I had a happy childhood. We were poor (and I didn’t know it) but most of memories from childhood (minus some dark and damaging secrets which I will write about at another time) are ones that bring a smile to my face. I am the middle child. My parents had three girls. Jessica, Jennifer (me) and [...]
Archive for the ‘family’ Category
Somos Latinos I
Posted in Central & South America, Immigrants, Latino, Memories, New York City, Panama, Writing, black people, family, grandma on June 18, 2007 | 1 Comment »
Remembering II: Snapshots (Cuando nos vamos, adonde va las fronteras?)
Posted in Central & South America, Journal, Memories, Panama, family on September 17, 2006 | Leave a Comment »
One day I will write in detail about what it was like growing up in Drew Hamilton Projects in Harlem, N.Y. It was an experience I would not have traded with any other kid in the world and I learned more about life and the cultural experience of humans in my old neighborhood than I [...]
Remembering
Posted in Funny, Society & Culture, Writing, family, week of truth on August 16, 2006 | 2 Comments »
I am young, but I used to be younger. When I was younger I thought that (the rapper) Method Man and I had a chance at a life together. I was beyond what most would call a “tomboy;” I was a young man with a pair of tits and no penis. In his video “All [...]
Grandma’s advice on men
Posted in Funny, Humor, Writing, black folk, black people, family, grandma on August 8, 2006 | 3 Comments »
Sidenote: Sade can sing to any facet of love or inadequacy.
Above is a picture of my grandmother wearing my blue wig. She never even knew we put it on her. She is 75 years old now and in the early stages of Alzheimer’s. She has six daughters. She has twelve grandchildren and four great-grandchildren. She [...]
Ella esta enferma/A mountain of grits
Posted in Journal, The South, Writing, black folk, black people, family on August 1, 2006 | Leave a Comment »
I always knew that my sister was sick. The three of us were never close as children. Perhaps it was because we were all six years apart. (She and I are seven years apart; my younger sister and I are five years apart.) My mother told me stories of how her first born was the [...]
