If the spirit moves you, please donate to keep this blog going (think of it as a tip jar — like what you read? tip me…)
Teaching about Aztlan isn’t easy. Neither is teaching writing. People tend to associate writing with mean teachers who couldn’t be pleased and so they tense up at just the thought. Plus. most people haven’t heard anything about the Chicano Movement… Continue Reading →
It’s tough to want health for someone we love when he or she isn’t well. We pray and wish and hope that somehow health will overtake sickness in a blink of an eye. And when that sickness is addiction, our… Continue Reading →
If you asked one hundred people who know me, I’m willing to place a large bet that you’ll get one hundred different answers. I guess it’s that way: people know each other through some role or another through which they… Continue Reading →
In the barrio where I grew up, we called ourselves, Chicanos. I always believed that was what I was: A Chicano kid. I had no idea growing up that there isn’t any real such thing as a Chicano. I came… Continue Reading →
It’s been thirty-one (31) years since my grandmother passed away. When I think of her, I still become choked up and how much my family and I lost with her passing. She was my family’s cornerstone and when cancer took… Continue Reading →
It’s rare that I’m among the first boarding group on any flight. I’m unlucky that way: Usually, no matter how early I try to check in, I end up towards the back of an airplane. I’ve gotten used to it… Continue Reading →
I sit back and wonder: Could this have happened to anyone other than a Chicano kid who grew up in what amounted to the projects in Santa Fe, NM who happened to get a Commodore 64 for Christmas? I mean,… Continue Reading →
Someone could easily criticize the work I do as: “all talk no action.” The thing is, generally, people don’t really make changes in their lives unless they come to see that the road they’re on is too difficult to walk… Continue Reading →
Down deep, he wanted anyone to see him on his bathroom floor, just so that someone could see that he hurt too much to even sit or lie down in comfort. He wanted his mom, his dad, or even, his… Continue Reading →
If the spirit moves you, please donate to keep this blog going (think of it as a tip jar — like what you read? tip me…)
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