Redondo Peak, New Mexico
Saturday, May 07, 2005
you were a dark horse
sniffing breath of cold mesa air
always outside of your people
and the smell of burning sage
yours was the shrub oak
and the juniper
sweet smelling prayer
lifting your hands filled with
life-mud and singing
to greet the dawn
your tears were drops of the deer's blood
sacrifice to your memory
a lament for the mountain stream
that every winter went into icy death
and you moved into solitude
i dont cry over you
your spirit became a drumskin,
streched tight and lovingly over
the hopes of your people
we make your music
sniffing breath of cold mesa air
always outside of your people
and the smell of burning sage
yours was the shrub oak
and the juniper
sweet smelling prayer
lifting your hands filled with
life-mud and singing
to greet the dawn
your tears were drops of the deer's blood
sacrifice to your memory
a lament for the mountain stream
that every winter went into icy death
and you moved into solitude
i dont cry over you
your spirit became a drumskin,
streched tight and lovingly over
the hopes of your people
we make your music
Monday, May 02, 2005
Review #1 - Back in the Day
*** This post has been in the works for a while. Actually, it is the trial run of an idea that I hope will take wings and develop into a long term mainstay of the L.A. basin urban ministry blog culture. Ok, well maybe not, but that would be cool. Thanks to Tina and some others who gave positive feedback on my last foray into music review writing, I have decided to begin writing regular (or as regular as I can) music reviews.
Reasons:
1. I love music, I have obscene amounts of it, and if I had not chosen the better life that Jesus offers, my life would be absorbed by the minutia, trivia, eclectica (is that a word?) of every genre and sub-sub-genre that I could devote my time, money and energy exploring/discovering.
2. I love letting people in on worlds that I and my close friends/musical kindred spirits enjoy—albeit from a rather elitist position. I want my friends of all walks of life to be able to understand what it is that has compelled me, beyond reason, to accumulate so much material and knowledge about something that to many is just entertainment. Feel me on this. I’m letting you in on a little piece of Me.
3. I love to write. Reviews are just another genre that I am excited about reviving my talents into the service of. (Please note in the last sentence that talking about review writing was another opportunity for me to use the word ‘genre.’ We music types love to use that word because it makes us feel like we know what we’re talking about.)
Seriously though, I write reviews for my high school newspaper, and its been a while.
4. Admit it, you want me to.
I hope that this will be a cool thing for people to read. Part of my purpose in doing this is not to make a bunch of articles that are only accessible to music snobs. My reviews will provide background info, and will not be strictly confined to the musical aspect of the songs/artists I am reviewing. Being the true historian/social scientist that I was trained to be, I will connect songs/artists/genres to the wider political, philosophical, social, folk, economic, spiritual context out of which they come. This will add some depth, hopefully, and pique the interest of people who thirst for the answer to the question “What does it all mean, anyway?”
So, without further adoo, here is my first review.
Ahh…back in the day…. You know that feeling. That feeling you get when you think back to a time when things were simpler, care-free—almost serene in its youthful exuberance. It is more than a feeling, more than a collection of memories. It is a philosophical reflection on a time and place that you came from. A time and place that was yours, and it was good.
When we say ‘back in the day’ we mean something different than when we day, ‘back when…’ or ‘a long time ago.’ You took algebra back when you were in 8th grade. You read Charlotte’s Web a long time ago. But you rocked tube socks with the 3 red stripes and a polo with the alligator on the front back in the day. You sent notes in Language Arts class to your middle school crush back in the day. You first heard that one song, the song that all your homegirls and you would dance to through high school when it was just you and them and one of you had just found out that the guy you liked was in love with a girl you hated—back in the day… Back in the day is a state of mind--almost, I would venture to say, a culture.
I was reminded of this the other day when I went into Jason’s apartment and saw Arturo and Juan, two youth from our neighborhood, listening to the song “Back in the Day” by Ahmad. My first reaction, as is always the case when I hear a song that connects me so much to my past and is such a fixture in my music pantheon, was pure glee. Immediately after that, though, I was surprised. It is not a song that I would have expected to come out of the heavily 2Pac-Baby Bash-Thug Imitator saturated speakers of our group of youth. But then I realized, no—this is “Back in the Day.” This song, regardless of its mid-90’s dated-ness, is expressive of something much deeper and connected to the experience of our youth than your average booty-shaker club joint on the radio.
It is probably not accurate to say that Ahmad’s song brought this phrase or its mentality to the mainstream. Like many aspects of hip hop culture, ‘back in the day’ originated in the murky, untraceable past of a culture and a movement that was always in a state of recreating itself under the radar of national, media, or mainstream attention. In our generation, this phrase is only one of dozens to have been wrenched from the hip hop lexicon into mainstream vernacular. Aggressive commercialism and the American fetish for things ‘ghetto’ (read: ‘authentic’ Black culture) have thrust many cultural forms and expressions into more widespread (mis)use.
Nevertheless, the spirit of ‘back in the day’ survives, wherever people get that smile, look up into the distance and think back to that one time…
It was summer, 1994. West Coast rap was firmly on top. After several years in the 1980s and early 1990s of pushing through an era of eccentricity, creative plurality and self-definition, West Coast hip hop was finally beginning to have a definable sound all its own—for better or for worse. West Coast rap had begun mainly as an imitation of East Coast party rap. There was a playful, carefree vibe—but also an unpolished, less sophisticated and nuanced sound as compared to the New York scene, which was already old enough to have an ‘old school’ by the mid 80’s. By the early 1990s, West Coast rap had diversified, but its character, its essence, had yet to be defined. You had the proto-gangster stylings of Ice-T and King Tee. You had the Tribe-Called-Quest-esque, but grittier poetics of the Pharcyde. And from the Bay Area, you had artists as diverse as pimp-a-listic Too Short, the raucous and playful Digital Underground, and the glossy, Rick-James-jocking crossover hit, MC Hammer.
Depending on who you ask, this was either the golden age of West Coast rap, or the dark ages. In any case, everyone agrees that with the rise of gangsta rap, everything would completely change.
N.W.A. released Straight Outta Compton in 1989. Dr. Dre, Eazy E and Ice Cube would all later become definitive and crucial influences in crafting the California sound and blowing it up for the whole world to hear: G-funk. (ironically, Dr. Dre, the father of G-Funk, had started out with a really pathetic Gheri-curl-ass-80’s-glam-funk-wannabe Rick James-pseudo hip hop group called the World Class Wrecking Cru—a fact that would later haunt him after he had a falling out with Eazy E and Eazy used it to seriously ‘bag’ on him on record) Anyway, by 1994, G-funk was certified platinum bling bling—rap sales skyrocketed and a generation of suburbanites was exposed to the lifestyle of gang violence, misogyny, 40’s, blunts, and all that drama in the LBC. Most of all, Cali was King.
This was around the time when I began listening to hip hop, so it will always hold a special place in my heart. Dr. Dre’s The Chronic(the quintessential and most defining G-funk record) had already been out for a couple years, and I had missed that wave. However, Snoop Doggy Dogg’s debut, Doggystyle and Warren G’s Regulate: G-Funk Era were bangin. Also key at that time was Bone Thugs & Harmony, the brainchild of Eazy E. There were even a few Bay Area acts that were contributing their own flavor to the rise of Gangster-funk.
It was 7th grade for me. I was immersing myself as much as I could in this new, gritty wave of creativity washing over from the West. One day, I forget when it was exactly, this song came on…a little different from the rest, but immediately I loved it and I knew it would be with me for a long time. I never actually learned who the artist was until years later, but the mellow 70’s style groove and the smoothly-finessed sentimental chorus had me hooked:
Back in the days when I was young
I’m not a kid anymore
But some days I sit and wish I was a kid again…
The chorus was repeated, and then an awkward teenage-like voice came in with a story- like flow talking about what it was like to be just a little kid growing up in South Central.
Ya’ll remember way back then,
when it was 1985, all the way live
I think I was about ten….
First of all, this was not G-Funk. It may even have been G-Funk-lite (a-la Montel Jordan or Coolio), but who knows. The character of this music was not hyper-masculine posturing, or smoky, bass heavy cruising music. It was summertime barbecue in the park music. It was kick it at the crib with your homies music.
I liked it. It was something to chill to, something I wouldn’t be ashamed letting my parents listen to. The beat, I would find out 8 years later in my record-collecting phase, was a straight sample from a 1978 Teddy Pendergrass soul ballad, “Love T.K.O.” Just this year, I discovered that the version I heard in ’94 was actually a remix of the original version, which used an even more smooth, youthful sample from a Staple Singers song. But more than all this, the song gave words to a feeling, a mindstate that I was just beginning to understand.
I'm still back in the days, but now the year is '87
'88 that's when my crew and I were in junior high
In 7th grade, I hated school (wish it'd blown up)
No doubt I couldn't wait to get out (and be a grownup)
But let me finish this reminiscin’ and tellin’
Bout when girls was bellin tight courderoys like for the boys
basket weaves, Nike Cortez, and footsie socks
And eatin pickles, with tootsie pops
And it don't stop, I'm glad cuz when J.J. Fad did”Supersonic” it was kinda like a sport to wear biker shorts
or, to wear jeans and it seemed like the masses
of hoochies, had “poison” airbrushed on they asses
Dudes, had on Nike suits, and the Pumas withthe fat laces,
cuz it was either that or K-Swiss
The song depicts an idyllic, almost serene image of what growing up in the hood was like—all the trouble you would get into as a kid, all the styles that were popular, the music that was popular at the time. At the end of the song, Ahmad (the rapper) reflects on how he has moved up and out of the ghetto to a more successful life, but he misses those days….
But, didn't always have clout,
used to live in South Central L.A.
That's where I stayed and figured a way out
I gave it all I had so for what it's worth
I went, from rags to riches which is a drag but now I'm first
So Ahmad and The Jones' is on our way up
Yup, we said that we was gonna make it since a kid
and we finally did, but
Sometimes I still sit there reminescin
Think about the years I was raised, back in the days
In the years since then, the essential message and lyrics of this song ring even more true than they did to me as a wide-eyed 7th grader in 1994.
The back in the day ethos is one that arises out of hip hop, out of urban culture in an attempt to express one of the many contradictions of American life in the inner city. I think it was aptly expressed by Coolio on an album interlude—“As much as I hate this muh-***, Love this muh-***!” In other words, the hood is no place to be, but when you really think about it, you gotta love it. It was the place that raised you, the place and the people that taught you what to be, and what not to be. It is the place where you had all your self-defining experiences—where you got bullied, won games, laughed at your friends.
When I transferred from the urban public schools to a private school on the other side of town after 9th grade, the meaning of back in the day became ever more clear to me. In the polished and proper world of higher education (or Christian community) it was refreshing and soul-nourishing to throw on that old song and think of those days when you had no responsibilities and didn’t have to take things so seriously.
I really think, though, that the meaning of back in the day is not confined strictly to those who have moved up out of the hood. I think for many of us who are re-locators in urban ministry can resonate with the idea of leaving an idyllic past home to pursue a life of discipline and maturity. Of course, we have chosen to leave a lot of brokenness behind, and it is not good to dwell in the past. But c’mon—you gotta give love to where you came from. You gotta pour some out for the homies. You gotta remember that one time you acted a straight fool….
For me, back in the day is an ongoing thing. As a pilgrim, I have left many places behind me, and being the sentimentalist that I am, I have the need to commemorate, in some way, with someone, the events, emotions, people, styles, music, laughs, loves, mistakes, joys of the past. This song brings me back to that place. It reminds me that I love to go there, love my history, love reminiscing. I do it by remembering the music I was listening to at that time. I do it by remembering what we were wearing, what things we thought were cool. I do it by reflecting on how far I’ve come from those antics, attitudes and anxieties that made me a kid. Working with youth and in education has made me appreciate the back in the day ethos a lot more. In them, I see myself, how I was when I was their age. Often, I am even a little jealous of the fun they have, the small things that they worry so much about. But I think that working in education is a good fit for someone like me, because on the one hand I can be young again, re-living a lot of the joys and dramas that made childhood great, and on the other hand, I can lead and guide and teach children to become whole, mature, healthy adults.
Here is a selection of hip hop songs that also, I think, embody back in the day:
Lighter Shade of Brown- “Homies”
Digable Planets- “Where I’m From”
Crown City Rockers “B-Boy”
Nas & 2Pac- “Thugz Mansion”
Nas- “Memory Lane (Sittin in the Park)”
Chief Kamachi, Rashed & DJ Revolution- “Forever”
Notorious B.I.G.- “Juicy”
Common “I used to love H.E.R.”
Lauryn Hill- “Every Ghetto, Every City”
CMA- “Windows”
Stevie Wonder- “I wish”
WAR- “Summer”(not hip hop, but by far some of the best music ever laid down about back in the day, and period.)
Reasons:
1. I love music, I have obscene amounts of it, and if I had not chosen the better life that Jesus offers, my life would be absorbed by the minutia, trivia, eclectica (is that a word?) of every genre and sub-sub-genre that I could devote my time, money and energy exploring/discovering.
2. I love letting people in on worlds that I and my close friends/musical kindred spirits enjoy—albeit from a rather elitist position. I want my friends of all walks of life to be able to understand what it is that has compelled me, beyond reason, to accumulate so much material and knowledge about something that to many is just entertainment. Feel me on this. I’m letting you in on a little piece of Me.
3. I love to write. Reviews are just another genre that I am excited about reviving my talents into the service of. (Please note in the last sentence that talking about review writing was another opportunity for me to use the word ‘genre.’ We music types love to use that word because it makes us feel like we know what we’re talking about.)
Seriously though, I write reviews for my high school newspaper, and its been a while.
4. Admit it, you want me to.
I hope that this will be a cool thing for people to read. Part of my purpose in doing this is not to make a bunch of articles that are only accessible to music snobs. My reviews will provide background info, and will not be strictly confined to the musical aspect of the songs/artists I am reviewing. Being the true historian/social scientist that I was trained to be, I will connect songs/artists/genres to the wider political, philosophical, social, folk, economic, spiritual context out of which they come. This will add some depth, hopefully, and pique the interest of people who thirst for the answer to the question “What does it all mean, anyway?”
So, without further adoo, here is my first review.
Ahh…back in the day…. You know that feeling. That feeling you get when you think back to a time when things were simpler, care-free—almost serene in its youthful exuberance. It is more than a feeling, more than a collection of memories. It is a philosophical reflection on a time and place that you came from. A time and place that was yours, and it was good.
When we say ‘back in the day’ we mean something different than when we day, ‘back when…’ or ‘a long time ago.’ You took algebra back when you were in 8th grade. You read Charlotte’s Web a long time ago. But you rocked tube socks with the 3 red stripes and a polo with the alligator on the front back in the day. You sent notes in Language Arts class to your middle school crush back in the day. You first heard that one song, the song that all your homegirls and you would dance to through high school when it was just you and them and one of you had just found out that the guy you liked was in love with a girl you hated—back in the day… Back in the day is a state of mind--almost, I would venture to say, a culture.
I was reminded of this the other day when I went into Jason’s apartment and saw Arturo and Juan, two youth from our neighborhood, listening to the song “Back in the Day” by Ahmad. My first reaction, as is always the case when I hear a song that connects me so much to my past and is such a fixture in my music pantheon, was pure glee. Immediately after that, though, I was surprised. It is not a song that I would have expected to come out of the heavily 2Pac-Baby Bash-Thug Imitator saturated speakers of our group of youth. But then I realized, no—this is “Back in the Day.” This song, regardless of its mid-90’s dated-ness, is expressive of something much deeper and connected to the experience of our youth than your average booty-shaker club joint on the radio.
It is probably not accurate to say that Ahmad’s song brought this phrase or its mentality to the mainstream. Like many aspects of hip hop culture, ‘back in the day’ originated in the murky, untraceable past of a culture and a movement that was always in a state of recreating itself under the radar of national, media, or mainstream attention. In our generation, this phrase is only one of dozens to have been wrenched from the hip hop lexicon into mainstream vernacular. Aggressive commercialism and the American fetish for things ‘ghetto’ (read: ‘authentic’ Black culture) have thrust many cultural forms and expressions into more widespread (mis)use.
Nevertheless, the spirit of ‘back in the day’ survives, wherever people get that smile, look up into the distance and think back to that one time…
It was summer, 1994. West Coast rap was firmly on top. After several years in the 1980s and early 1990s of pushing through an era of eccentricity, creative plurality and self-definition, West Coast hip hop was finally beginning to have a definable sound all its own—for better or for worse. West Coast rap had begun mainly as an imitation of East Coast party rap. There was a playful, carefree vibe—but also an unpolished, less sophisticated and nuanced sound as compared to the New York scene, which was already old enough to have an ‘old school’ by the mid 80’s. By the early 1990s, West Coast rap had diversified, but its character, its essence, had yet to be defined. You had the proto-gangster stylings of Ice-T and King Tee. You had the Tribe-Called-Quest-esque, but grittier poetics of the Pharcyde. And from the Bay Area, you had artists as diverse as pimp-a-listic Too Short, the raucous and playful Digital Underground, and the glossy, Rick-James-jocking crossover hit, MC Hammer.
Depending on who you ask, this was either the golden age of West Coast rap, or the dark ages. In any case, everyone agrees that with the rise of gangsta rap, everything would completely change.
N.W.A. released Straight Outta Compton in 1989. Dr. Dre, Eazy E and Ice Cube would all later become definitive and crucial influences in crafting the California sound and blowing it up for the whole world to hear: G-funk. (ironically, Dr. Dre, the father of G-Funk, had started out with a really pathetic Gheri-curl-ass-80’s-glam-funk-wannabe Rick James-pseudo hip hop group called the World Class Wrecking Cru—a fact that would later haunt him after he had a falling out with Eazy E and Eazy used it to seriously ‘bag’ on him on record) Anyway, by 1994, G-funk was certified platinum bling bling—rap sales skyrocketed and a generation of suburbanites was exposed to the lifestyle of gang violence, misogyny, 40’s, blunts, and all that drama in the LBC. Most of all, Cali was King.
This was around the time when I began listening to hip hop, so it will always hold a special place in my heart. Dr. Dre’s The Chronic(the quintessential and most defining G-funk record) had already been out for a couple years, and I had missed that wave. However, Snoop Doggy Dogg’s debut, Doggystyle and Warren G’s Regulate: G-Funk Era were bangin. Also key at that time was Bone Thugs & Harmony, the brainchild of Eazy E. There were even a few Bay Area acts that were contributing their own flavor to the rise of Gangster-funk.
It was 7th grade for me. I was immersing myself as much as I could in this new, gritty wave of creativity washing over from the West. One day, I forget when it was exactly, this song came on…a little different from the rest, but immediately I loved it and I knew it would be with me for a long time. I never actually learned who the artist was until years later, but the mellow 70’s style groove and the smoothly-finessed sentimental chorus had me hooked:
Back in the days when I was young
I’m not a kid anymore
But some days I sit and wish I was a kid again…
The chorus was repeated, and then an awkward teenage-like voice came in with a story- like flow talking about what it was like to be just a little kid growing up in South Central.
Ya’ll remember way back then,
when it was 1985, all the way live
I think I was about ten….
First of all, this was not G-Funk. It may even have been G-Funk-lite (a-la Montel Jordan or Coolio), but who knows. The character of this music was not hyper-masculine posturing, or smoky, bass heavy cruising music. It was summertime barbecue in the park music. It was kick it at the crib with your homies music.
I liked it. It was something to chill to, something I wouldn’t be ashamed letting my parents listen to. The beat, I would find out 8 years later in my record-collecting phase, was a straight sample from a 1978 Teddy Pendergrass soul ballad, “Love T.K.O.” Just this year, I discovered that the version I heard in ’94 was actually a remix of the original version, which used an even more smooth, youthful sample from a Staple Singers song. But more than all this, the song gave words to a feeling, a mindstate that I was just beginning to understand.
I'm still back in the days, but now the year is '87
'88 that's when my crew and I were in junior high
In 7th grade, I hated school (wish it'd blown up)
No doubt I couldn't wait to get out (and be a grownup)
But let me finish this reminiscin’ and tellin’
Bout when girls was bellin tight courderoys like for the boys
basket weaves, Nike Cortez, and footsie socks
And eatin pickles, with tootsie pops
And it don't stop, I'm glad cuz when J.J. Fad did”Supersonic” it was kinda like a sport to wear biker shorts
or, to wear jeans and it seemed like the masses
of hoochies, had “poison” airbrushed on they asses
Dudes, had on Nike suits, and the Pumas withthe fat laces,
cuz it was either that or K-Swiss
The song depicts an idyllic, almost serene image of what growing up in the hood was like—all the trouble you would get into as a kid, all the styles that were popular, the music that was popular at the time. At the end of the song, Ahmad (the rapper) reflects on how he has moved up and out of the ghetto to a more successful life, but he misses those days….
But, didn't always have clout,
used to live in South Central L.A.
That's where I stayed and figured a way out
I gave it all I had so for what it's worth
I went, from rags to riches which is a drag but now I'm first
So Ahmad and The Jones' is on our way up
Yup, we said that we was gonna make it since a kid
and we finally did, but
Sometimes I still sit there reminescin
Think about the years I was raised, back in the days
In the years since then, the essential message and lyrics of this song ring even more true than they did to me as a wide-eyed 7th grader in 1994.
The back in the day ethos is one that arises out of hip hop, out of urban culture in an attempt to express one of the many contradictions of American life in the inner city. I think it was aptly expressed by Coolio on an album interlude—“As much as I hate this muh-***, Love this muh-***!” In other words, the hood is no place to be, but when you really think about it, you gotta love it. It was the place that raised you, the place and the people that taught you what to be, and what not to be. It is the place where you had all your self-defining experiences—where you got bullied, won games, laughed at your friends.
When I transferred from the urban public schools to a private school on the other side of town after 9th grade, the meaning of back in the day became ever more clear to me. In the polished and proper world of higher education (or Christian community) it was refreshing and soul-nourishing to throw on that old song and think of those days when you had no responsibilities and didn’t have to take things so seriously.
I really think, though, that the meaning of back in the day is not confined strictly to those who have moved up out of the hood. I think for many of us who are re-locators in urban ministry can resonate with the idea of leaving an idyllic past home to pursue a life of discipline and maturity. Of course, we have chosen to leave a lot of brokenness behind, and it is not good to dwell in the past. But c’mon—you gotta give love to where you came from. You gotta pour some out for the homies. You gotta remember that one time you acted a straight fool….
For me, back in the day is an ongoing thing. As a pilgrim, I have left many places behind me, and being the sentimentalist that I am, I have the need to commemorate, in some way, with someone, the events, emotions, people, styles, music, laughs, loves, mistakes, joys of the past. This song brings me back to that place. It reminds me that I love to go there, love my history, love reminiscing. I do it by remembering the music I was listening to at that time. I do it by remembering what we were wearing, what things we thought were cool. I do it by reflecting on how far I’ve come from those antics, attitudes and anxieties that made me a kid. Working with youth and in education has made me appreciate the back in the day ethos a lot more. In them, I see myself, how I was when I was their age. Often, I am even a little jealous of the fun they have, the small things that they worry so much about. But I think that working in education is a good fit for someone like me, because on the one hand I can be young again, re-living a lot of the joys and dramas that made childhood great, and on the other hand, I can lead and guide and teach children to become whole, mature, healthy adults.
Here is a selection of hip hop songs that also, I think, embody back in the day:
Lighter Shade of Brown- “Homies”
Digable Planets- “Where I’m From”
Crown City Rockers “B-Boy”
Nas & 2Pac- “Thugz Mansion”
Nas- “Memory Lane (Sittin in the Park)”
Chief Kamachi, Rashed & DJ Revolution- “Forever”
Notorious B.I.G.- “Juicy”
Common “I used to love H.E.R.”
Lauryn Hill- “Every Ghetto, Every City”
CMA- “Windows”
Stevie Wonder- “I wish”
WAR- “Summer”(not hip hop, but by far some of the best music ever laid down about back in the day, and period.)
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
And you, O generation, behold the word of the LORD!
Have I been a wilderness to Israel,
or a land of thick darkness?
Why then do my people say,
"We are free,
we will come to you no more"?
Can a girl forget her ornaments,
or a bride her attire?
Yet my people have forgotten me,
days without number.
Jeremiah 2:31-32
Have I been a wilderness to Israel,
or a land of thick darkness?
Why then do my people say,
"We are free,
we will come to you no more"?
Can a girl forget her ornaments,
or a bride her attire?
Yet my people have forgotten me,
days without number.
Jeremiah 2:31-32
Sunday, April 24, 2005
Los Chavez de Lemitar, Sabinal y Socorro
This picture was taken near Socorro, New Mexico sometime between 1890 and 1915. The man in bottom right corner with the rifle is Catarino Chavez, my Grandpa's grandpa. The boy behind him and to the left might be his son, Anselmo, my Grandpa's dad. The rest are extended family. They were ranchers, miners and farmers. All people of modest means but hard workers. Their families have lived in the Middle Rio Grande valley since at least 1800, when the land still belonged to the Spanish crown. In those days, they all would have been having increased contact with White people, who were coming into that area for the mining boom. Great Grandpa Anselmo died in 1980, and up till then he spoke very little English. One of the most pervasive features of thier lives was contact (hostile and otherwise) with the Apache Indians. The U.S. Government did not succeed in exerting its control over this nomadic tribe until the 1930s. The Mexican and Spanish governments were never able to effectively protect their citizens in New Mexico from Apache and Navajo raids-- or interracial mixing, which was just as prevalent, some argue. There is little doubt that, given the class and social status of this side of my family, as well as other evidence, that there is some Apache heritage in the pool.
Saturday, April 23, 2005
there, there, son...
He supposes there was never a particular moment in time at which he could look in the mirror and say that the person he was looking at was no longer a child. He never really believed it. After all, what was there to
convince him? There was no public rite of passage, no sage wisdom given by any man who had walked the path before and had enough self-consciousness to articulate it to him. As far as his heart knew, he was still a boy.
A scared, small, needy and insecure boy.
That is what he has been afraid of. Afraid that people would see past the facade and discover that he was only a boy. After all, out of necessity, he had learned what needed to be done in order to appear grown-up. He knew how to 'be responsible' how to interact with others and take care of business. But deep inside, a profound fear....a dark uncertainty and fragility.
if they really knew me, they would see that i am none of this. They would not take me seriously...worse, they would not love me....
convince him? There was no public rite of passage, no sage wisdom given by any man who had walked the path before and had enough self-consciousness to articulate it to him. As far as his heart knew, he was still a boy.
A scared, small, needy and insecure boy.
That is what he has been afraid of. Afraid that people would see past the facade and discover that he was only a boy. After all, out of necessity, he had learned what needed to be done in order to appear grown-up. He knew how to 'be responsible' how to interact with others and take care of business. But deep inside, a profound fear....a dark uncertainty and fragility.
if they really knew me, they would see that i am none of this. They would not take me seriously...worse, they would not love me....
Of course he knew that a child could be loved. But that is not the love that he wanted, that he knew he needed. He wanted that love that was mature, wise, giving, knowing, intimate....
if they really knew me.....
People could look at his life and see that he had pursued a life that was more or less normal. He was a capable, educated, thoughtful person. Yet they did not know that much of his efforts had been spent avoiding adulthood. Avoiding risk, avoiding those relationships and environments that would challenge him to grow in maturity and wisdom and responsibility becasue he was afraid that if he entered into those, his facade would crumble and he would be abandoned by the people he cared about.
He had a deep affection for many people. A high respect. A thoughtful compassion. But love? Love is what is given through sacrifice, what emerges through conflict and failure-- the fruit of patience and risk.
Who had ever taught him this love?! Who had been there to model it? No one had. The love of his parents was awkward, even superficial. They were scared to give and show love, too. Love was well-intentioned symbolic gestures. Gifts, trips, physical care and nurture. But it was aloof, and unsure of itself.
This was the love that was modelled for him.
It was the love a boy could always understand.
Friday, April 22, 2005
In Full Effect
Check out the LA Times article about TAS, in todays issue. Also, look at it in comparison to the events at Jefferson High, in the same section.
Tonight is the big party for the teachers and staff. Free food, free dranky dranks, and Muuuuu-zic. I am looking forward to a chance to kick it with co-workers apart from work. Of all the places i have every worked, i admire and respect these people the most-- in terms of feeling an affinity of values, culture and direction in life.
We'll see how it goes.
Tonight is the big party for the teachers and staff. Free food, free dranky dranks, and Muuuuu-zic. I am looking forward to a chance to kick it with co-workers apart from work. Of all the places i have every worked, i admire and respect these people the most-- in terms of feeling an affinity of values, culture and direction in life.
We'll see how it goes.
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Making Dreams Real
Wow. Today was the grand opening celebration for The Accelerated School’s partners and donors. There has been so much preparation for this event, and dressing the campus up to look as nice as possible for al the people who have in some way made it possible, including a few others who took the opportunity to look good politically by saying a few words.
After we ushered our class into the gym and sat down (the kids all had a TAS word search to keep them occupied) it became apparent that this was the place to be, politically speaking, in the State of California. Governor Arnold and LA Mayor Hahn were there, as was Jan Perry, who represents that district of South LA. Also there was Richard Riordan, former mayor of LA and current State Secretary of Education. There were also a number of billionaires—among them, Wallis Annenberg, of the Annenberg Foundation, whose donation of $10 Million made it possible for our founders and principals Jonathan Williams and Kevin Sved to realize their dream of building a charter school in South LA.
There were a few themes that stuck out to me during the speeches. First of all, there was the theme of TAS as being the realization of a dream 10 years in the making. Everyone who spoke made the point that this was a vision that began with Jonathan and Kevin, but became the vision of others who generously contributed to its realization. I was actually impressed with the partnership between rich and poor that this school represents. Not that the billionaires and politicians are in touch with the poor community this school serves, but their generosity has allowed there to be not only a school, but TAS is also a public library, a fitness center, a professional development center, a health clinic, adult education, a pre-school, a Charter Dual Language immersion elementary school—all in an amazing, towering state of the art campus. It is rare that something like this happens.
It was interesting to learn a little bit about the history of the dream, and how the school, in the last 10 years, has really transformed the community. 10 years ago, the land in South LA that the new campus now sits on was the property of Carol Little and Leonard Rabinowitz, multi-millionaire fashion designers who owned a textile factory on the site. They said that they grew to love the community and when it came time for them to move their factory, they decided to give the land of the old factory to Jonathan and Kevin , along with $5 million to invest in making a new school. Over the years, these men and their vision attracted the attention of many other foundations and corporations, including The Annenberg, and Wells Fargo, which have given in the tens of millions of dollars.
Jonathan Williams said that part of his vision was to have a school that participated in the economic and social development of the community. This really stuck out to me. Also powerful was the speech of a 10th grader, Genesis Contreras, who articulated beautifully what the school has meant to her and her community.
The Governator and Mayor Hahn also spoke—about how they are committed to better schools and children are the future and all that….Politricks.
Another thing that stuck out was Councilwoman Jan Perry’s remarks about the recent violence at Jefferson High, which is in the same neighborhood as TAS, and how we hope to see TAS be an example in reconciliation and peace- and that it already has been.
Overall, a pretty momentous day…..but a day of ceremony and show. The real value of the school of course is in the teachers and children and the work they do every day, no matter how big and beautiful the campus is.
I am blessed to be a part of this place.
After we ushered our class into the gym and sat down (the kids all had a TAS word search to keep them occupied) it became apparent that this was the place to be, politically speaking, in the State of California. Governor Arnold and LA Mayor Hahn were there, as was Jan Perry, who represents that district of South LA. Also there was Richard Riordan, former mayor of LA and current State Secretary of Education. There were also a number of billionaires—among them, Wallis Annenberg, of the Annenberg Foundation, whose donation of $10 Million made it possible for our founders and principals Jonathan Williams and Kevin Sved to realize their dream of building a charter school in South LA.
There were a few themes that stuck out to me during the speeches. First of all, there was the theme of TAS as being the realization of a dream 10 years in the making. Everyone who spoke made the point that this was a vision that began with Jonathan and Kevin, but became the vision of others who generously contributed to its realization. I was actually impressed with the partnership between rich and poor that this school represents. Not that the billionaires and politicians are in touch with the poor community this school serves, but their generosity has allowed there to be not only a school, but TAS is also a public library, a fitness center, a professional development center, a health clinic, adult education, a pre-school, a Charter Dual Language immersion elementary school—all in an amazing, towering state of the art campus. It is rare that something like this happens.
It was interesting to learn a little bit about the history of the dream, and how the school, in the last 10 years, has really transformed the community. 10 years ago, the land in South LA that the new campus now sits on was the property of Carol Little and Leonard Rabinowitz, multi-millionaire fashion designers who owned a textile factory on the site. They said that they grew to love the community and when it came time for them to move their factory, they decided to give the land of the old factory to Jonathan and Kevin , along with $5 million to invest in making a new school. Over the years, these men and their vision attracted the attention of many other foundations and corporations, including The Annenberg, and Wells Fargo, which have given in the tens of millions of dollars.
Jonathan Williams said that part of his vision was to have a school that participated in the economic and social development of the community. This really stuck out to me. Also powerful was the speech of a 10th grader, Genesis Contreras, who articulated beautifully what the school has meant to her and her community.
The Governator and Mayor Hahn also spoke—about how they are committed to better schools and children are the future and all that….Politricks.
Another thing that stuck out was Councilwoman Jan Perry’s remarks about the recent violence at Jefferson High, which is in the same neighborhood as TAS, and how we hope to see TAS be an example in reconciliation and peace- and that it already has been.
Overall, a pretty momentous day…..but a day of ceremony and show. The real value of the school of course is in the teachers and children and the work they do every day, no matter how big and beautiful the campus is.
I am blessed to be a part of this place.
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
This is some artwork from Sam Flores, a young artist from New Mexico who was at one time a part of the hip hop/graffitti culture in Albuquerque. You can notice the common theme of mixing hip hop culture with indigenous cultures.
On thursday, Richard Riordan, former mayor of LA and current head of the state dept. of education will be speaking at TAS. Also, Ah-Nold, the GOVERNATOR, might also make an appearance. Our class was invited by the schools founder to be shining, smiling faces for all the politicians, wealthy philanthropists, CEOs and big wigs that will be accumulated in our school gym for the grand opening celebrations.
I must say, the campus is beautiful, and pretty impessive in terms of what it offers students. I wouldnt care that much about the appearance, but i believe that it is symbolic of what is actually offered to TAS students: some of the best and most committed teachers, mentors, coaches, counselors in any school district.
I think there is reason to celebrate this weekend.
----
I had dinner with Tina, Betsy and the Jr. High girls bible study tonight. It was fun to eat outside, and talk a bit. Then they got in a waterfight and i bounced.
I must say, the campus is beautiful, and pretty impessive in terms of what it offers students. I wouldnt care that much about the appearance, but i believe that it is symbolic of what is actually offered to TAS students: some of the best and most committed teachers, mentors, coaches, counselors in any school district.
I think there is reason to celebrate this weekend.
----
I had dinner with Tina, Betsy and the Jr. High girls bible study tonight. It was fun to eat outside, and talk a bit. Then they got in a waterfight and i bounced.
Friday, April 15, 2005
"I am a farm worker"
here are the Cesar Chavez day poems that my 2nd grade class at TAS wrote a few weeks ago. The all got sheets with "I" prompts, like "I am" "I feel" "I touch" and so on. Their assignment was to fill the rest in with their own words.
The results were pretty powerful. I typed them out, and here they all are, 20 of them. Read and interpret for yourselves.
I am a Farm Worker
By Franklin Nwochie
March 31, 2005
I am a farm worker that’s sad.
I wonder what places I can go to.
I hear people working really hard.
I see oranges, apples and grapes.
I want to be free and to be paid better.
I am Franklin Hoody Sherif.
I pretend to be rich and joyful.
I feel sad, mad and really angry.
I touch fruit, vegetables and plants.
I cry a lot when I can’t bend.
I am a UFW person.
I understand how I feel now.
I say words that make me happy.
I dream that I was in a free land.
I am a Farm Worker
By Arlene Flores
March 31, 2005
I am sad and mad.
I wonder if I would die.
I hear sounds outside.
I see my house and my food.
I want food and milk to eat and drink.
I am poor, sad and mad.
I pretend I am rich and I have food.
I feel very very sad and poor.
I touch my fruit that is sweet.
I cry for money and a house.
I am broke for food.
I understand that I could be rich.
I say that my dream will come true.
I dream I would have a pretty house.
I am a Farm Worker
By Eric Leon-Sanchez
March 31, 2005
I am a poor boy.
I wonder if the work is hard.
I hear a car and a truck.
I see a lot of vegetables.
I want to get rich.
I am rich inside.
I pretend I went to play with my family.
I feel sad.
I touch sand.
I cry when I see a scary book.
I am mad.
I understand when I fall down.
I say I’m rich.
I dream of my mom.
I am a Farm Worker
By Tra’myah Fields
March 31, 2005
I am angry because I have to bend down.
I wonder what would I do if I die.
I hear people getting frustrated.
I see farmers working hard.
I want people to be healthy so they won’t die.
I am really mad because they put poisoning on the grapes.
I pretend to be rich.
I feel really! really! mad because they made people die.
I touch dirty stuff.
I cry because they made people die.
I am sad that if I ate those grapes and I was pregnant I could die.
I understand people eat the grapes with poisoning on them.
I say that they shouldn’t put poisoning.
I dream of people not eating grapes with chemicals on them.
I am a Farm Worker
By Michael Castro
March 31, 2005
I am poor.
I wonder if I was rich.
I hear screaming.
I see fruit.
I want to be rich.
I am poor.
I pretend I was rich.
I feel sad.
I touch dirt.
I cry because they didn’t pay me back.
I am not rich.
I undertand I could be rich.
I say I need money.
I dream I was rich.
I am a Farm Worker
By Jorge Bravo
March 31, 2005
I am a poor person.
I wonder why the farm doesn’t give us money.
I hear cars and bicycles.
I see vegetables.
I want more money.
I am mad.
I pretend I have a family.
I feel sad.
I touch vegetables.
I cry when I pick onions.
I am angry.
I understand when I am alone.
I say a little ant is little.
I dream I have a family.
I am a Farm Worker
By Ilver Cornelio
March 31, 2005
I am tired to work on the farms.
I wonder about my family.
I hear mom yelling to my sister.
I see my mom and dad are buying food.
I want a little puppy.
I am 9 years old.
I pretend I was rich.
I feel sad.
I touch the dirt.
I cry because I fall.
I am happy now.
I understand my mom works.
I say I want to have money.
I dream about my family.
I am a Farm Worker
By Luis Zamudio
March 31, 2005
I am a farm worker.
I wonder where people go.
I hear people working hard.
I see airplanes dropping poison.
I want to live.
I am sad.
I pretend I am dead.
I feel angry.
I touch dirt and grapes.
I cry because they don’t give me more money.
I am sad because I can’t go home.
I understand that I am poor.
I say that’s not fair.
I dream I was rich.
I am a Farm Worker
By Micara Mosley-Washington
March 31, 2005
I am a farm worker working hard.
I wonder, am I a tool in disguise?
I hear people moaning cries for help.
I see dirt all around me.
I want to live in a better home and a better life.
I am a living being, not a tool.
I pretend I am not a worker.
I feel hurt inside.
I touch the filthy dirt on the ground.
I cry about my life.
I am a good person.
I understand that I am a farm worker.
I say to myself this is not right.
I dream that one day everything will be alright.
I am a Farm Worker
By Karina Ventura
3-31-05
I am sad because I am poor.
I wonder what will happen to my family.
I hear people scream very loud.
I see grapes with pesticides on them.
I want to go home really badly.
I am very tired of working.
I pretend that I liked this job so much.
I feel so devastated because I don’t want to die with the pesticide on the plants.
I touch the fruits, vegetables, and plants.
I cry when I touch the onion.
I am very tired of working.
I understand that I have to work very hard to get a lot of money.
I say I am tired of getting paid a little bit.
I dream of having a home for my family.
I am a Farm Worker
By George Falcon
3-31-05
I am a farm worker.
I wonder about the fruit.
I hear a plane flying.
I see vegetables on the field.
I want to go home.
I am always a farm worker.
I pretend I was rich.
I feel sad when I hurt.
I touch a fruit.
I cry when I fall.
I am working so hard.
I understand when the plane is flying.
I say that I want money.
I dream that I have a home.
I am a Farm Worker
By Maria Trinidad
3-31-05
I am a farm worker.
I wonder if people are looking at me.
I hear a wind blowing.
I see fruits and vegetables.
I want to go home.
I am alone.
I pretend I am a farm worker.
I feel tired working.
I touch tools.
I cry when I get hurt bad.
I am a child.
I understand the man talking to me.
I say “Please, let me go!”
I dream I’m a farm worker.
I am a Farm Worker
By Joshua Guzman-Wolfe
3-31-05
I am a farm worker.
I wonder if a miracle will happen.
I hear people complaining and getting fired.
I see people working hard.
I want to be treated fairly.
I am not feeling well.
I pretend that we were treated fairly.
I feel poison and heat.
I touch fruits and vegetables.
I cry when they treat me like a slave.
I am a lowly and unhappy person.
I understand the words that Cesar Chavez says.
I say the words that Cesar Chavez says.
I dream good things will happen.
I am a Farm Worker
By Neftaly Angel
3-31-05
I am Neftaly.
I wonder if I will be treated good.
I hear people screaming.
I see fruit.
I want to be treated good.
I am a good boy.
I pretend I will be rich.
I feel bad.
I touch the grapes.
I cry when they hit me.
I am a boy.
I understand that I am good.
I say I’m good.
I dream that I could live for a lot of time.
I am a Farm Worker
By Daniel Gutierrez
3-31-05
I am treated like I’m not supposed to be treated.
I wonder what it would be like if I was rich.
I hear people being fired.
I see workers working real hard to earn money.
I want to be free and have money.
I am not treated right.
I pretend that I like this job.
I feel worried about my family.
I touch fruits and vegetables.
I cry when I am hurt.
I am really sad and weary.
I understand that I have to do this.
I say what I want.
I dream that one day I would have money and be free.
I am a Farm Worker
By Moises Dominguez
3-31-05
I am a farm worker.
I wonder about my family.
I hear a plane.
I want more money.
I am real sad.
I pretend to quit.
I feel sad.
I touch the dirt.
I cry hard.
I am Moises.
I understand to work hard.
I say I work hard.
I dream I am OK.
I am a Farm Worker
By Guillermo Garcia
3-31-05
I am a farm worker.
I wonder what it would be like if I was rich.
I hear cars and trucks.
I see fruit and vegetables.
I want to be free and have money.
I am rich like a god.
I pretend like I am at school.
I feel angry and sad.
I touch dirt.
I cry when I am sad.
I am poor.
I understand I have to do work.
I say “Stop.”
I dream that I was rich inside.
I am a Farm Worker
By Diego Polanco
3-31-05
I am a poor boy because I am a farm worker.
I wonder if this will end.
I hear people screaming.
I see torture.
I want to be rich instead of living in this old dump.
I am depressed because I am a farm worker.
I pretend I don’t go on living in this old shack.
I feel sad that I am going to die.
I touch the hot ground—tssss! I burned my hand!
I cry when I am done working.
I am dying of torture.
I understand that this will stop.
I say we should be treated fairly.
I dream that kids wont be treated working in the farms. I wish this will stop.
I am a Farm Worker
By Katherine Luna
3-31-05
I am worried of my kids.
I wonder if the chemicals won’t come down.
I hear cars and trucks driving.
I see fruit and vegetables.
I want to be rich.
I am very poor because I don’t get a lot of money.
I pretend that I am rich.
I feel tired of bending.
I touch the strawberries.
I cry when someone dies.
I am sad when I have no money.
I understand that I need to work hard.
I say and fight with my words.
I dream Cesar did not die.
I am a Farm Worker
By Adriana Corzo
3-31-05
I am sad because I always bend myself.
I wonder I could be happy.
I hear digging myself.
I see people sad because they don’t have enough of money.
I want to make my world better.
I am worried because I don’t go to school.
I pretend I am in school.
I feel so hard worker because I always work.
I touch where I am hurt.
I cry myself because they don’t pay us really good.
I am angry because I want to go to school.
I understand Cesar Chavez to make our world better.
I say myself “I wish we all could have freedom.”
I dream that we get paid good and don’t fight and lots of things that we don’t want.
The results were pretty powerful. I typed them out, and here they all are, 20 of them. Read and interpret for yourselves.
I am a Farm Worker
By Franklin Nwochie
March 31, 2005
I am a farm worker that’s sad.
I wonder what places I can go to.
I hear people working really hard.
I see oranges, apples and grapes.
I want to be free and to be paid better.
I am Franklin Hoody Sherif.
I pretend to be rich and joyful.
I feel sad, mad and really angry.
I touch fruit, vegetables and plants.
I cry a lot when I can’t bend.
I am a UFW person.
I understand how I feel now.
I say words that make me happy.
I dream that I was in a free land.
I am a Farm Worker
By Arlene Flores
March 31, 2005
I am sad and mad.
I wonder if I would die.
I hear sounds outside.
I see my house and my food.
I want food and milk to eat and drink.
I am poor, sad and mad.
I pretend I am rich and I have food.
I feel very very sad and poor.
I touch my fruit that is sweet.
I cry for money and a house.
I am broke for food.
I understand that I could be rich.
I say that my dream will come true.
I dream I would have a pretty house.
I am a Farm Worker
By Eric Leon-Sanchez
March 31, 2005
I am a poor boy.
I wonder if the work is hard.
I hear a car and a truck.
I see a lot of vegetables.
I want to get rich.
I am rich inside.
I pretend I went to play with my family.
I feel sad.
I touch sand.
I cry when I see a scary book.
I am mad.
I understand when I fall down.
I say I’m rich.
I dream of my mom.
I am a Farm Worker
By Tra’myah Fields
March 31, 2005
I am angry because I have to bend down.
I wonder what would I do if I die.
I hear people getting frustrated.
I see farmers working hard.
I want people to be healthy so they won’t die.
I am really mad because they put poisoning on the grapes.
I pretend to be rich.
I feel really! really! mad because they made people die.
I touch dirty stuff.
I cry because they made people die.
I am sad that if I ate those grapes and I was pregnant I could die.
I understand people eat the grapes with poisoning on them.
I say that they shouldn’t put poisoning.
I dream of people not eating grapes with chemicals on them.
I am a Farm Worker
By Michael Castro
March 31, 2005
I am poor.
I wonder if I was rich.
I hear screaming.
I see fruit.
I want to be rich.
I am poor.
I pretend I was rich.
I feel sad.
I touch dirt.
I cry because they didn’t pay me back.
I am not rich.
I undertand I could be rich.
I say I need money.
I dream I was rich.
I am a Farm Worker
By Jorge Bravo
March 31, 2005
I am a poor person.
I wonder why the farm doesn’t give us money.
I hear cars and bicycles.
I see vegetables.
I want more money.
I am mad.
I pretend I have a family.
I feel sad.
I touch vegetables.
I cry when I pick onions.
I am angry.
I understand when I am alone.
I say a little ant is little.
I dream I have a family.
I am a Farm Worker
By Ilver Cornelio
March 31, 2005
I am tired to work on the farms.
I wonder about my family.
I hear mom yelling to my sister.
I see my mom and dad are buying food.
I want a little puppy.
I am 9 years old.
I pretend I was rich.
I feel sad.
I touch the dirt.
I cry because I fall.
I am happy now.
I understand my mom works.
I say I want to have money.
I dream about my family.
I am a Farm Worker
By Luis Zamudio
March 31, 2005
I am a farm worker.
I wonder where people go.
I hear people working hard.
I see airplanes dropping poison.
I want to live.
I am sad.
I pretend I am dead.
I feel angry.
I touch dirt and grapes.
I cry because they don’t give me more money.
I am sad because I can’t go home.
I understand that I am poor.
I say that’s not fair.
I dream I was rich.
I am a Farm Worker
By Micara Mosley-Washington
March 31, 2005
I am a farm worker working hard.
I wonder, am I a tool in disguise?
I hear people moaning cries for help.
I see dirt all around me.
I want to live in a better home and a better life.
I am a living being, not a tool.
I pretend I am not a worker.
I feel hurt inside.
I touch the filthy dirt on the ground.
I cry about my life.
I am a good person.
I understand that I am a farm worker.
I say to myself this is not right.
I dream that one day everything will be alright.
I am a Farm Worker
By Karina Ventura
3-31-05
I am sad because I am poor.
I wonder what will happen to my family.
I hear people scream very loud.
I see grapes with pesticides on them.
I want to go home really badly.
I am very tired of working.
I pretend that I liked this job so much.
I feel so devastated because I don’t want to die with the pesticide on the plants.
I touch the fruits, vegetables, and plants.
I cry when I touch the onion.
I am very tired of working.
I understand that I have to work very hard to get a lot of money.
I say I am tired of getting paid a little bit.
I dream of having a home for my family.
I am a Farm Worker
By George Falcon
3-31-05
I am a farm worker.
I wonder about the fruit.
I hear a plane flying.
I see vegetables on the field.
I want to go home.
I am always a farm worker.
I pretend I was rich.
I feel sad when I hurt.
I touch a fruit.
I cry when I fall.
I am working so hard.
I understand when the plane is flying.
I say that I want money.
I dream that I have a home.
I am a Farm Worker
By Maria Trinidad
3-31-05
I am a farm worker.
I wonder if people are looking at me.
I hear a wind blowing.
I see fruits and vegetables.
I want to go home.
I am alone.
I pretend I am a farm worker.
I feel tired working.
I touch tools.
I cry when I get hurt bad.
I am a child.
I understand the man talking to me.
I say “Please, let me go!”
I dream I’m a farm worker.
I am a Farm Worker
By Joshua Guzman-Wolfe
3-31-05
I am a farm worker.
I wonder if a miracle will happen.
I hear people complaining and getting fired.
I see people working hard.
I want to be treated fairly.
I am not feeling well.
I pretend that we were treated fairly.
I feel poison and heat.
I touch fruits and vegetables.
I cry when they treat me like a slave.
I am a lowly and unhappy person.
I understand the words that Cesar Chavez says.
I say the words that Cesar Chavez says.
I dream good things will happen.
I am a Farm Worker
By Neftaly Angel
3-31-05
I am Neftaly.
I wonder if I will be treated good.
I hear people screaming.
I see fruit.
I want to be treated good.
I am a good boy.
I pretend I will be rich.
I feel bad.
I touch the grapes.
I cry when they hit me.
I am a boy.
I understand that I am good.
I say I’m good.
I dream that I could live for a lot of time.
I am a Farm Worker
By Daniel Gutierrez
3-31-05
I am treated like I’m not supposed to be treated.
I wonder what it would be like if I was rich.
I hear people being fired.
I see workers working real hard to earn money.
I want to be free and have money.
I am not treated right.
I pretend that I like this job.
I feel worried about my family.
I touch fruits and vegetables.
I cry when I am hurt.
I am really sad and weary.
I understand that I have to do this.
I say what I want.
I dream that one day I would have money and be free.
I am a Farm Worker
By Moises Dominguez
3-31-05
I am a farm worker.
I wonder about my family.
I hear a plane.
I want more money.
I am real sad.
I pretend to quit.
I feel sad.
I touch the dirt.
I cry hard.
I am Moises.
I understand to work hard.
I say I work hard.
I dream I am OK.
I am a Farm Worker
By Guillermo Garcia
3-31-05
I am a farm worker.
I wonder what it would be like if I was rich.
I hear cars and trucks.
I see fruit and vegetables.
I want to be free and have money.
I am rich like a god.
I pretend like I am at school.
I feel angry and sad.
I touch dirt.
I cry when I am sad.
I am poor.
I understand I have to do work.
I say “Stop.”
I dream that I was rich inside.
I am a Farm Worker
By Diego Polanco
3-31-05
I am a poor boy because I am a farm worker.
I wonder if this will end.
I hear people screaming.
I see torture.
I want to be rich instead of living in this old dump.
I am depressed because I am a farm worker.
I pretend I don’t go on living in this old shack.
I feel sad that I am going to die.
I touch the hot ground—tssss! I burned my hand!
I cry when I am done working.
I am dying of torture.
I understand that this will stop.
I say we should be treated fairly.
I dream that kids wont be treated working in the farms. I wish this will stop.
I am a Farm Worker
By Katherine Luna
3-31-05
I am worried of my kids.
I wonder if the chemicals won’t come down.
I hear cars and trucks driving.
I see fruit and vegetables.
I want to be rich.
I am very poor because I don’t get a lot of money.
I pretend that I am rich.
I feel tired of bending.
I touch the strawberries.
I cry when someone dies.
I am sad when I have no money.
I understand that I need to work hard.
I say and fight with my words.
I dream Cesar did not die.
I am a Farm Worker
By Adriana Corzo
3-31-05
I am sad because I always bend myself.
I wonder I could be happy.
I hear digging myself.
I see people sad because they don’t have enough of money.
I want to make my world better.
I am worried because I don’t go to school.
I pretend I am in school.
I feel so hard worker because I always work.
I touch where I am hurt.
I cry myself because they don’t pay us really good.
I am angry because I want to go to school.
I understand Cesar Chavez to make our world better.
I say myself “I wish we all could have freedom.”
I dream that we get paid good and don’t fight and lots of things that we don’t want.
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
must be the music...
I have to blog about this...
First of all-- does anyone know how I might go about posting MP3s on my blog? I would really like to make music avaliable to the faithful homies who read this stuff...
Secondly, my new favorite song(s) :
A few weeks ago, I was driving with Greg and Betsy down to LA for Servant Partners. We were listening to Art Laboe's Jammin Oldies. Now, you need to understand the significance of Art Laboe. This isnt just some oldies show. This is the Sunday night request show....this is a weekly institution, particularly in the 2nd generation and up Latino community in the Southwest. Art Laboe has been a radio disc jockey since the 50s, and specializes in playing the old doo-wop-East LA-jukebox-lowrider-soul cuts that you dont normally hear on the oldies stations. He has taken the torch from Huggie Boy, who was the first, the OG DeeJay who helped to define the smooth, soulful gangster sound that makes you think of cholos, pachucos, ranflas, jainas, and taking your girlfriend 'Lil' Droopy Eyes' down to the diner for a fountain soda.
Anyway, Art Laboe's Golden Oldies are definitive in my musical paradigm. They remind me of New Mexico, and even before I moved to LA, they told of a culture and a lifestyle that originated out here that vatos and homegirls all over New Mexico emulated.
So we're listening, and Art throws on 'I'm Still Here' by a group called the Notations. (I later learn that the Notations were one of the many side projects that were the brainchild of the late great soul master Curtis Mayfield, such as the Impressions....Anything homeboy touched musically is so rediculously good i have to pee on myself)
I contained myself in the car for Greg and Betsy's sake, but if it was any other situation, i would have been screaming and who knows what else, and then after i had gathered myself i would have immediately called my best friend in Albuquerque to tell him about it (my only true kindred soul when it comes to music)
so after weeks of searching the internet, i have found the song, and i can now carry it anywhere in my ipod. I am melting.
If you want examples of the Art Laboe sound, here are some others that defined my experience of living life and digging for records throughout high school:
Pete Wingfield "18 with a bullet"
Bloodstone "Natural High"
Sly Slick & Wicked "Confessing a Feeling"
Tierra "Together"
GQ- "I do love you"
Richie Valens "Sleepwalking"
There are a few other notable songs that have entered my consciousness recently:
another Notations cut called "Super People" A filthy-ass funk drum sample with serious social justice overtones-- something Curtis Mayfield is also known for
"Just a Moment" by Nas and Quan-- a cut that Juan and Arturo put me down on. After hearing it over and over at Palm Springs, i was hooked on it....although i liked it after only hearing it once. Definetly one of the better songs in terms of substance that has come out from the mainstream recently.
"Gettin It" By Too Short. Ahh...mid-90's hip hop. Ahh....Pimp-a-listic saucy-ass, collared-green-ass Bay Area hip hop. I usually avoid most of Too Short's stuff, as it is pretty much all disgusting content-wise. But this is a cut, ( along with "Player's Holiday", ironically) that actually has some redeeming value.
On the Latin tip..."A Vida Em Seus Metodos Diz Calma" by obscure and mysterious 70's Brazilian funkster Di Melo. A tasty bit of Afro-Brazillian soul coming out of an era of groovin/consciousness analogous to what was going on in the US. An explosion of funky music and Black power, but in Northeastern Brazil. You can feel that samba flavor.
last but not least, two albums i have recently picked up-
Rafael Cortijo- Cortijo y su Maquina del Tiempo. A way ahead of its time funk/Nuyorican Jazz/Boricua Soul collection of 7 songs. Will take you to East Harlem in the early 1970s.
Mongo Santamaria- Drums and Chants. An amazing concept album from the master of Afro-Cuban percussion. Many traditional Santeria-influenced tracks here, spiced with just a hint of jazz flavor.
First of all-- does anyone know how I might go about posting MP3s on my blog? I would really like to make music avaliable to the faithful homies who read this stuff...
Secondly, my new favorite song(s) :
A few weeks ago, I was driving with Greg and Betsy down to LA for Servant Partners. We were listening to Art Laboe's Jammin Oldies. Now, you need to understand the significance of Art Laboe. This isnt just some oldies show. This is the Sunday night request show....this is a weekly institution, particularly in the 2nd generation and up Latino community in the Southwest. Art Laboe has been a radio disc jockey since the 50s, and specializes in playing the old doo-wop-East LA-jukebox-lowrider-soul cuts that you dont normally hear on the oldies stations. He has taken the torch from Huggie Boy, who was the first, the OG DeeJay who helped to define the smooth, soulful gangster sound that makes you think of cholos, pachucos, ranflas, jainas, and taking your girlfriend 'Lil' Droopy Eyes' down to the diner for a fountain soda.
Anyway, Art Laboe's Golden Oldies are definitive in my musical paradigm. They remind me of New Mexico, and even before I moved to LA, they told of a culture and a lifestyle that originated out here that vatos and homegirls all over New Mexico emulated.
So we're listening, and Art throws on 'I'm Still Here' by a group called the Notations. (I later learn that the Notations were one of the many side projects that were the brainchild of the late great soul master Curtis Mayfield, such as the Impressions....Anything homeboy touched musically is so rediculously good i have to pee on myself)
I contained myself in the car for Greg and Betsy's sake, but if it was any other situation, i would have been screaming and who knows what else, and then after i had gathered myself i would have immediately called my best friend in Albuquerque to tell him about it (my only true kindred soul when it comes to music)
so after weeks of searching the internet, i have found the song, and i can now carry it anywhere in my ipod. I am melting.
If you want examples of the Art Laboe sound, here are some others that defined my experience of living life and digging for records throughout high school:
Pete Wingfield "18 with a bullet"
Bloodstone "Natural High"
Sly Slick & Wicked "Confessing a Feeling"
Tierra "Together"
GQ- "I do love you"
Richie Valens "Sleepwalking"
There are a few other notable songs that have entered my consciousness recently:
another Notations cut called "Super People" A filthy-ass funk drum sample with serious social justice overtones-- something Curtis Mayfield is also known for
"Just a Moment" by Nas and Quan-- a cut that Juan and Arturo put me down on. After hearing it over and over at Palm Springs, i was hooked on it....although i liked it after only hearing it once. Definetly one of the better songs in terms of substance that has come out from the mainstream recently.
"Gettin It" By Too Short. Ahh...mid-90's hip hop. Ahh....Pimp-a-listic saucy-ass, collared-green-ass Bay Area hip hop. I usually avoid most of Too Short's stuff, as it is pretty much all disgusting content-wise. But this is a cut, ( along with "Player's Holiday", ironically) that actually has some redeeming value.
On the Latin tip..."A Vida Em Seus Metodos Diz Calma" by obscure and mysterious 70's Brazilian funkster Di Melo. A tasty bit of Afro-Brazillian soul coming out of an era of groovin/consciousness analogous to what was going on in the US. An explosion of funky music and Black power, but in Northeastern Brazil. You can feel that samba flavor.
last but not least, two albums i have recently picked up-
Rafael Cortijo- Cortijo y su Maquina del Tiempo. A way ahead of its time funk/Nuyorican Jazz/Boricua Soul collection of 7 songs. Will take you to East Harlem in the early 1970s.
Mongo Santamaria- Drums and Chants. An amazing concept album from the master of Afro-Cuban percussion. Many traditional Santeria-influenced tracks here, spiced with just a hint of jazz flavor.
Monday, April 11, 2005
Sunday, April 10, 2005
O Jerusalem!
This week has been goodness, God's goodness to me. I praise him for the things my eyes have seen, for the things my heart has come to understand.
-Our community in Northwest Neighbors....I have been so blessed in getting to know more youth, and some youth even better. After Palm Springs, I felt so much more connected, so much more a brother in a family that God has made. Wednesday was the scavenger hunt at Paseo. Friday, I took some of the guys to the comic store and to Santa Monica.
Yesterday, it was so beautiful to go with Tina and Hugo, Diana and Gladys to Eaton Canyon, where we hopped over the stones in the river, had a picnic in the shade and enjoyed eachothers company. After that, there was the video game tournament, and some final time with the guys before visiting some folk at Betsy's apartment.
God is doing a lot of healing work in me recently....or inviting me into it.
The refrain for me has been 'my sould will be satisfied in the LORD'
Fundamentally, and on the level of my every day thoughts and actions, the Lord has not been my satisfaction. Where has my hunger taken me? It has taken me to sick, filthy idols. To foolish idols, fantasies and illusions. I hungered and thirsted, but for what, I knew not. So I would go to other streams that were not living water. The need to impress people. The desire for human attention and affection. The desire to emotionally attach myself to someone else. Using relationships to make my self larger in my own eyes...
Jeremiah 2:26:
But you said 'it is hopeless, for i have loved strangers and after them i will go'
Yes! Holy God, have mercy on me, I have given my love to strangers! What is the defenition of a stranger? Someone who you do not know, and who does not know you. They do not know you, where you came from, what you value, where you're going--they do not care about you.
Yes, you have given your love (rather, your devotion, your worship) to these things, these strangers and followed them--when all along there was someone who knew you!
He knew you all the time. He knew you and called you precious....
God wants me to be free to not have my worth and soul cling to the attention or affection i get from those i serve, live, work with.
God wants me to be free to experience rejection, and still live confidently rooted in Him
Free to give without expecting anything in return
God wants me to be free to be loved by him
))))))))
On Wednesday walking in Old Town, I met Gary, a homeless man begging outside of 21 Choices. In a slurred voice, with a crippled hand extended, he explained to me how my namesake, Jacob, had sought to get God's blessing. Gary asked me if I knew that I had God's blessing. I said 'I hope so' He said 'No, you have to know it, in here!'
I said Amen, and before I left, he assured me that the God who feeds and clothes the sparrows would take care of him.
I walked down Colorado, and everything around me became nothing. I could see that when God looked down on this center of wealth, commerce and image, the thing he saw as shining the most brightly, the most beautiful and attractive thing in this physical part of the earth was the faith and hope that Gary carried in his heart. This disheveled, sickly man whose presence is seen as an unsightly blight on the polished surroundings.....this is where the Kingdom of God was.
I walked away, feeling not worthy to have recieved what i had. I was free to cry in my car on the way home.
Thank you Jesus for your holiness given into my life. Thank you for the love of my friends. Thank you for giving me a home. Thank you for destrying in order to rebuild. Thank you for this family.
-Our community in Northwest Neighbors....I have been so blessed in getting to know more youth, and some youth even better. After Palm Springs, I felt so much more connected, so much more a brother in a family that God has made. Wednesday was the scavenger hunt at Paseo. Friday, I took some of the guys to the comic store and to Santa Monica.
Yesterday, it was so beautiful to go with Tina and Hugo, Diana and Gladys to Eaton Canyon, where we hopped over the stones in the river, had a picnic in the shade and enjoyed eachothers company. After that, there was the video game tournament, and some final time with the guys before visiting some folk at Betsy's apartment.
God is doing a lot of healing work in me recently....or inviting me into it.
The refrain for me has been 'my sould will be satisfied in the LORD'
Fundamentally, and on the level of my every day thoughts and actions, the Lord has not been my satisfaction. Where has my hunger taken me? It has taken me to sick, filthy idols. To foolish idols, fantasies and illusions. I hungered and thirsted, but for what, I knew not. So I would go to other streams that were not living water. The need to impress people. The desire for human attention and affection. The desire to emotionally attach myself to someone else. Using relationships to make my self larger in my own eyes...
Jeremiah 2:26:
But you said 'it is hopeless, for i have loved strangers and after them i will go'
Yes! Holy God, have mercy on me, I have given my love to strangers! What is the defenition of a stranger? Someone who you do not know, and who does not know you. They do not know you, where you came from, what you value, where you're going--they do not care about you.
Yes, you have given your love (rather, your devotion, your worship) to these things, these strangers and followed them--when all along there was someone who knew you!
He knew you all the time. He knew you and called you precious....
God wants me to be free to not have my worth and soul cling to the attention or affection i get from those i serve, live, work with.
God wants me to be free to experience rejection, and still live confidently rooted in Him
Free to give without expecting anything in return
God wants me to be free to be loved by him
))))))))
On Wednesday walking in Old Town, I met Gary, a homeless man begging outside of 21 Choices. In a slurred voice, with a crippled hand extended, he explained to me how my namesake, Jacob, had sought to get God's blessing. Gary asked me if I knew that I had God's blessing. I said 'I hope so' He said 'No, you have to know it, in here!'
I said Amen, and before I left, he assured me that the God who feeds and clothes the sparrows would take care of him.
I walked down Colorado, and everything around me became nothing. I could see that when God looked down on this center of wealth, commerce and image, the thing he saw as shining the most brightly, the most beautiful and attractive thing in this physical part of the earth was the faith and hope that Gary carried in his heart. This disheveled, sickly man whose presence is seen as an unsightly blight on the polished surroundings.....this is where the Kingdom of God was.
I walked away, feeling not worthy to have recieved what i had. I was free to cry in my car on the way home.
Thank you Jesus for your holiness given into my life. Thank you for the love of my friends. Thank you for giving me a home. Thank you for destrying in order to rebuild. Thank you for this family.
Thursday, April 07, 2005
Vacation
This is my 4th day of spring break from TAS. I have had the mornings free, which has been great.
Tuesday I went to Claremont to have a great time and conversation with my former staff workers Chris and Lorainne at their house. We talked about the ministry there and how i could start supporting them.
;;;;;;;;;;;
something i have been thinking about recently....the list of 40 developmental assets on the youth inventory sheet for NWN. It was cool to look at it last week for the first time since the fall. Since then, I have become connected to many more young people, and looking at them in terms of developmental assets is interesting.
I think this is a really useful tool, and it really reminds me of why youth work/education has become so important to me. It has also pointed out to me some things about myself.
I remember something i think Jason had said at the fall retreat- that kids with more assets attract adults with more assets/resources to give. We try to counter this trend in urban ministry. But over the last semester I have found that in NWN, TAS and especially at Walden School, much of what has drawn me to certain youth is that they have a lot of those assets. In some sense, I think it makes sense strategically to focus on youth in areas like NW Pas and South LA who have a lot of assets, because they can be developed as leaders of their communities. But at a place like Walden School, it is very different. No one is 'at risk' there. There is no fear that any of them will 'slip through the cracks.' There are so many support systems aorund them and resources being poured into them, that their success is all but assured.
I guess this is why there is something attractive about them....It is encouraging to hear from kids who have a vision for their futures, have had varied and enriching life experiences and are socially and emotionally well adjusted. There are youth like this in NWN as well as TAS and Walden, but I think it presses me to consider where my heart is, and be diligent about trying to see what God sees and where he would have me put the resources he has given me.
Tuesday I went to Claremont to have a great time and conversation with my former staff workers Chris and Lorainne at their house. We talked about the ministry there and how i could start supporting them.
;;;;;;;;;;;
something i have been thinking about recently....the list of 40 developmental assets on the youth inventory sheet for NWN. It was cool to look at it last week for the first time since the fall. Since then, I have become connected to many more young people, and looking at them in terms of developmental assets is interesting.
I think this is a really useful tool, and it really reminds me of why youth work/education has become so important to me. It has also pointed out to me some things about myself.
I remember something i think Jason had said at the fall retreat- that kids with more assets attract adults with more assets/resources to give. We try to counter this trend in urban ministry. But over the last semester I have found that in NWN, TAS and especially at Walden School, much of what has drawn me to certain youth is that they have a lot of those assets. In some sense, I think it makes sense strategically to focus on youth in areas like NW Pas and South LA who have a lot of assets, because they can be developed as leaders of their communities. But at a place like Walden School, it is very different. No one is 'at risk' there. There is no fear that any of them will 'slip through the cracks.' There are so many support systems aorund them and resources being poured into them, that their success is all but assured.
I guess this is why there is something attractive about them....It is encouraging to hear from kids who have a vision for their futures, have had varied and enriching life experiences and are socially and emotionally well adjusted. There are youth like this in NWN as well as TAS and Walden, but I think it presses me to consider where my heart is, and be diligent about trying to see what God sees and where he would have me put the resources he has given me.
Monday, April 04, 2005
when day comes, and night falls...
Thanks to God for the good things that i have had the joy and blessing to be a part of in the last few days and weeks.
This weekend, we took a group of northwest pasadena youthseses to a resort in Palm Springs....it turned out to be much needed relaxing, fun time for me, among many other things. To see the youth interact with each other, to see the guys in my bible study interact with each other and me outside of bible study, to really connect with more of the youth on a friend level, and to just have a lot of fun and enjoy the company of the other leaders and youth...i am so glad i went and i will keep many memories from this time..
i guess i could really feel this time like this was like family. I recieved a call from my mom saturday night as we were cleaning up after dinner. She was sad becasue our dog had died and the Pope had died. She called me becasue she was feeling sad and lonely. When this happens, i get overcome with sadness for my family, and after i got off the phone, i had this surge of longing to be home with my family, and just missing them so much.
I went to a quiet place to cry and pray.....and it was good...i think there is some morning i have to do for the ways God has separated me from my family, but also a healthy missing them, which leads me to plead earnestly to God on their behalf...i really really love my family, and this weekend, tlaking with my mom really made me see how far i am from home, how far i am from their struggles, triumphs, growth, joys...And part of me wants so much to be there and asks why, God, do you have me in this place that is strange and hard for me?
Yet, as i went back with the youth and leaders, i started to feel a comfort from their presence. There are ways in which my peers on leadership can know me that my parents dont. And, to my joy, there are ways that the youth can know me culturally that my post-college peers cannot. It was a blessing to be reminded of this this weekend as i interacted with the youth and leaders, some for the first time in meaningful ways.
Praise God- for showing me what he has for me in my neighborhood
This weekend, we took a group of northwest pasadena youthseses to a resort in Palm Springs....it turned out to be much needed relaxing, fun time for me, among many other things. To see the youth interact with each other, to see the guys in my bible study interact with each other and me outside of bible study, to really connect with more of the youth on a friend level, and to just have a lot of fun and enjoy the company of the other leaders and youth...i am so glad i went and i will keep many memories from this time..
i guess i could really feel this time like this was like family. I recieved a call from my mom saturday night as we were cleaning up after dinner. She was sad becasue our dog had died and the Pope had died. She called me becasue she was feeling sad and lonely. When this happens, i get overcome with sadness for my family, and after i got off the phone, i had this surge of longing to be home with my family, and just missing them so much.
I went to a quiet place to cry and pray.....and it was good...i think there is some morning i have to do for the ways God has separated me from my family, but also a healthy missing them, which leads me to plead earnestly to God on their behalf...i really really love my family, and this weekend, tlaking with my mom really made me see how far i am from home, how far i am from their struggles, triumphs, growth, joys...And part of me wants so much to be there and asks why, God, do you have me in this place that is strange and hard for me?
Yet, as i went back with the youth and leaders, i started to feel a comfort from their presence. There are ways in which my peers on leadership can know me that my parents dont. And, to my joy, there are ways that the youth can know me culturally that my post-college peers cannot. It was a blessing to be reminded of this this weekend as i interacted with the youth and leaders, some for the first time in meaningful ways.
Praise God- for showing me what he has for me in my neighborhood
Friday, April 01, 2005
il papa
I was listening to the radio about how Pope John Paul II is close to death.
It will be good to celebrate this man's life....a spiritual leader and a man of peace.
In large part due to his efforts and influence, the Catholic church has greatly grown in Africa, Asia and Latin America. A large portion of the college of cardinals who will meet to select a new pope are non-white, non-European.
He has always been a man of compassion, reconciliation and justice. We should pray that the people of God continue to be blessed with humble and wise leaders.
It will be good to celebrate this man's life....a spiritual leader and a man of peace.
In large part due to his efforts and influence, the Catholic church has greatly grown in Africa, Asia and Latin America. A large portion of the college of cardinals who will meet to select a new pope are non-white, non-European.
He has always been a man of compassion, reconciliation and justice. We should pray that the people of God continue to be blessed with humble and wise leaders.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
"Arise, cry out in the night
at the beginning of the watches!
Pour out your heart like water before
the presence of the LORD!
Lift your hands to him
for the lives of your children,
who faint with hunger
at the head of every street..."
Lamentations 2:19
This morning was a great morning. I love waking up with the sun coing through the window, and going out into the cool air. I dont even mind the commute.
At work today, we had a Cesar Chavez 'festival' in which each classroom hosted rotations...we got to visit 3 classrooms that were doing activities centered around CC and the UFW and its history.
The most interesting and touching of the rotations was one teacher's discussion, in which she passed out pictures of farm workers in the fields and in their conditions, and asked the children to break into small group sand talk about what they thought the farm workers saw, heard, touched, smelled, and felt.
Afterwards, all the kids wrote poems from the perspective of farm workers.....and these were some of the most moving, beautiful pieces of writing i have seen in a long time. It is mind-blowing how these 7 and 8 year olds are able to grasp things like justice, suffering, advocacy, compassion....they know these things-- they just dont have the vocab. to articulate them. But there is something sublime about the way a child's wisdom explains truths about love and justice and hope that is far more impacting and precious than the articulation of the 'learned'
i am going to get copies of all the poems and post them up as soon as i can.
at the beginning of the watches!
Pour out your heart like water before
the presence of the LORD!
Lift your hands to him
for the lives of your children,
who faint with hunger
at the head of every street..."
Lamentations 2:19
This morning was a great morning. I love waking up with the sun coing through the window, and going out into the cool air. I dont even mind the commute.
At work today, we had a Cesar Chavez 'festival' in which each classroom hosted rotations...we got to visit 3 classrooms that were doing activities centered around CC and the UFW and its history.
The most interesting and touching of the rotations was one teacher's discussion, in which she passed out pictures of farm workers in the fields and in their conditions, and asked the children to break into small group sand talk about what they thought the farm workers saw, heard, touched, smelled, and felt.
Afterwards, all the kids wrote poems from the perspective of farm workers.....and these were some of the most moving, beautiful pieces of writing i have seen in a long time. It is mind-blowing how these 7 and 8 year olds are able to grasp things like justice, suffering, advocacy, compassion....they know these things-- they just dont have the vocab. to articulate them. But there is something sublime about the way a child's wisdom explains truths about love and justice and hope that is far more impacting and precious than the articulation of the 'learned'
i am going to get copies of all the poems and post them up as soon as i can.
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