Nene and Only One

I grew up with my uncle Frankie's kids, you know the uncle that would rip off all my doll heads and taunt me with their burned carcasses. He had 4 children 3 boys and one girl. His oldest two boys Nene and Only One as he called them were cute little trouble makers from the start. They once ganged up on me when they were about 3 and 4 years old and attacked me with shoes and hangers. I beat that ass later when I man handled the 4 year old to the ground and held him in a wresting pose ( I was 17 at the time) I might have drop kicked the 3 year old. They would beg to come in my room so I could tell them stories and play dress up (Yes these boys loved to play dress up). Nene always had a shaved head big brown eyes and olive skin. He would love to do karate moves and he would hate when I called him Xena Warrior Princess and yell "I yayayayaya". Only One had a straight bowl cut hair style with the same big brown eyes and olive skin. When they looked at you, you couldn't help but melt. I once caught them both with my pet fish in their mouths. I was so upset as they killed Lenny and Phil but then they looked at me with those big brown eyes,  I melted ( I think I still kicked Only One in the butt). When Frankie passed away suddenly they were lost and heartbroken. I did my best to stay apart of their lives but it seemed the more I tried the less they responded. They became teenagers in Richmond, CA and were associated with a family with a not so pleasant past. They found themselves paying for mistakes they didn't make but rather my brothers, cousins, and uncles made. They were forced to make decisions many wouldn't understand if you did not grow up in that environment. Imagine seeing your mother held at gun point, or being placed in hand cuffs in a house raid before your were 10 years old. I had gone through all of it and witnessed it all first hand and wanted so desperately to keep them from the life that entices you to "Try to make a dolla out of 15 cents". I scolded my brothers and cousins to keep Frankie's kids safe. I mean this is the uncle that was more like a brother who saw more in me and wanted more for me and would do the same for his children. I felt lost and confused that it seemed no one wanted to protect them from this life. I would hear stories and get calls from the Nene and Only One about getting into trouble and even being shot at and doing the same to protect themselves. I wait for the call when they tell me they are not coming back from the things they have done or have been done to them. Recently they are both serving time for very serious charges and pray that they are set free and are able to one day see what I see in them the handsome sweet, intelligent, giving young men they are and the men their father wanted them to be. I love you always Nene and Only One and you will always be the little boys I man handled when I was 17 years old (remember that? Yeah I thought so sucka).

Trabajando

A Planned Attack

All the recent presidential arguments about a woman's reproductive system has me a bit worried that we can actually revert to a time which access to women specific health care was illegal. The argument to life seems to be the main issue but why defund a program like Planned Parent Hood that has not only provided women education on preventive services but also access to health care that don't only include legal abortions (this is only a minor service they provide) but rather regular check ups and screenings for STI's. While we like to think everyone can afford and has access to a regular doctor but considering our economy is in the dumps and even the middle class has fallen into a depression, health care has become to expensive and far reaching for many. Women's bodies are special in the sense we can re-produce life and also take it by forcing a men to actually crash their car turning their head to catch a glimpse of it. We have to take care of this god given gift and seek professional maintenance. It is shameful that today women are still under attack by conservative groups (mostly men) who feel they have the right to make decisions over issues they are so far removed from. Domestic violence, sexual assault, being treated as 2nd class citizens is still such a major issue all over the world yet we continue to turn a blind eye. Hearing Newt Gingerich and Mitt Romney make comments about being pro-life and supporting his decision even in instances of rape and incest shows how out of touch they are with real issues plaguing women all over the world. At one time I worked in an organization for sexual assault one of the survivors was a young girl who was raped by her father and she bore his child. She was not aware organizations like Planned Parent Hood existed as she was new to the US and abortions where she was from were illegal. She sought our services for on going therapy for this traumatic situation she would have to live with for the rest of her life. I wonder what Newt would say if he ever met her. To deny women access to basic screenings and preventative services would force us back into the dark ages when women did their own home procedures and risked infection and even death. We cannot go back to this time nor can we support groups who seek to take the rights of women away.

The In-Laws are coming!

Palace of Fine Arts

 

I took a couple extra days off this weekend to prepare for the festivities. I knew it would be a long weekend filled with family, lots of food, disagreements about food, and long discussions about respect and these damn youngsters. I like to sit back and observe. It's always best to stay out of the way while your elders are at play. We hosted a lunch and figured out our maximum capacity was 12 as the apartment was filled with family. I made my famous chicken dish, the secret is simple, chicken roasted with Achiote paste. After we took them to explore our local neighborhoods. The lights were bright and the air was calm as we walked along the Mission district. Boo Thing's aunt was shocked by all the homeless sleeping near city buildings and even under ATM machines. She got asked for change and when she refused the panhandler asked for her phone number instead, we all had a laugh but the panhandler was deeply hurt and rejected. We were bombarded by hipsters and local drunks yelling across the street at other intoxicated pedestrians rather than having a face to face conversation. I was hoping not to run into any nudist on the street since we would never hear the end of why we choose to move to such a god forsaken place. I enjoyed the stories of their past and how they envisioned their lives would be at this stage and the praises to god for their fortunes and even misfortunes as it got them to be were they are today. The next day we went to Pac Heights for lunch at my favorite place, Pizzeria Delfina--try the mozzarella in carozza. We also checked out a local vintage shop. If you can imagine my mother in law and Boo Thing's Aunt and Uncle who are pretty conservatively dressed and in the retirement stage looking at 'hipster garb', leather coats, and funky eye wear. At one point we both looked at each other in amazement as they really seemed to be enjoying themselves. We actually had to drag out Boo Thing's uncle as he was on the hunt for a vintage leather jacket attempting to relive his youth. Our last stop was the Palace of Fine Arts, we took a stroll through the massive dome and watched the ducks play. I got scolded for not bringing chai or foreseeing that we might need it at some point in the afternoon excursion (Damn Mexican in-laws). As we left the Palace of Fine Arts and drove through the Castro I spotted a lone nudist walking up a hill with a leather cowboy hat as my mother in law looked in the same direction, I held my breath watching her not noticing him, phew close call.  A sense of calm came over me as I watched the nudist walk off into the sunset, it was in some way the culmination of the trip. They all thanked Boo Thang and I for the lovely tour of truly one of the best cities in the world (I would like to take most credit, being a native of the Bay). "Anytime", I said, letting the words slip from my lips and my Boo Thang glaring at me with the look he gets when his favorite team loses some sports final. The in-laws are coming. Till next time.

Marcus

Yes I used a pic of Kid Cudi

In elementary school I would sometimes walk to and from school. My brothers and I would also take a cab, not because we had money but one of my brothers had gotten robbed on the way to school and my Granny was afraid to have us walk. Back in those days it only cost us about $3.50 in a cab to get to school since it was only about a mile and half away.  My older brother would often ditch school and walk an opposite way and I would be forced to walk alone.  Marcus was a young boy at school. He was much larger than all the other kids.  Marcus was not like the rest of the kids from school. He had special classes and would often cross personal boundaries. He had no control over the things he said and slurred his words. People would make fun of Marcus, called him awful and hurtful names like, retard, dumb, crazy, perverted, and faggot.  Marcus would yell and cry and sometimes ignore the bullies. I silently protested against their treatment of Marcus but never had the courage to say anything. One day I found myself walking home with Marcus. We were on opposite sides of the street at first and eventually on the same side. This became somewhat of a regular occurrence. He would ask random questions as if I had all the answers. We talked about our favorite colors, food, teachers, and cartoons.  Marcus also had a great imagination and his mind would wonder about all sorts of things and he would often talk about the sky and what kind of things filled it. He also talked about what he wanted to grow up to be and asked about my aspirations. At school Marcus would wave hello and say, "Hi Francis", and I would ignore him. The friends I had at school didn't really care whether I was friends with Marcus but in my own head I thought the world was staring at me and couldn't be seen saying hi to the resident pariah at school. When we walked together after school he wouldn't say anything and immediately forgave me for being such a bad friend that only was his friend on days we walked home from school. Marcus and I eventually stopped walking home together and went to separate schools. After many years of not seeing him and becoming an adult I saw Marcus. I was to embarrass to say hello, embarrass for not standing up to those bullies and not publicly proclaiming my friendship with Marcus, and I also thought he wouldn't remember me. Marcus stepped right in front of me and said, "Hi Francis", not missing a beat carried on walking like we were back on the play ground at Stege Elementary School. I was pretty astonished he remembered me, It was a pretty amazing moment and I responded, "Hello Marcus", the first time publicly acknowledging I knew him and shared a friendship. Marcus had nothing to be ashamed of as he was always my friend and reminded me of my own faults I so desperately wish I could go back and change. I have not seen him since but if I do I hope to say hello.

Don't be chasing that dolla.

I sometimes have dreams of one day owning a mansion and maybe a small monkey.  Although I boast about simplifying your life I sometimes cannot help trying to keep up with the Jones' or at least achieving that ultimate goal of having it all. I am not sure what having it all really means or when I have reached it. Is there some sort of finish line you cross when you get  there? Some auntie who is known for scrutinizing everything waiting there with a smile and accolades? Or maybe a self satisfying smug and moment of Aha. I have been caught up with working hard lately and maybe not enjoying my life enough, I usually put off relaxing and taking a moment for the next day. I have also noticed lately I look a bit shabby and tired, bags so large I look Raccoonish. My Boo Thang being the loving life partner that he is told me I looked homeless (Not that all homeless people look tired and run down and yes why wouldn't they, they are f***ing homeless for god sake they have larger issues to worry about). I know I get all preachy at times and shell out generic phrases that include, live for today and enjoy life but I often forget to enjoy my own and don't take a moment to smell the poop on the sidewalk our neighbors dog left behind (Damn you Bebe!, the neighbors Poodle). Thanks Little Dragon for reminding us that happiness does not revolve on that all mighty dolla. 

Uncle Lupe

It's a new year and time to keep all the promises we put off yesterday. I don't think I made myself any promises or promises to anyone else this year or the last. The way I see life is ever changing and in those famous cliche words why put off something tomorrow what you can do today. My uncle Lupe passed away yesterday morning. He's my Granny's brother. They looked like twins hobbling about in their semi Afro hair styles. He was born in Waco Texas but lived in Lubbock, Texas.  He was hard working and short in stature, jet black hair and looked like a character from Good Fellas, one of those old Italian uncles with slick back hair. You could see the hard life he lived on his face, deep lines and red from the sun and a soft smile that hid stories you only read about. He was soft spoken, caring, and strong. You would have no idea he did over 20 years in prison. He would visit often from Texas from a small town where work comes cheap and struggle runs deep, a struggle so different from my own and I couldn't comprehend but at least tried to understand. Before he got sick he planned on moving back to California with his only surviving sibling my Granny. He had only one daughter he lost to the streets long ago and was never married. Uncle Lupe had many tattoos but the one that stood out most to me was a list of women tattooed on his arm. I asked him one day why he had a list of women's names on his arm, he said he got one girlfriends name and when he broke up with her the new one got upset so the names just kept adding on. I thought his answer was pretty funny and honest. He would take us to school in an old white Chevy with a hole in the bottom you could see straight through to the pavement.  He was so proud to come to California find work and reclaim his Independence as he was far from Lubbock at the time. He would sit with us and tell us stories about ghost and his life experiences. He once said he walked in a house sat on a bed and felt the presence of a ghost passing by and sitting next to him making the impression of another human body on the bed. One thing Uncle Lupe was not known for was lying and when he told that story he even had chills on his arm. That story stays with me till this day. I will miss uncle Lupe's smile his expression when I took him on his first trip to the big city and he took a step back as we walked out to Union Square and he stood there for a few moments in awe and you could see the wonder on his face in great appreciation for the splendor of the world around him, something I take for granted daily he took in with amazement. I hope wherever he his he is in peace and he knows the world misses him, his gentleness, his experiences, his knowledge, and true appreciation for life I could only aspire to have.  I am so fortunate to have come across such a gentle small giant, my uncle Lupe.