You Can’t Break A Woman Who Gets Her Strength From God

Posted October 16, 2019

This Chapter

Originally Written November 14. 2017

Chapter Uno

“California”

“The Letter” was not

addressed to you.

Why should you have

read it, you did not have

my permission!

I know what you will

respond; you read it

after Mi Papá died.

That’s fine. I will not

apologize for what I

said or believe. I spoke

my/our truth (I cannot/

should not speak  for

my siblings), but as the

eldest I helped care for

them and was very

aware of their issues

and struggles growing

up, as well as my own.

I am convicted and

dedicated to my words.

I scream for my sister,

Manuela and my

brothers, Esteban y

Miguel.

I speak for all children

abandoned, discarded!

We’ve been here before,

following generational

sins and cycles.

One article I read during

my research stated the

following, “the biggest 

factor is culture: in

some settings

the desertion of the

father comes to be seen

as relatively normal. “ I

was appalled and

angered to read

this, but unfortunately

“perhaps” true.

It goes without saying, I

believe that children    

who have both parents

have a head start on life

and have better

opportunities.

But, I also know there

are some deal breakers,

such as alcoholism,

womanizer and

domestic violence (of

which Mi Papá was

all of them)! I have

previously stated in our

particular case we

seemed to blossom

once he left.

Thank God for

Abuelitos and a

strong extended

family.

He actually was a

detriment to us.

There is no justification!

If you believe I am being

contradictory, I’m not,

Mi Papa y Mi Mamá

(who was 15 and gave

birth to me at 16)

should have been more

mature to consider our

feelings as children and

the impact his

departure would have

on us. You can’t just

bring a human life into

the world and abandon

it, without

consequences! No

puedes tener

y abandonar hijos

donde quera, sin

consecuencias.

Unfortunately, this

seems to be a sick

pervasive phenomenon

in my family! Which is

still being repeated

today, of men birthing

children outside of their

marriage!

I was about 18 or 19

and a student, at

Humboldt State. I

received a call from Mi

Papa which was a rarity.

He lived in Santa

Barbara at the

time and had been

arrested for driving

without a license, or drunk

driving, he was jailed and

detained for non-child

support.

He begged me to

come visit him. I did, he

wanted my help (of

course) to talk to my

Mama to take away

this jail order. I

explained to him

that this had

nothing to do with Mi

Mama’s doing.

On that visit, in a park

like setting jail, he

introduced me to a

woman named Marcie

who also had a son

from Mi Papá, he was

like 3 or 4.  So this son

must be about 51 years

old now.

Cycles are

generationally repeated

if issues are not dealt

with. Mi Mama was not

fully developed at 15

years old when she met

and shacked up with   

Mi Papá, she had not

been taught by her

parents how to select

good husband material.

This is one reason I am

so opposed to young

marriages.

And the cycle was

repeated with us.

We were not taught nor

had good male role

models to eventually

select good husbands.

We had to kiss some

frogs before we finally

got it right! But, Thank

you my Lord, we were

saved by God’s grace.


But…… ..since you did

read the letter, then you

deal with its content. 

Now, it is your problem.

When it was mailed, I

released it.

I was well aware of the

consequences when I

mailed it to Mi Papá.

I knew that I was

forever severing a

relationship with Mi

Papá. And, I was

prepared for never

talking or seeing him

again.

All these unanswered

questions I view as

snails floating around in

my brain, I give to you.

You may wish to spend

your life full of anger

and causing “silent

passive division.”

Interesting how the

oppressed becomes the

oppressor.

I will not permit you, nor

give you the

satisfaction…..it really

doesn’t matter.

You see, you did not live

my life, it was not your

life. It was mine, my

siblings and Mi Mama’s

life. 

The Lord has helped me

find understanding,

forgiveness and peace.

Which is my wish for

you also.

Often we over look the

details, the itty bitty

beauty all around us

because we can not live

in the moment or we are

consumed with the

past. I don’t want to

lose the precious

moments of now to my

worries and live in a

haze.

After I returned from

Guadalajara with my

brother Steve (the year

fails me now). Mi Papá

wanted Steve and I to

help him return to the

United States to fight

for his Social Security

benefits.

Frankly, I was appalled

and pissed that he

would have the gall to

ask us to help him.

When I already felt we,

and by we I’m

specifically referring to

Mi Mama  had done so

much for him. My

mother who was born In

Chicago had “fixed his

papers” not anything I

take lightly. In addition

she loved him and gave

him her heart and soul

and he stomped on it, te

“vurlaste de ella!” To

enable him to work in

the USA. To give him an

opportunity at a new

life. To give his oldest

son Gregorio the

opportunity to be born

in the USA, what a

gift….. all due to

MI Mama. You should

be Thanking Her/Us for

what we did for you,

Gregorio! We gave you

the opportunity to live in

Missouri, this great

country. I could bet you

a million dollars you

couldn’t drag your

haughty (altanera,

arrogante, presumida )

esposa or children or

even yourself back to

Guadalajara to live,

could you? Eres un

malagradecido, como

mi Papá!

Nos debes dar Gracias,

por lo que izo Mi Mama

por ti, y por todo que

sufrimos nosotros aquí.

No debe uno ser tan

orgulloso y arrogante  y

debe uno ponerse de

rodillas y dar la Gracias

a Dios cada segundo de

cada día.  I have been

very civil and respectful

to the “Mexico family.”

And, they have also, but

I feel the underlying

unresolved tension.

December 21, 2018

Chapter Dos

Yo Fui Tu Primera-Y Fui Tu Consentida

Yo soy la primera nieta

en la familia de Mi Papá

y Mama.

Nosotros Fuimos tus

Primeros Hijos.

La neta, que en ves y

cuando me entra coraje

que nadien me/nos  

aviso que habías

muerto, no era su

decisión decidir!

Era nuestro derecho!

Acuérdense, todo se

paga en esta vida.

Por qué tanto miedo, o

rencór? Es todo un

juego de poder y lucha.

Y luego pienso….. Y

Que!

Pero, yo no deseo jugar.

I refuse to play games!

Yo que posible puedo

necesitar de ustedes?

Absolutamente, nada.

Mi Dios me lo a dado

todo y el me conseja y

me da  paz y

tranquilidad, yo ya me

avía despedid de ti,

Papá, la última vas que

te vi y escribí.

No hay necesidad de

despedir se dos

ves, verdad, Papá

Chapter Tres

“Mexico”

Era un hombre muy

guapo, no muy alto.  Era

Tapatío con ojos

bordados y patillas. My

father was on the

darker side with a

mustache.

“Tapatio” is used as an

adjective for anything

associated with

Guadalajara. It is

associated with the

town of Tepatilan,

Jalisco. A town in Los

Altos de Jalisco (The

Highlands of Jalisco)

which is a region not a

city.

Tapatios are typically

very light skin

and sometimes have

red hair or freckles.

Mi Abuelita was from

Los Altos de Jalisco.

She was very fair

skinned with natural

rosy  cheeks and very

natural beauty.

It is said that, las

mujeres más bellas del

mundo están en Los

Altos de Jalisco and in

her humble way took

pride in that claim.

Because Mi Abuelita,

had the money she

wore the pants.

The story goes that Mi

Abuelito, Francisco

(known as Pancho)

worked on Mi Abuelita’s

family ranch in Los

Altos. She had married

“the help.”

She had never

supported Mi Papa’s

decision to be in the

USA. She begged and

pestered him to return

to Guadalajara and he

did eventually. She told

Mi Papá she would help

him start his own

business, and she did.

The USA was never his

home and while here, he

would drink and beat Mi

Mama as if she

“represented all he

hated about the United

States” and to forget

where and why he was

here.

He was always trying to

find his way back to

Guadalajara.

And, in time he did and

started a “new family.”

When my brother, Mike

passed away in 1979.

Mi Papá who was in

Guadalajara did not

return to California for

his funeral. In the letter I

shared how crushed

and how I had relived

feelings of

abandonment.

How could you not

attend your own son’s

funeral? Unless

you were a cold

unfeeling human being.

My mother, Mis

Abuelitos and uncle’s

were our sole

supporters when he

abandoned us. Until Mi

Mama received

“welfare” for us. In the

letter I told him that the

United States

government  had

supported us when he

ran off to return to

Guadalajara, I told him

to forget about his

Social Security  benefits

and to consider it

payment for all the

years welfare had

supported us (when he

had abandoned us)!

To consider it a wash!

Frankly I was upset that

here he was fighting for

his money and what he

felt was due to him for

the years he worked

here in the USA. And, he

wanted to return to the

USA and fight for his

Social Security

benefits! But, yet he

couldn’t return to my

brother’s Mike funeral!

We had been on

welfare since he had

not supported us or

paid child support.

Following his same

narcissistic, “it’s

all about me” pattern.

I also stated that he

didn’t even know my

birthdate.

I know he didn’t like

what I had to say in the

letter, and I was fine

with that. And, I’m sure his wife,

Lupe, nor children liked what

I said!

Mi Papá was what I call

a Romantic Criminal,

they steal your money,

your time and your

dignity (but only if we

allow them).

I never heard from him

again and he died. We

were never notified by

the family in

Guadalajara that he

had passed! And,

perhaps that was his

request! But, I do feel

it was their

responsibility, out of

respect to us to let us

know our Papá had

died.

Many many years later,

I returned to visit my

Aunt and Uncle’s and I

learned from my

brother via text that I

was not welcomed, due

to “the letter!” Which

was upsetting to me,

since  I wasn’t going to

Guadalajara to visit

them, how

presumptuous of them!

I was going to

Guadalajara to visit my

Aunt and Uncles.

Growing up, I was

taught to not cry or

show any weakness;

as I started writing

my thought was to

always write from

strength and not allow

anyone to think of you

as weak or vulnerable.

“Do not air your dirty

laundry!”

As my strands of hair

silver and as autumn

draws on, I begin to

think that anyone’s

strength is only what

unites her or him to

everyone else in shared

experience, and often

vulnerability.

Chapter Cuatro

“My Lord”

The last thing I would

hate to appear is a

victim. I am not. I have

worked hard to forgive,

purge and heal. And

Thanks to Our Lord I

have. Through my Lord I

have learned to live life

as a victor over my

circumstances—not a

victim of them.

Of course things will

still pop up

occasionally, some very

good memories of Mi

Papá. But, when I think

of him usually it has to

do with feelings of

abandonment. I’ve

always known that I

need to heal the little

girl so she may grow

into a healthy woman. If

not you love from your

broken places.

As I draw closer to the

Lord I understand  I

was forgiven and

should forgive Mi Papá.

It’s as if sedimentary

layers are being peeled

back.

What I didn’t know

growing up and have

since learned.

When  we face a crisis,

that crisis becomes a

turning point. In every

crisis you will have a

breakthrough or

breakdown. The trouble

causes us to get bitter

or we trust God and get

better. I choose to

believe that God has

ordered my steps and

He’s going to work it for

my good. He’s working

it out. It will get better. I

am an overcomer!

I have always

questioned and

challenged hypocrisy

whether here, or

wherever!

None of us are without

guilt, for we have all

sinned and fallen short

of God’s glory. We’ve all

disobeyed God and hurt

other people. What,

then, can we do with

guilt? We can either

bear it ourselves, blame

someone else, or nail it

to the cross of Christ.

It is a walk we must all

go through

individually at our own

time, we all have our

cross to bear.

I am defined by my

victories, because I am

a child of God. I want to

be an Overcomer

conquering the greatest

obstacles in my life.

Chapter Cinco

“The Cycle Is Repeated”

I am baffled beyond

comprehension of

trying to make sense of

any of this….of my

father’s life and

death. Since, as of most

recent another similar    

issue arose within my

California Familia where

certain family members

are upset over a

misunderstanding of Mi

Mama’s funeral requests.

Seriously, before

jumping to conclusions,

talk it out. And while

we’re at it, let’s have

face to face

conversations. Anyone

can hide behind a

phone/text/email

passive/aggressive

rants, or while you’re

drunk and have liquid

courage! Or when you

know someone will be

calling you. So you have

your “speech” all

planned out!

Mi Mama era una mujer

muy sabia and she

raised no fools. Our

Lord has given us

clarity. My perceptive

intuition and God given

clarity tells me all this

pedo, es coraje y

caprichos de

mujeres (who have

never been respected)

by their husbands and

are “testing the waters”

and playing a power

game; because they

have never had a

voice!

You see these

characteristics

repeatedly repeated…..

where the wife of the

womanizing husband

sometimes becomes a

shopaholic (as her way

of control/retaliation).

But, an adult will look

you square in the eyes

and have a mature,

productive, and

healthy conversation.

The cycle continues by

man!

You know the way my

brain works I can’t

resist but wonder, Lord,

what is the connection

the correlation between

all this? That even in

death Mi Papá y

también Mi Mama have

left unresolved

questions and issues!

But, I do see the

difference also, Mi Papá

created all of his

unresolved questions

and issues where in Mi

Mama’s case “other

people” created the

problems and chismes!

Chapter Seis

The Pathology of Denial

and Avoidance 

I know this is true, but I

also know until we

search the heart, no

true healing,

restoration, or change

will ever occur. All

external “resolutions”

are mere ideas.

I know how this may

sound cliche, but I think

it’s accurate you can

not walk around the

pain, you must walk

through it!

But, my Lord tells

us in Jeremiah 29:11

11 For I know the plans I

have for you,” declares

the LORD, “plans to

prosper you and not to

harm you, plans to give

you hope and a future.

We also learn that lying

sows destruction, but

the truth is liberating.

The Bible says, “He who

covers his sins will not

prosper, but whoever

confesses and forsakes

them will have

mercy” (Proverbs

28:13). Live under the

blood of Christ and

above the reproach of

the world. Your guilt is

no match for His grace.

Isaiah 43:18 “Forget

about what’s

happened; don’t keep

going over old history. It

is time to move forward.

 

 

Abrazos y Besos

Thank You, Father

I May Not Be Your Type of Mexican!

September 25. 2019
Many of you know my
story, since my life has
been an open book.
I was brought up very
“Mexican,” or so I
thought. But, I was also
infused with a strong
dose of Americanism.
Mi Abuelita, Elena a short
strong woman wanted us
to never forget we were
Americans, but of
Mexican ancestry. Mi
Abuelita, Elena spoke
and read perfect English.
Although she was born
in Chihuahua, she moved
to Chicago at a very
young age.
She wanted us to know
our language, our culture
and to never forget
where we came from.
We spoke both English
and Spanish at home.
We listened to Mexican
and English tv and
music.
Baptized and raised  a
Catholic, we did not eat
meat on Friday. Attended
Catechism, I did my First
Communion and
Confirmation. And my
family worshipped La
Virgin de Guadalupe. We
ate Mexican food, but we
also ate spaghetti, fried
chicken, sandwiches,
chow mein, lamb, etc.
I grew up in a
predominantly small
Mexican community of
about 2,000 persons.
All were agricultural
workers, like my family.
When I was 12 years old I
and all the other Mexican
kids from Huron were
bussed about 20 miles
away to attend Jr. High
and High School in
Coalinga.
I felt comfortable in
Coalinga since Mi
Abuelitos had lived at
Polvadero Ranch half
way between Huron and
Coalinga. They
eventually ended up
moving to Coalinga. And,
we would frequent it
often to shop and visit
Mis Abuelitos.
I had spent my jr. and
senior year finding my
identity.
When I left home I was all
gun-ho for improving the
livelihood of myself and
all Mexicans. I also now
identified myself as a
Chicana.
I was the first in my
family to attend a four
year college
(Sacramento State
College was original
name and later became
Sacramento State
UniverIty. Which
turned out to six years
since I attended
graduate school,
after I graduated.
I lived every second of
the day for improving
people’s right not only
Chicanos, but I also
fought for the rights of
the handicapped at
Sacramento State
College. I hung out with
the “heavies” or the
“Chingones, “ the RCAF.
The Royal Chicano Art
Front. They were the
“Chicano Movimiento” at
Sacramento State
College.
They had been
instrumental in I
transferring from
Humboldt State College
to Sacramento State
College in 1971/72.
And, they had taken me
under there wings. They
assisted me in
everything. They
introduced me to other
Chicanas to guide me
along the way.
I viewed them as really
cool souls trying to help
me learn the ropes.
In retrospect I was a
“solidier” in training for
them.
Without re-living my
itinerary in college.
Which I couldn’t possibly
do due to my age. I
marched with Cesar
Chavez and Delores
Huerta for farmworker’s
rights, I spoke at the
Capital for educational
funding for Chicanos
while Ronald Reagan
was in office, I fought for
Chicana’s right, I
boycotted Coors beer
and grapes at Safeway
every Saturday, I was
heavily involved in
M.E.CH.A, we screen-
printed posters and t-
shirts for all our
functions,  recruited
potential Chicanos to
continue there education
at Sac State, there were
many needs and causes
we fought for and of
course we always
partied, we were young
college students.
All of this, while I still
maintained my grades.
In retrospect, I have very
fond memories of my
college years. I met some
wonderful people and
feel I accomplished
some good.
I do not believe in free
education or anything
else for that matter!
With the exception of
veterans, the
handicapped and the
elderly, being helped.
We owe it to them, not to
illegal immigrants!
Many will criticize me
and say you got yours,
now you don’t want
others to have a free
education. This is not
true; I had loans, grants
and a few small
scholarships, I always
worked part-time while  I
attended college.
And, in order to receive
my loans and grants I
had to maintain my
grades. I was not just
handed free money!
I think “giving” people
only enables and
teaches them to be lazy
and continue in the
mentality of learned
helplessness. People
should not depend on
the government!
I believe Individuals
should be admitted to
schools and jobs based
on their ability.
But, I now also see the
problems and faults
of what we called
the Chicano Movement.
I questioned why my
Chicano male professors
who lectured on racism,
oppression, and
victimization were
married to Anglo women
as they drove off campus
in their nice cars to their
upscale suburban homes
far away from the barrios
they claimed to
represent. I also
experienced having
several close classmates
who became pregnant
by these same
professors. This was
deeply disturbing to me
since most of these
young girls were from
small towns in the San
Joaquin Valley (like
myself) they were naive
to the ways of men and
homesick! These men
were older and I felt they
took advantage of
their vulnerability.
At, times, I too felt very
naive and vulnerable in
certain situations, but
Thank God for Mi Mama
being such a wise
woman. She had laid
a strong foundation and
always gave me good
advice and guided me. If
it had not  been for my
Lord’s protection I would
have not “made it!”
Yes, I marched, was
involved in walk-outs,
organized, held the
picket sign, chanted
Viva La Raza, and
Chicano Power!
I sang De Colores and
thought I was a
revolutionary. I had
friends who invited me to
go to Cuba with the
Venceremos Brigade,
while we wore Che
Guevara (a Marxist
revolutionary)t-shirts!
But, deep down I
felt that as a Chicana I
didn’t have an equal
voice to my brother’s,
all the while the women
did the majority of the
work.
Sound familiar?
The best line ever was
from my amiga, Yvonne
F. who said to me one
day, “Raquel, what
Chicano Movement? The
only movement I know
about is the bowel
movement I have every
morning!”
Ha! Crass as it sounds.
No truer words could
have been spoken!
She was absolutely
beautiful and intelligent.
She went on to law
school and became a
lawyer.
On the occasion, I
became disillusioned.
All I needed to do was
take a trip home and I
was quickly brought
back to reality of
what awaited me if I did
not succeed in college!
 I saw my life as a
fieldworker or as a
single mom sitting in the
bar with un chingo de
kids (a whole lotta kids)
crying into my beer
about the one who got
away or what could have
been!
I understand people
wanting a better
life. But, I do not believe
in just opening our
borders for security
reasons! You can’t just
waltz in here and do
as you please. I believe in
legal immigration!
Excerpt from the
magazine, Mexifornia,
By: Victor Davis Hanson
Spring 2002
city-journal.org
Mexico’s policy for a
half-century has been
the deliberate and illegal
export of millions of its
poorest citizens to the
United States, which is
expected to educate,
employ, and protect
them in ways not
possible at home. Only
that way has the
chronically corrupt
Mexican government
avoided a revolution, as
its exploited underclass
from Oaxaca or the small
hamlets of the Sierra
Madre Mountains
headed north, rather
than marching en masse
on Mexico City.
I have “lived” the
immigration experience
all of my life.
Mi Papá was an illegal
and Mi Mama fixed his
papers. My father’s
father was involved in
the Bracero Program.
So I am well aware of the
issues.
I saw this in my own
town of Huron. Where
the majority of
fieldworkers I met were
from Oaxaca.
I have seen where
immigrants not only
want, but demand  free
education, welfare,
drivers licenses, health
care and the list goes on
and on, and  I am
appalled!
I became a Christian and
I no longer wanted
anything to do with the
Virgin de Guadalupe
(since I would be
worshipping idols.
Somewhere along my life
I did not want to be a
hyphenated Mexican-
American and decided I
was an American first
and foremost. I may not
be your type of Mexican!
Truthfully, at this age in
my life I do not aim to
please anyone, but my
Lord, and my husband. I
do not have a need to fit
into a particular
category, like when I was
19 years old.
I grew up and matured
and my thinking has
changed from some of
my beliefs of the past.
I see people who have
not grown, adults who
think they are still
teenagers.  They are
locked into the past and
have not grown or
developed. I see the
quasi wanna be
Pachuco. Or in their
minds think they are still
low-riding the boulevard
con su mota, cerveza y
playing Sad Girl.
Thank God He has
opened my eyes and
offered me clarity to see
the hypocrisies.
We all change, well at
least I hope we do.
In college I thought
Planned Parenthood was
an okay agency. Once I
became a Christian I
abhor it! And consider
abortion murder.
And, finally you may say I
sold out. I did not, I am
very comfortable in my
own skin. I know who I
am, what I believe, and
where I stand. I am
honored and grateful to
have been born an
American and I feel I live
in the best country
possible.
All of my  diverse and
rich experiences have
made me the strong
woman I am today
and I just want to Thank
my Lord.
Abrazos y Besos
Thank You, Father

Membrillos y Cajeta de Membrillo


September 13, 2019

I received an e-mail 

from Nativa, a 

beautiful line of Fair 

Trade clothes from 

Mexico. They are 

celebrating  September 

16,  and mention

nopales and quince in a 

fashion color context. 

I had not thought about 

quince (membrillo) for 

years. 

Mis Abuelitos had an 

árbol de membrillo in 

their backyard on Apple 

Street in Huron,

California. I recall the 

little blooms, their 

fuzzy skin and sweet 

scent of pineapple. 

As a child I didn’t 

understand them; it 

wasn’t a pear nor an 

apple. I didn’t like the 

astringent flavor

and I didn’t see any 

redeeming quality in 

them since I couldn’t 

eat them right off the 

tree, like other fruits. 

They were deceiving.

But, when Mi Abuelita,

Elena and Aunt Lupe 

made quince jelly. I’d go 

crazy for it. The jelly 

and paste were our 

candy and such a treat 

as children,  incredibly I 

still find that same joy 

as a grown woman. 

They would buy the 

quince paste at the 

Mexican markets in 

Fresno or they would 

bring back from Mexico 

on there occasional 

trips.

It is sweet and tart at 

the same time.  It

wasn’t  until much later 

I had it paired with 

Manchego cheese, a 

Spanish cheese made 

from unpasteurized 

sheep’s milk and one 

of my favorites. It is the 

perfect marriage of 

balance.

I recall in the wine 

industry, Manchego 

cheese and Cajeta de 

Membrillo were a 

common pairing at  Hug Cellars

and other wine events. 

Enjoy,

Thank You, Father

Abrazos y Besos

Frijoles, Arroz y Jesus Christ

June 10, 2019

Cuando as llorado 

como yo y tus 

hermanas te llaman La 

Llorona.

Las lagrimos se vuelven 

a sangre, que escurren 

en cuajarones de 

penas, sobre mi cuerpo.

De nina llore por mi 

papa y hoy por mi gente 

y por el mundo de ver 

tanto sufrimiento.

It pains me to see the 

homeless, to hear of 

child abuse, domestic 

violence, substance 

abuse, human 

trafficking 

como ruido volcánica 

en mi panza. 

Mi cabeza llena de 

caracoles  y estos 

caracoles tienen voz, 

gritan

y los huelo  

pudriandose, 

es un dolor muy 

profundo

oigo los huesos tronar 

como relampagos.

Yo marche, pelea, y 

luche  en los 70’s, por 

mejores derechos de 

humanidad

por mujeres

trabajos

igualdad y 

representación en 

todos sectos y niveles. 

I wanted to build not 

destroy.

Many years later……

I’ve had an epiphany

I wonder why? Por que 

luche?

Por muchos 

malagradecidos 

(ungrateful).

Silly me I thought, I was 

not only opening doors, 

pero tumbando 

puertas!

I see people 

demanding, I 

repeatedly hear “that 

they are owed.” A 

sense of entitlement of 

that degree is a 

sociopath trait!

No one owes us 

anything. Every second 

is a gift, from our Lord. 

Embrace it. 

Estoy de acuerdo, this 

country was built by 

immigrants. But, I do 

not agree with rioting, 

burning, destroying, 

demanding your way 

into a country. We 

selected this country 

voluntarily, because we 

enjoy our rights and 

freedom here. But, you 

want to change it to 

satisfy your needs? The 

significance of this 

population cannot be 

ignored in American 

society. What do we do 

with 11 to 12 million 

undocumented 

workers. 

I want you to know I 

speak from personal 

experience. I have lived 

the immigration 

experience, this is not 

something I have read 

about. And, I agree the 

majority of immigrants 

are great people in 

search of a better life.

But, growing up I saw

the lies, of “getting over 

the man mentality,” the 

cheating of the system,  

people receiving two or 

more government 

checks under different 

names.  I saw it all; the 

crimes and criminal 

behaviors.

Me parte el Corazon, to 

see the level of violence 

on TV, to see the hate, 

rage and violence. Your 

anger is misdirected! 

We need to engage in 

communication not 

destruction!

Defenders always try to 

present themselves as 

compassionate people 

who care for the 

underprivileged. They 

characterize Capitalism 

as a dog-eat-dog 

system that produces 

inequities, with great 

disparities between the 

rich and the poor.

I believe in helping 

people in need or the 

poor.  I give to 

organizations, 

churches and social 

welfare organizations 

that provide food and 

clothing. 

But, I do so “willingly” 

as an expression of my 

love of Jesus. No one 

forces me to do so. And, 

that is the key 

difference. I do not 

want government to 

“force” me to do so!

As my strands of hair 

turn silver I’d rather 

focus on my 

relationship with my

Lord, grow herbs, cook

and travel with Mi 

Corazon.

I long of smelling the 

sweet aromas of wet 

rain, of sweet lavender 

fields and freshly 

mowed grass……. of 

people coexisting 

happily and respecting 

each other.

Not, caracoles 

pudriéndose  en mi 

cabeza.

The Lion of Serengeti or When Machismo Becomes Violent!

August 13, 2019

I was twelve years old, and the men were lined up against the street, near Lassen Market vterbally harassing me with catcalls in Spanish, “oye Chula que bonita estas” as I walked rapidly to run errands for Mi Mama en route to the grocery store or post office.
They looked at me as if I were a juicy steak instead of an innocent child. Continue on next page….