Last night I had the pleasure of doing a reading of three short stories at Notre Dame de Namur University in Belmont. The audience of mostly students were amazingly attentive and after the reading came up and asked great questions, talked about their own struggles with writing, and told me about how the details of my Latina characters meant something to them.
I knew what they meant. I’ve grown very fond of a few characters in my short fiction that are loosely based on the old grumpy Mexican grandfathers in my life and their various eccentricities (like wearing socks with flip flops around the house , for example).
I also enjoyed the eclectic presentation and reading of my former professor and friend Zack Rogow, for making me revisit some poetic masterpieces that I’d not heard in awhile. It was a great evening over all.
I was struck by comments students made about my stories and their interest. I then woke up as we do these days to Trump America and campuses being raided by ICE agents for DACA kids. I just don’t understand the fear these luddites have over brown kids getting an education. What’s it to them? In my town of Greenville so many are proud to NOT get an education–so it’s not that brown kids are ‘taking’ an education away from white kids. What is it then? I needed a break from Greenville.
It was a great thing to witness such a diverse student body. It’s hard to even fathom the hatred right now.
It’s Thursday morning. The wind whipped itself through Northern California something fierce. I’m waiting out the storm with coffee and a view out my friend’s window in Russian Hill. I really needed an infusion of San Francisco——even though SF is only a shadow of its former self–still it was enough to make me feel whole and hopeful.
North Beach coffee and breakfast awaits.
Throwing Chanclas 