And then. . .

Sunny spring Sundays always brought the people out of their red brick apartments. The rows of doorways popped open and screen doors kept the flies out. Opened windows let in the fresh breeze and sunlight. The neighborhood knew to take advantage of it because there were only a few days like this in El Paso’s spring before the winds came.             El Freddy walked down 3 rd Street toward Stanton.  He’d just left from La Bowie where he ate a warm empanada. He’d passed on the cafecito even though he thought it always made the piña of the empanda taste sweeter, but it was too warm for café.             As he walked, he passed some vatos who were riding around the barrio on their tricked out chrome blinding bikes. El Freddy nodded as he passed them and he heard their laughter as one of them hit the curb and almost wiped out. El Freddy didn’t laugh but just smiled. ...

The beginning of a transcription of a conversation I had with my sister driving around downtown El Paso. Y: Ita never lived this far did she? A: No, she didn’t. Y: I remember parking at that place right here… to go to Juarez [point at parking lot off of South El Paso Street] A: Uh huh… to go to Juarez Y: I haven’t been down here since I don’t even know when, man. [pause] This does look nicer though. [car blinker clicks in the background] A: Yeah, they’re cleaned it up quite a bit. Y: Then when I was a kid.  So, when you would go with grandma would you go—well yeah, it was this bridge, right? A: We’d go through both bridges.  But, most of the time we’d go through this one. Y: Okay. A: Which is uh, PDN. Paso del Norte. Y: Isn’t this the Santa Fe Bridge, though? Or am I…? Oh, I used to park here and cross! A: Mmm hmm. That girl walks funny, like she’s a washing machine [points at pedestrian]. [both laugh loudly] A: Yeah, this is Santa Fe Bridge. It...

Yesterday I went for a walk in downtown El Paso. The older part where they are trying to turn the hood into a postcard where everyone is smiling brightly and sunlight reflects off chemically whitened teeth.  I won't get into how I feel about parts of it: disappointed and choked with things being forced down my throat as the city officials place their hands on the back of my head. Or how I feel about the other part of it: nostalgic with it's restored beauty and I remember my childhood, clasping my grandmother's sweaty palm as we walked the downtown streets. As I walked by Firefighters Memorial Park, a small corner hidden behind tall buildings and homes, I snapped some photos. The sun was bright and unforgiving--it must be called that in El Paso because it's the best description--but I still wanted to look around and get close to the vintage light posts which have replaced the tainted silver ones that used to be there. Beads of sweat were already beginning to surface ...