As my first book is about to be published, I would like to share with you an excerpt from it. These are stories from my childhood. It is based on the fact that although many of us come from broken homes, history reveals it has always been this way.
These stories are based on a scripture verse from Philippians 4:8, which reads in a gleaning format: " Summing it all up friends, I'd say you do yourselves good to remember things that are honorable, true, right, respectful, and lovely. Remember these things as confirmed in the Sacred Scriptures. Pull together your thoughts of the past that are not just authentic, but compelling, gracious, and admirable. Don't allow yourselves to focus on the ugly, the worst, and the deep scars of the past. Embracing thoughts like that only have one purpose...to hurt you. Instead, search for memories that have excellence and worthy of praise in the midst of what may have been horrific circumstances. Find a way to turn your thoughts, in doing so, all the glory will go to Him."
-------------------------------------------
Prologue: I have found some peace writing prose and poetry. My poetry is raw, my heart a little wounded, yet the mirror, although broken, still allows me to see. With this in mind, here is my story....
"Sugar Beets and Factories"
The Rose that Grew from Concrete
"Did you hear about the rose...that grew from a crack in the concrete?
Proving nature's law is wrong...it learned 2 walk
without having feet.
Funny it seems by keeping its dreams
it learned 2 breathe fresh air.
Long live the rose that grew from concrete
when no one else ever cared."
Tupac Shakur
The smoke was a silvery ash, coming from the tall smokestack of the sugar beet factory in our hometown...on this early October morning. Yet it appeared so vivid and clear against the dark blue skies. Towering bellows of smoke vaunting straight up into the sky.
The trucks were rolling in with their beds full of sugar beets. One after another, the process had begun. Although the 'beets produce the sweet taste of sugar, the process is not the same.
The odor was a little sour as it lingered in the air. Nearby homes knew the work was needful and necessary, yet the stench was strong this time of year. We sat on the front porch swing, watching the 'beet trucks drive by.
------------------------
We waved and yelled hello
Sipping a Stroh's as each driver passed by.
They responded by honking their horns
We had just gotten off third, and sleep was drawing high.
-------------------------
We were part of a factory town. One factory made aluminum cans; cans for beer, for pop, and other drinks as well. The pay was good with medical benefits to boot! The challenge was to work the swing shifts, every two weeks the schedule changed...first shift, second shift, then third for two.
------------------------
Our town was growing during this time,
On the east side the construction strong.
The factories on the west side
Was called the "other side of town."
The west side had numerous factories
Oil, plastic, and tire companies too.
Keeping many in town employed,
A decent living for more than a few.
Tire employees would burst out the door
The time had come to drink some booze.
Their faces were black, and fingernails too,
The black rings around their eyes,
Were now permanent tattoos.
Tire employees were easy to spot,
All you really need to do,
Look at their black fringed nostrils,
A stained poison...
In a blue-blackened hue.
As I prepared for bed that morning,
The sirens had gone off.
The plastic factory giving fair warning
Carbon was being released,
They didn't want anyone
Be in danger of getting "the cough."
-----------------------------------
Living on the west side of town, our neighborhood was called the "Outer Park." It was on the fringe of town, the southwest side to be exact. Along with factories nearby, the local airport was located there.
Every once in a while, we heard a sound that shook our windows and walls. It was called a sonic boom, outlawed a year later or so. Medical findings were concluding the booms were causing the tissues of the human heart to thicken.
Outer Park consisted mostly of "cracker box" homes, nothing elaborate or elegant. Yet for those who chose to reside here, it became a heartfelt home. The neighborhood was a mixture of Hispanics, Caucasians, and a few African Americans too. The color of our skin was not an issue, the draw card was the work available...and an opportunity to own!
----------------------------------------
I lived on this west side of town
A neighborhood "Outer Park" by name.
It was home to many a factory worker
With stories of local fame.
As we grew old enough to buy cars and drive
Muscle cars were our passion
And how the Outer Park did thrive!
There were Camaros, '65 Chevy's, and Novas,
To mention just a few,
Some souped up older cars
The '57 Chevy was a nice cruise.
The word on the streets
During those memorable days,
Dodge was making a model
The '69 Roadrunner was fast.
It would have the power
To kick anyone's ass.
-----------------------------------
Driving into Outer Park, many of our driveways looked like mechanic's shops. There were 350 engines hangin' in trees, high extended shocks, and cherry bomb mufflers to add to our stock. We worked on cars together, we worked alone, we worked at mid-day, or at mid-night if need be. Tires were propped up against the side of garages, yet chrome rims were always kept inside...usually beside our beds.
Beer, girls, and music were part of our daily scenery. The only interruption was the sirens going off from the rubber company. It signaled there was "cancer in the air" and it would be best to get inside.
It was 1968 and all was well in Outer Park.
-----------------------------------
McDonald's had made their presence
On the east side of town.
We would put our cars in gear
Cruise and show off to the crowd.
There was a new sandwich coming out
It was free if you knew the phrase,
McDonald's called it a "Big Mac,"
We memorized it along the way.
"Two all beef patties,
Special sauce, lettuce, cheese,
Pickles, onions, on a sesame seed bun,"
Was the order please.
Sure enough, the Big Mac appeared,
I double-checked for melted cheese.
---------------------------------
As the summer of '68 came to a close, the VC's launched an offensive called "Tet." My close friend Mario found out his older brother Tony had been killed. Mario tried to enlist, but wasn't old enough quite yet. It didn't matter anyway, they drafted him in '71.
My neighbor Mr. Rodriguez, had worked for twenty some years at the tire factory. He had what we called "the black lung." Nothin' ever came of it, he just laid down and died.
There was this evangelistic guy that set up a big tent at the local playground in Outer Park. The crowd got a little excited when we walked inside.
In an ash-colored world, the inner tent was a brilliant white. Someone mentioned a dove somehow enlightened the room.
---------------------------------
This time of year
Emotions were strong
Fear crept in the alleys
Singing "get-away" songs,
Reminding us all...hope is long gone.
Friends dying around us,
Simply breathing the air,
There were tickets still available,
A limited few could share.
Off to the jungle, the billboard boldly declared,
A gun is included, which you must proudly bear.
That Uncle Sam, he is really a nice guy,
He emulates a heart...that makes it right to die!
The color of the skies made their daily change,
Ash-color, dark blue, then to black again.
People wandered the streets,
In search to have some fun,
Returning to our homes,
Only Sadness had come.
Beneath all the rubble
Deep pains now filled the carts.
A Voice cries in the Wind,
Offering a new start.
Hearing His steps
Walking through the shame,
Some thought it best to run
Others thought they heard Him
Call them by name.
Knocking on their door
Some shouted "Not Again!"
They had heard His Voice before,
His offer didn't work for them.
Still, there were a few
Who walked in the tent with hurt,
Walked out feeling different.
Others noticed, some didn't care
Still others went on in search.
--------------------------------
Some did emerge from the concrete, considered what He said. I happen to be one of those....
These stories are based on a scripture verse from Philippians 4:8, which reads in a gleaning format: " Summing it all up friends, I'd say you do yourselves good to remember things that are honorable, true, right, respectful, and lovely. Remember these things as confirmed in the Sacred Scriptures. Pull together your thoughts of the past that are not just authentic, but compelling, gracious, and admirable. Don't allow yourselves to focus on the ugly, the worst, and the deep scars of the past. Embracing thoughts like that only have one purpose...to hurt you. Instead, search for memories that have excellence and worthy of praise in the midst of what may have been horrific circumstances. Find a way to turn your thoughts, in doing so, all the glory will go to Him."
-------------------------------------------
Prologue: I have found some peace writing prose and poetry. My poetry is raw, my heart a little wounded, yet the mirror, although broken, still allows me to see. With this in mind, here is my story....
"Sugar Beets and Factories"
The Rose that Grew from Concrete
"Did you hear about the rose...that grew from a crack in the concrete?
Proving nature's law is wrong...it learned 2 walk
without having feet.
Funny it seems by keeping its dreams
it learned 2 breathe fresh air.
Long live the rose that grew from concrete
when no one else ever cared."
Tupac Shakur
The smoke was a silvery ash, coming from the tall smokestack of the sugar beet factory in our hometown...on this early October morning. Yet it appeared so vivid and clear against the dark blue skies. Towering bellows of smoke vaunting straight up into the sky.
The trucks were rolling in with their beds full of sugar beets. One after another, the process had begun. Although the 'beets produce the sweet taste of sugar, the process is not the same.
The odor was a little sour as it lingered in the air. Nearby homes knew the work was needful and necessary, yet the stench was strong this time of year. We sat on the front porch swing, watching the 'beet trucks drive by.
------------------------
We waved and yelled hello
Sipping a Stroh's as each driver passed by.
They responded by honking their horns
We had just gotten off third, and sleep was drawing high.
-------------------------
We were part of a factory town. One factory made aluminum cans; cans for beer, for pop, and other drinks as well. The pay was good with medical benefits to boot! The challenge was to work the swing shifts, every two weeks the schedule changed...first shift, second shift, then third for two.
------------------------
Our town was growing during this time,
On the east side the construction strong.
The factories on the west side
Was called the "other side of town."
The west side had numerous factories
Oil, plastic, and tire companies too.
Keeping many in town employed,
A decent living for more than a few.
Tire employees would burst out the door
The time had come to drink some booze.
Their faces were black, and fingernails too,
The black rings around their eyes,
Were now permanent tattoos.
Tire employees were easy to spot,
All you really need to do,
Look at their black fringed nostrils,
A stained poison...
In a blue-blackened hue.
As I prepared for bed that morning,
The sirens had gone off.
The plastic factory giving fair warning
Carbon was being released,
They didn't want anyone
Be in danger of getting "the cough."
-----------------------------------
Living on the west side of town, our neighborhood was called the "Outer Park." It was on the fringe of town, the southwest side to be exact. Along with factories nearby, the local airport was located there.
Every once in a while, we heard a sound that shook our windows and walls. It was called a sonic boom, outlawed a year later or so. Medical findings were concluding the booms were causing the tissues of the human heart to thicken.
Outer Park consisted mostly of "cracker box" homes, nothing elaborate or elegant. Yet for those who chose to reside here, it became a heartfelt home. The neighborhood was a mixture of Hispanics, Caucasians, and a few African Americans too. The color of our skin was not an issue, the draw card was the work available...and an opportunity to own!
----------------------------------------
I lived on this west side of town
A neighborhood "Outer Park" by name.
It was home to many a factory worker
With stories of local fame.
As we grew old enough to buy cars and drive
Muscle cars were our passion
And how the Outer Park did thrive!
There were Camaros, '65 Chevy's, and Novas,
To mention just a few,
Some souped up older cars
The '57 Chevy was a nice cruise.
The word on the streets
During those memorable days,
Dodge was making a model
The '69 Roadrunner was fast.
It would have the power
To kick anyone's ass.
-----------------------------------
Driving into Outer Park, many of our driveways looked like mechanic's shops. There were 350 engines hangin' in trees, high extended shocks, and cherry bomb mufflers to add to our stock. We worked on cars together, we worked alone, we worked at mid-day, or at mid-night if need be. Tires were propped up against the side of garages, yet chrome rims were always kept inside...usually beside our beds.
Beer, girls, and music were part of our daily scenery. The only interruption was the sirens going off from the rubber company. It signaled there was "cancer in the air" and it would be best to get inside.
It was 1968 and all was well in Outer Park.
-----------------------------------
McDonald's had made their presence
On the east side of town.
We would put our cars in gear
Cruise and show off to the crowd.
There was a new sandwich coming out
It was free if you knew the phrase,
McDonald's called it a "Big Mac,"
We memorized it along the way.
"Two all beef patties,
Special sauce, lettuce, cheese,
Pickles, onions, on a sesame seed bun,"
Was the order please.
Sure enough, the Big Mac appeared,
I double-checked for melted cheese.
---------------------------------
As the summer of '68 came to a close, the VC's launched an offensive called "Tet." My close friend Mario found out his older brother Tony had been killed. Mario tried to enlist, but wasn't old enough quite yet. It didn't matter anyway, they drafted him in '71.
My neighbor Mr. Rodriguez, had worked for twenty some years at the tire factory. He had what we called "the black lung." Nothin' ever came of it, he just laid down and died.
There was this evangelistic guy that set up a big tent at the local playground in Outer Park. The crowd got a little excited when we walked inside.
In an ash-colored world, the inner tent was a brilliant white. Someone mentioned a dove somehow enlightened the room.
---------------------------------
This time of year
Emotions were strong
Fear crept in the alleys
Singing "get-away" songs,
Reminding us all...hope is long gone.
Friends dying around us,
Simply breathing the air,
There were tickets still available,
A limited few could share.
Off to the jungle, the billboard boldly declared,
A gun is included, which you must proudly bear.
That Uncle Sam, he is really a nice guy,
He emulates a heart...that makes it right to die!
The color of the skies made their daily change,
Ash-color, dark blue, then to black again.
People wandered the streets,
In search to have some fun,
Returning to our homes,
Only Sadness had come.
Beneath all the rubble
Deep pains now filled the carts.
A Voice cries in the Wind,
Offering a new start.
Hearing His steps
Walking through the shame,
Some thought it best to run
Others thought they heard Him
Call them by name.
Knocking on their door
Some shouted "Not Again!"
They had heard His Voice before,
His offer didn't work for them.
Still, there were a few
Who walked in the tent with hurt,
Walked out feeling different.
Others noticed, some didn't care
Still others went on in search.
--------------------------------
Some did emerge from the concrete, considered what He said. I happen to be one of those....
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