I saw my old friend Mr. Married on the street this afternoon, but not on Marshfield north of here, his last known address. Now he's south of 51st, a Mexican pioneer in African-American territory. He was washing his car on Wood somewhere beyond the pale. He looks terrible--he's aged even more than when I last saw him, and it looks like he's lost some teeth.
I rode down to Garfield Boulevard and was reminded that Chicago International has a charter campus right on that corner. About a year ago I was talking to the director of that network of schools and asked if she had any Latino kids yet. She said no. I said, "Get ready. They're coming." Mr. Married has a nephew who may be school age by now. I wonder where he's going to school.
1 comment:
Ah, Maritza... I do miss the city and I appreciate reading all your postings, however they may deal with los gangeros. I believe I might even miss wearing my hat a certain way so I don't get harrassed by the cops. Good to hear about some color as well. Richmond, IN is more segregated than a box of neopolitan ice cream. The strawberry, chocolate, and vanilla never seem to mix.
Well, off to the races...
Peace and giggles to ya
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