>Judithe Hernández' exhibition at the Cheech should motivate visitors from across the world to lay down a pittance for tickets to the show. Almost everyone who loves Chicanarte knows at least one Hernández work. The Cheech show offers a cornucopia of new-to-my-eyes work, and hangs the artist's series pastels together, weaving a context of artistic greatness.</div><div><br /></div><div>If Le Louvre pursued a policy of hanging only the best exemplars from its collection, then one could compare the Parisian pyramid to the Riverside former library. The Cheech hangs singular work, each piece the best of its genre, or the best the artist produced when the comic actor acquired it. </div><div><br /></div><div>At the Judithe Hernandez 50-year retrospective exhibition, every work is her best, but some are super-best. Visitors will need a day or more to release the energies that build up strolling from gallery to gallery, wall to wall, picture to picture. In fact, a single visit won't be enough to fill one's appetite for sublime perfection, which describes each work and the entire exhibition.<br /><div><br /></div><div>My Cheech visit was Thursday. Friday, I enjoyed the work of <a href="https://huntington.org/exhibition/sargent-claude-johnson" target="_blank">Sargent Claude Johnson at the Huntington</a> Library. Johnson is the West Coast connection to the Harlem Renaissance and merits wider attention. Then comes the week's moveable feast of arte: Saturday, Huizache Poets at La Plaza de Cultura y Artes, Sunday, Altadena Co-Poet Laureate Carla Sameth at Underdog Books, the second "we're back!" show at the beloved CM2Art (AKA ChimMaya). </div><div><br /></div><div>I have no record of numerous places and events I missed this weekend, owing to time and distance concerns. I couldn't get to Kansas City, San Anto, Omaha, Denver, Seattle, Dinuba, Lerma, Phoenix, and all those localidades where the Chicano Renaissance is blossoming while we watch. I don't know what went down pa'lla, so I hope La Bloga-Tuesday's weekend in greater Los Angeles mirrors the weekend in your localidades, or shall, once your weather turns Springlike. </div><div><br /></div><div>La Chicano Renaissance, this time, is actual, sabes? We're back. Mira nomás the rewards of a single week.</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="color: #660000; font-size: large;"><u>Foto Gallery of Arte and Artistas</u></span></div><div><span style="color: #660000; font-size: x-large;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">Judithe Hernández | Beyond Myself, Somewhere, I Wait for My Arrival</span></span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ1sys3lC2GLJYy0mU3OfpSjd_pADcX0jUiEOisnZ_djEJOf5f4ejTx6mN1LMnsPMxeukxSx9UUDL6OY5NIU2QVG0CUkJ9IC-h1E6RcK92tb0q-6XL385IvpRg2UKAu-U-5PoDwHLjYl7Wjry68Tq9blg2NVsH3VLAgmSXnMjlv3CTjh2eqFA/s4800/AIMG_7349.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3600" data-original-width="4800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ1sys3lC2GLJYy0mU3OfpSjd_pADcX0jUiEOisnZ_djEJOf5f4ejTx6mN1LMnsPMxeukxSx9UUDL6OY5NIU2QVG0CUkJ9IC-h1E6RcK92tb0q-6XL385IvpRg2UKAu-U-5PoDwHLjYl7Wjry68Tq9blg2NVsH3VLAgmSXnMjlv3CTjh2eqFA/s600/AIMG_7349.jpg" width="600" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">The Cheech divides the massive second floor into a series of galleries to gather thematic works into a coherent presentation of theme and chronology, uniting work long kept apart in private collections or in the artist's archive. <br /><br /><i>Beyond Myself, Somewhere, I Wait for My Arrival</i> is the museum's first major retrospective. </td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS6-sVeZ5-zDhtGl1wd9kIKpbXDtWjaF5ePnNrEFQRMVkb-6kcbm6QTLAdSXHBdz-yaSEYJM-CTLP5PX6CbUb58X1X64E1rfNUT_goTZaXehwniKLWkPaVG1AgxTG2dMzILog6anilE5dJHUMX0Z8mSnWSMbgS0fDVvPS18RyOBQGNwSQnOGg/s4800/AIMG_7350.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3600" data-original-width="4800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS6-sVeZ5-zDhtGl1wd9kIKpbXDtWjaF5ePnNrEFQRMVkb-6kcbm6QTLAdSXHBdz-yaSEYJM-CTLP5PX6CbUb58X1X64E1rfNUT_goTZaXehwniKLWkPaVG1AgxTG2dMzILog6anilE5dJHUMX0Z8mSnWSMbgS0fDVvPS18RyOBQGNwSQnOGg/s600/AIMG_7350.jpg" width="600" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">The show hangs only a smattering smaller frames. For the most part, Hernández works in satisfyingly large scale and the curator hangs the work with ample white space for browing contemplation.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPWoz4zTm8cTi1Kdtgw4mPzXztrwdQA3iXT8nXGyWgVpzBMiy041ssvuzWQgq2he2HU1KdhPBUZlekcqKsBHUliH7L9IcB7K2OinMlNgQG9F0nO2NZWF6NULzr-Nib0Mte5WrxPL-NngVlNXbuf_suGC1vEBiADStX11_QuVbVBXgu7uL0LlU/s4800/AIMG_7350B.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3200" data-original-width="4800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPWoz4zTm8cTi1Kdtgw4mPzXztrwdQA3iXT8nXGyWgVpzBMiy041ssvuzWQgq2he2HU1KdhPBUZlekcqKsBHUliH7L9IcB7K2OinMlNgQG9F0nO2NZWF6NULzr-Nib0Mte5WrxPL-NngVlNXbuf_suGC1vEBiADStX11_QuVbVBXgu7uL0LlU/s600/AIMG_7350B.jpg" width="600" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr4_jK7FnRpwUqq6L8tfoDsi3Cbnrp9-OUsFGvp434BfcMNv3xePfUUbidYdjCRmsRjBNhlPKnlVc3Xgeww00vs8mvCm8AreyUSgIYwtMmpUN3R8t9SSzwHwOdccj7-uDoeuYij4QMDoUaZprUllSMo0qDGxJil_7u03pXXv-FGHNlpOtSus0/s4800/AIMG_7402.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3200" data-original-width="4800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr4_jK7FnRpwUqq6L8tfoDsi3Cbnrp9-OUsFGvp434BfcMNv3xePfUUbidYdjCRmsRjBNhlPKnlVc3Xgeww00vs8mvCm8AreyUSgIYwtMmpUN3R8t9SSzwHwOdccj7-uDoeuYij4QMDoUaZprUllSMo0qDGxJil_7u03pXXv-FGHNlpOtSus0/s600/AIMG_7402.jpg" width="600" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglcc_kSYXHTZXyVdpWs7tA8Hi7uIVh9xyyll7sHDnhcXee9DkNAXj8XmSvYJqAOWRCEXLbJVEZRrnleAvqh6W2Tkms5szdTyptSyXfD8LH58fWkhbbIAVOSFhk6RSl0JAQ3a3MsU2XBouMVH7CsYdWUn6qGEZNMvHIwrTN6Kh5f7ClS1ql3AE/s4800/AIMG_7402B.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3200" data-original-width="4800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglcc_kSYXHTZXyVdpWs7tA8Hi7uIVh9xyyll7sHDnhcXee9DkNAXj8XmSvYJqAOWRCEXLbJVEZRrnleAvqh6W2Tkms5szdTyptSyXfD8LH58fWkhbbIAVOSFhk6RSl0JAQ3a3MsU2XBouMVH7CsYdWUn6qGEZNMvHIwrTN6Kh5f7ClS1ql3AE/s600/AIMG_7402B.jpg" width="600" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3tfOVfYQsJWBEuLh7i9-0Xtb41v11GO1xGtrX_amPjjP4x8WIgJPo9J95IlYU_5t2HJJDL41VCEMiUm-GbqszpBi5wvEeGsGrNkCDkuMcdmSc5vfQKeIZFcheDCee7UhCvsYB6kl-mhY7j2dg-6f-my6Av3pZz7k5_82ovxc1wka68CoSqzY/s4800/AIMG_7403B.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3200" data-original-width="4800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3tfOVfYQsJWBEuLh7i9-0Xtb41v11GO1xGtrX_amPjjP4x8WIgJPo9J95IlYU_5t2HJJDL41VCEMiUm-GbqszpBi5wvEeGsGrNkCDkuMcdmSc5vfQKeIZFcheDCee7UhCvsYB6kl-mhY7j2dg-6f-my6Av3pZz7k5_82ovxc1wka68CoSqzY/s600/AIMG_7403B.jpg" width="600" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7jmdJ9akEGSJYZRgJJ-W7OJkDwcUT1ed3jb-RREYl3_X1-YetM9fnEiKhe5fHlk0c1HIigahq-nLpOoYNKZhZlUTaIVBndcfdbIdG64L0iIoPK7MxZHHjgOHWp_PMcEmXN1Dp15imyv8dAALFarnzr0OkSTQNuJhvsQjeB00cpVqW2fQKFxc/s4800/AIMG_7405A.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4800" data-original-width="3200" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7jmdJ9akEGSJYZRgJJ-W7OJkDwcUT1ed3jb-RREYl3_X1-YetM9fnEiKhe5fHlk0c1HIigahq-nLpOoYNKZhZlUTaIVBndcfdbIdG64L0iIoPK7MxZHHjgOHWp_PMcEmXN1Dp15imyv8dAALFarnzr0OkSTQNuJhvsQjeB00cpVqW2fQKFxc/s600/AIMG_7405A.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">This foto gallery makes no attempt to reproduce the glory of the work. Fotos offer only faint echoes of the actual power a viewer feels in each work. Even if one attends the show--now through August 4, 2024--<a href="https://www.judithehernandez.com" target="_blank">visit the artist's website (link) </a>to view high quality photographs and the artist's curation of her work</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKlzenE8qPYOzkazVGwGnu0lECxQMiCXbWc4vc2Mc-B_EMoGs6n1azHSUUgvvFl47oVCP-D1wPpv8g_mdu7X7pSZI6gQ4dNDAmqtsYLlBNj8Orru4SWTvZpWC-dLpYlfWAkclMalXeh8A3ztctAH_wfDKoCL8TaQ78jgLTzlBvmKZwdee_n3U/s4800/AIMG_7405B.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3200" data-original-width="4800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKlzenE8qPYOzkazVGwGnu0lECxQMiCXbWc4vc2Mc-B_EMoGs6n1azHSUUgvvFl47oVCP-D1wPpv8g_mdu7X7pSZI6gQ4dNDAmqtsYLlBNj8Orru4SWTvZpWC-dLpYlfWAkclMalXeh8A3ztctAH_wfDKoCL8TaQ78jgLTzlBvmKZwdee_n3U/s600/AIMG_7405B.jpg" width="600" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">As if to mock expectations of a masterful creator of female bodies, (and illustrate the impotence of a digital foto in ambient light), the most sensual drawing in the retrospective is a male body, <i>The Surrender of Adam</i>. Even the<a href="https://www.judithehernandez.com/adam-and-eve-series?pgid=lanr9k4o-be3300c4-d4b8-470c-bb4e-75b3a2c27361" target="_blank"> high-res foto</a> on Hernández' website can't fully evoke sensations drawn by an ineluctable power imbued by color, texture, and depth in the 30" x 44" pastel on paper and deep within your vision. <br /><br />Hernández' work demands viewers step back see the entirety of a narrative. A closer look always discloses fine details that are there for those who have eyes to see but could be bypassed in a stepped-back perspective.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ39TucfgVGvjYoxN8yVcU11oHN5Xk4RzQEt3JNU8W8MKHFCC5iXzDbmwBWeGRAk71B7o8E3Cyc24_oJIdQHp1ACCj1KXKO3apaGlCXt0_hzPwsMWnNlq-3rMAPGYsKq0p2zyGoy7K8rUNv-xo8tMlrZwcy2uVVSpPwfFqFgeZYPmsRBt7YJg/s4800/AIMG_7407.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3200" data-original-width="4800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ39TucfgVGvjYoxN8yVcU11oHN5Xk4RzQEt3JNU8W8MKHFCC5iXzDbmwBWeGRAk71B7o8E3Cyc24_oJIdQHp1ACCj1KXKO3apaGlCXt0_hzPwsMWnNlq-3rMAPGYsKq0p2zyGoy7K8rUNv-xo8tMlrZwcy2uVVSpPwfFqFgeZYPmsRBt7YJg/s600/AIMG_7407.jpg" width="600" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(102, 0, 0); color: #660000; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large; text-decoration: underline;">Foto Gallery of Arte and Artistas</span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-large; text-align: center;">Huizache Poets At LAPCA</span></div></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">LA has two "plazas" so it's vitally important to keep them straight. Plaza de la Raza refers to LA's venerable arts institution in Lincoln Park. It's beside a lake and across from County Hospital. Over by Olvera Street, "the birthplace of Los Angeles" and site of the 1871 Chinese Massacre, LA's newest cultural jewel has taken a firm hold on cultura Chicana Mexicana and all things raza art and culture from comida to painting to poetry to festivales. La Plaza asserts itself as LAPCA, and that's where Huizache Poets shared an engaging afternoon reading.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Hosted by Carribean Fragoza, the reading reminds literary aficionados, <a href="https://huizachemag.org" target="_blank">Huizache (link),</a> the definitive journal of Chicano Literature, <a href="https://huizachemag.org" target="_blank">Huizache, </a>is back in business.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG4Ahee9wGUreoL_2CTFBGiZb0cVhQXM1YGlSx1GMfOLd3kXN0cbMXKEP79kOzx2tsUMX4wFNEmONu8JRYD5UvUOn3N7AcEKkQXmeZ78sdghCfOfTHY2xZAQo-rrJHv8rd2nYxM_7iMwCIlZ4RpvAJFz5z-HQSVIip3y3f26sFthnXnH-KOw4/s4800/DBIMG_7445.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3200" data-original-width="4800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG4Ahee9wGUreoL_2CTFBGiZb0cVhQXM1YGlSx1GMfOLd3kXN0cbMXKEP79kOzx2tsUMX4wFNEmONu8JRYD5UvUOn3N7AcEKkQXmeZ78sdghCfOfTHY2xZAQo-rrJHv8rd2nYxM_7iMwCIlZ4RpvAJFz5z-HQSVIip3y3f26sFthnXnH-KOw4/s600/DBIMG_7445.jpg" width="600" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial;"><span>Fragoza, with husband Romeo Guzman, founded SEMAP, the El Monte Arts Posse. Dedicated "artivists" in print and person. SEMAP sponsors Casa Zamora as a refuge for youth. La Bloga will share more information on the posse in the future. <a href="https://semartsposse.wordpress.com/about/" target="_blank">(Posse link) </a></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOkMLOvdSs9iAba_z4mzeEOxKypnWJGf-68tckAoZdD4rkKeBRrR4EXxYv0nYZlMqcJ8i9avB4-rW2UG8S3NcLll3LsWhYbwWoLWy3f_iQTa8Zi-cMpAbdRAilIwhxe8NtutVqH4ltuuttw9azIlVfTIrrYHzFDUTghZV-A8A-qWi4Z92dzJg/s4800/DBIMG_7445AA.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3200" data-original-width="4800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOkMLOvdSs9iAba_z4mzeEOxKypnWJGf-68tckAoZdD4rkKeBRrR4EXxYv0nYZlMqcJ8i9avB4-rW2UG8S3NcLll3LsWhYbwWoLWy3f_iQTa8Zi-cMpAbdRAilIwhxe8NtutVqH4ltuuttw9azIlVfTIrrYHzFDUTghZV-A8A-qWi4Z92dzJg/s600/DBIMG_7445AA.jpg" width="600" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: #f0f0f0; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ximena Martin Director of Programs nd Culinary Arts</span> introduces the event, held in <i>La Cocina de Gloria Molina,</i> across the street from the main museum grounds. The space is a professional kitchen where Hendon brings in chefs who guide enrollees in food lore, technology, and good eating.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEyPtbDgoWP5ILnP9Yg1__ZKOuHotwRkb1kOne7x-_TCfVJpelqkb0u3WFnXHwr1evj0JCqDBrQ9tBojVvQfvlP8-3vrGBOzSXfdMT6aO3VvEEgE86yxWNNittQV5sl-FfDdLb8dPP_DVH5piQYB9YFRVSUUoNw43kM8EEaEeTCe8DywEiM2U/s4800/DBIMG_7445B.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3600" data-original-width="4800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEyPtbDgoWP5ILnP9Yg1__ZKOuHotwRkb1kOne7x-_TCfVJpelqkb0u3WFnXHwr1evj0JCqDBrQ9tBojVvQfvlP8-3vrGBOzSXfdMT6aO3VvEEgE86yxWNNittQV5sl-FfDdLb8dPP_DVH5piQYB9YFRVSUUoNw43kM8EEaEeTCe8DywEiM2U/s600/DBIMG_7445B.jpg" width="600" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThSQCjyV-hkHMIU6MbEH4n0Rjy0qpBSb3EeN3s8dja8NPcLrtMu9UYITfzGHqMWNz711b49ZSObZajmkMnHxxL37eol8OkpgikReYrlhjFx5Fb2Y_p73dZt5bDUnyWI2yqmfF-DnjSxTnbmQFhZVG6EdfZiSHtzRRXw7_rYu5TP4L6aBNx-c/s4800/DBIMG_7464.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4800" data-original-width="3200" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThSQCjyV-hkHMIU6MbEH4n0Rjy0qpBSb3EeN3s8dja8NPcLrtMu9UYITfzGHqMWNz711b49ZSObZajmkMnHxxL37eol8OkpgikReYrlhjFx5Fb2Y_p73dZt5bDUnyWI2yqmfF-DnjSxTnbmQFhZVG6EdfZiSHtzRRXw7_rYu5TP4L6aBNx-c/s600/DBIMG_7464.jpg" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo0ct197LeyKXhMFH8MZO0hXUx6NbpOOqgxi-alGKJX5kvKjTEJOdWu6WdCUWrb18e7sLlaSNA32oOHVdikabaWe7nMB6iMYkrYJY8NiTIthqEFDyLHx3-wfyAYOi_2vMwM1ey7Einw95-CIy1OkOjrVY4Stwrl_e9KgWPlP5O4zWrlvX33_8/s4800/DBIMG_7468.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4800" data-original-width="3200" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo0ct197LeyKXhMFH8MZO0hXUx6NbpOOqgxi-alGKJX5kvKjTEJOdWu6WdCUWrb18e7sLlaSNA32oOHVdikabaWe7nMB6iMYkrYJY8NiTIthqEFDyLHx3-wfyAYOi_2vMwM1ey7Einw95-CIy1OkOjrVY4Stwrl_e9KgWPlP5O4zWrlvX33_8/s600/DBIMG_7468.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Huizache, founded by Dagoberto Gilb in Texas, has emigrated to the Golden State's UC Davis and professor Maceo Montoya. In past issue release events, Hector Tobar hosted a blow-out party at his house in northeast Los Angeles hill country. It's a semi-good thing the guest list did not show up for this outstanding reading in a smallish space. </span></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI0By-_5UKzmMP7d_AG3nl9gsrF99bTbjGQQl7M1DqJSAHPnrO_XVh14rRcmYlLf4bG2xteL1xMT5BLa9-gfQXJYHtauuUOgAKuTMJPXQsWHO1-2MWuK-pSYcn1C1R8TO8nA564Vhe4RA4sI80XWBSCvuXQLaWAK5tqq-OZH3cNLkeytiZLgg/s4800/DBIMG_7476.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3200" data-original-width="4800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI0By-_5UKzmMP7d_AG3nl9gsrF99bTbjGQQl7M1DqJSAHPnrO_XVh14rRcmYlLf4bG2xteL1xMT5BLa9-gfQXJYHtauuUOgAKuTMJPXQsWHO1-2MWuK-pSYcn1C1R8TO8nA564Vhe4RA4sI80XWBSCvuXQLaWAK5tqq-OZH3cNLkeytiZLgg/s600/DBIMG_7476.jpg" width="600" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">UC Davis, and Montoya, bring back Huizache after a short hiatus. Marking the return with an innovative publishing decision, Montoya folds-out the dust jacket of the magazine revealing a poster of Helena María Viramontes along with a rollcall of the issue's other contributors. The magazine's editorial policy welcomes writers of all experiences, from debuts to notable and honored guests, like Viramontes.<br /><br />Huizache magazine's <a href="https://huizachemag.org" target="_blank">web masthead (link)</a> puts the reading into historical perspective and introduces those reading today: "Since 2011, Huizache has been at the forefront of Latinx literature and art, its goal be the preeminent magazine of Latinx literature, focusing on innovative prose and poetry. Today, Huizache’s legacy of finding writers who challenge the status quo and reimagine our world continues. <br /><br />Poets participating in the reading are: Audrey Harris Fernández, who has been published in Sunstone, Párafo, and elsewhere; Manuel Paul López’s books include “Nerve Curriculum,” “These Days of Candy,” “The Yearning Feed,” and “Death of a Mexican and Other Poems”; Michael Jaime-Becerra, author of “This Time Tomorrow,” a novel awarded an International Latino Book Award; and Vanessa Diaz, who has been published in The Acentos Review, Dryland Lit, Kweli, and Huizache magazine. "</span></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkrZjzlUnn6BcW7D9kjZ11S6QpyfsZKfKOs8n9Yw36JcRSnnN6Ykc1UFCRsA2csHHRLLfUZEXpw4uLytFHyrONZAiykAE1SRw7h4cwstPpoZSMVB77M_snIdknvHbXErLJ6FKRpmjdWcuHFfQwUDc4kXm3w4XtSiUUm98h8TAHg76lByo-EKc/s4800/DBIMG_7491.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3200" data-original-width="4800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkrZjzlUnn6BcW7D9kjZ11S6QpyfsZKfKOs8n9Yw36JcRSnnN6Ykc1UFCRsA2csHHRLLfUZEXpw4uLytFHyrONZAiykAE1SRw7h4cwstPpoZSMVB77M_snIdknvHbXErLJ6FKRpmjdWcuHFfQwUDc4kXm3w4XtSiUUm98h8TAHg76lByo-EKc/s600/DBIMG_7491.jpg" width="600" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;">Michael Jaime-Becerra</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGn4QOEEZSfPvTuy5Tw6IhqDlU8NJcDgLOkl7AKgHFU4kV4r7lSVugSEd1Hy3YdxfwyH0EvTG_PNi2EcfqdgO2xk_uZZ658fEwzwBORq8nkrYmZI2HqLdlARdWy0uj0WK7WRKCHG8-vHXm28nzHxnOeygfET2DEdSinzcFoLBFw5F1I-my4Ew/s4800/DBIMG_7502.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4800" data-original-width="3200" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGn4QOEEZSfPvTuy5Tw6IhqDlU8NJcDgLOkl7AKgHFU4kV4r7lSVugSEd1Hy3YdxfwyH0EvTG_PNi2EcfqdgO2xk_uZZ658fEwzwBORq8nkrYmZI2HqLdlARdWy0uj0WK7WRKCHG8-vHXm28nzHxnOeygfET2DEdSinzcFoLBFw5F1I-my4Ew/s600/DBIMG_7502.jpg" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvcxXkF6cgdwgmMIIhFUuXPdSd24PduRqBjhFEwI7B5_-tuzY771C0ffKV_reCjw27_ZxIKM-9n9BmQNV1ceRagVtkixvcVmyRiyU7OrG1yH5kiAMFAhWiSk-jt-2pR5TXXgqMhAT_Nv7teUYFVCv_RfBvdRGHVEkqcWC_1bh4WiQSXsOdtVc/s4800/DBIMG_7506.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4800" data-original-width="3200" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvcxXkF6cgdwgmMIIhFUuXPdSd24PduRqBjhFEwI7B5_-tuzY771C0ffKV_reCjw27_ZxIKM-9n9BmQNV1ceRagVtkixvcVmyRiyU7OrG1yH5kiAMFAhWiSk-jt-2pR5TXXgqMhAT_Nv7teUYFVCv_RfBvdRGHVEkqcWC_1bh4WiQSXsOdtVc/s600/DBIMG_7506.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;">Vanessa Diaz</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLc_tRiHbyKaSv456la4csLfmggEq_JGvKZkL_vsTKUDD4pdW4RFJgMVlFeLxXodHhOP320cpAzMrdfK9l6MZ3SCeQchZbymFhT0A9ITsY6plt7cKr3EJVzsGNoB7Q0TfmfofQ67Fxs8rAteSBHSB9_HNXzXto38il5YSbWPzp1hT19XOzlzU/s4800/DBIMG_7516.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3200" data-original-width="4800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLc_tRiHbyKaSv456la4csLfmggEq_JGvKZkL_vsTKUDD4pdW4RFJgMVlFeLxXodHhOP320cpAzMrdfK9l6MZ3SCeQchZbymFhT0A9ITsY6plt7cKr3EJVzsGNoB7Q0TfmfofQ67Fxs8rAteSBHSB9_HNXzXto38il5YSbWPzp1hT19XOzlzU/s600/DBIMG_7516.jpg" width="600" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOJxAh3aNMgS1eDju5nI16JtlBMuwP0_rCX71FZ1CcxAupdlMRMRWNKusWK_OxChA_3C2aZAmYGO4w_DrnlUgVn6n83tcEYsCsOWqX4Pa7uthXYc1pQLX2x46j-B8BvH-2kLCb3PEQdPP0ZYmcl1HI7F14Vq6GdjOFolOy6CQgMq9NbV7DmVU/s4800/DBIMG_7522.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3200" data-original-width="4800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOJxAh3aNMgS1eDju5nI16JtlBMuwP0_rCX71FZ1CcxAupdlMRMRWNKusWK_OxChA_3C2aZAmYGO4w_DrnlUgVn6n83tcEYsCsOWqX4Pa7uthXYc1pQLX2x46j-B8BvH-2kLCb3PEQdPP0ZYmcl1HI7F14Vq6GdjOFolOy6CQgMq9NbV7DmVU/s600/DBIMG_7522.jpg" width="600" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;">Audrey Harris Fernández</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYVVvW0A1LccL8KywMBngF4y94IBYCvEg8ZEmvaeXdXFaGjB2CqEe-5WOF-YHuPaE6uHsVDBftQJc3XF95odc2e3Z1d6whq_SBgCYEvrFLWtfnVeVx9gKcvTiqtbxmIQ4o-lUmM45DuH3P8c4RFOORMu4s-ksl6R29BgT_pznLhTRbNNjVWCg/s4800/DBIMG_7528.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4800" data-original-width="3200" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYVVvW0A1LccL8KywMBngF4y94IBYCvEg8ZEmvaeXdXFaGjB2CqEe-5WOF-YHuPaE6uHsVDBftQJc3XF95odc2e3Z1d6whq_SBgCYEvrFLWtfnVeVx9gKcvTiqtbxmIQ4o-lUmM45DuH3P8c4RFOORMu4s-ksl6R29BgT_pznLhTRbNNjVWCg/s600/DBIMG_7528.jpg" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf0U-9tp3PKijCCTi7S8aYi0wan5-50-Fe92ht-KgMaQ4SGYccW818BMU0XmnAOIn_AXPq5k7EGhD6UwpQOlw9Tk9HuUzJ_WnAQeyIQLOEY4ZyJ-uhz2GSTioC8IkY2DfArQcXJ-zlkBFFyskgBv5uRt-XI51FkCUT5IgLY_6zLG6kPXCEhK0/s4800/DBIMG_7533.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4800" data-original-width="3199" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf0U-9tp3PKijCCTi7S8aYi0wan5-50-Fe92ht-KgMaQ4SGYccW818BMU0XmnAOIn_AXPq5k7EGhD6UwpQOlw9Tk9HuUzJ_WnAQeyIQLOEY4ZyJ-uhz2GSTioC8IkY2DfArQcXJ-zlkBFFyskgBv5uRt-XI51FkCUT5IgLY_6zLG6kPXCEhK0/s600/DBIMG_7533.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;">Manuel Paul López</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjACXVUfpD8DTG0nxSG_W1MI5OMtM2Fr0SKZckl1xE4GEXmizCCPgoehGwNSPmzBy1nPxprVuelEihyphenhyphenNdEsLt6SMUxm_MNIIKcrCPFofA3dsYljfxqb3SfSaiXLSzjuPyIyngu9sESoMaLHz0ZZ747f2eb6vAjdhDgO9h5R0kbFclpGBTLGtnQ/s4800/DBIMG_7542.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3200" data-original-width="4800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjACXVUfpD8DTG0nxSG_W1MI5OMtM2Fr0SKZckl1xE4GEXmizCCPgoehGwNSPmzBy1nPxprVuelEihyphenhyphenNdEsLt6SMUxm_MNIIKcrCPFofA3dsYljfxqb3SfSaiXLSzjuPyIyngu9sESoMaLHz0ZZ747f2eb6vAjdhDgO9h5R0kbFclpGBTLGtnQ/s600/DBIMG_7542.jpg" width="600" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjACXVUfpD8DTG0nxSG_W1MI5OMtM2Fr0SKZckl1xE4GEXmizCCPgoehGwNSPmzBy1nPxprVuelEihyphenhyphenNdEsLt6SMUxm_MNIIKcrCPFofA3dsYljfxqb3SfSaiXLSzjuPyIyngu9sESoMaLHz0ZZ747f2eb6vAjdhDgO9h5R0kbFclpGBTLGtnQ/s4800/DBIMG_7542.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">Sunday Afternoon In Monrovia: Carla Rachel Sameth Book Release - <i><a href="https://www.nymeriapublishing.com" target="_blank">Secondary Inspections</a></i><i><a href="https://www.nymeriapublishing.com" target="_blank"> </a></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #660000; font-size: xx-large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqs2MD-G9GbgGANIlSMMJTJFCzd-Fg3FLuFr_b_9EfiGeftRD0A28xZ773gVy5Hq1VkWHKyh4hyphenhyphenYS5DCxDWfemxpGvugK_3YYwfI8ps8KLnDQcMvr_brBK6xrtYfmDMcHE5qJSKA1MdWcN0yM5oT3dJ9_snPznV7RUFLhExsWW45CYX0luPvU/s1280/underdogbooks.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqs2MD-G9GbgGANIlSMMJTJFCzd-Fg3FLuFr_b_9EfiGeftRD0A28xZ773gVy5Hq1VkWHKyh4hyphenhyphenYS5DCxDWfemxpGvugK_3YYwfI8ps8KLnDQcMvr_brBK6xrtYfmDMcHE5qJSKA1MdWcN0yM5oT3dJ9_snPznV7RUFLhExsWW45CYX0luPvU/w480-h640/underdogbooks.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div>In a conversation with a friend of hers, Carla Rachel Sameth forecast a small audience for the inaugural reading of her first full-length poetry collection, <i>Secondary Inspections</i>. The friend-of-hers and I walk into the narrow confines of Underdog Books to find shoulder-to-shoulder SRO ears turned to the lights at the end of the tunnel that comprises the entirety of the Monrovia, California independent bookseller.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">Co-host, IamRomaine Washington, begins the program with a call-and-response poem evoking Martin Luther King, Jr.'s career. Washington raises her Left arm and the audience calls out "tell me about it!". The poet raises the Right arm and we shout an outrage, "Arrested!"</span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdiAt2f42Q2dU9xElscN0dsMYsvzXoYg9LYITH-LHmSw1p_y6jDzMeU2wLacU-buxwBT2LrZ4ES0N7sql0VxSTLh4ElPAvQfaFGMFf1H27Uw3KkX_BkJkmDWwgbT4GsIlNk33yD68I7c2-rjIXb4jYqQVgb_NZAIEd5Ot5RLINjeH8McYBAXk/s4800/EIMG_7557.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4800" data-original-width="3200" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdiAt2f42Q2dU9xElscN0dsMYsvzXoYg9LYITH-LHmSw1p_y6jDzMeU2wLacU-buxwBT2LrZ4ES0N7sql0VxSTLh4ElPAvQfaFGMFf1H27Uw3KkX_BkJkmDWwgbT4GsIlNk33yD68I7c2-rjIXb4jYqQVgb_NZAIEd5Ot5RLINjeH8McYBAXk/s600/EIMG_7557.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">"Tell me about it!" invites the next stanzas and another call. It's a useful technique to warm-up the group while encouraging keen listening to hear that cue. The reading creates a being-in-becoming community of voices. Convivial people listen with their hearts and ears.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTlXxl1j1RIckDTrXspcZfI9ei6VSWo0_a0o6qitji23JWKsLhX51upiw3JPFv5C4yI_7LSOv3Sr5GK96AHdPqH-CFzoUb3xvN4Z9y_hjohqwL7zJEU4dPy_aBcLYcDjF8lmgTzshPm6s8lxQOsp_5A8k0zm8-H_f7ovu96iHPLGKZOmeRsyc/s4800/EIMG_7565.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4800" data-original-width="3200" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTlXxl1j1RIckDTrXspcZfI9ei6VSWo0_a0o6qitji23JWKsLhX51upiw3JPFv5C4yI_7LSOv3Sr5GK96AHdPqH-CFzoUb3xvN4Z9y_hjohqwL7zJEU4dPy_aBcLYcDjF8lmgTzshPm6s8lxQOsp_5A8k0zm8-H_f7ovu96iHPLGKZOmeRsyc/s600/EIMG_7565.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Bonnie S. Kaplan's selection, "HELLO 1919" is published in the upcoming <i>Altadena Poetry Review, </i>edited by Peter J. Harris and published by <a href="http://www.goldenfoothillspress.com" target="_blank">Golden Foothills Press.</a></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX7X8xyyiHDtmAiOprAQHZUXLfTuyo-yEuBJUNrPa5Tv7Ztj80LsjDivBq8WXM4McZZOEe5HwJdk6h6iQCF4Vi8jZeBac0Po2g7ZjZ4wLi12vTgeZKN604_epFxHrxobP0Jo7NRq6QjZLUD-PklXAPVJ4WVo_UchnznTtK6zEkDeXGcM-nJC8/s4800/EIMG_7578.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3200" data-original-width="4800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX7X8xyyiHDtmAiOprAQHZUXLfTuyo-yEuBJUNrPa5Tv7Ztj80LsjDivBq8WXM4McZZOEe5HwJdk6h6iQCF4Vi8jZeBac0Po2g7ZjZ4wLi12vTgeZKN604_epFxHrxobP0Jo7NRq6QjZLUD-PklXAPVJ4WVo_UchnznTtK6zEkDeXGcM-nJC8/s600/EIMG_7578.jpg" width="600" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Sameth's first selection, <i><a href="https://poets.org/poem/love-letter-burning-world" target="_blank">Love letter to a burning world</a></i> opens the book <b><a href="https://carlasameth.com/books/secondary-inspections/" target="_blank">Secondary Inspections</a></b>. The poem exemplifies what the publisher calls the major themes of the collection, "the life of the mother with loss and nuance as the book’s central figure." Poems share intimate details in an autobiographical voice colored with a mother's and a daughter's stresses and obligations.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHXFwWRxeMV0DWcVbfT0nMiadrsmI_mDiqulJ9Zg_T8vFnYd0latmyFDx7VqFUjtjDeXPP6MKBWswtimDIpLb5MFCq8UF7_4t38nPs82toBzG9otxpRaaIueW3jsAqCXzHVIG8ncAeVQLRrrAotukaWjP0UqFjVIF1cDdseLZ7WcTKbhRlOXE/s4800/EIMG_7604.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4800" data-original-width="3200" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHXFwWRxeMV0DWcVbfT0nMiadrsmI_mDiqulJ9Zg_T8vFnYd0latmyFDx7VqFUjtjDeXPP6MKBWswtimDIpLb5MFCq8UF7_4t38nPs82toBzG9otxpRaaIueW3jsAqCXzHVIG8ncAeVQLRrrAotukaWjP0UqFjVIF1cDdseLZ7WcTKbhRlOXE/s600/EIMG_7604.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(52, 52, 52); color: #343434; text-align: left;">Praise the dark that covers us with ashes, </span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(52, 52, 52); color: #343434; text-align: left;" /><span class="long-line" style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(52, 52, 52); color: #343434; display: inline-block; margin-left: 32px; text-align: left; text-indent: -32px;">this morning’s tears, reminding us why we cherish</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(52, 52, 52); color: #343434; text-align: left;" /><span class="long-line" style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(52, 52, 52); color: #343434; display: inline-block; margin-left: 32px; text-align: left; text-indent: -32px;">the not-burning baby cry of awake, not heartbreak. </span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(52, 52, 52); color: #343434; text-align: left;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(52, 52, 52); color: #343434; text-align: left;" /><span class="long-line" style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(52, 52, 52); color: #343434; display: inline-block; margin-left: 32px; text-align: left; text-indent: -32px;"><em style="box-sizing: border-box;">Mom, I need a hug, please, </em></span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(52, 52, 52); color: #343434; text-align: left;" /><em style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(52, 52, 52); color: #343434; text-align: left;"><span class="long-line" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: inline-block; margin-left: 32px; text-indent: -32px;">I just can’t seem to do anything right. </span></em><br style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(52, 52, 52); color: #343434; text-align: left;" /><span class="long-line" style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(52, 52, 52); color: #343434; display: inline-block; margin-left: 32px; text-align: left; text-indent: -32px;">Raphael, the angel name, should we have birthed</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(52, 52, 52); color: #343434; text-align: left;" /><span class="long-line" style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(52, 52, 52); color: #343434; display: inline-block; margin-left: 32px; text-align: left; text-indent: -32px;">a warrior instead, one who could fight the demons?</span></span><span class="long-line" style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(52, 52, 52); color: #343434; display: inline-block; font-family: "poets electra", Georgia, "times new roman", serif; font-size: 17.6px; margin-left: 32px; text-align: left; text-indent: -32px;"> <br /></span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(52, 52, 52); color: #343434; font-family: "poets electra", Georgia, "times new roman", serif; font-size: 17.6px; text-align: left;" /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCvxb2o7bou4idnq8LjE-HDwqkP1Uw8jYumnTAZc5herADgy7vBmKsNg7gak13zjpfMPm2kHem2rGk8rzrJJGnen5O8Ig8h9GtQo5DA1VopkL_4eI6yqSQqlB2ssJrH6crVqPLb4IbjzxSYINzevJib7WjrOjw3t1_gjp0k15PVYOosu26J1Y/s4800/FIMG_7377.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="long-line" style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(52, 52, 52); color: #343434; display: inline-block; font-family: "poets electra", Georgia, "times new roman", serif; font-size: 17.6px; margin-left: 32px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: -32px;"> </span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(52, 52, 52); color: #343434; font-family: "poets electra", Georgia, "times new roman", serif; font-size: 17.6px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none;" /></a><span style="color: #660000; font-size: x-large;">AKA ChimMaya, CM2Art: Collector's and Artist's Favorite Hangout</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Way back in history, <a href="https://labloga.blogspot.com/2009/07/three-art-shows-at-east-los-chimaya.html" target="_blank">sixteen years ago, in fact,</a> ever since <a href="https://chimmayaart.com" target="_blank">ChimMaya art gallery (link) </a>opened on the border of Los Angeles and East Los Angeles, there've been a whole lot of Chicanos Chicanas Chicanx, artists and collectors, counting on the cultural oasis hidden among a string of anonymous small businesses.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Along with Northeast LA's <a href="http://avenue50studio.org" target="_blank">Avenue 50 Studio</a>, ChimMaya formed a dual hub for acquiring Chicanarte. The galleries are where the region's finest established artists hung alongside debut artists strutting their stuff on the route to the establishment.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">A ChimMaya Opening event drew a starry lineup of gente from the OGs of arte to kids seeing, for the first time, real art in a real gallery setting, among raza glitterati. ChimMaya was itself a star.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Then <a href="https://labloga.blogspot.com/2019/09/mural-update-happy-happening-in-sad.html" target="_blank">hard times in 2019</a> and real estate pressure led to ChimMaya's abandonment of its prime corner location on Beverly Blvd, followed by a fits-and-starts of a new home that did not come to fruition. It was joyous news, late in 2023, when the new ChimMaya opened with astounding success. The community was hungry for what only art hanging on the walls can feed.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">With year 2024 comes a second show at ChimMaya's second location, now dubbed<a href="https://chimmayaart.com" target="_blank"> CM2Arts</a>. Still on Beverly Blvd, people know to arrive tempranito to get a good look at the work. Soon, familiar faces will fill the room and conversation and laughter create un ambiente saludable and everyone's glad they're here.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCvxb2o7bou4idnq8LjE-HDwqkP1Uw8jYumnTAZc5herADgy7vBmKsNg7gak13zjpfMPm2kHem2rGk8rzrJJGnen5O8Ig8h9GtQo5DA1VopkL_4eI6yqSQqlB2ssJrH6crVqPLb4IbjzxSYINzevJib7WjrOjw3t1_gjp0k15PVYOosu26J1Y/s4800/FIMG_7377.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3600" data-original-width="4800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCvxb2o7bou4idnq8LjE-HDwqkP1Uw8jYumnTAZc5herADgy7vBmKsNg7gak13zjpfMPm2kHem2rGk8rzrJJGnen5O8Ig8h9GtQo5DA1VopkL_4eI6yqSQqlB2ssJrH6crVqPLb4IbjzxSYINzevJib7WjrOjw3t1_gjp0k15PVYOosu26J1Y/s600/FIMG_7377.jpg" width="600" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Maja enjoyed a mind-boggling show of his mixed-media mastery only a few weeks ago at Avenue 50 Studio, that other hub of L.A. raza art. <br /><br />ChimMaya, AKA CM2Arts, isn't showing Maja tonight, so the painter-sculptor-jeweler is here to support his peers. I use our meeting to remonstrate Maja for being surrounded by admirers at that other show so I did not get a chance to saludar him, as I am today. He says "I know, but what can I do?"</td></tr></tbody></table>
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0iMlMC-BlgzwLgJ6OmM4fWtx9zVy4OSKvgVUdMJ985cgKvjRJ2VthXVYZADl1-C683rNnHeaKPLainDhQQ5J6pLLGAJxGR8BxkFOiA_f211qSMsOt7Lhza9LSwuN0njMr9yVm7yDr8xa5xE5hlfQrfVIH-UfHwsHp19wC1jFiOFnkjtagvuk/s4800/FIMG_7379.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4800" data-original-width="3600" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0iMlMC-BlgzwLgJ6OmM4fWtx9zVy4OSKvgVUdMJ985cgKvjRJ2VthXVYZADl1-C683rNnHeaKPLainDhQQ5J6pLLGAJxGR8BxkFOiA_f211qSMsOt7Lhza9LSwuN0njMr9yVm7yDr8xa5xE5hlfQrfVIH-UfHwsHp19wC1jFiOFnkjtagvuk/s600/FIMG_7379.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miriam, aka Rebozos de Miriam, greets a long-time-no-see friend.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7XypzTqcc0rYk7lLlQUHwibXmjIbcJZQqOSIzueFLKzCOVHzb-h0b3tj9lrVB6oAEH1tsJJ1Ie2rJGNMADT7ga3ZyVxdnEgv4fNA5_a7D_BoItTMhxDPKLwZK12UTQ0dpkacUpSgWFujaQM28mVUMeXH9RjBZeFJwDbjIDW0XaqZYBZvubyI/s4800/FIMG_7381.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4800" data-original-width="3605" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7XypzTqcc0rYk7lLlQUHwibXmjIbcJZQqOSIzueFLKzCOVHzb-h0b3tj9lrVB6oAEH1tsJJ1Ie2rJGNMADT7ga3ZyVxdnEgv4fNA5_a7D_BoItTMhxDPKLwZK12UTQ0dpkacUpSgWFujaQM28mVUMeXH9RjBZeFJwDbjIDW0XaqZYBZvubyI/s600/FIMG_7381.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vibrant canvases provide an enriching background for animated platica.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWIBBS0HeoxsVeW58F2KIsXh-ga_Vre5YJ5XJnXQ7lkkIQMORS3w9qS4wdXkIRXUrli9m2ulbPvAJegMkiiBNfwDP-84dyKv2gSmauX5XH8Na2R8vg5hsKJvG5mC3uZT8sJJnwov3YnTLEPikX6OX_P9DupmEEDKE3Y8kaPWGyczePqne9rLs/s4800/FIMG_7382.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4800" data-original-width="3600" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWIBBS0HeoxsVeW58F2KIsXh-ga_Vre5YJ5XJnXQ7lkkIQMORS3w9qS4wdXkIRXUrli9m2ulbPvAJegMkiiBNfwDP-84dyKv2gSmauX5XH8Na2R8vg5hsKJvG5mC3uZT8sJJnwov3YnTLEPikX6OX_P9DupmEEDKE3Y8kaPWGyczePqne9rLs/s600/FIMG_7382.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://rickortegaart.com" target="_blank">Rick Ortega, a master realist painter,</a> has several new masterpieces in the show. A friend is inspecting Ortega's bookmark gift from <a href="https://abelalejandre.com" target="_blank">Abel Alejandre</a>, a noted engraver on wood and linoleum. Ortega showed me fotos of a work-in-progresss, an oil portrait of a noted LA artist that Ortega will unveil soon. Details confidential until the unveiling.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN3V-XkpPuh_Ly9J0NTUwkSvtOSSVNeqpr6ab6-n3J7gaxkr2BdOtgaqBCxgKQWqNRx5-fZEjwYMsXJOIfSunrBZbuQdMn_vyVLA32_EgGO29aGqhdK2kjMbzwZR8bnOVC3UMQi6uzb6Le_CjbGirRPFBWPxvzsdDEkAbw5NuKljfg8u4rTCY/s4800/FIMG_7607.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3200" data-original-width="4800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN3V-XkpPuh_Ly9J0NTUwkSvtOSSVNeqpr6ab6-n3J7gaxkr2BdOtgaqBCxgKQWqNRx5-fZEjwYMsXJOIfSunrBZbuQdMn_vyVLA32_EgGO29aGqhdK2kjMbzwZR8bnOVC3UMQi6uzb6Le_CjbGirRPFBWPxvzsdDEkAbw5NuKljfg8u4rTCY/s600/FIMG_7607.jpg" width="600" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">There's more to a foto than meets the eye. Stephen Williams, Isabelle Rojas-Williams, former Executive Director of the Mural Conservancy of Los Angeles and a noted art historian, and Armando Duron, whose family art collection currently is on view at the Monterey <a href="https://www.montereyart.org/exhibition/seeing-chicanx-the-duron-family-collection/" target="_blank">Art Museum until April</a>, converse with this animated speaker, a <a href="https://lindaarreolaart.com" target="_blank">noted abstractionist, Linda Arreola (link)</a>. Arreola unfailingly supports her fellow artists, attending shows, buying art, a ready conversationalist.<br /><br />The support doesn't work both ways with curators eschewing Arreola's architectural expressions as "not Chicano" enough, or at all. Chicanos have been doing American Art all our lives and raza gallery-goers accustomed to figurative and impressionist work deserve to see<a href="https://lindaarreolaart.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/Sereno-acrylic-and-graphite-on-canvas-40-x-30-2023-copy.jpeg" target="_blank"> exquisite quality work like Arreola's </a>sublime abstract paintings. It's not a matter of taste but opportunity and exposure.<br /><br /><span style="color: #660000; font-size: x-large;">First Stop At LAPCA</span><br />Seeing is believing, there's no substitute for in-person enjoyment, and that's a possible shortcoming of the museum-going experience. You gotta be there at the right time, or it's over. <br /><br />Art institutions understand that an exhibition is ephemeral, here today, gone soon. Museums publish exhibition catalogs to preserve a show on paper. LAPCA now has copies of <i>Arte Para La Gente,</i> the eponymous catalog of Margaret Garcia's 2023 retrospective exhibition at LAPCA.<br /><br />On the walk to La Cocina and the Huizache reading, I stopped at the signing table for Garcia's autograph on my copy of the catalog. The catalog is so hot off the presses, <a href="https://www.laplazatienda.org" target="_blank">LAPCA's online store</a> hasn't yet put the book on sale!
<br /><br />The catalog features exceedingly high quality color reproductions on heavy coated paper. Textual components offer critical insights along with Garcia's and Margaret's husband's Rhett Beavers' personal insights.</td></tr></tbody></table></div></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scontent-sjc3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.30808-6/428648257_18414932782059818_1166700230332070536_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpegr&_nc_cat=105&cb=99be929b-8d691acd&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=3635dc&_nc_ohc=Rzjb61TFAYUAX9k94SB&se=-1&_nc_ht=scontent-sjc3-1.xx&oh=00_AfB78Rn1tJ0lqNrmjjto4ovm3U27aNKKdPhcbIvbNj4fSA&oe=65E336DF" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" src="https://scontent-sjc3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.30808-6/428648257_18414932782059818_1166700230332070536_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpegr&_nc_cat=105&cb=99be929b-8d691acd&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=3635dc&_nc_ohc=Rzjb61TFAYUAX9k94SB&se=-1&_nc_ht=scontent-sjc3-1.xx&oh=00_AfB78Rn1tJ0lqNrmjjto4ovm3U27aNKKdPhcbIvbNj4fSA&oe=65E336DF" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Margaret Garcia displays the personalized autograph to her friend Rosamaria Marquez, director of Rock Rose Gallery, a northeast LA arts incubator and community resource. Foto: LAPCA Facebook.</td></tr></tbody></table>msedanohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09527530005391318421noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9367921.post-43641178911097965252024-02-26T02:00:00.013-07:002024-02-26T05:46:23.878-07:00El Día Internacional de la Mujer de 2024 por Xánath Caraza<p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b><span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">El Día Internacional de la Mujer de 2024 por Xánath Caraza<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh65b18q7b1gkWpiubWCzwciFEM0oFejIHnuPI_duc0BaG0ed2bOHYanZsAwsfRY7SQO42b3R_ELGPaS31RM05g2qZr0w_qDuxAJF9duugzUja3lIcOAg8f0SbkWpc9Q644CQsjPMZT30pNA4P2HTIg6bGKBX9Xaw9YRFNeMgEjXJ8pHIb-Q6MtTw/s740/a.%20logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="174" data-original-width="740" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh65b18q7b1gkWpiubWCzwciFEM0oFejIHnuPI_duc0BaG0ed2bOHYanZsAwsfRY7SQO42b3R_ELGPaS31RM05g2qZr0w_qDuxAJF9duugzUja3lIcOAg8f0SbkWpc9Q644CQsjPMZT30pNA4P2HTIg6bGKBX9Xaw9YRFNeMgEjXJ8pHIb-Q6MtTw/w640-h150/a.%20logo.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Mfsgo7Yp93VrdRckpsNfnUGXbX_9vqwd3qHoqKKd-2EGNY32IhDH4u3K8CmY1SQ7zDP4oa2AlBBB1bKfhgimC4NoZpGFqD46JM8pH3WC_dJc8Kmh9Qlj984xXhRJKgbRnn8VdOuTE3KX7ZbhH5z65u0mB7XJ1FMVjQJPKBZYNkeze3QuWDEtsg/s597/b.Letras.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="49" data-original-width="597" height="52" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Mfsgo7Yp93VrdRckpsNfnUGXbX_9vqwd3qHoqKKd-2EGNY32IhDH4u3K8CmY1SQ7zDP4oa2AlBBB1bKfhgimC4NoZpGFqD46JM8pH3WC_dJc8Kmh9Qlj984xXhRJKgbRnn8VdOuTE3KX7ZbhH5z65u0mB7XJ1FMVjQJPKBZYNkeze3QuWDEtsg/w640-h52/b.Letras.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">El Mes de la Historia de la Mujer se celebra cada año en
marzo. Cada 8 de marzo se destaca esta fecha como el Día Internacional de la
Mujer para reconocer contribuciones intelectuales, políticas, familiares y de
activismo social en las respectivas comunidades donde muchas mujeres viven.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>La historia ha pasado por alto, olvidado,
reprimido, mal informado, no reconocido los logros de muchas mujeres a lo largo
de los años, de los siglos, no solo en este país sino en todo el mundo.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Gracias a la perseverancia de tantas mujeres activistas, estas
voces junto con sus aportaciones a la sociedad han salido a la superficie y han
ido ganando terreno para ser reconocidas públicamente y alcanzar igualdad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;">No en todos los países somos afortunadas de poder honrar
estos logros y de reconocer a tantas mujeres que han abierto brecha para cada
una de nosotras.</span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;">Muchas se han quedado
en el camino, otras han experimentado desapariciones forzadas, otras,
experimentan violencia doméstica, social o pobreza. Para mí es un honor poder
celebrar cada año ese día, el 8 de marzo, el Día Internacional de la Mujer, que
nunca doy por sentado.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;">Este 2024, para el Día Internacional de la Mujer, El
Dialogue Institute y la Asociación Estudiantil de Diálogo Intercultural de la
Universidad de Missouri celebrarán una lectura de poesía en Zoom el viernes 8 de
marzo de 7 a 8:15 p.m. CST.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;">Las presentadoras que formarán parte de este evento son Flor
Lizbeth Cruz Longoria, DaMaris B. Hill y la que escribe.</span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;"> </span><a href="https://revistaliterariamonolito.com/entrevista-a-flor-lizbeth-cruz-longoria-por-xanath-caraza/" style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;">Flor
Lizbeth Cruz Longoria</a><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;"> es una flautista que radica en la Ciudad de Kansas y </span><a href="file:///E:/La%20Bloga/2024%20La%20bloga/26%20feb%20Anuncio%20dia%20de%20la%20mujer/abloga.blogspot.com/2017/10/interview-of-damaris-b-hill.html" style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;">DaMaris
B. Hill</a><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;"> es ensayista y narradora radicada en Kentucky.</span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;">Para los que no me conocen, soy poeta, narradora
y traductora.</span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMLIhjqWAhhp25MSX13x_9eweyhQbejc44iqMbvA64w4XSCjds_lG41lMXMFp67i1zAPmaj04nprtejRckdQU8vPtcTeMHwUHbrxqh42DI5SFNQYM6to7mVttkepGI9YOYzOpFrchyphenhyphencR7vyHkBoPSquYdoyWGpEWq2EE1mQ3o7FwkoHbwFE4-84A/s4257/c.%20flor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3998" data-original-width="4257" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMLIhjqWAhhp25MSX13x_9eweyhQbejc44iqMbvA64w4XSCjds_lG41lMXMFp67i1zAPmaj04nprtejRckdQU8vPtcTeMHwUHbrxqh42DI5SFNQYM6to7mVttkepGI9YOYzOpFrchyphenhyphencR7vyHkBoPSquYdoyWGpEWq2EE1mQ3o7FwkoHbwFE4-84A/w400-h376/c.%20flor.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flor Lizbeth Cruz Longoria</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRJP9_dGKUMAViPBNJH6jfd0S5Cz0kWimlxjeFCih_agzYxjI0nhrGv5yKvzw3zjsGWXWQafPyWK7bY_heI5PBhQZiL5KZ-iHp8Mm73QzeQN8AKUsFa1YwhGkY_2rAE25Sxi_CRmXK2eZ38Pj4hAjciZJTaCohKo2acqj5uKc1rBLRSxnZ8kYbzw/s381/d.%20DaMaris%20Hill.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="381" data-original-width="353" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRJP9_dGKUMAViPBNJH6jfd0S5Cz0kWimlxjeFCih_agzYxjI0nhrGv5yKvzw3zjsGWXWQafPyWK7bY_heI5PBhQZiL5KZ-iHp8Mm73QzeQN8AKUsFa1YwhGkY_2rAE25Sxi_CRmXK2eZ38Pj4hAjciZJTaCohKo2acqj5uKc1rBLRSxnZ8kYbzw/w370-h400/d.%20DaMaris%20Hill.png" width="370" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">DaMaris B. Hill</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6ETz30OYdAYwRMbwXuYbN7DwOwEcgf7x7RzxiFs5nv1IGSBpWaBuaJrkZcUPxQf1YgkEZM5om9wupzNBE22ycTPteA__90slfJK0qoTAr4EdrEnGEy4jRIl1KeDWEZyFIQmfvUTRSKKi74UPbbH6vOHZoDu4bJ3Uq00IvpuL46h9NC9402W_HzQ/s2048/XaCa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1366" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6ETz30OYdAYwRMbwXuYbN7DwOwEcgf7x7RzxiFs5nv1IGSBpWaBuaJrkZcUPxQf1YgkEZM5om9wupzNBE22ycTPteA__90slfJK0qoTAr4EdrEnGEy4jRIl1KeDWEZyFIQmfvUTRSKKi74UPbbH6vOHZoDu4bJ3Uq00IvpuL46h9NC9402W_HzQ/w266-h400/XaCa.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Xanath Caraza</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;">Espero, queridos lectores de la Bloga, que disfruten de este
evento para el Día Internacional de la Mujer el próximo 8 de marzo de 2024 de 7
a 8:15 p.m. CST. Habrá que registrarse por adelantado.</span></p><br /><p></p>Xánath Carazahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00664195819118897402noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9367921.post-82756463001433719512024-02-23T00:01:00.001-07:002024-02-23T00:01:00.326-07:00New Books - Early Spring <p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Highlighting a handful of new books coming your way: fiction, memoir, poetry, and a surprise from a master.</span></p><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><b style="color: #f1c232; font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;">___________________________________ </b></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEibKfDtAZVF0zvesioxsY8HsxH28YXcYpweORBnBFDN5JE2ElNWaqeRoOPjDKJdIkRSFKk6ayYPIY5Gg-YeFDEYQ2NAFI4cFjrJv0F0-dOzevbqaZDQC56_G6J9hbD_nG-L955ZEsLjnHbaGjM7ITMQpNzSBDTwUst8MVG09wOCcRuNamImDGvb" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="796" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEibKfDtAZVF0zvesioxsY8HsxH28YXcYpweORBnBFDN5JE2ElNWaqeRoOPjDKJdIkRSFKk6ayYPIY5Gg-YeFDEYQ2NAFI4cFjrJv0F0-dOzevbqaZDQC56_G6J9hbD_nG-L955ZEsLjnHbaGjM7ITMQpNzSBDTwUst8MVG09wOCcRuNamImDGvb=w312-h400" width="312" /></a></div><b><i><a href="https://uapress.arizona.edu/book/yaguarete-white" target="_blank">Yaguareté White</a></i><br />Diego Baez</b><br />University of Arizona Press - February 20<br /><br />[from the publisher]<br />In <b>Diego Báez’s</b> debut collection, <i><b>Yaguareté White,</b></i> English, Spanish, and Guaraní encounter each other through the elusive yet potent figure of the jaguar.<br /><br />The son of a Paraguayan father and a mother from Pennsylvania, Báez grew up in central Illinois as one of the only brown kids on the block—but that didn’t keep him from feeling like a gringo on family visits to Paraguay. Exploring this contradiction as it weaves through experiences of language, self, and place, Báez revels in showing up the absurdities of empire and chafes at the limits of patrimony, but he always reserves his most trenchant irony for the gaze he turns on himself.<br /><br />Notably, this raucous collection also wrestles with Guaraní, a state-recognized Indigenous language widely spoken in Paraguay. Guaraní both structures and punctures the book, surfacing in a sequence of jokes that double as poems, and introducing but leaving unresolved ambient questions about local histories of militarism, masculine bravado, and the outlook of the campos. Cutting across borders of every kind, Báez’s poems attempt to reconcile the incomplete, contradictory, and inconsistent experiences of a speaking self that resides between languages, nations, and generations.<br /><i><br />Yaguareté White</i> is a lyrical exploration of Paraguayan American identity and what it means to see through a colored whiteness in all of its tangled contradictions.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-weight: 700;"><br /></span></div> <b><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">______________________</span></b></div></b></span><p></p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_HmDofFBXNZDTZyD7dJRMrCXON03V0qA0fCG9Z0bbnZOb9XW-reBRYLLi-wsSFxFSTFRLta3VsJZXNtCdOGFBZNY_9P3EiE2pXAWxfECJxQh3aRFmlRJLw73MQxIU9dck5ksAuYdCt8JTC24LPWq1wyajoqUOnb7-ZEdax21AQ1d_H2cj3NOV" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="796" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_HmDofFBXNZDTZyD7dJRMrCXON03V0qA0fCG9Z0bbnZOb9XW-reBRYLLi-wsSFxFSTFRLta3VsJZXNtCdOGFBZNY_9P3EiE2pXAWxfECJxQh3aRFmlRJLw73MQxIU9dck5ksAuYdCt8JTC24LPWq1wyajoqUOnb7-ZEdax21AQ1d_H2cj3NOV=w312-h400" width="312" /></a></div><b><i><a href="https://uapress.arizona.edu/book/ojo-en-celo-eye-in-heat" target="_blank">Ojo en Celo/Eye in Heat</a></i><br />Margarita Pintado Burgos</b><br /><a href="https://uapress.arizona.edu/author/alejandra-quintana-arocho"><b>Alejandra Quintana Arocho</b></a> - Translator</span><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">University of Arizona Press - February 27</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">[from the publisher]</span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br />Aflame with desire, the eye conjures, dreams, invents itself, sees what it wants. The eye sees what it is able to see.<br /><br /><b><i>Ojo en celo / Eye in Heat</i></b> brings into sharp relief the limits of our gaze. It shows us what it is to escape the mirror and move beyond mirages. <b>Margarita Pintado Burgos</b> invites us to ponder the impasse while showing us ways to see better, to break the habit of lying, and to confront images along with language.<br /><br />With devastating clarity, Pintado Burgos’s poems, presented in both Spanish and English, give voice to the world within and beyond sight: the plants, the trees, the birds, the ocean waves, the fruit forgotten in the kitchen, the house’s furniture. Light takes on new dimensions to expose, manipulate, destroy, and nourish.<b> Alejandra Quintana Arocho</b>’s sensitive English translation renders the stark force of these poems without smoothing over the language of the original.<br /><br />This collection is for anyone who has felt the weight of beauty that remains hidden. It is for those who have left behind a mother, a father, a country. It is for those who know that there is no way out of the poem, for those who have had to live off a house of words and need that house to be as real as possible. Pintado Burgos writes as a woman, exile, daughter, sister, lover, and artist empowered by the restorative potential of the creative phenomenon.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><b style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: red;">____________________</span></b></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh8aSo5a2_vdlQ9MF6UwcDyrfgtVWGcr20f-P1r47Tl4rZx0731iC8_x1gd4p3SpuSS0hLsOmmcKI-2zjwhHBshUOmvfxohl7txMlP9jNi-2hkV9IcGdAaQ6KgNh6fW2wOkAjqXQ2tk4XNpfCIqEwa8u_Or3YOB4_iPyqKdwl2Dy13NfntcTeoW" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1368" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh8aSo5a2_vdlQ9MF6UwcDyrfgtVWGcr20f-P1r47Tl4rZx0731iC8_x1gd4p3SpuSS0hLsOmmcKI-2zjwhHBshUOmvfxohl7txMlP9jNi-2hkV9IcGdAaQ6KgNh6fW2wOkAjqXQ2tk4XNpfCIqEwa8u_Or3YOB4_iPyqKdwl2Dy13NfntcTeoW=w263-h400" width="263" /></a></div><br /><b><i><a href="https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250786210/anitademontelaughslast" target="_blank">Anita de Monte Laughs Last</a></i></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><b>Xochitl Gonzalez</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Flatiron Books - March 5</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">[from the publisher]</span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br />1985. Anita de Monte, a rising star in the art world, is found dead in New York City; her tragic death is the talk of the town. Until it isn’t. By 1998 Anita’s name has been all but forgotten—certainly by the time Raquel, a third-year art history student is preparing her final thesis. On College Hill, surrounded by privileged students whose futures are already paved out for them, Raquel feels like an outsider. Students of color, like her, are the minority there, and the pressure to work twice as hard for the same opportunities is no secret.<br /><br />But when Raquel becomes romantically involved with a well-connected older art student, she finds herself unexpectedly rising up the social ranks. As she attempts to straddle both worlds, she stumbles upon Anita’s story, raising questions about the dynamics of her own relationship, which eerily mirrors that of the forgotten artist.<br /><br />Moving back and forth through time and told from the perspectives of both women, <i><b>Anita de Monte Laughs Last</b></i> is a propulsive, witty examination of power, love, and art, daring to ask who gets to be remembered and who is left behind in the rarefied world of the elite.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><i><b>_____________________</b></i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEji03NQi-PbQedKey3gntQ0u1rebc0Tv4ImTZPoPF9U0SrrPAfgB3TXpUirb-nL5KBx4cmEux1pHiB7qfbGR6uPy8y0EXu9xVB2g6d1tfKr8sUM4Vyyj7nX99WTFuwgICQOvOQVfPk4ijM5SjAbRAS5sK4jyDcaE619vvXugJpSW1-wjNxmZpEe" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="528" data-original-width="350" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEji03NQi-PbQedKey3gntQ0u1rebc0Tv4ImTZPoPF9U0SrrPAfgB3TXpUirb-nL5KBx4cmEux1pHiB7qfbGR6uPy8y0EXu9xVB2g6d1tfKr8sUM4Vyyj7nX99WTFuwgICQOvOQVfPk4ijM5SjAbRAS5sK4jyDcaE619vvXugJpSW1-wjNxmZpEe=w265-h400" width="265" /></a></div></i></span></div><div><b style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><i><a href="https://www.harpercollins.com/products/the-great-divide-cristina-henriquez?variant=41079220469794" target="_blank">The Great Divide</a></i></b></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><b>Cristina Henríquez</b><br />Ecco - March 5</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">[from the publisher]</span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br />A powerful novel about the construction of the Panama Canal, casting light on the unsung people who lived, loved, and labored there.<br /><br />It is said that the canal will be the greatest feat of engineering in history. But first, it must be built. For Francisco, a local fisherman who resents the foreign powers clamoring for a slice of his country, nothing is more upsetting than the decision of his son, Omar, to work as a digger in the excavation zone. But for Omar, whose upbringing was quiet and lonely, this job offers a chance to finally find connection.<br /><br />Ada Bunting is a bold sixteen-year-old from Barbados who arrives in Panama as a stowaway alongside thousands of other West Indians seeking work. Alone and with no resources, she is determined to find a job that will earn enough money for her ailing sister’s surgery. When she sees a young man—Omar—who has collapsed after a grueling shift, she is the only one who rushes to his aid.<br /><br />John Oswald has dedicated his life to scientific research and has journeyed to Panama in single-minded pursuit of one goal: eliminating malaria. But now, his wife, Marian, has fallen ill herself, and when he witnesses Ada’s bravery and compassion, he hires her on the spot as a caregiver. This fateful decision sets in motion a sweeping tale of ambition, loyalty, and sacrifice. <br /><br />Searing and empathetic, <i>The Great Divide</i> explores the intersecting lives of activists, fishmongers, laborers, journalists, neighbors, doctors, and soothsayers—those rarely acknowledged by history even as they carved out its course.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><b><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #ff00fe;">_________________</span></b></div></b><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjzsNU_qb9HY-m5CW0r92Ip5-m110gEM-nXgmygPkN22t2IP2qr5FRiEj8BocDyuug73RbQU53BNdthpnl_cthCClgGz0NJCohyt3hp9Gd1leloeHbN0dqylunIJuKeh-dFJWne6YXXm6MATUx6ppQyVeINvoFDD6pBIon_iE1qPLrWDEOZXjfv" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="277" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjzsNU_qb9HY-m5CW0r92Ip5-m110gEM-nXgmygPkN22t2IP2qr5FRiEj8BocDyuug73RbQU53BNdthpnl_cthCClgGz0NJCohyt3hp9Gd1leloeHbN0dqylunIJuKeh-dFJWne6YXXm6MATUx6ppQyVeINvoFDD6pBIon_iE1qPLrWDEOZXjfv=w247-h400" width="247" /></a></div><br /><b><i><a href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/746738/until-august-by-gabriel-garcia-marquez/" target="_blank">Until August: A Novel</a></i><br /><a href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/authors/2022467/gabriel-garcia-marquez">Gabriel García Márquez</a></b></span><a href="#"></a><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /><b>Anne McLean </b>- Translator<br />Knopf - March 12<br /><br />[from the publisher]<br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;">The extraordinary rediscovered novel from the Nobel Prize–winning author of <b><i>Love in the Time of Cholera</i></b> and <i><b>One Hundred Years of Solitude</b></i></span><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> <br />Sitting alone beside the languorous blue waters of the lagoon, Ana Magdalena Bach contemplates the men at the hotel bar. She has been happily married for twenty-seven years and has no reason to escape the life she has made with her husband and children. And yet, every August, she travels by ferry here to the island where her mother is buried, and for one night takes a new lover.<br /><br />Across sultry Caribbean evenings full of salsa and boleros, lotharios and conmen, Ana journeys further each year into the hinterland of her desire and the fear hidden in her heart.<br /><br />Constantly surprising, joyously sensual, <b><i>Until August</i></b> is a profound meditation on freedom, regret, self-transformation, and the mysteries of love—an unexpected gift from one of the greatest writers the world has ever known.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">______________________</span></b></div></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhFgF9cCjpt1BA2rqB-ngUehTtN-IHrRXX0Vmg0G-Hd8zHJ-401Rgk-pul5SJFQ23nb4bWr37LOLRIcfKgfZLujGUwOqmBhZtvhb3cbcjpS2aHwRwedLVI4wlPB6pZrKGP_LyRMltZxvhA9baWL9y-J5XikjLLfpuTrKi03PA4qqFdY3IjcdFbk" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="300" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhFgF9cCjpt1BA2rqB-ngUehTtN-IHrRXX0Vmg0G-Hd8zHJ-401Rgk-pul5SJFQ23nb4bWr37LOLRIcfKgfZLujGUwOqmBhZtvhb3cbcjpS2aHwRwedLVI4wlPB6pZrKGP_LyRMltZxvhA9baWL9y-J5XikjLLfpuTrKi03PA4qqFdY3IjcdFbk=w267-h400" width="267" /></a></div></span><b style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><i><a href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/723451/mother-island-by-jamie-figueroa/" target="_blank">Mother Island: A Daughter Claims Puerto Rico</a></i></b></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><b>Jamie Figuera</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Pantheon - March 19</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">[from the publisher]</span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br />Growing up in the Midwest, raised by a Puerto Rican mother who was abandoned by her family, <b>Jamie Figueroa</b> and her sisters were estranged from their culture, consumed by the whiteness that surrounded them. In <i>Mother Island</i>, Figueroa traces her search for identity as shaped by and against a mother who settled into the safety of assimilation. In lyrical, blistering prose, Figueroa recalls a childhood in Ohio in which she was relegated to the background of her mother’s string of failed marriages; her own marriage in her early twenties to a man twice her age; how her work as a licensed massage therapist helped her heal her body trauma; and how becoming a mother has reshaped her relationship to her family and herself. Only as an adult in New Mexico was Figueroa able to forge her own path, using writing to recast her origin story. In a journey that takes her to Puerto Rico and back, Figueroa looks to her ancestors to reimagine her relationship to the past and to her mother’s native island, reaching beyond her own mother into a greater experience of mothering and claiming herself.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br />In stunning prose that draws from Puerto Rican folklore and mythology, a literary lineage of women writers of color, and narratives of identity, Figueroa presents a cultural coming-of-age story. Candid and raw, Mother Island gets to the heart of the question: Who do we become when we are no longer trying to be someone else?<br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Later.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><b style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;">_____________________</b></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /><br /><a href="http://manuelramos.com/"><b>Manuel Ramos</b></a> writes crime fiction. Read his latest story, <b><i>Northside Nocturne</i></b>, in the award-winning anthology <a href="https://www.akashicbooks.com/catalog/denver-noir/"><i><b>Denver Noir</b></i></a>, edited by <b>Cynthia Swanson</b>, published by <b>Akashic Books.</b><br /></span></div><div><div><p></p></div></div>Manuel Ramoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10360072661844419063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9367921.post-71932478219041152872024-02-22T00:00:00.049-07:002024-02-22T00:00:00.461-07:00Chicanonautica: Zooming into the Mex Files<p><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">by <a href="http://www.mondoernesto.com/" target="_blank">Ernest Hogan</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjHDJpyNfXRXysJI6kZ8RzQDcveA3ZIFoJ3XueNCLUd6ujHfkXlNDyRMbd88T_YfkUVcLTOUU62iLUTbwMML-3FJ-BWEZePV8T96elB22fIP2TOqsUkxrjSH4yYvjG_ow1bcB6noPEvinOvZDps8FKfFpinhyphenhyphenrDgBI0u5CiYAFlMjXNG6VYmfDsg/s360/Calacanaut.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="249" data-original-width="360" height="138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjHDJpyNfXRXysJI6kZ8RzQDcveA3ZIFoJ3XueNCLUd6ujHfkXlNDyRMbd88T_YfkUVcLTOUU62iLUTbwMML-3FJ-BWEZePV8T96elB22fIP2TOqsUkxrjSH4yYvjG_ow1bcB6noPEvinOvZDps8FKfFpinhyphenhyphenrDgBI0u5CiYAFlMjXNG6VYmfDsg/w200-h138/Calacanaut.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’ve been a fan of Guillermo Gómez-Peña,
La Pocha Nostra, and his radio program the <a href="https://labloga.blogspot.com/2023/10/chicanonautica-pandemic-nostalgia-with.html" target="_blank">Mex Files</a> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">for
a long time. He’s also a fan of my work. He and his wife Balitronica were
instrumental in getting me into the world of Zoom video during the pandemic.
When Bali texted me about being on the program, I was delighted.</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The timing was perfect. <b><a href="https://www.amazon.com/GUERRILLA-MURAL-SIRENS-SONG-Science-ebook/dp/B0CLKZCNHM/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1707932833&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Guerrilla Mural of a Siren’s Song</a></b> had just come out, I was scrambling for ways to publicize it,
and for this breakout into the wider worlds of public radio listeners, performance
art enthusiasts, and Latinx culturistas. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh3phPSNzj4QnQDxKLTlmVcsKwrKMefbvpbnPCIQoAwAB08xcMy0Rwja8172e3mM1-eaaru_K5i0i1Uogk6Bo0upLlfX5BahXtoo-XiJkNz8TDBbKaP2SZ4_ZwR8a3xvq7WA4-RAth2nSmhEeFPtLVhvjDdRnY564eFfCvFWQN5xH209DtA9IDbcA" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="900" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh3phPSNzj4QnQDxKLTlmVcsKwrKMefbvpbnPCIQoAwAB08xcMy0Rwja8172e3mM1-eaaru_K5i0i1Uogk6Bo0upLlfX5BahXtoo-XiJkNz8TDBbKaP2SZ4_ZwR8a3xvq7WA4-RAth2nSmhEeFPtLVhvjDdRnY564eFfCvFWQN5xH209DtA9IDbcA=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></div><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">They wanted me to present
Chicano\Latinofuturistic visions of the future from my work. The story “Uno!
dos! . . . One-Two! Tres! Cuatro!” a gonzo reaction the rise of Donald Trump,
seemed perfect. Of course, it was way too long, but there was good cliffhanger
cutoff point. Leave ‘em hanging, tell them to buy the book. Muhuhahahahaha!</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And it was all to be done through that miracle
of our age, Zoom. I could do it sitting in front of my computer at humble
Hacienda Hogan.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It was quite futuristic. Guillermo and
Balitrónica were in San Francisco, Alex Rivera, director of the film <b>Sleep
Dealer </b>in LA (first in his car, then at his house), I was in Glendale,
Arizona, a La Pocha Nostra technician was in Mexico City, and Lumpen Radio
engineer was in Chicago. Borders were erased. Space was warped. The Global
Barrio manifested.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Some new kind of futurism here. Chicano?
Latino? </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Latinx? What brave, new word . . .</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjKFYovuPOsFYn_hYl0I9IjZ1w-jQR4fWv0ytnjzbJJZ7IARVCDRBa-1JQyOhRcDdgSy0hiXRpkuLhj433ocQShoLQBVWalxkAGqnJvLRwmZaoo4SyImp0XF4EKM2g0zccgoTCHdItUQ8ln185JkvhJTUKtc1WhWTl5XXzrhZGq_3v2OAv9QZVbTw" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="694" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjKFYovuPOsFYn_hYl0I9IjZ1w-jQR4fWv0ytnjzbJJZ7IARVCDRBa-1JQyOhRcDdgSy0hiXRpkuLhj433ocQShoLQBVWalxkAGqnJvLRwmZaoo4SyImp0XF4EKM2g0zccgoTCHdItUQ8ln185JkvhJTUKtc1WhWTl5XXzrhZGq_3v2OAv9QZVbTw=w278-h400" width="278" /></a></span></div><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">What would Borges have made of this?
Beyond the Library of Babel. Is it science fiction? Magic realism? I keep
saying that magic realism from a sufficiently technologically advanced culture
becomes indistinguishable from science fiction.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">They made Alex and me feel comfortable in this
alien . . . tripping over the palabras again . . . environment. We
were assured that the techs had AI wizardry that would make us sound good. They did.
Though my words sounded better when they said them. Guillermo and Bali also
called me <i>maestro</i>.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Alex held up original edition copies <b>Cortez
on Jupiter </b>and <b>High Aztech</b> before starting his epic rant on the
future and how it affects Latinoid peoples. He mentioned a book, <b>Fully Automated
Luxury Communism</b>, that I’ve got to track down.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgAJ0_vhzQQjlU-xpgbrQy3CxQZob9nBIfTOgx8EozK7EsQ-42kZXYk_1U2o2ddXFxVyJPRhyDoN3ecOQgquHb-UK4dNBbFe5_1p-KQKtk3mL3yucbB9O7-n2kMvJVn1OfWnuGTrHspzTJaWuZVi9_Vz2cDHowGOp1WvBxjvOuoZBR81v31MElMRw" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="880" data-original-width="590" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgAJ0_vhzQQjlU-xpgbrQy3CxQZob9nBIfTOgx8EozK7EsQ-42kZXYk_1U2o2ddXFxVyJPRhyDoN3ecOQgquHb-UK4dNBbFe5_1p-KQKtk3mL3yucbB9O7-n2kMvJVn1OfWnuGTrHspzTJaWuZVi9_Vz2cDHowGOp1WvBxjvOuoZBR81v31MElMRw=w268-h400" width="268" /></a></span></div><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">There was a lot of apocalyptic dystopianism, in
keeping with our current world predicament, but we also are optimistic and eager to take part in creating a future that's un poco utopian—of course, of a wild rasquache kind.</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And the completed show is a joy to listen to!</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It’s also available as a podcast </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">-- </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">the 01-17-2024 episode, <a href="https://www.mixcloud.com/lumpenradio/g%C3%B3mez-pe%C3%B1as-mex-files-01-17-2024-chicano-latino-futurismo-the-other-sci-fi/?fbclid=IwAR2qvF2OkhltvkOPN-6phBG1xSPSTfflWwWRjYc7rfmqIo3EQBcS0I2KQRI" target="_blank">Chicano Latino Futurismo: The Other Sci-Fi</a>--</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">that I’m
hoping goes viral and inspires listeners to confront the looming future and
make it their own.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Buy my book, too.</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/stores/Ernest-Hogan/author/B001K84GKQ?ref=ap_rdr&isDramIntegrated=true&shoppingPortalEnabled=true" target="_blank">Ernest Hogan</a> is also the author of <a href="https://www.amazon.com/High-Aztech-Inventive-Underground-Classic-ebook/dp/B01B5BE7GU/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank"><b>High
Aztech</b></a>, <b><a href="https://www.amazon.com/SMOKING-MIRROR-BLUES-Return-Tezcatlipoca-ebook/dp/B07BT61Y7D/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">Smoking Mirror Blues</a></b>, and<b> <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Cortez-Jupiter-Locus-Poll-Novel-ebook/dp/B00NMQFUJK/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1698850675&sr=1-1-catcorr" target="_blank">Cortez on Jupiter</a></b>.</span></i></p><p><style>@font-face
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>ERNEST HOGANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16540897948215678872noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9367921.post-11229357274839430402024-02-21T01:00:00.001-07:002024-02-21T01:00:00.591-07:00 BILINGÜE, SUPERHÉROE / BILINGUAL, SUPERHERO<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBVZnx0zSnn78tUY2EMxSDUHfq-sFRqEb0XbCEYeFQMLB5EXTI8TTraYkChqu5CMBb0qrhrtbJUB_VCsVUTY4MnM5cgZSq2rJQA64dVdfR-GsY0a-UossOvdhAnrWYOyWET49Dapd2iutdnWml76VNHX0Ab_p6p05RTOr1EG2BxYq5UE1yuU-v/s1333/9781558859883_a5408.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="1000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBVZnx0zSnn78tUY2EMxSDUHfq-sFRqEb0XbCEYeFQMLB5EXTI8TTraYkChqu5CMBb0qrhrtbJUB_VCsVUTY4MnM5cgZSq2rJQA64dVdfR-GsY0a-UossOvdhAnrWYOyWET49Dapd2iutdnWml76VNHX0Ab_p6p05RTOr1EG2BxYq5UE1yuU-v/w480-h640/9781558859883_a5408.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><o:p> </o:p>By Jorge Argueta</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Illustrations by Elizabeth Gómez<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">SBN: 978-1-55885-988-3<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Publication Date: May 31, 2024<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Format: Hardcover<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Pages: 32<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Imprint: Piñata Books<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Ages: 4-8<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Children’s picture book highlights the fun and power of being bilingual!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“My name is Gerónimo Pérez, <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">but everybody calls me Bilingual. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I like my name Gerónimo, <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">but I like Bilingual better.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The boy speaks English and Spanish and loves the ease with which he can flip back and forth between the two, “easy as pie, / so smooth, so cool, so beautiful, suuuuper sweet.” He can taste the words—and dance with them too! He explains the instructions for his grandmother’s medications and translates his grandfather’s stories. He helps his mom and anyone else who needs his assistance, whether on the bus or at school. “Sometimes I feel like I’m a parrot with two tongues: / one for Spanish and the other for English.” Gerónimo is a superhero with bilingual powers!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Acclaimed children’s book author Jorge Argueta returns with another compelling story featuring an important theme for all immigrant children: speaking more than one language. With whimsical illustrations by Elizabeth Gómez, this book turns the lore of superheroes on its ear while encouraging kids who are learning multiple languages. Parents and teachers will appreciate both the positivity exemplified by a boy’s endless enthusiasm for his bilingual skills and the reimagining of what it means to be a hero.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">JORGE ARGUETA, the poet laureate of San Mateo County, is a Pipil Nahua Indian and prize-winning poet and author of more than twenty children’s picture books, including Una película en mi almohada / A Movie in My Pillow (Children’s Book Press, 2001) and Somos como las nubes / We Are Like the Clouds (Groundwood Books, 2016), which won the Lee Bennett Hopkins Poetry Award and was named to USBBY’s Outstanding International Book List, the ALA Notable Children’s Books and the Cooperative Children’s Book Center Choices. His books in the Madre Tierra / Mother Earth series are Tierra, Tierrita / Earth, Little Earth (Piñata Books, 2023); Viento, Vientito / Wind, Little Wind (Piñata Books, 2022); Fuego, Fueguito / Fire, Little Fire (Piñata Books, 2019) and Agua, Agüita / Water, Little Water (Piñata Books, 2017), winner of the inaugural Campoy-Ada Award in Children’s Poetry given by the Academia Norteamericana de la Lengua Española. The California Association for Bilingual Education honored him with its Courage to Act Award. Jorge is the founder of The International Children’s Poetry Festival Manyula and The Library of Dreams, a non-profit organization that promotes literacy in his native El Salvador. Jorge divides his time between San Francisco, California, and El Salvador.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">ELIZABETH GÓMEZ, a Mexico City native, has lived in California for more than 30 years. She has illustrated many books, including Jorge Argueta’s award-winning A Movie in My Pillow / Una película en mi almohada (Children’s Book Press, 2001). She received her bachelor’s in fine arts from San Jose State University.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>Rene Colato Lainezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17703224889676377655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9367921.post-23863531365307868892024-02-20T01:00:00.009-07:002024-02-20T01:00:00.209-07:00Guest Review: Carmen Calatayud Reviews "the eaters of flowers"<p> <b style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">the eaters of flowers</span></i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">by ire’ne lara silva<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">ISBN 979-8-9879541-2-6<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Saddle Road Press, January 2024<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Book Review by Carmen Calatayud<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">If a book of poems can be a love song to grief, then <i>the eaters of flowers</i> by Texas Poet Laureate ire’ne lara silva is that love song. In this case, the book-length love song is for the poet’s brother, who died in July 2022. Shortly after his death, silva poured out these poems that chronicle her journey of caregiving and communion with her brother during the 20 years they lived together, as well as her life after his death. <i><o:p></o:p></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSbXqn-ov9NTHkxVw7cebDJ93PYUaCI3i0Gg653frbubUrL2qFh" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="267" height="400" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSbXqn-ov9NTHkxVw7cebDJ93PYUaCI3i0Gg653frbubUrL2qFh" width="267" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />The poet’s brother Moisés adored plants and flowers, and it is this passion for the natural world that imbues <i>the eaters of flowers</i>. silva dives into the earth, lets it feed her and us as she navigates grief with all of her senses: <o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> i will give you more flowers than you can eat push<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">them into your mouth with my mouth lick them into you thrust <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">them into the hollow of your chest curl them beneath your eyelids<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">whisper them over your skin until they dissolve into you<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">The themes of health, healing and the body are woven throughout the book, both the poet’s and her brother’s, along with their family history. These poems, prose-like and lyrical, are rich, detailed stories about the physical and emotional ramifications of a broken heart, diabetes and cancer. These are not poems living on the surface of life. They dare to go deep quickly. The poem entitled <i>poem for my kidneys</i> begins with a summation:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">this starts as a poem for my kidneys but as you’ll see it will rapidly<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">become a poem about mortality maybe really everything is about mortality<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">because i’m not sure we can really be serious about anything unless death<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">is part of the equation…..<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Death is ever present in these poems, as is grief, but silva communicates her acceptance of death as a natural part of our lives. It is this belief, present throughout the book, which strengthens us. The poet writes about how mother referred to her dead in the diminutive, mis muertitos, and transmits her mother’s teaching about death:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">my mother knew no distant<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">way to think of her ancestors<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">or her beloved dead<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">i think she would have had<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">compassion for those who are<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">awkward in the face of grief<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">awkward because<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">grief hasn’t yet visited them<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">or because they weren’t taught<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">and they don’t know<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">or cannot accept that death<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">is not the opposite of life<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">only the next part<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">the next world<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">the doorway we’ll all enter<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">silva deepens her examination of the spiritual throughout these poems, injecting us with the power to heal by letting us know there is no boundary between the physical and the spiritual:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">medicine lives under my skin and in my eyes and in<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">my tongue and in my breath i know how to make<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">medicine i speak medicine i walk medicine i am<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">becoming i am making myself medicine <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">All of these poems are free of punctuation, and in silva’s case, some of them don’t stop for breath. That is part of what makes each poem a conversation with us, or an ongoing soliloquy that we are eavesdropping on. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">In the poem <i>Lot K32</i>, silva writes about the burial plots she and her brother bought together and what it’s like for her to visit him there, among the trees, wild grass and butterflies:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">i took care of him <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">for all but seven years of his life<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">in the afterlife there will be<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">no need to look after each other<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">his spirit in the unfurling<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">of all green things and the dew<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">is free of all pain and memory<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">and mine will return to the wind<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">as free as it ever dreamed of being<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">but here beneath this earth<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">we will never leave each other<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">we will be siblings of the soil<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">As this book is a love song to grief, there must be singing. We get direct evidence of this book as song in the poem <i>silence is the breath between songs</i>, which opens with the poet’s definition of singing:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Singing is inviting all the ghosts all of my dead to sing<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">The book closes with a poem responding to the tragic events at Robb Elementary School in Uvalde on May 24, 2022. <i>Texas Highways Magazine</i> commissioned silva to write the poem, and in her introduction to the poem, she tells us that this is the last poem she read to her brother, who was her first and most important editor, before he died.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">i don’t know where mothers hold their grief<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">or fathers or children or friends or neighbors or even<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">strangers who in this shared hurt are no longer strangers<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">our chests are not large enough can’t hold this roiling of<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">heat of fire of confusion this churning of fear of rawness<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">of emptiness<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></i></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">are tears enough are flowers enough are songs enough<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">The cover of <i>the eaters of flowers</i> must be mentioned, as it features a striking painting (what the artist calls a frontexto) entitled <i>puño de flores</i> by former San Antonio Poet Laureate and artist Octavio Quintanilla. Her poem, after the painting, is also called <i>puño de flores.</i> At a recent poetry reading in San Antonio, silva described the painting’s flowers with orange stems as having been carried for hours in someone’s fist, which eventually withered the flowers and left the heat of the hand on the stems. In this description of the art, and in her poem, we see how the poet understands what we do for love.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">silva weaves grief with the stems of flowers into a wreath that crowns her brother and all of our lost loved ones. Through these accessible and vulnerable poems, nuestros muertitos are moving. In <i>the eaters of flowers</i>, they dance, sing, weep and love across fields that burst and bloom. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">== Meet the Reviewer</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9aLSzAW0YFngXCv6e4HWODLEkrbR2DXwD0mm6c0We8SRJdVffbgVPiOWf1XVqRXVoFqEDu8PZ_lMmc-7PKcVy4l0zwSEMGCJJ-CWbhy-laASBn2D-Xx4zoy-ijOBPQMGVmGQAfKjcJn9QvOY6o8pY704f2mpeAEKdtblzdMj1fLgvvlGHMbs/s200/Carmen%20Green.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="154" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9aLSzAW0YFngXCv6e4HWODLEkrbR2DXwD0mm6c0We8SRJdVffbgVPiOWf1XVqRXVoFqEDu8PZ_lMmc-7PKcVy4l0zwSEMGCJJ-CWbhy-laASBn2D-Xx4zoy-ijOBPQMGVmGQAfKjcJn9QvOY6o8pY704f2mpeAEKdtblzdMj1fLgvvlGHMbs/w154-h200/Carmen%20Green.jpg" width="154" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><i style="caret-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.524px;"><a href="https://www.press53.com/carmen-calatayud" rel="nofollow" style="color: #993322; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Carmen Calatayud </a>is the daughter of immigrants: A Spanish father and Irish mother. Her book <b>In the Company of Spirits</b> was a runner-up for the Academy of American Poets Walt Whitman Award and a finalist for the Andrés Montoya Poetry Prize. Her poetry has recently appeared in </i><span style="background-color: #c0a154; caret-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.524px;">Rogue Agent</span><i style="caret-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.524px;"> and </i><span style="background-color: #c0a154; caret-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.524px;">Tahoma Literary Journal</span><i style="caret-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.524px;">, and was nominated for a 2023 Best of the Net Award. </i></span></p><p style="caret-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.524px;"></p><p style="caret-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.524px;"><i>Carmen is a Larry Neal Poetry Award winner and a Virginia Center for the Creative Arts fellow. Her book </i>This Tangled Body<i> will be published by FlowerSong Press in collaboration with Letras Latinas in Spring 2024.</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span></p><p style="caret-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.524px;"><a href="https://www.press53.com/carmen-calatayud" style="color: #993322; text-decoration: none;">https://www.press53.com/carmen-calatayud</a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p>msedanohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09527530005391318421noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9367921.post-50741555239527786602024-02-19T01:01:00.052-07:002024-02-19T01:01:00.132-07:00The Maryland Writers' Association with guest author, Daniel A. Olivas, to discuss the short-story form and "How to Date a Flying Mexican"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeHYELkdrpYL-d47v0YMg0ZJE6HNIQuzZaJu_y7GLAVr47QtYgSP8IH4MJW9I4m7JFbgg4nhJ_-_E3TPnv_XK_l5y6bMp2MNSbXwQRakMdW1h9-SvMQEVV8V4_JK08hQY3kAuy2Z_xhFgMDMXYN0Xxg1H-H3xO5MNn08ewJZE1dffotGi5aLSC8Q/s1324/20240218_110353.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1324" data-original-width="1047" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeHYELkdrpYL-d47v0YMg0ZJE6HNIQuzZaJu_y7GLAVr47QtYgSP8IH4MJW9I4m7JFbgg4nhJ_-_E3TPnv_XK_l5y6bMp2MNSbXwQRakMdW1h9-SvMQEVV8V4_JK08hQY3kAuy2Z_xhFgMDMXYN0Xxg1H-H3xO5MNn08ewJZE1dffotGi5aLSC8Q/w506-h640/20240218_110353.jpg" width="506" /></a></div><p><span style="font-size: large;">This virtual event is open to everyone, not just members of the <a href="https://marylandwriters.org/index.php" target="_blank">Maryland Writers' Association</a>, so join us! It should be great fun. And I will also read from my most recent collection, <i><a href="https://bookshop.org/p/books/how-to-date-a-flying-mexican-new-and-collected-stories-daniel-a-olivas/17466114?ean=9781647790363&ref=https%3A%2F%2Fdanielolivas.com%2F&source=IndieBound&title=" target="_blank">How to Date a Flying Mexican</a></i> (University of Nevada Press). You may register online at this <a href="https://marylandwriters.org/meetinginfo.php?id=1167&ts=1708175766" target="_blank">link</a>.</span><br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG2CouY7EpkvjjFlERBEry6aInkWQrPjUMV7E3uWczLg6esQYQOMnbWIrhlU4k-hhbuS-_Pe4WYvqRualeRUgnv7n0djlsjr5Oe6jk15I_Cq_-8hMRGwP5Vcbhg_CSw5z4u9ChbAtlzaOCdumnlqzZVoAk9WrDcNcD_gJdlu6Clf9gQeHkcH-Cdg/s1080/How%20to%20Date%20a%20Flying%20Mexican%20-%20fancy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG2CouY7EpkvjjFlERBEry6aInkWQrPjUMV7E3uWczLg6esQYQOMnbWIrhlU4k-hhbuS-_Pe4WYvqRualeRUgnv7n0djlsjr5Oe6jk15I_Cq_-8hMRGwP5Vcbhg_CSw5z4u9ChbAtlzaOCdumnlqzZVoAk9WrDcNcD_gJdlu6Clf9gQeHkcH-Cdg/w640-h640/How%20to%20Date%20a%20Flying%20Mexican%20-%20fancy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">***</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">In other news, I am gearing up for the birth of another baby...and by baby, I mean a new book. On March 5, Forest Avenue Press will release my new novel, <a href="https://bookshop.org/p/books/chicano-frankenstein/20274428?ean=9781942436591&ref=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.google.com%2F&source=IndieBound&title=Chicano+Frankenstein" target="_blank"><i>Chicano Frankenstein</i></a>. The early reviews have been wonderful! The book launch will be on Wednesday, March 6, at 7:00 p.m., at the venerable Vroman's Bookstore in Pasadena. Details are at this <a href="https://www.vromansbookstore.com/Daniel-A-Olivas-with-Desiree-Zamorano-discusses-Chicano-Frankenstein" target="_blank">link</a>. I will be interviewed by the talented writer, <a href="https://www.desireezamorano.com/" target="_blank">Désirée</a><a href="https://www.desireezamorano.com/" target="_blank"> Zamorano</a>. It's free and for all ages.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYpq5svAV6vCau25WpChe-jvy63yNnqEdrnWX9C_nm0Q7iCa3jt3V7DQqro344uJhCMKST051Zg80z3KOeMl3bJ7Oxom6VbFaK90Z5D-20nlEg9EBe4Z5BQCml50T1KovGFMuKX4dIsvT6x-017CCZY7H3Pgtye3LSaAVmBQECcla0NljxSMw_rQ/s5400/Daniel%20A%20Olivas%20Banner.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="5400" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYpq5svAV6vCau25WpChe-jvy63yNnqEdrnWX9C_nm0Q7iCa3jt3V7DQqro344uJhCMKST051Zg80z3KOeMl3bJ7Oxom6VbFaK90Z5D-20nlEg9EBe4Z5BQCml50T1KovGFMuKX4dIsvT6x-017CCZY7H3Pgtye3LSaAVmBQECcla0NljxSMw_rQ/w640-h284/Daniel%20A%20Olivas%20Banner.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p>Daniel A. Olivashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02483784846354950778noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9367921.post-56205085553016708102024-02-16T05:49:00.003-07:002024-02-16T05:49:46.580-07:00Poetry Passages Puts Poetry on Santa Barbara Buses<p>Melinda Palacio <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">* A version of this Poetry Connection Column originally appeared in the Santa Barbara Independent</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">One of the notable connections I’ve made as Poet Laureate is with Lea (pronounced Lee) Williams. Lea is a wanderer, traveler, writer who specializes in letter writing, and graphic designer. I met her early in May, during one of my first events at the Santa Barbara Historical Museum, where I had the honor of sharing the spotlight with our Youth Poet Laureate Madeleine Miller at the Women’s Literary Festival’s Poetry Pairing. After the event, Lea contacted me and asked if I would be interested in collaborating with her to bring poetry on our city’s buses. I was certainly thrilled with the idea because it aligned with my mission as Poet Laureate: to bring more poetry to public spaces and create more awareness to poetry in our community. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Since April, I have participated in over 30 events, most recently at Bishop Diego High School. It always surprises me how little awareness there is for the position of Santa Barbara Poet Laureate. I’m happy to help local bus riders become aware of our current and past poets laureate through Poetry Passages, the project that will put poetry on our buses. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">I also remember how thrilling it was when I went to New York and rode the subway and sat next to a poster of one of my favorite poems by Aracelis Girmay. Lea had a similar experience of riding the bus in Los Angeles and seeing poetry during National Poetry Month on the buses. She described seeing poetry on buses as a thrilling gift:<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"> “When I lived in Los Angeles, one April there were “Poetry in Motion” panels of classic poetry up on the buses. It was a thrilling gift. And I noticed how many riders, of every economic state, were entranced by those panels. That stayed with me—the pleasure and inspiration of poetry being presented for everyone. And the extraordinary engagement I saw over and over again. So grateful to The Poetry Society of America for launching this idea. We just chose to do it a little differently.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Lea and I have been meeting since May to figure out how to make this idea into a reality for the Santa Barbara Municipal Transit District (SBMTD). There are several moving parts to this project, from getting approval of the SBMTD, to choosing poets and poems, to figuring out how to pay for the project. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Luckily, several of the pieces fell into place from having access to a wonderful translator in visiting poet Alexandra Regalado to wrangling eight poets laureate to contribute some verses to the project. If you’ve been following poetry in Santa Barbara, you know that we lost one of our own, Sojourner Kincaid Rolle. While she was not able to finish her bus poem, she had chosen a coastal route and we were able to find an appropriate verse for her chosen bus line. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">One of the most important parts was the opportunity to apply for a city grant to cover the cost of funding the project. The grant will allow us to pay the SBMTD, the poets, our translator, and fiscal sponsor. In addition to the task of choosing excerpts of each poem, there was also the issue of naming the entire project. Since we couldn’t use <i>Poetry in Motion</i>, we came up <i>Poetry Passages</i>. Lea designed the poetry panels and a flyer to let people know about the project. Download the QR in the flyer and view the routes where you’ll find Poetry Passages during National Poetry Month in April. I’ll include my entire poem. Can you guess which couplet will be excerpted for bus route 11?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Bus Stop<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Melinda Palacio, 10th Poet Laureate of Santa Barbara <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">It’s the waiting that hurts,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Makes the day feel longer.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Smiles and relief when the bus arrives,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">a satisfying thrill, seeing a long, lost friend.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">She speaks in a woman’s voice, announces the stop<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">For Goleta Valley Cottage Hospital.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Outside, Lowriders on parade turn heads.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Too tired. I’m glad I’m not driving. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">So many rattling parts. The bus hums, squeals, exhales,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">screeches to a false stop as it crouches to receive passengers.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">As it gurgles forward, <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">I wonder if the bus is more tired than I. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Melinda Palaciohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09723387105472411698noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9367921.post-3955316688056184572024-02-15T01:00:00.001-07:002024-02-15T01:00:00.131-07:00The Depths of Learning, an Unlikely Mentor<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHtEOqSZprUrXiDmK2EjoDLuFH0JJS4_eeULOP0OP5Ttc1MYk-zGcxum4aravHjFIfExc8inmn86D5EleXUVfOrPhc5obKBI_ykoI7ShqsO77R1cBULMiC5P9joFq9sS14Hf8MTXLzDYyTQYzxXuW617zr4Un7IPO6-4MD7tPoTJfpwNjtEQSJ/s2816/IMG_2677.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2816" data-original-width="2112" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHtEOqSZprUrXiDmK2EjoDLuFH0JJS4_eeULOP0OP5Ttc1MYk-zGcxum4aravHjFIfExc8inmn86D5EleXUVfOrPhc5obKBI_ykoI7ShqsO77R1cBULMiC5P9joFq9sS14Hf8MTXLzDYyTQYzxXuW617zr4Un7IPO6-4MD7tPoTJfpwNjtEQSJ/s320/IMG_2677.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mystery of knowledge<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">He told me
to go exchange a bad carburetor for a rebuilt one. Whenever he spoke, he had a
tinge of anger in his voice, like, maybe, he’d had a fight with his wife before
he left home. I’d been in the army nearly a year and a half and another year
and a half to go. Most of my friends who’d been drafted, when I went in, were
already home, back on the streets. Not me, stupid, I enlisted.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d already
been to Vietnam, as an artilleryman, and I’d had my fill of war, war games, and
time in the field. Once back at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, they assigned me to
the motor pool. It was November and freezing in the garage, I wanted out. Besides, I hated mechanic work, and what was worse, I wasn’t
trained as a mechanic. That’s the thing about the military. They put you wherever
they want you.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to
figure out how to weasel my way into an office job, where it was warm, clean, and
free of grease. The staff sergeant directly responsible for the mechanics was a
maniac, who rarely smiled, and yelled in your face for screwing up. His name
was Craven, whom the guys had nicknamed, “Ravin’ Cravin.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The warrant
officer in charge of the motor pool, Kelly Kanode, was a lifer, at least
twenty-years behind him. “Ravin’ Cravin,” and five mechanics reported to
Kanode, who was responsible for the overall administration of the place. I
could see right off it wasn’t going to be easy moving from the garage stalls to
the main office, a busy place, where drivers came in each morning to check-out a vehicle and log the correct information in to a book and follow the same process at the end of the day. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Overall, the
office area, which looked out over the garage, was a mess, logbooks scattered
over a desk and requisition requests stacked everywhere. I once suggested to
Mr. Kanode he get a clerk, hint, hint. He barked that he’d once had a clerk, but the guy was
useless, so he handled everything himself. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, one
day, while Kanode and Cravin were out, I started organizing the office, placing
the logbooks in a shelf where they belonged. I stacked the various
requisitions, by date, in piles, according to the request. When I was done, the place looked a whole lot better than before I started.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kanode
noticed it right away. He called out to me and asked me what was going on, I
told him, every time a driver returned from a run, the mechanics had to stop
work and check to see the driver did everything correctly. It was time consuming. This particular day, I was checking
in a driver, and I noticed all the books out of place. I had some free
time, so I made sure all the books were up to date and placed them in a shelf, according to the vehicle number. While
I was at it, I did a little organizing. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cravin
fumed. He didn’t want his mechanics wasting time in the office, other than
check-out and check-in the drivers. Kanode liked the change and asked me to put
more time in the office, until, one day, he told me to stay there. Cravin didn’t
like it, but what could he do? “Sorry, Sarge,” I explained, “Mr. Kanode asked
me to stay in the office and run things.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think
even Cravin saw that with me in the office, the mechanics could get more done
out in the garage. When we needed parts, it was the mechanics who had to stop and drive out to the parts' shop, a mile or so away. Kanode told me that was
my job now, picking up whatever the mechanics needed, like the time he sent me
to pick up a carburetor, “ASAP.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was late
in the day, and I waited in a long line. By the time I reached the counter, I
gave the corporal the bad carburetor and asked for good one. He looked back at the empty shelves behind him. “Sorry, private.
We’re all out of carburetors.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I said,
“Corporal, I’ waited an hour in line. I need a carburetor.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No can do,
chief. Come back in a few days.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I returned
to the motor pool and told Mr. Kanode (We addressed warrant officers, as
“mister” or “sir”), “They’re all out, sir. He said to come back in a few days.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kanode
blew, just like a top of a volcano. I hadn’t seen that kind of fury. He yelled,
calling the guys at the parts office every name he could think of. Then he
turned on me, telling me I shouldn’t have taken “no” for an answer. There’s no
way they ran out of carburetors. “That’s not acceptable. This is the goddamned
army.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t
say another word. Kanode calmed down, and in a firm but deliberate voice, he
said, “You go back there and tell them whatever the hell you want, but I know
they have a carburetor there some place.” I’m sure he saw the intimidated look
in my eyes. “Look, you make friends with them if you have to, or tell them something
they want to hear. Promise them your goddamned paycheck, but when you
return, I want to see a carburetor in your hands. You understand?” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yes,
sir,” was all I could say, with no idea what to do. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I
walked up to the parts’ place, there was only one guy in line. They were
getting ready to close. The guy at the counter was talking to the corporal behind
the counter, like they knew each other. They were laughing, and, I caught the
corporal say something about L.A. I remember Mr. Kanode telling me to say
whatever I needed to get that new carburetor.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I reached
the counter, I kind of eased into it, smiling, friendly, keeping the conversation
going, telling the corporal I was from L.A. but not wanting to appear I was
butting in to a private conversation. The corporal was dubious. He studied me and told me, "Yeah, sure, everybody from California says they’re from L.A."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No,
really, corporal, I am, from L.A., the Westside, out near Santa Monica.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He looks at
me and starts asking me questions about Los Angeles, like he’s testing me, asking
me sports questions. Before, I know it, we’re talking about home. I tell him my
cousins live on the eastside. He says he’s from South-Central, up near Vermont
and 160<sup>th</sup> Street. I tell him about going to UCLA football games at
the Coliseum and parking on people’s front lawns. We laugh about it. He’s an SC
fan. We reminisce. Finally, he asks, “Hey, man, why you here, anyway.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Oh, yeah.”
I place the old carburetor on the counter. “I came by earlier, and they told me
they didn’t have any carburetors left, but my boss, Kanode, a warrant officer, wasn’t
going for it. He says we need one, ASAP.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He picks up
the carburetor and checks it out, turning it over in his hands. “Yeah, looks
like it’s for a three-quarter ton, huh?” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>he says, not really asking. “Let me see what I
can do.” The shelves are still empty, but he heads to the back room. He’s gone a
little while. When he returns, he’s carrying a rebuilt carburetor. My heart
flips. “Here you go.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Man,
thanks.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s
cool.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If I see
you at the EM club, I’ll buy you a beer.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I
returned to the motor pool, Mr. Kanode was at his desk. He turned to me.
“Where’ve you been?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I reminded
him. He’d completely forgotten. When he remembered, he said, “So, they did have
one, eh? Let that be a lesson to you. Never take ‘no’ for an answer.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I worked in
the office for Mr. Kanode for the next year-and-a-half. He’d still blow his top
every so often, but I never took it personally. Towards the end of winter, it
came time for my discharge. Mr. Kanode sat me down, for a man-to-man. He said
if I re-enlisted, he’d make sure I’d stay working for him and promised me a
promotion. I told him I wanted to go to college. He said he’d guarantee they’d send
me to North Carolina State, at Raleigh. The Army would pay for my education.
After that, if I still wanted “out,” fine with him, but I should really take
time to think about it. No adult, except my parents, had ever talked to me like
that.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He turned
back to the work at his desk. I sat at my desk. I could hear the mechanics in
the garage banging away at something. I reached down and turned up the heater.
Then, I remembered I had guard duty that night, the midnight to three-A.M.
shift. There was ice on the ground outside, but in a couple of months, I’d be
home, anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></p>Daniel Canohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13296372136737175858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9367921.post-3629975120497615752024-02-14T01:00:00.003-07:002024-02-14T01:00:00.210-07:002024 Tomás Rivera Book Award Winners<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDeTWwS6tICX4G0x_-4E5oZ8xzvXQUQQCknT9Z_miwd_mtQgCYRZc7BlieAS5eihk4LD3itrg6xV1DQWx-nd0_9dkUv14gEUEkJ5gYmamYQGEcKu_hrsa0P0M-Hzc366k4vv6feMm3U4NUpwjbv1RI4rjwwqcyyz6rHZp5FqsfFHIJc7P7zDX-/s293/rivera-logo.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="290" data-original-width="293" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDeTWwS6tICX4G0x_-4E5oZ8xzvXQUQQCknT9Z_miwd_mtQgCYRZc7BlieAS5eihk4LD3itrg6xV1DQWx-nd0_9dkUv14gEUEkJ5gYmamYQGEcKu_hrsa0P0M-Hzc366k4vv6feMm3U4NUpwjbv1RI4rjwwqcyyz6rHZp5FqsfFHIJc7P7zDX-/s1600/rivera-logo.jpg" width="293" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Texas State University College of Education created The Tomás Rivera Mexican American Children’s Book Award in 1995 to honor authors and illustrators who create literature that depicts the Mexican American experience. It is named in honor of Texas State University distinguished alumnus Dr. Tomás Rivera.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeo8euIUtlFZROaLj3iSKJd8PxzTyydYhTceldCW7pJ6gWrHEsr0xz8a93lf2xVP2gTXQmqllhu17exHvm17BWCOH8P5dIjlwRcUgYwaEM0SJna5c5HKSPzvn8LqE2opp-7g0ogr4Yttqjh6DEq1cwJL9SJW3H2A-NKBoYDjVsH7uuflU2v0pW/s940/unnamed.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="788" data-original-width="940" height="536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeo8euIUtlFZROaLj3iSKJd8PxzTyydYhTceldCW7pJ6gWrHEsr0xz8a93lf2xVP2gTXQmqllhu17exHvm17BWCOH8P5dIjlwRcUgYwaEM0SJna5c5HKSPzvn8LqE2opp-7g0ogr4Yttqjh6DEq1cwJL9SJW3H2A-NKBoYDjVsH7uuflU2v0pW/w640-h536/unnamed.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><b><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;">2024 winner of the Tomás Rivera Mexican American Children's Book Award in the category of works for younger readers:</span><span style="font-family: arial;">Spanish Is the Language written by Michael Genhart and illustrated by John Parra.</span></span></b></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">As a boy prepares for his school’s Spanish spelling bee, he asks his grandmother for help with some of the words he doesn’t know how to spell yet. When she studies with him, she tells him how different things were back when she was a girl, when she was only allowed to speak English in school. This only inspires him to study even harder and make his family proud.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Based on stories author Michael Genhart heard from his mother as a child, Spanish is the Language of My Family is about the joy of sharing cultural heritage with our families, inspired by the generations of Latino people were punished for speaking Spanish and the many ways new generations are rejuvenating the language.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Michael Genhart’s text is as touching as it is poignant, and it’s paired with the striking artwork of multiple Pura Belpre Award-Winning Illustrator John Parra. Extensive material at the back of the book includes essays from the author about the history of Spanish suppression in U.S. schools and information about the Spanish alphabet.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;">2024 winner of the Tomás Rivera Mexican American Children's Book Award in the category of works for middle readers: </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Warrior Girl Hardcover by Carmen Tafolla.</span></span></b></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Celina and her family are bilingual and follow both Mexican and American traditions. Celina revels in her Mexican heritage, but once she starts school it feels like the world wants her to erase that part of her identity. Fortunately, she’s got an army of family and three fabulous new friends behind her to fight the ignorance. But it’s her Gramma who’s her biggest inspiration, encouraging Celina to build a shield of joy around herself. Because when you’re celebrating, when you find a reason to sing or dance or paint or play or laugh or write, they haven’t taken everything away from you. Of course, it’s not possible to stay in celebration mode when things get dire--like when her dad’s deported and a pandemic hits--but if there is anything Celina’s sure of, it’s that she’ll always live up to her last name: Guerrera--woman warrior--and that she will use her voice and writing talents to make the world a more beautiful place where all cultures are celebrated.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;">2024 winner of the Tomás Rivera Mexican American Children's Book Award in the category of works for older readers:</span><span style="font-family: arial;">Mexikid by Pedro Martín</span></span></b></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Pedro Martín has grown up hearing stories about his abuelito—his legendary crime-fighting, grandfather who was once a part of the Mexican Revolution! But that doesn't mean Pedro is excited at the news that Abuelito is coming to live with their family. After all, Pedro has 8 brothers and sisters and the house is crowded enough! Still, Pedro piles into the Winnebago with his family for a road trip to Mexico to bring Abuelito home, and what follows is the trip of a lifetime, one filled with laughs and heartache. Along the way, Pedro finally connects with his abuelito and learns what it means to grow up and find his grito.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>Rene Colato Lainezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17703224889676377655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9367921.post-47651594269653442802024-02-13T01:00:00.042-07:002024-02-13T06:37:26.895-07:00Caregiver's Permanent Respite: Untrapping Memories<p><span style="color: #660000; font-size: x-large;">R<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">oad Trip to Liberate A Past</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Michael Sedano<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: ; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: ; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">My wife died a year ago, five years after we were hit with the diagnosis, Dementia of the Alzheimer's type. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background:; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: ; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">February fourth marked the one year commemoration of Barbara's life and our fifty-five years together. I had lived in a numb kind of ongoing mourning through our five years. With Barbara gone I was flooded by memories and I was drowning in them.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: ; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: ; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">I took a trip to make sense of those 55 years, to put the memories to rest by visiting where they happened. The process would complete the "after Alzheimer's" part of the rest of my life. In these spaces, I would release the mourning of all we lost when the disease struck, and liberate myself from remembering those five years of fearful progression from diagnosis to the last moment together.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: ; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: ; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">It was just the worst time of year for such a journey. Pa'lla, threatening horizons swallow all the light, but rain holds back as I drive into the great central valley down the Grapevine. A few hours on, Pacheco Pass, a special wonder of wildflowers, lies fallow, its naked contours covered with newgrown grasses, how promising for Spring.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: ; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBWlNFcy2PJzQf7uXWqNQoWM4W91VpXVR2Y6dTlF_f-zcqF09PqP2wOvsbhxVghggPmhOA9B918RGU4m0Z9GDJjaXfS-DCArs-7faIwoTVEOAoYeloh2nkzZh4p5QokvuRM9o2GvL0bWEBUo13uT8VPv0M0Ja1JyYM7-VctEebtw33fxlHWkQ/s4800/IMG_6005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3200" data-original-width="4800" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBWlNFcy2PJzQf7uXWqNQoWM4W91VpXVR2Y6dTlF_f-zcqF09PqP2wOvsbhxVghggPmhOA9B918RGU4m0Z9GDJjaXfS-DCArs-7faIwoTVEOAoYeloh2nkzZh4p5QokvuRM9o2GvL0bWEBUo13uT8VPv0M0Ja1JyYM7-VctEebtw33fxlHWkQ/w640-h426/IMG_6005.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pacheco Pass hillside soon to be covered with wildflowers</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: ; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: ; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">A planned detour takes me into Hollister. Years ago, I picked fruit in Hollister and Morgan Hill, but I am not here to remember my primos and their bracero step-father. I visit an Army friend, the fire-control operator on Mae Bong whom I shared many an hour with. It is good some friendships don't change very much despite fifty years' separation.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: ; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: ; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">I expect the rest of the trip to disclose change. I want to find those changes in those places to discard the memories they hold. The towns, particular lodgings, a big bowl of cioppino on the wharf, cheese and wine overlooking Big Sur, elegant food at local fine dining eateries, I want to repeat most of these experiences, but I want to free myself of having to remember everything that happened before. Caregivers deserve permanent respite from those years of responsibility and mourning, in my case, fifty-five years bounded by five years prolonged and painful separating.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: ; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: ; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">Barbara and I traveled not much. The California coast was a favored place since 1968 when we took our honeymoon along the coast. Repeated trips over the years invested special places with memories that compelled us to feel no urgency to find different locations. "Remember that time..." became a conversation starter as we drove to a longed-for destination.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: ; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGZl853dQKWuC9A_pJqKsA49BN2UxNMwJ2f6LK_3uMKPY1-3Mtx_ep0tP4qKsUxRx-ZcDF0ciCal9-FhN27WhLCIarOavTuhW8a34xDatXNv0aij-NvZoINHTxU2fEP0XLpaOosRDuD9B8SqJ6VpTgbHPfvnMGo1Z8P8UaEKglB7i_qOTcpQw/s4800/IMG_6070.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4800" data-original-width="3200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGZl853dQKWuC9A_pJqKsA49BN2UxNMwJ2f6LK_3uMKPY1-3Mtx_ep0tP4qKsUxRx-ZcDF0ciCal9-FhN27WhLCIarOavTuhW8a34xDatXNv0aij-NvZoINHTxU2fEP0XLpaOosRDuD9B8SqJ6VpTgbHPfvnMGo1Z8P8UaEKglB7i_qOTcpQw/w426-h640/IMG_6070.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pt. Lobos iconic vista</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: ; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">Those places define my itinerary. Highway 1 along the California coast. Up the Central Valley up to Pacheco Pass. On through Steinbeck country to Monterey. A day at Pt. Lobos and the drive to Big Sur, Nepenthe, and Cambria. A few miles down Highway 1, Morro Bay. Then Isla Vista and Santa Barbara. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: ; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background:; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">Nothing's the same. We met in Isla Vista. Our apartments still stand. The house I got drafted out of, on Ortega Street in town, is a grassy field. UCSB eliminated the Speech Department, remodeled the department offices into a box office.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: ; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: ; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">I am glad everything changed, nothing remains what it had been. </span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: inherit, serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">I am refreshed by all these changes, reminded how fragile is the past no matter the weight of memory.</span><span style="background: ; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: ; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: ; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">Ft. Ord is gone and our rental shack on the old highway might be a shopping mall now; I can't figure out where Cypress Knolls was amid today's acres of ticky-tacky. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: ; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG1P-35KrZEAHvT09WAFGzkrwUblGFR8-ZeMTt0JfftRNCPlo0tfxp791QiuskZHfa7TtNSNYGwM_vQX61oVZy4bdlgZx4AFm67TuAMy_SFZi9f0Jo9DQeDdjGSzo1Y9APLw1SggTCWFyclMvtivFz18JhzdIy2vZVyVGqdfbtf21EdGKuBK8/s4800/IMG_7012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4800" data-original-width="3201" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG1P-35KrZEAHvT09WAFGzkrwUblGFR8-ZeMTt0JfftRNCPlo0tfxp791QiuskZHfa7TtNSNYGwM_vQX61oVZy4bdlgZx4AFm67TuAMy_SFZi9f0Jo9DQeDdjGSzo1Y9APLw1SggTCWFyclMvtivFz18JhzdIy2vZVyVGqdfbtf21EdGKuBK8/w426-h640/IMG_7012.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cambria's finest dining</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: ; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: ; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">Some memories are denied me by natural forces. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: ; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: ; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">Pt. Lobos got ravaged by years of waves eating away pathways. The sea has forbidden my revisiting scenes of treasured memories. The atmospheric river closes down Highway1 at Big Sur and my route must backtrack inland to the Paso Robles cut-off to Morro Bay. The road trip plan turns chaotic.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: ; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">I had infused these places with memories. Revisiting a favorite place evokes memories, brings things back all at once. Now I don't want them to do that to me, evoke painful reminders. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">These spaces become haunting reminders of joy and the last five years all at once. Joyful places overflow with regret. I love these places for themselves and they deserve liberation from trapped and sequestered memories. As I begin the road trip, I feel urgency to free these places from those memories. I shall put a crack in the wall of time to let the light out, to let new eyes see what's there. I want to return to places with new friends and I want to visit them as if for the first time, fill them with new memories.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">I took my sorrow on a road trip and left pieces of it behind in now-unfamiliar places that held once-favored memories. Those memories, like living with Alzheimer's dementia, need to be put away. This is how, after Alzheimer's, a new beginning can happen. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Fiat lux. Adelante.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: ; color: #050505; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN4WI29UwuFpZqVXTjPsc0HwfCponUP79xwTA6DNTC3AGc_0HBXaYSyIgmMLEpBw4vV-7geN4eaMft1Tlm1RHIOthGsY0ZtKgrrZYkdLSEaZIksZpmZks0SlJ3G4-GXejILvdUZNwRtKRC6sGkFrFagw26m3MVEgfa9-SwXq3txIB_AXHjn9M/s4800/IMG_7145.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3200" data-original-width="4800" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN4WI29UwuFpZqVXTjPsc0HwfCponUP79xwTA6DNTC3AGc_0HBXaYSyIgmMLEpBw4vV-7geN4eaMft1Tlm1RHIOthGsY0ZtKgrrZYkdLSEaZIksZpmZks0SlJ3G4-GXejILvdUZNwRtKRC6sGkFrFagw26m3MVEgfa9-SwXq3txIB_AXHjn9M/w640-h426/IMG_7145.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have often walked on this street before. And the pavement always stayed beneath my feet before. Until I saw Barbara for the first time in the foreground building. I lived down at the end of the street.<br />Madrid Road is just another street in Isla Vista, to me.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p>msedanohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09527530005391318421noreply@blogger.com4