By Maria de la Luz Reyes
Like most children, I never knew I was poor when I was growing up. All my classmates lived in the same barrio as I did. On the surface, there weren’t many differences among us—except maybe for one family, whose father owned the local tiendita.
Our school uniforms blurred our economic differences. Girls wore white blouses, navy blue pleated skirts and white socks with black and white saddle oxfords. Boys wore khaki pants and shirts, a blue necktie and black shoes. No one seemed to be better dressed than any another.
One late November afternoon, however, when I was playing marbles with my twin brothers and their friends, the word “poor” began to take on a new meaning. We were several yards away from the end of the Santa Fe Yard section houses where we lived. Suddenly, I noticed Miss Kelley’s black Chevrolet car drive up. Miss Kelley didn’t live in the barrio, but we all knew she was the Director of Catholic Charities. I had often accompanied Mamá to her office to get clothing, shoes and winter coats for me, and my siblings.
By John Rosales, Hispanic Link News Service
My tio Lalo was proud of the Jesus portrait tattooed across his chest. He also had the Virgen strategically scratched on his left arm, where her colored garments and rosary beads hid needle marks left from shooting heroin.
Another tio, Oscar, proudly wore the insignia of the U.S. Navy on his forearm. These tios were my introduction to the ancient art of tattooing. It was the 1960s. Though still in grade school, I knew tattoos were taboo.
The only tattoo parlor I knew in San Antonio was on the seedy side of town. It shared a rundown city block with a liquor store and strip club. When one of my tios told me the ink-scarring procedure “hurt like hell,” I decided tattoos were not for me.
By Juniper Rose, Hispanic Link News Service
Three members of the 435-member U.S. House of Representatives — one the child of immigrant parents from Portugal, another with Puerto Rican and Mexican inlaws and a third who called Cuba home until she was eight years old — have broken ranks with fellow Republicans and joined 186 House Democrats to sign on as sponsors to a bill that would open the door for 11.7 undocumented residents now living here to apply for U.S. citizenship.
Some immigration reform advocates say they expect the actions to motivate more Republican representatives to follow suit, particularly those at risk of losing their seats because they will be viewed as biased against the newcomers, most of whom are from Latin America.
By José de la Isla, Hispanic Link News Service
MEXICO CITY – I am talking with Patssi Valdez over a coffee at Café Delirio, on Álvaro Obregon Avenue. She is here this week giving a workshop at the University Museum of Contemporary Art. She ponders a question raised by a Mexican student.
What has become of the Chicano Art Movement? she is asked. Why is she, as an artist, not guided by it still?
The student, like others in the workshop, follows trends, movements, knows the history and significance of the protests and how art responded to those social events. But he wants to know, why is it flagging now?
Alianza Metropolitan News/New America Media , News Feature, Gerardo Fernandez , Posted: Oct 29, 2013
SAN JOSE, Calif.--Maria Lacayo's mother was diagnosed with dementia 13 years ago, and soon after with Alzheimer's. Since then, Maria has taken care of her Mom nonstop, every day, at their home in San Mateo. Seven years ago, her caregiving demands intensified after her mother suffered a stroke.
More than once, physicians warned that Lacayo’s mother might be living her last days. Regardless, of that, Maria never thought about sending her mother to a nursing home, assisted living facility or a hospice. After the stroke, doctors said she would live only for three months.
“She is in a wheelchair, and I take care of her 100 percent. She cannot do absolutely anything, not even eat, or take her pills,” said Lacayo, who came from Nicaragua 22 years ago to the United States.