Speaking+with+Hands


 * I Remember ~ Edward Montez **

I remember the scent of acorn soup cooking and deer meat frying in quiet evenings of summer.

And shivering under thin blankets in winter and watching the wall paper dance to the force of the winter winds outside.

I remember the cry of an owl in the night and I knew it was an ominous warning, a cry of death.

I remember running in the dust behind the medicine truck when it came to the reservation, lifesaver was a free treat.

And grandpa sitting in his favorite resting chair under his favorite shade tree with his dog ‘Oly” by his side.

I remember running naked and screaming with my aunt in hot pursuit, a stick in her hand, she always caught me.

And every summer we would swim in the river and let the sun bake us until we were a shade less than purple. basking on the riverbank, undisturbed, at peace.

And I remember grandma toiling in the beanfield while I played with my army truck on the fender of a “49” Plymouth.

I remember going to the movies in town on Saturday nights with fifty cents in my pocket, thirty five cents for the ticket and the rest was mine.

Eating popcorn and drinking water from a discarded coke cup and rooting for the Indians to win, and they never did, but that was yesterday.

Speaking with Hands by Luis Rodriquez

There were no markets in Watts. There were these small corner stores we called // marketas // who charged more money for cheaper goods than what existed in other parts of town. The owners were often thieves in white coats who talked to you like animals, who knew you had no options; who knew Watts was the preferred landfill of the city.

One time, Mama started an argument at the cash register. In her broken English, speaking with her hands, she had us children stand around her as she fought with the grocer on prices & quality & dignity.

Mama became a woman swept by a sobering madness; she must have been what Moses saw in the burning bush, a pillar of fire consuming the still air that reeked of overripe fruit and bad meat from the frozen food section.

She refused to leave until the owner called the police. The police came and argued too, but Mama wouldn’t stop. They pulled her into the parking lot, called her crazy… and then Mama showed them crazy!

They didn’t know what to do but let her go, and Mama took us children back toward home, tired of being tired.