A Good and Bad Week

This past week has been both good and bad.

The good part is that my grand-daughter, Anastasia, came to LA to visit us from Chicago. As many of you know, I have four grandchildren--two of them are already teenagers. One if them is Anastasia, an intelligent, beautiful, and strong 13-year-old young lady. It was so great to see her and to spend some time with her. We did the regular touristy things--my daughter Andrea and her daughter, Catalina, one of my other grand kids, and my son Luis took her to Hollywood, Olvera Street, downtown LA; my sons Ruben and Luis (and Katrina, Ruben's girlfriend) took Anastasia to Magic Mountain. She also visited with my family at my sister Ana's house, and with my mother, who's at a rest home for Alzheimer's patients. Anastasia is now with her grand-mother, my first wife Camila, who is taking her around her large East LA family, and to the beach and visits with family and friends in Long Beach, Orange County, and LA.

However, a few days before I picked up Anastasia from the airport, my back gave out on me. I've had recurring issues with several slipped discs over the years, stemming from the many years I worked in industry and construction during my late teens and twenties. The older I've gotten, the worse it has become. But I've been doing fine for several years until one day last week I couldn't get out of bed. As anyone who has gone through this knows, it's extremely painful. I was then forced to walk around in a cane. I went to a chiropractor, and then to a sobadora, which is a Mexican healer who uses massage. The last time my back gave out, a sobador in Pacoima put things back together, and it lasted for quite a while. I don't have insurance, so I have to find other more natural and less costly means to take care of my health.

Although I was hurting, I still had to go to meetings, type on my computer, and other work. I just had to take breaks and change positions from time to time. I even went to a fund raising house meeting for The Gathering, a social justice retreat group founded by Harry Belafonte. My friend Nane Alejandrez of Barrios Unidos invited me to this event, held at the home of one of Gregory Peck's daughters. Also present was Sharon Stone, Michael Farrell, Harry Belafonte's kids, Connie Rice of the Advancement Project, and others. Cane or no cane, I got around, talking to people and passing out postcards for Tia Chucha's benefit event at the Ford Amphitheater on July 29 (go to www.tiachucha.com for more information).

Today I'm feeling a lot better. I've been off my cane for a couple of days. I've had to let go my exercise regimen, which I hate to do since I got a good momentum going with this. But I'll get back on it--a lot more careful when I do, too.

Meanwhile I have a couple more days before Anastasia goes home. We'll miss her. She's a real special human being with so much energy and talent to contribute powerful and positive things to this world. Of course, I'm biased, but it's true.

"Notes of a Bald Cricket" Premiers at the Ford Little Theatre

It took several rehearsals, revisions, re-assessments, and more revisions, but the staged production of a series of poems dealing with my addictions and recovery, "Notes of a Bald Cricket" premiered on Saturday, June 16 as part of The [Inside] Performances at the Ford Theatres in Hollywood.

Directed by my old friend Ruben "Funkahuatl" Guevara, who also provided the music, I was able to challenge myself, and pick up my own game, in the performance art aspect of my work.

Also on the bill were two amazing Filipina performance poets, Melinda Corazon Foley with "Second Chances," and Alfie Ebojo who did "Love Letter to Los Angeles."

I was impressed by what seemed like almost a full house in the 87-seat theater. A number of friends, including artist Leo Limon; Organic Soul Movement creator Sara Cruse; Rock & Rap Editor Lee Ballinger; "Monte Carlo 76" DJ and musician, David Gomez; and others were in attendance.

I was also pleased to meet actor Annette Bening, wife of Warren Beatty, who came with her teenaged daughter. Her daughter apparently requested to see my production after having known my book, "Always Running," from school. They came up and shook our hands and had nice things to say about our performances.

Afterwards the audience and performers gathered in the plaza area to enjoy refreshments and a Latin Jazz duo. I was also interviewed by a pair of Australian DJs and radio journalists who were in town for a few days on their way to Mexico.

My daughter Andrea showed up and filmed the performance--which was about 35 minutes long and required my total focus on my words and delivery.

Ruben Guevara and I hope to continue to rework this piece for possible staging in other theaters. It's recommended for mature audiences (we had to make this point to a middle school class, whose teacher had called about possibly coming to see the performance). I hope I can bring "Notes of a Bald Cricket" to more performance spaces in the near future.

I also want to thank Agustin Gurza and the LA Times for doing a good piece in the Calendar section highlighting this show.

Literacy as Life and the Basis for Real Personal Power and Freedom

Every year for five years I've taken part in the Feria del Libro--Los Angeles' largest children's book festival. The Feria began in Roosevelt High School, one of East LA's most famous schools (and the most populated high school in the United States). Tia Chucha's, the bookstore/cultural center I helped create, has also had tables there with books, including bilingual books, for children and the community.

This year, just like last year, the Feria del Libro was held at LA's City Hall downtown. More than 30,000 people attended. Several streets were blocked off and many more booths now graced the book fair. In addition there were two stages for performers, authors, speakers, and music. I was able to read poetry and talk in one of the stages--and I was given the privilege of introducing one of my favorite bands (and one of LA's best exponents of the "LA Sound"), Quetzal.

Also this year, Guatemalan Human Rights Activist and Nobel Peace Prize Winner, Rigoberta Menchu Tum, was the featured author. I had the privilege of being on a panel with Rigoberto Menchu to discuss literacy in both local and global terms.

Right away Ms. Menchu brought in the indigenous cosmology of her Mayan heritage. When I spoke, I connected with this, using greetings from the Raramuri people of Southern Chihuahua, one of my heritages, and then proceeding to talk about literacy as the confidence and competence people need to be truly active in any area or field they want to be.

To me literacy is real freedom. If one can't read (or can't read beyond the much lower standards of a 7th grade education that "No Child Behind" is pushing), one is imprisoned to be a consumer/worker with little mobility beyond the daily survival grind at the peripherery of a global capitalist economy.

We need more than this. We being the poorest, most neglected, and often repressed working class of this country. At the heart of this working class are African Americans, Mexicans, Puerto Ricans, Central Americans, Native Americans, and poor Asian Americans. But the majority of this class is made up of Whites (including those who have been in this country for several generations). Literacy is a key out of this box, this so-called station of life that many of us have been forced into from birth, through schools, and a myriad of economic, social, and cultural pressures.

As a young person, I wanted to go beyond that place I was supposed to stay at--mostly unenlightened, confused, and stressed just to make ends meet (like my parents, other family members, and the majority of people I deal with every day). After an intense gang and drug life, then working for several years in industry (construction, factories, foundries, mills, refineries), I eventually became a writer in my mid-twenties. It was a difficult road to take--nobody in my family or immediate community were able to support or help me (although I did have some encouragement, mostly I got funny looks or outright admonishments about getting "real jobs").

During my panel talk, I mentioned one man who sacrificed his time to help me become a journalist/writer. His name was Mr. Takagi, a Japanese American night school teacher at East LA College. I attended classes there in journalism, creative writing, and speech. Since night classes were primarily made up of working people, many students dropped out before they could finish. Unfortunately, the second session of Mr. Takagi's class had only one student show up--me.

Mr. Takagi told me he had to drop the whole class since there weren't enough students to keep it going. He must have seen the disappointment in my eyes, because soon after he turned to me and said he'd come back every week if I would also come back every week. I accepted his challenge. So every week that semester, I showed up, and Mr. Takagi was there. He gave me assignments, I wrote various pieces, and I knew he was even tired and would prefer being home. But he stayed true to this word.

I recall once Mr. Takagi falling asleep as I read one of my pieces. My heart went out to him--as his must have gone out to me. I finished the class and passed. Mr. Takagi even recommended me for the Summer Program for Minority Journalist at UC Berkeley, which I eventually took part in becoming an alumni in 1980 (I received a journalist certificate and became valedictorian). It changed my life--I've been a professional writer (and speaker) ever since.

I'm honored to have met and talked with Rigoberta Menchu. She understood and appreciated this story about Mr. Takagi (as did the audience). It's important to recognize and even name our mentors, those willing to step out of their own lives for a short time to help someone else.

The Feria del Libro ia a great accomplishment. I honor all the founders (particularly my friend Maria Casillas), board members, staff, volunteers, and funders for helping keep literacy alive in LA. And I also want to say a word of thanks to Mr. Takagi, wherever he may be. Your trust in me helped me trust myself. Gracias my friend.