BARRIO SIMONS

[Lonewolf]

A FICTIONAL HISTORY


BARRIO SIMONS (Brick Town)
Aka; The Brickyard (La Ladrillera)

By Lonewolf

1920s Simons Brickyard #3

Do you remember holmes, you remember them times at the village? When was it – the late twenties was it? Those were some good ole times, que no? We was poor, but we lived free and we kept it together. One big familia going through the motions, making a living, surviving all the bull shit the white man threw at us. Living the hard times, but living with a smile on our mascaras. Good folks, fine rucas, firme compas and a proud soul. Simon, them were some good times. Just thinking back on them brings a big suspiro to my lungs and nostalgia to my mind. Man o man how times have changed. I stand here today looking at this immense concrete jungle or as some would call it – a plastic jungle – cause it’s all full of hypocrites and fakes living on credit. Selling their soul to the green devil, never much looking back to their roots, yet always, claiming to be real and claiming to be originals. But do they even know what original means? Chale, just like today’s’ plastic; the credit is taken by many but little do they know about the past that engendered them. So let me fill you up on a little bit from that past. Let me relate to you about a Barrio called Simons aka The Brickyard . . .

The Brickyard was a company town over on the East Side of L.A. The boundaries of the village were Simons Street which later became known as Ford Street, Plymouth Street, Date Street, Railroad Street & Southworth Street. It was called Barrio Simons because that was the last name of the family brothers who started out and built the brick company. The Barrio was situated alongside the tract of land running parallel next to the Atchinson, Topeka & Santa Fe Railroad tracks just north of the L.A. River. Some 150 Mexican Familias at the start began their life here in the Village, living in barracks-like housing-courts; A vibrant Mexican community that went on to become very well-known all around.

A clay pit area existed in this Barrio from which the clay-mud was taken from to manufacture bricks out of. This area became known as El Hoyo (The Hole), and it was here that a group of Vatos from La Ladrillera would go down to kick-back at, to get all huarumos (fumed up), bien cucarachas (all roached up), this was back in the year 1919 from what I remember. You always knew where these vatos be heading, por que they will say to each other “let’s go down to the The Hole” The older folks upon seen the Boys heading down to the road to the pit, knew what they were up to and you would hear them say – “ya se van de mariguanos estos chamacos, ay chingado.”

The Barrio during those early years was compromised of many Mexican immigrants from the Mexican States of Guanajuato, Jalisco and Michoacan. The Simons Brickyard Company seemed to benefit out of having jente in the community that came from the same States out from old Mejico; this was said to keep arguendes and pleitos from occurring on the regular. Everyone during those times was very jealous of keeping their barrios and jobs free from outsiders, be they from problematic white men or other ethnic groups; or even from other Mexicans who could compete for the jobs or the available housing. Therefore, it was imperative that all outsiders be challenged. This all changed with the wheels of time, but in the early years, that’s how it was in the Barrio. Life was hard and life was desperate for many all around, but in Barrio Simons, life was full of hope. The Barrio soon had its own Church, its own small businesses like the Botanicas and tienditas y little restaurants. Of course, most of these came after electricity came to town, before then, it was all darkness and dirt streets. But if you ask me, them were the best of times. Those were the times when our Jefitas would cook on wood stoves or cook outside on water-barrels ingeniously cut up in the middle-side and the tin metal folded up towards the inside, exposing a side for the wood to be fed into and lit, which then would warm up the top plancha of the barrel on which homemade tortillas and other good refin could be cooked. In those days, there were no street lights, only darkness. Bonfires and dim lit kerosene lamps were the only starlight substitute to brighten up the night. Men would sit outdoors by a fogata and play their guitars, singing melancholy corridos or baladas about real personages or events, as well as about the everyday hardships which engulfed our lives. Songs full of meaning, sang out with mucho corazon. In them days, los Vatos would hang-out outdoors --after a long days work at the brickyard-- out in the many empty lots, or down at the pool halls. All the members of the families would be out at night. Los morros (youngsters) would be out playing a las escondidas (hide and seek) or la roña (tag). Los Vatos would be found sitting on porches next to las ñeras (quinceañeras) courting them under the watchful eyes of their relatives. The more adventurous ones would risk it and stroll out to the neighboring little hillsides and riversides, or if with permission – out to a dance. In the cholo-courts type housing barracks, there were more men than women. This was due to the ever increasing immigrations from unmarried men who would leave their rucas back home in Mexico until they saved up enough money to send for them and their chamacos, as well as the ever greater number of teen-age young men who made the journey alone from Tejas and Mexico. This disparity in numbers of women versus men always made for problems due to the competition for the available women. In 1912 “Monte Carmelo” Our Lady of Mount Carmel parish opened it’s doors in the community and on Sundays, after mandatory mass, La Raza would head out to La Laguna (The Lake) over by Laguna Road in the Montebello Park area of the Simons Company: but that could get dangerous, because even though it was on company land, the near-by residents there where mostly white and they did not welcome greasers like us in their part of town. They lived in nice white houses surrounded up with little white fences, living in luxury in comparison with us from the Barrio, so we had to be careful, otherwise, we faced some trouble with the white kids. The same discrimination was a factor in regards to schooling; Spanish was not aloowed to be spoken in school and rarely did us Mexican kids venture out from La Vail Escuela to the white kids Greenwood School in near-by Colonia Flores (Montebello), because trouble awaited with the Anglo kids, so “there was lil’ sense in pushing the boundaries by us kids from Simon Town.”



During these early years, the night parties were in reality Catholic wakes, these however became a thing of the past when electricity was brought in and radio became more and more common in homes. Radio re-developed the fiestas scene and the dancehalls as well, and soon thereafter, the dancehalls became the spots to frequent. Along with these came even more rivalry between the distant communities. Jobs became more contested between those living in Simons Village and the near-by neighborhoods from The Flats and Belvedere Gardens. The animosity between more acculturated Mexican youth and immigrants exploded to ever greater proportions, and hostility between the native & foreign born Mexicans became a real factor in many disputes and fights. It became so great that “If you were of light-skin, you were o.k. but if you were of darker complexion, then you were more prone to be racially stereotyped and discriminated against by the natives.” So much rivalry developed, that many of the baseball and sport activities sponsored by the company, turned into all out rumbles. Whenever the local Barrio Simons team played the teams from First Street or from the Eight Street neighborhoods, the Simons Vatos would carry along with them bricks from the brickyard to launch at their opponents at the end of the games. The hard competition between neighborhoods went on to include everything from jobs to boxing matches, and needless to say, they went on to play out in the dancehalls on weekends. It became so that everything from parks to dancehalls became contested grounds. Soon, even the minor feuds that occurred between American-born and Mexican-born Simons brickyard workers and its youth, escalated into real discord, so much that the Vatos from the clay pit area (The Hole) below the Monterey Hills split from “las casas de arriba” – the homes up The Hill. This was reason and cause why the local youth formed a brotherhood – a club, or a gang if you must – which served as “local protection” against those from “down the hill – El Hoyo” or those from outside the brickyard, from The Flats or from El Puerton aka El Paredon”, the cliffside facing west off present day South Boyle Heights.

It was during these times of the early 1930s, that the Vatos from Barrio Simons structured themselves in the same manner as many of those around them. They took on rules and symbols that represented them all as one to the rest of the “outside world.” From the Brickyard, they adopted the athletic-sport team color of “Green” as well as their motto “Strong as an Ox” – this taken on account of the days when the company operated on human and animal power. They took on the club clique name of “Cutdowns” taken from “cortadores” one of the many labor classifications that the Simons company listed. The Vatos became ever more tight-knight, and just like everyone else, they became “A brotherhood within their own local community.” Hell man, the whole Pueblo de Simons (Brick Town) in the early 1930s was wholly Mexican and real tight-knit and was very traditional in the Mexican culture, so much that a father’s authority in the home was rarely questioned. The community re-enforced its Mexican culture with the observance of Mexican Holidays, the adult social-clubs sponsored patriotic parades and carnivals, and they also formed Mutual and Legal Aid Associations which groomed young people of the neighborhood in the arts of political activism. The times were changing and the population growing at an ever increasing pace. Ever since the 1920s when the Union Pacific Railroad moved into the old cornfield area north-east of La Plazita – and displaced many of the Mexican families from the Dogtown and Macy Street Barrios (some 5,000 families); the East Side of the River became ever more “contested grounds.” New neighborhoods sprang up next and all around to the Lincoln Park, Palos Verdes, Ramona, Brooklyn Heights, Boyle Heights, and Belvedere Gardens communities. Soon, together, all these communities became not scattered Barrios, but an enormous sub-cultural Mexican Nation. Belvedere by the 1940s, with close to 30,000 residents, had become the home to the largest Mexican population in L.A. surpassing even the central Barrio around La Plazita. Available jobs in the brickyard and the manufacturing plants east and south of Belvedere Gardens attracted even larger numbers of Mexican families from the The Flats and the central L.A. neighborhoods, and as more and more families were displaced -at times forcibly from their homes –more of these took up on the promise by developers of exchanging their old shacks and tracts of land for new ones in “The Land of the Sunny Homes” – The MARAVILLAS (Marvelous) Homes, as they were called, on the far eastern unincorporated fringe of the city limits. Placed in a cauldron of racism, mixed-in with other immigrants of Japanese, Chinese, Armenian, Russian Molokan or Jew ethnicity. Mexicans were forced into a stance of Cultural Self-defense. Mexicans, whether they were native-born or foreign-born, became part of the new underclass and forcibly pushed into a corner – a corner from which the only way out was to fight it out, for dignity and honor – if nothing else. Barrio Simons in time gave way to community revitalization and re-development. The houses have long ago fallen or been torn down, and the clay pit filled. The last bricks from the yard being used to build the housing projects in near-by Aliso Village, Ramona Gardens and the Rio del Pueblo (Te Town Flats) in Long Beach; and the great well-know Brickyard boxers like Jesus “Wild Man” Macias from The Hole, and Manuel Martinez (who fought as Bert Colima II) are all but forgotten now. But the focus of social trends and issues of the day, which relied heavily on word of mouth and which were the reliable sources of local information concerning events and happenings affecting the Mexican community, remain even to this day, a product of the cultural identity and Mexican heritage of L.A. A cultural product of which Barrio Simons, was unequivocally a “most definite progenitor” over on the East Side of Los.

[Lonewolf]

Wow, no comments from anyone . . . chingado . . . vale madre este jale!

[SkoobyDoo]

How long you been writing short stories?

[Lonewolf]

How long you been writing short stories?

Why you ask?

My writing skills lacking or decent?

You know Scooby, I was a high school drop out "after 6 High Schools"
when I got myself together, I went back to school (adult school) and
that's were I got my G.E.D. and later on my Diploma. It was during
that time that one of my class instructors took note of what I wrote.
Back then it was words of a young man's revolutionary vision on life.
I never pursued writing, never had the real incentive to improve on
my studies. I went on the road instead, travelled far and wide, saw
civil war and real poverty first hand. Every place I could hop a ride
or catch a train to see, I hopped on and I rode. Days and nights at
a time. I hungered to witness the world and how people lived outside
of my concrete jungle. Everywhere I went, I was not one to stay in
the safe tourist spots, nah, that was not my interest. I wanted to see
the real people and how they carried themselves in their daily dread.
Travelling and being away from the homegrounds gave me releif and
respite from my own every day nothingness. I learned to feel for other
people's, not as blessed as we are here in this abundant America. I saw
tender hearts and caring folks in the most poorest of places. Folks that
had no bloodstain on their hands, like I carried. Folks that fed me and
guided me in my journeys. I saw the difference between rhetoric and
being real. I ate, I slept, I spoke, I saw, I learned and I shared with
many many people from all walks of life. I spent time sleeping in cars,
sleeping in trucks, sleeping next to a camp fire, sleeping on a concrete
or dirt floor. I walked through dark sinister streets and I walked through
crowded uncaring streets. I's spent months at a time on the road. Some
times with money taped up on me, sometimes just hitching a ride and
seeking out some work. For a time, my own Homeboys began to call me
the ghost, because I would disapear for months at a time without saying
a word to anyone. I'd call my folks, days after I'd take off. My mom used
to be a traveller herself, maybe I got this from her. Sometimes when I
knew that she would be heading to this or that city, I would meet up with
her there. Sometimes with the intention of obtaining some dollars off of
her. Othertimes just to get a ride back with her and my pops. She never
kept me from exploring and I never really asked for permission, nor was
I ever a burden, economically that is. I always took good care of myself
and the Lord always watched out for me. I can honestly say, that the only
times I was ever in real trouble or got myself wounded, it was always
around my homegrounds, never on the road. All except one time when I
got punctured a couple of times in this come out of nowhere beef. When
I came upon this here site a couple of years ago, it was while I was asked
by a good friend of mine, who always be going down to L.A., to draw him
up a map of the East Side Gang Turfs since he knew that I lived there for
half my life. I said to him that a lot had changed since my times, but that
I would do my best and get him his map. Then I got myself involved in
some of the discussions concerning what Sur meant and what 13 signified
etc, etc. It sparked a dormant fire within me, it re-opened my soul to a
part of me that still clung to the Homeboys life. Seen so many around me,
family members and friends, all living within the framework of the Barrio,
I realized that I knew things and understood some things better than
others and I began to put it into words. It became a task for me to write
and compile as much as I can possibly amass for the world to learn up
and for the next generations to never forget. So many Homeboys have
laid down their lifes and so many lifes have been wasted, many more
locked up for life or their opportunities cut short for what I asked? There
must be a reason behind it all which gives it value and gives it meaning.
And in fact, there is, and much of it. The problem is, that is not much
given thought, therefore, it is not understood by most. But once you begin
I mean really begin to understand it, then things become clearer and one
is able to de-escalate from the straight madness that has take hold of the
Homeboys crusin' the streets and crashing down on party scenes. Being
Mas Loco doesn't necessarily mean that you go all out,, cause if you do,
then you're not really a Homeboy from the Barrio, instead, you're really
a sick psychopath who hijacked a clean style, a style steeming from a
great heritage, a style derived from a magnificent culture. And that
culture is beautiful, but one needs to really dig underneath, to find out
what it is that we are supposed to represent and uphold. So here is where
I found a part of me, and here is where I dedicate some of my frre time
to put my understanding into words and letters, but being that I'm not
articulate enought or eloquent enough with my thoughts & understanding,
I limit myself to these short stories, hoping to crack into some thick skulls.

[Cold Bear]

Very good reads, this stuff is impressive.

[Lonewolf]

Very good reads, this stuff is impressive.

Thank you sir.

Glad somebody read up and found it of interest.

[Lonewolf]

Un-Edited ~~> straight from keyboard . . .

By LONEWOLF

The HOMEGIRLS
La SMILEY, DIMPLES, PAYASA, SAD’GIRL, SNOOPY, SHY-GIRL, SHADOW. . .

Maybe even . . .
La ROSIE, CHOLE, COCO, LUPE, SANDRA, BRENDA, TERE and the list can go on.

From the onset, the ranks of Chicano Varrios have incorporated our Female counterparts.

They were there at the starting line, and they continue to take part in the Barrio Life.

A Varrio without Homegirls is “unimaginable.” Unheard of back in the day, and even today, they remain attached. But unlike olden times when they sported and represented just like the Boys; today they mix-in with the rest of the female population.

Back in the day they threw on their carlangos and baggy tramos suiting up for la pachanga y los borlotes. Fluffing up their greñas and enhancing their mascaras. They followed up with the times, throwing up them tight-fitting skirts y jeans, and with the arrival of the Cholo times, parecian Leonas with all that make-up and that two-tone hair color. Creased down kakhis or corduroys and even pendletons. They looked all gangster but they looked real firme too. By the mid-to-late 80s, the Homegirls became hard to distinguish from the rest of the crowd. They only things that set them apart and gave them up as Homegirls was the attitude and the lingo, but the dress-code had changed and many today would claim that there ain’t no-mas Locas. But that’s far from the real ‘cause the Homegirls will always line up next to los Vatos Locos. A Homeboy’s life means nada without a Homegirl by his side. The Homegirl signifies “Family” to a Vato. He’ll duke it out with whomeva’ and whereva’ over his Lady. There’s no stopping a Crazy Loco if his honor is in question, and when it comes down to honor, his Lady sits atop on a pedestal.

Few things in life hold as much meaning to a Vato Loco as does a Female. You can see it displayed in his art, you can trace it in his tacas, view it in his Catholicism, hear about it in his slang and rolitas, read about in his poetry and displayed in his respects to family. His ruca, his jefita, his lil’ princess, his abuela, his tias and the Homegirls are there all around him always, they are what keeps him going. The whole world can go to hell, but his Ladies, well, they remain sacred. And just like maybe a sister, a tia or maybe even a jefita had their times amongst La Plebe (The Crowd) from La Colonia (El Barrio), so too the Homegirls are an integral part of the Varrio.

Contrary to those dumb f*ck researchers on gang-life that puts off the falsehood about Homegilrs having to run thru the sex-gauntlet and put out for all the Homies, the fact couldn’t be farther from the truth. Homegirls have their pride just like the Vatos, many grew in the Varrio, many schooled and gone thru the motions just like the Homies. They however do indeed carry an olden rep for putting in dirt and getting down. A well-earned rep accumulated over the decades. A rep that continues mighty-hardy in this day and age. But not every Homegirl has what it take to be from the Hood. That status is reserved for “the most extreme.” The vast majority simply party-hardy, get stoned, hit the books, pick up a jale and participate in the every day happenings of La Familia & Society. Some however, ride with the fellas and take on the missions; thus keeping the Hood up.

But where does the relevant story about the Homegirls place amongst the Varrio ranks have its origin? Where did their attitude come from? Where did their Soul have its trial by fire? Because a Homegirl can be many things, and a Homegirl can be categorized under various different terms--both positive and negative--depending on the source, but one thing for sure; a Homegirl is most definitely A WARRIOR, a female soldier, A SOLDADERA.

The Soldaderas were the female soldiers who followed the troops during the Mexican Revolution. They went to war right alongside with their men. They left folks and homes and picked up a fusca themselves. Their Men’s war was their war. Their fate rested alongside the hordes of rebel troops made up primarily of the downtrodden masses of people coming from the villages, the rural countryside and the poorest of city souls. Many of these Soldaderas were relatives or lovers of the rank-and-file, others were simply employed to help set up camp and cook for the soldiers. Many took up arms and rushed the trenches; if their Man was felled, they took up with another warrior and carried-on in the struggle. Dedicated to La Causa (the cause), dedicated to La Tropa (the troop). The symbol that lives-on today concerning The Female Chicana Warrior is termed “LA ADELITA” Adelita was the name of a one of these woman soldiers who served under arms in the Mexican Revolution.; she came to epitomize all courageous woman of that war-ravaged period. Immortalized in popular culture, literature, music and the cinema; portrayed as self-sacrificing, valiant, pretty “sweetheart of the troops,” and a helpmate to the soldier. Several corridos (ballads) have been written about her, and she remains a powerful symbol for Mexican and Chicana women. La Adelita represents bravery, self-dicipline, and romantic love, but La Adelita is more than a romantic image to present-day Chicanas. She continues to symbolize feminine independence (can-do attitude), integrity (down for mine), the fight for justice (stand with your own), and a proud heritage (Por Siempre con Mi Raza). Adelitas today can be seen not just in those Brown Berets parades where they wear those rebozos (shawls) and bandoliers criss-crossed over their chests, but they can be found in “all” olden the ranks from the Varrios and in our carnalas who are taking up the struggle into the business world and politics.

Our Homegirls today, continue to tend for our wounds, they cling to us Vatos Locos and never let go, they guard our ammunition and they carry on the fight when necessary.

Every Day and Every Night >> They partake with us still doing time & duty serving.

En lo alto de una abrupta cerrania
Acampado se encontraba un regimiento
Y una moza valiente lo seguia
Locamente enamorada del sargento
Popular entre la tropa era Adelita
La mujer que el sargento idolatraba
Porque a mas de ser valiente era bonita
Y hasta el mismo coronel la respetaba
Y se oia que decia aquel que tanto la queria

Y si Adelita fuera mi novia,
Y si Adelita fuera mi mujer,
Le compraria un vestido de seda
Para llevarla a bailar al cuartel.

Y si Adelita se fuera con otro
La seguiria por tierra y por mar
Si por mar en un buque de Guerra
Si por tierra en un tren military.

[Lonewolf]

Ey foolios, any writings, any issue, anything from these articles is up
for debate or topic enhancement. Questions? Comments? Anything?

[RuthlessCray]

no issue or debate from me but I enjoyed reading it.

[Lonewolf]

You all better start picking a debate with me or something . . .
'cause otherwise ~~> Im'ma go back to Allhood

[Lonewolf]

Lonewolf thinking out loud . . .

Gentrification, urban redevelopment, community renewal, we hear about in the news and we see it happening all over the place. To many of the old residents from the neighborhood it usually means the rents going higher or relocation! We tend to view the changes coming as drastic and unstoppable. The changes seen coming tend to leave many with a feeling of uncertainty, and to the Homeboys and Homegirls who have endured the years and stayed put, the changes reflect a dyeing Varrio, and the birth of an alien environment filled with unknown faces. Those of us, who ponder about the neighborhood and what it means in our life, tend to miss on the fact that the dynamics of gentrification are an aspect of time not standing still; as they say “time doesn’t wait on anyone”. The changes in the neighborhood have been evolutionary and continuous . . . NON STOP! Always we attach the fear that those who move in will soon displace the traditional look and social order from old. If those moving in are from another race or color, right away they’re different and a threat to the established. If they’re from the higher social or economic strata, then they are labeled as yuppies and such, deemed non-worthy of the old sacred grounds. Often you hear people say that the neighborhood ain’t the same no more, and usually the changes taken place are viewed as more than just physical and structural changes, because usually, those changes noted come with the reference to the people and their value system. We think of these changes as if they’re of recent times, as if they just took place as soon as you began to exit the young and wild side. But how far is that from being the case? ‘Cause if you really think about it, the redevelopment and renewal of the community was on-going even as you we’re learning the ropes, but most of us were too busy living the times and the changes were taken lightly, viewed as new trends but never really associated with the re-making of the neighborhood. We couldn’t phantom back then just how much these places and average Joe’s from the community impacted our upbringing and we never gave it a second thought as to how these places and people’s helped to mold our personalities. The physical restructuring of the community also changed how you went about your everyday in the hood, thereby, it changed you and how you operate. So when you sit back and think about the new places and faces, or you think about your neighborhood’s demise placing blame on others, realize that in reality “we” were the ones who provoked that change, because we changed, and our needs changed. Therefore we provoked how business and things are done in the Varrio.
Just think about it! How did the neighborhood look when you were growing up? Now look at it now. Going back in time I can remember things that today may not seem like they mattered, but if you analyze it, it just may carry more weight within you than you previously realized. For example, the old dairy drive-thru place where you used to go get them ten-packs of milk, some o.j. and them flour tortillas for your quick burritos to munch on. When that place disappeared, you now had to head over down the avenue to the supermarket or buy it at the liquor store; then when that mom and pop’s store closed out, you know that store that sold of them items which one needs in the average neighborhood household, items like bobby-pins and hair tubes, or shoe-shine and a can of starch, when it disappeared up went a Thrifty’s or Save-On in its place. Then your homeboy’s dad sold out his body shop, the place was razed and up went a Chinese food-to-go, a video store and a convenience store, maybe a Rancherita or some other Mexican named marketa; and what about that pool-hall? The pool hall was the place where you could socialize with all types of characters from the neighborhood. The pool hall was a place where you could kick-back and kill some time, maybe make some cash, the pool hall was where one could pick the trail on whatever was your need. When the pool hall disappeared, up went something else, like a Laundromat or a dry-cleaners, or maybe even a Bar y Baile for los paisas. Even those empty lots that provided you with short cuts across the block, now gone and all built up with apartments and condos. All these changes were taking place as you were rollin’ with the motions, but you failed to grasp how it was all changing and how it was all changing you. The housing changed, the businesses changed, the trends changed, the faces changed, and you changed. In past times you never much gave it all much thought, but now that you see all that has taken place and you go on to reminiscence on how it used to be, wondering WTF? It all comes crashing down on you impacting your sense of belonging and leaves you with a sense of void.

New days, new ways! There’s no way of stopping change. Once there was a time when individual neighborhoods had their own characteristics, but during our time-span, most communities were re-made to look-alike. Now they’re all built up with the usual, a Jack in the Crack and a Mac D’s, the usual Chief’s auto parts and a Boys Market, the same Jiffy Lube and the same Blockbuster Video from where you can rent a video tape/cd and view in your living room, forgetting about the drive-in theatre or those local theatres with the 2X1 Tuesday specials that you used to go watch together with your peoples. Forgetting the times when if you wanted to watch porky cartoons, you had to break out with the whole projector and reel cart. Things that you used to do in the company of friends and relations, now discarded and exchanged for personal privacy and individualism. The simplest of socializing went out the door without you capturing the importance of what you were losing little by little. From a simple free air for your bike’s tire at the corner used tire shop, to 50 cents at today’s gas stations. We went from Black and Brown faces behind the counters to Asian and Arab faces who distrust yours and mine, and neighborhood bonding is far from their cash priorities.
Everything changed before your very eyes, still, all you see is the impending changes on the horizon but never once giving yourself any credit for the changes occurred.
So when you analyze gentrification and demographics in your neck of the woods, don’t forget to pad yourself in the back for your contributions made or non-made to your neighborhood Homie!

NOW REAP ITS OUTCOME!!!