By Gloria López-Stafford
This memoir of turning out to be up in El Paso within the Forties and Fifties creates a complete urban: the way in which a barrio awakens within the early morning solar, the joys of a unprecedented wilderness snow, the flavor of fruit-flavored raspadas on summer time afternoons, the "money boys" who beg from commuters passing from side to side to Ju???rez, and the mischief of kids exciting themselves within the streets. L???pez-Stafford exhibits readers El Paso in the course of the eyes of Yoya--short for Gloria--the high-spirited narrator, who's 5 years outdated while the e-book begins.Yoya is a survivor. Her younger mom has died, leaving her within the care of her a lot older father, who attempts to supply for his kinfolk by way of promoting used garments. Her brother Carlos, Padre Luna, and a neighborhood of youngsters and ladies suppose accountability for Yoya, yet just like the inexplicable lack of her mom, unforeseen adjustments separate her from her cherished barrio. the quest for su lugar, her position, turns into a look for id as Gloria seeks to appreciate her a variety of houses and households.
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Extra info for A Place in El Paso: A Mexican-American Childhood
They were dressed like country people whom you see in the streets of Juárez. The men took off their big straw hats and I stared at them. I couldn't believe that anyone could wear such big hats. Doña Lupe told me to take the hats from the men and to put them in the bedroom upstairs. I took them, one in each hand. They were as big as I was. One of the women was amused by this and started to giggle but her husband gave her a look that could have turned her into stone. Naturally I was delighted. Somehow I managed to grab the cones of the hats and my tiny hands dug in.
More often than not, I would make my way over to him and he would invite me to sit on his lap. I would braid the fringe on the chenille cover while we both waited to hear one of his favorite songs in English that I didn't understand. " I didn't care what they said. I knew he liked them and he tried to teach them to me. But I had no use for English, even though Palm told me that if I learned English, I would understand the cowboy songs and the movies at the Wigwam. I didn't care to learn. Let's go back to that Saturday at twilight when one could hear the dogs barking in the distance, creating a hollow sound.
Flaco said that Señora Olga was going over to the Canton Grocery on Stanton Street and she would be gone for a while. We were all afraid of Señora Olga. She was a mean, loud, dark brown woman with a large body that shimmered like a Russian brown bear dancing on its hind legs when she walked. And, like the bear, her face showed no expression. It was only when she opened her mouth that you realized she was angry. And by then, it was too late! We waited until we saw her leave the apartment and disappear into the distance.
A Place in El Paso: A Mexican-American Childhood by Gloria López-Stafford