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856 views16 pagesBaym, N (Ed) The Norton Anthology of American Literature PDF
Uploaded by
Diana MoncadaCopyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
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/ 16
_ OO
core | The Norton Anthology
of American Literature
Wayne Fran|
NORTHEASTERN Uni
Ronald Gotte
owivenstty oF sourtien|
Laurence B. Hplland |
{LATE OF mit JonNs HoPxhs UnivenstrY 1
David Kalsipne |
|
|
ATE OF RUTGERS, THE STATE UNPERSITY OF NEW JEnSEY
Jerome Klinlpwitz FIFTH EDITION
COMWVERSITY oF NongftER fowa .
Amold Krfpat VOLUME ,
sanast LawMENCHCotLECE
Francis Mfrphy | Nina Baym, General Editor
‘SMITH COLJEGE | SWANLUND CHAIR AND CENTER FOR
Hershel Firker I
ADVANCED STUDY PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH
JUBILEE PROFESSOM OF LIBERAL ARTS AND SCIENCES
Patricia B. Wallace
W + W + NORTON & COMPANY + New York + London searching for the old man. She did this because she had the blanket, und
there would be no place for him except with her and the blanket in the old
adobe barn near the arroyo. They always slept there when they came to
Cebolleta. If the money and the wine were gone, she would be relieved
because then they could go home again; back to the old hogan with a dist
roof and rock walls where she herself had been botn. And the next day the
‘old man could go back tothe few sheep they still had, to follow along behind
them, guiding them, into dry sendy arroyos where sparse grass grew, She
knew he did not like walking behind old ewes when for so many years he
rode big quarter horses and worked with cattle. But she wasn't sorry for hin
the should have known all along what would happen.
‘There had not been enough ruin for their garden in five years; and that
sss when Chato finally hitched aride into the town and brought hack brown
boxes of rice and sugar and big tin cans of welfare peaches. After that, at
the first of the month they went to Cebolleta to ask the postmaster for the
check; and then Chato would go to the bar and cash it. They did this as
‘hey planted the garden every May, not because anything would survive the
summer dust, but because it was time to do this. The journey passed the
days that smelled silent and dry lke the eaves above the canyon with yellow
Painted buffaloes on their wall
He was walking along the pavement when she found him. He didnot stop
fr turn around when he heard her behind him. She walked beside him ang
she noticed how slowly he moved now. He smelled strongly of woodsmeke
and urine, Lately he had been forgetting. Sometimes he called her by his
sister's name and she had been gone for a long time. Once she had found
him wandering on the road to the white man’s ranch, and she asked hima
‘why he was going that way; he laughed at her and said, “You know they can't
run that ranch without me,” and he walked on determined, limping on the
leg that had heen crushed many years before. Now he looked at her eurh,
ously, as if forthe first time, but he kept shuffling along, moving slowly
along the side of the highway. His gray hair had grown long and spread out
fon the shoulders of the long overcoat. He wore the old felt hat pulled down
‘over his ears. His boots were worr oit at the toes and he had stuffed pieces
of an old red shirt in the holes. The rags made his feet look like little animals
up to their ears in snow. She laughed at his feet; the snow mulled the
sound of her laugh. He stopped and looked at her again. The wind had
4quit blowing and the snow was faling straight down; the southeast sky was
beginning to clear and Ayah could ee a star
“Let's rest awhile,” she suid to him. They walked away from the road and
up the slope to the glant bouldeis that had tumbled down from the red
sandrock mesa throughout the centuries of rainstorms and earth tremors,
In a place where the boulders shut out the wind, they sat down with theit
backs against the rock. She offered half of the blanket to him and they sat
‘wrapped together.
The storm passed swiftly, The louds moved east. They were massive and
full, crowding together across the sky. She watched them with the feeling
of horses—steely blue-gray horses startled a
hhaunches pushed into the distances and the
bbchind them. The ak cleared. Ayah sav tha there wes nothing between her
snd the stars. The ight was erystll ne. There wu no shimmers no distortion
through earth haze, She breathed the clarity f the night sky th
the purty of the balf moon and the stars. He was lying on his ale with I
knees pulled up neat his belly or warmth. His yes were closed now, an in
the light from the stars‘and the moon, he looked young agalfn,
‘She could see it descend out of the night sky: an ley alllness from the
‘edge of the thin moon, She recognized the freeting. It came gradually, nik.
‘ng snowlake by snowflake until the crust was heaiy and deep. It hed the
strength of the stars in Orion, and its journey was endless. Ayah knew thu
with the wine he would steep. He would not feel it. She tucked the blanket
around him, remembering how it was wien Ella had been wath hers and she
felt the rush so big inside her heart forthe babies. And she sang the only
song she knew to sing for babies. She could not remember if she ha ever
sung it to her children, but she knew that her grandmother had sung it and
her mother had sug i:
The earth is your mother,
she hold fou,
“Tha skys your father,
he prsccsyou
Sleep,
sleep
| ainbow is your sister,
: she loves Jou
G0 | the winds oe your brothers
ime
ep
fp Wale gether anys
* I We are together always
There never atime
then tae
i wanota
1981
a
DENISE CHAVEZ
b. 1948
In recent Latino literature, a number of women have emerged as
whom one of
Girls, book of seven re
talents, of
mest ipessive fs Denne Chinen of The Lat of the Me
wed soris~they add up 02 srt of novel about the
experience of a teenaged New Mencan gr ramed Reco Enqubel Speaking er
‘eof thr terse, Chive clot gptminte snd sire ose ee
ture and our art are jst coming inte their nn, Now ts marvelous te force
sy and imagination.” Chive’ vice ha some othe wali and hopes ofthe
young heroine in her work, who—in the tle sony~spends a summer woking ape
“menu gl” tbuting them to paints in hoyptal “You're the Florence Night,
fale of Avista Memorial Hospital that's saye oe of er Blende nthe dof
her tenure Rocio Esulel fll of dreams of fame anc beauty. eventual econ,
Inga att, thee fanaa played ot gant the elcome susan of ‘omit fe, nts banality ands ade, Chives wits with sect and some
olenaney sbout her hospital character, resting sentimentality, fa preening
hem, through the equnt se ofshry, ona egnge,
sree al emt Mean cn ns Rao
Anaya an important figure tr “the rink of waters whe are rounding sas oe
Parameters of Chicano lerature” But atone fevewer of er sens oe end
‘ut that praise ay unfit ther spa, since could Be aspaed tor Ue ee
mies uly of her vice and er tuations. woman lett shee
uy regional r ethnic appeal Chie langge ges pleasure ar the way eae
‘a comic roteaqc le ovo Esgibes employer the hosp « Me Soh oh
's hunchbacled (and who, a he ntersew, ote Rove bel fen at nine tothe
‘momins:
Wes to wor for hie gnome? 1 wanted to ecu sol no play tenant to
thi rippled, died up Specimen, this catginovs Insect with is aha
bead and jes hat pee oo fo me lithe mated ses of stats ane es
And she proceeds to imagine the unenobling consequences of herself as a “menu
si“ faced Dietary Awards, Degrees in Food Management, menus for Low Selt
and Fluids; the word Jello leaped oat a evry turn.” There is mischief and itepress:
ible vecbal energy inthe way one pirase or sentence cals up the newt
{Chavez was bom in Las Cruces, New Mesico, took degrees in drama and inc
ave writing (she has written many plays and worked wth bilingual thentr coma.
les), and edited » poetry anthoby put together from Inmates at the Radio
Springs Center for Women. Shes very much acomnaunity-orented artist, who gives
requent, highly theatrical readings from her work, while running a numberof work
shops in poet fiction, and drama. Like the young heroine of The Last ofthe Moss
Girl, she possessed an active imagination, gave herself to fantasies of becoming &
‘weiter, and transposed her own experiences into literature °l read » lot To wite your
‘nus fist read At first! copied tries and poems I liked. In reading ou sense that
{vents have meaning” From what she describes as an unimpressive eighth grader
' Catholic school‘ dud skin, with an inferiority complex'—Chaver developed
into someone convinced she hada special gift “I managed to geen sense of rayrele,
‘What I was trying todo was stand eut in the landscape ofthe Southwest Ths the
reglonal commitment is acknowledged directly, yet as with her identity ns a Laine
‘weiter, I wise not to hang the lbels too heavily around her neck. A times she
hows a propensity tobe to cally solemn, a8 when she wttes about Rocio making
“hat awesome leap into myself thatsteamy summer of iiness and dread.” But suck
‘momentary solemnity invariably has the starch taken out oft by her playful knoe,
‘eee that as Rocio Esqubel isnot Florence Nightingale so Chivers onm literary
det is atleast as individual a itis representative of any group of region,
The tet is the title story From The Las of the Meme Girl (1986),
Sethe Last-of the Menu Girls
NAME: Roefo Esquibel
AGE: Seventeen
PREVIOUS EXPERIENCE WITH THE SICK AND DYING: My Great
‘Aunt Eutilia
PRESENT EMPLOYMENT: Work-study aide at Altavista! Memorial
1, ih Vie pny tera),
I never wanted 6 Be @ nurse. My mother's aunt died in our house,
seventy-seven years old and eying in her metal ets "Put a iow sete
for can jump" shee “Co'on, le me jump. Twat ta get seas os
re Far ay."
Eutli's mattress was covered with chipped clothike sheaves of yellowed
laste: She wet herself was smal cil endependable helgece She eet
an old lady with a broken hip, dying without having gotten deve hore shes
rented bed, Herblankets were sewn by my mother cosdury patches, baa
yells, blues and greens, and sil she weed te wove
“Tarn her over tur her ver, turn hen, wit Pie, walt—turn
Eutlla faced the walt was plastered white. The fanned, consrte tam
ings of some workman's towel reveled daydreams: peoples freee Mine
¢louds, phantom pianos slowly playing half ost melodies “Loe Mesenies
"Cielito Lindo,"? songs formulated in expectation, dissolved into confusion.
Eat’ bhi faces, far ff tunes fade int the white alle ints ends
broken waves, *
never wanted tobe a nurse, ever Allthat gore an blood snd re, Iwas
ot as squestnish as my aster Mercy, who eould not and vo ratthe hene
inc a sink of diy dishes Sled with Renting fookemet breads ee
‘egctabls and bits of softened meat. Stil, didn lke the touch, th see
How could P When Iouched my mother’ feet, {looked ares keld my
nose wih of hand, he other ith finger laced along es toes alloc ed
Bopping she nto place "realy helps my arth, baysen dent ons
Pall my tBel, 1 give you a dolar, find my girdle, and Til ge now noe
Ouch, Ouch, Not so hard. There, that’s ood. Look at my feet Yoo see te
‘eins? Look at hem, Aren't they ugh? And up here, lock here t hed the
eperations uly they stepped them and tl they hast wes
‘he rbled her battered flesh wistly placed delcre nd lovely hand
on het ight thigh. Mother said proudly rathfally "sl Howe Jens
thigh”
PREVIOUS EXPERIENCE WITH THE SICK AND DYING: Let me
think...
Great Aunt Eutilia came to hive with us one summer and seven months
later she died in my father’s old study, the walls lined with books, whatever
answers were there—unread.
Great Aunt Eutilia smelled like the mercilessly sick. At first, a vague,
softened aromia of tiredness and spilled food. And later, the full-blown emp
tyings of the dying: gas, putrefaction and fetid lucidity. Her body poured oat
long, held-back odors. She wet her diapers and shects and Kcked. over
+ and glasses of tepid water, leaving in the air an unpleasant smell.
ed around her bed in my dreams, neked, smiling,
an exultant adolescent dance for my dying aunt. It was necessary, compul.
sive. was a primitive dance, a full moon offering that led me slithering
into her room with breasts naked and oily at thirteen,
Noone home but me.
2 Bah wc ans The Fs “ite Moin" yi ot bu oer oe. The cond, “Bef
ada ee ac amotning erate ogi Lie she Tees Tear oe,essel
Stor anf gine Sg te och
‘elton ‘on hte iy, se ‘rr besa gee 2558 / Denis Cuiven
Led me to her room, my father’s refuge, those haleyon days now that
he was gone—and all that remained were dusty books, cast iron bookends,
reminders of the spaces he fillel. Down the steps I lesped into Entilia's
faded and foggy consciousness where J whirled and danced and sang: | am
your flesh-and my mother’s flesh and you are ... are... Eutlia stared at
me. [turned away.
1 danced around Eutilis's bed. 1 hugged the sereen door, my breasts
{indented in the meshed wire. Inthe darkness Entilia moaned, my body wet,
her body dry. Steamy we were, and Full of prayers,
Could Ihave absolved your dying by my life? Could I have lessened your
agony with my spiritfilled dance inthe deep darkness? The blue fan stirred,
then whipped nonstop the solid air; little razors sliced through conscious.
ness and prodded the sick and: dying woman, whose whitened eyes
screeched: Ay! Ay! Let me jump, put a pillow I want to go away... Jet me
= letme . “
One day while playing "Cielito Lindo" on the piano in the living room,
Eutilia got up and fel o the side ofthe piano stool. Her foot caught on the
rug, “Ay! AyljAyl yA! Canta y no llores?"
All requests were silenced. Eutilia rested in her tattered hospital gown,
having shredded it to pieces. She was surrounded by litle white strips of
raveled cloth. Uncle Tonio, her babysitter, after watching the evening news,
found her naked and in a bed ef cloth. She stared at the ceiling, having
played the piano far into the night. She listened to sounds coming from
around the back of her head. Just listened. Just looked. Just shredded.
Shredded the rented gown, shredded it. When the lady of the house
returned and asked how was she, meaning, does. she breathe, Tonio
answered, "Fine."
Christ on his crucifix! He'd never gone into the room to check on her.
Later, when they found her, Tofo cried, his cousin laughed. They hugged
each other, then cried, then laughed, then cried. Eutilia’s fingers never
rested. They played beautiful runes. She was a litle girl in tatters in her
‘metal bed with sideboard that went up and down, up and down
‘The young girls danced they played they danced they filled out forms.
PREVIOUS EMPLOYMENT: None.
‘There was always a first job, as there was the first summer ofthe very first
boyfriend. That was the summer of our ftst swamp cooler. The heat bore
down and congealed sweat. It mide rivulets trace the body's meridian and,
before it stopped, was wiped away, never quite dismissed,
On the tops of the neighbors’ houses old swamp coolers, with theic jerky
grating and droning moans, strained to ease the southern implacabiltes
Whre whre cough wh.
Reqino Suscez climbed up and down the roof, fist forgetting his hammer
and then the cooler filter. His bos, Eliterio, stood at the bottom of the steps
that led to the sun deck and squirted dumbly atthe blazing sun. For several
days Regino tramped over my dark purple bedroom. I had shut the curtains
to both father and son and rested in violet contemplation of my first boy:
friend.
1. Sing nd do ry (Spent
The Last oF va Blase Ginaey 268"
Regino stomped his way to the other side of the house where Kutilwlay
in her metal. crib, trying to sleep, her weary eyes uncomprehendling. ‘The
noise was upsetting, she could not play. The small blue fan wheezed fresh:
ness. Regino hammered and paced then climbed down. When lunchtime
came, a carload of fat daughters drove Regino and the handsome son away.
|f Eutiia could have read a book, it would have been the Bible, or maybe
her novena to the Santo Nino de Atocha,* he was her boy
PREVIOUS EXPERIENCE WITH THE SICK AND DYING:
is question reminds me ofa story my mather told me about a ery old
woman, Dofia Mercedes, who was dying of cancer, Donia Mercedes lived
with her daughter, Corina, who was my mother friend. The old woman lay
in bed, day after day, moaning and erying sof, not actually erying oat, but
‘whimpering ina sad, hopeless way. "Don't move me,” she begged when her
daughter tried to change the sheats or bathe her, Every day tis ordeal of
‘maintenance became worse. It was a painful thing and full of dread forthe
ld woman, the once fastidious and upright Dofia Mercedes. She had been
«lady, straight and imposing, and with a headful of rich dark hair. Her
ancestors were from Spain. “You mustn't meve me, Corina," Donia Mer-
cedes pleaded, “never, please. Leave me alone, mijita"* and so the daughter
acquiesced. Cleaning around her tortured flesh and delieately wiping where
they could, the two women attended to Dota Mercedes. She died in the
daytime, as ghe had wanted.
‘When the joung women went to lift the old lady from her death bed, they
struggled to pull her from the sheets; and, when finaly they tuned her on
her side, they saw huge gaping holes in her back where the cancer had eaten
through the flesh, The sheets were stained, the hedsores lost in a red wash
of bloody put: Dona Mercedes’ cancer had eaten its way through her back
and onto those sheets. “Don't meve me, please don't move me,” she had
cried.
The two young women stuffed piles of shredded disinfected rags soaked
in Lysol into Dota Mercedes’ chest cavity, fling it, and hore, with
cloths over their mouths, said the prayers for the dead. Everyone remem
bred her as tall and straight and very Spanish
PRESENT EMPLOYMENT: Work-study aide at Altavista Memorial Has-
pital
I never wanted to be a nurse. Never. The smells. The pain. What was Ito
do then, working in a hospital, in that place of white women, whiter men
with square faces? T had no skills. Once in the seventh grade [d gotten
penmanship award. Swirling R's in boredom, the ABC's ad infinitum
Instead of dipping chocolate cones at the Dziry Queen next door to the
hospital, I found myself a frightened girl in a black skirt and white blouse
standing near che stairwell to the cafeteria,
1 stared up at a painting of a dark-haired woman in a stlf nurse's cap and
rey tunic, tending to men in old fashioned service uniforms, There was
4 Hety Ch of loci (puns she Chet may ard Hecate dry, “Nera Roman
child tes ut ever ning pepe Cah cao re
heiconng ack coch noming mth Maske 5 Mpte dup pei 2360 / Denise Cuiven
beauty in that woman's face whoever she was. I saw myelf in he, helping
all of mankind, fogetting and absolving all my owm sick, my own dyings
especially relatives, all of them so far away, removed. I never wanted fo 1
like Great Aunt Eutilis, or Dofia Mercedes with the holes in her back, or
‘my mother, her scarred legs, ker whitened thighs.
MR. SMITH
Mr. Smith sat at his desk surrounded by requisition forms. He looked up
t0.me with glassy eyes like flmy paperweights
MOTHER OF GOD, MR. SMITH WAS A WALLEYED HUNCHBACK!
“Mr, Smith, Y'm Roefo Esqubel, the work-study student from the univer,
sity and I was sent down here to talk to you about my job.”
“Doven here, down here,” he laughed, as if were a private joke. “Oh, yes,
you must be the new gil. Mems,” he mumbled. "Now just havesa seat cect
‘welll see what we can do. Would you like some iced tea?”
I was nine o'clock in the morning, too early for tea. "No, well, yes, that
would be nice.”
"i's good tea, everyone likes it. Here, 1 get you some.” Mr. Smith got
tap, more hunchbacked than I imagined. He tiptoed out of the room wie
ering, “Tea, got to gct this giel some tea,” ™
‘There was bit of the gruesome Galom® in him, a bit of the twisted spider
In the dark. Was I to work for this gnome? I wanted to rescue souls, not play
‘attendant to this crippled, driec up specimen, this cartilaginous inseet with
his misshapen head and eyes that peered out to me like the marbled eyes of
statues one sees in muscums. History preserves its freaks. God, was tay job
to do the same? No, never!
| faced Dietary Awards, Degsees in Food Management, menus for Low
Salt and Fluids; the word Jello leaped out at every turn. I touched the walls
They were moist, never having seen the light
In my dreams, Mr. Smith was encased in green Jello; his formaldehyde
breath reminded me of other smell—decaying, saddened dead things; my
reat aunt, biology class in high school, my fiend Dolores Casaus, Exch of
is held a tray with a dead frog pinmed in place, served tous bya tall toop-
shouldered Viking tumed farmer, our biology teacher Mr. Franke, pink.
ved: half blind. Dolores and I cut into the chest cavity and explored that
tinall universe of dead cold fibers. Dolores stopped at the frogs stomach,
then squeezed out its last meal, a green mash, spinach-colored, a viscous
Auid—that was all that remained in that miniaturized, uncesponding onpan,
all that was left of potentat life
Before Eula died she ate a hile, mostly drank juice theough bent and
dripping hospital straws, The straws littered the flout where she'd noche
them over in her wild frenzy to escape. “Diooooooons,” she eried in that
sheill voice. “Dios mio, Diosito, por favor. Ay, I won' tell your mama, hat
help me getaway. Diosto de mi vida Diosito de mi coragén gua,
‘gua spor favor, por favor”
6 4 elem. an start in Hebe fare
‘une Fate's over,
Fr Gah my Ser Cod pl. Dee
God of my le «dene Go ot my het
ris ar lees Spe
Tae Last oF THE Menu Ginis J 2401
Me. Smith retumed with my fed ta.
“Sugar?"
Sugar, ye, sugar Lots of it. Was I to spend all summer inthis smelly
cage? What was I to do? What? And for whom? I had no businecs here
was summertime and my life stretched out magically in front of me: there
jas my boyfriend, my freedom. Senior year had been the happlen’ of ep
Ife; was it to change?
“Anytime you want to come down and get a glass of tea, you go right
ahead. We always have i um hand. Everyone likes my teat hen ae
pride.
“About the job?” I asked,
Mr. Smith handed me pile of green forns. They were menus.
Jn the center of the menu was listed the day ofthe weeks and tothe lft
and coming down in a neat order were the taree meals, breakfost loncieaaat
dinner. Each memu had various choices foreach mca,
LUNCH:
Salisbury Steak C1 Mashed poratoes and gravy
5 Fish sticks Macaront and cheese
Ol Enctghdas 1D Broceoli ani onions
1 Rceirendne
Debnhs Dessert
0 Coffee Jello
O Tea Oi Carrot cake
7p Kee Cream, vanilla
5 Other
“Here you see a menu for Friday, listing the three meals. Let's take lanch.
You have s choice of Salisbury steak, enchiladas, they're really good, Taint
anakes them she's been working for me for twenty years. Her son George In
Trotks for me, too, probably his kids one day." At this possiblity, Me: Seah,
laughed at himself. “Oh, and fish sticks, You a.”
“Our Lady of the Holy Scapular.”
_Sometimes 11 get a menu back with a thank you written on the side,
“Thanks for the liver, it was real good’, or ‘I haven't had rice pudding since f
‘was a boy’ Makes me fel good to know weve made our patlents hapry >
Me. Smith paused, reflecting on the postive aspects of his job,
“Mind you, these menus are only for people on regular diets, not every-
body, but s lot uf peuple. I take care of the other special diets thet docer’t
concem you, I have a giel working for me now, Arlene Rutechonan, Yous
know
My mind raced forward, backward. Arlene Rutschman, the Arlene from
Holy Scapular, Arlene ofthe soft voice, the limp mannerisms, the plan, on
goodly face, Arlene, president of Our Lady's Sodality, in her whive and avy
blue beanie, her bobby socks and horn-rimmed glavses, the Arlene of she
school dances with her perpetual escort, Beanie Lara, the toothy better
than-no-date date, the Arlene ofthe high grades, the muscular, yer turned
{in legs, the curly unattractive hair, that Arlene. the dud?
"Yes, Tknow her, 480207 Danse: Cudvie
*Goodt"
“We went to school togethe
“Wonderful!”
“She works here?”
“Ohy she's nice pie: Shel lp you, show you what do, how to distrib
ute the menus."
“Distt the menus?”
Now you jst sit there, dink your tea and tell me about youre.”
This was the first of many conversations with Mr. Smith, the hunch-
backed dietician, a man who was never anything but kind to me
“ty,” he sald proudly, “thse ar my kids. Nera and Bardwell. Norma's
in Junior High, majoring in boys, and Bardwell s graduating fron the Mle
tary stitute
“Bardwell Tha’ an unusual name,” Isai a i staredat a sexes of $x7's
on Mr Smits desk °
“Bardwell well that was myfther's name. Bardwell B. Smith. The Bard,
they called him!” At this he chickled to himself, myopicallytealing ae
ith acing ih i srange es patems a vig ah at bone,
“te used wo rece"
The children looked fay nonmal, Norma was alight, wth abroad toothy
sme Bardell, or Bobby, a be was ale, was ot unbandaome tv his
niform, If weren't for one ogged, splayed ear that Sightly copped fen
ward, as if listening to something. ms dees
Mr. Smit’ image was nowhere in sight. “Camera shy" he sald, To the
right of Br Smits desk hung «plastic gol framed prayer being vith
the words: “Ob Lord of Pots anc Pans” fo te lef era diel out eater
cooler was a sign, “Bless Tis Mess”
‘Onerthe weeks [began too something of Mr. Snth’s convoluted life,
4s anchorings His wife and eilren came tie, and Me Smith aeqtted¢
name: Marion, anda vague disconcerting secuality, I was upseting fr ve
to imagine hi fathering Norm and Bardwell. 1 stared ino the Rensed
alossies full of dabeliet Who wae Ms. Smish? What wa she likey
Entilia never had any children. She'd been married to José Esparza,
good man, a-handsome man. They ran a store in Agua Tibia. They pros.
ered, until one day, early in the morning, about three a.m., several men
from El Otro Lado® called out to them in the house, "Don Jose, wake up!
‘We need to buy supplies." Eutilis was afraid, said, “No, José, don’t let them
in.” He told her, “Woman, what are we here for?" And she said, “But at this
hhour, José? At this hour?” Don José let them into the store. The two men
‘came in carrying two sacks, one that was empty, and another that they said
‘vas fall of money. They went through the stare, picking out hats, clothing
tins oF corned beef, and stuffing them inta the empty sack. So many things,
José," Butilis whispered, “too many things!” “Oh no,” one man replied, "we
hhave the money, don't you trust us, José?" “Cémo no, compadre,” he
replied easily. “We need the goods, don't be afraid, compadre.” "Too many
things, too many things,” Eutils sighed, huddled in the darkness in her
robe. She was a small woman, with the body ofa litte girl, Eutlia looked at
4 The Othe Sie (pase, the here
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José, and it was then that they both knew. Whe the (wi
up, they turned to Don José, took out « gun, which was hidden It
and said, "So sorry, compadre, but you know... stay there, don’t follow
utilis hugged the darkness, saying nothing fr the longest time, Jowd was
handsome man, but dumb.
‘The village children made fun of José Esperza, laughed at him und pl
notes and pieces of paper to his pants. “Tonto, tonto" and“ am foo
never saw these notes, wondered why they laughed.
"te brought you « gift, a bag of rocks"; all fathers have said that to their
children. Rxeept Don José Feparzs. He had no children, deeplta hie look.
“At times & monkey can do better than a prince,” la comadte® Lucaya used
to say to anyone who would listen.
a
He
‘The bodies of patients twisted and moaned and cried out, and cursed, but
for the two of us in that basement world, all was quiet save for the occa-
sional clinking of an.iced tea glass and the sporadic sound of Mr. Smith
clearing his throat.
“There's no hurry,” Mr. Smith always said. "Now you just take your time,
Always.in 2 hury. A young person like you.”
ARLENE RUTSCHMAN
“You're so lucky that you can speak Spanish,” Arlene intoned. She stood
tiptoes, héld her breath, then knocked gertly on the patient's door. No
sound. A swifter knock. "I could never remember what a turnip was," she
sad
“Whatjawant?” a voice bellowed.
“Tim the menu girl; can I take your order?”
Arlene's high tremulous little girl's voice tailed off, “Good morning, Mr.
Samaniego! Whatl it be? No, i's not today you leave, tomorrow, after
Inch. Your wife is coming to get you. So, whatl it be for your third-to-the-
last meal? Now we got poached or fried eggs. Poached. P-o-a-c-h-e-d, That's
like a litle hardin the middle, but alittle soft on the outside. Firm. No, not
like scrambled. Different. Okay, you want serambled. Juice? We got grape
or orange. You like grape? Two grape. And seme coffee, black.”
AA tall Anglo man, gaunt and yellowed like an old newspaper, his eyes
rubbed black like an old raccoon's; ranged the hallway. The man talked
‘quietly to himself and smoked numbers of cigarettes as he weaved between,
attendants with half-lled urinals and lugubrious IVs. He reminded me of
‘my fathers friends, angular Anglos in thetr lee fifties, men with names like
Bud or Earl, men who owned gerages or atesk houser, men with firm haley
arms, clear blue eyes and (attoor from the wer.
"That's Mr. Elis, 206.” Arlene whispered, “jaundice.”
‘Oh,” I said, cutiously contemptuous and nervous at the same time,
unhappy and reeling from the phrase, "I'm the menu girl!” How'd I ever
‘manage to get such a dumb job? At least the Candy Stripers wore a cute
uniform, and they got to do fun things like deliver lowers and candy.
“Here comes Mrs. Samaniego. The wife.”
1. Sup Span
Boh other and pedather a come, and
EoD pslbate toms dah (Spe. by
‘Sor themes, cme 2364 / Denise Cuiver
“Me Elis wif 1 xd wih concem
“No, Mr. Samaniegus wil, Donlda” Alene pointed wiened and
fial old woman who was sneaking byte fformation desk, past te nee
haired volunteer, sever squiry grandchildren now. Visine hous heees
‘two pa, but Donel Samanigo had come ent beat the eek Ren
the halen, Avene and Uheard ud scl mech being sed pee
mein The rom sale tamales
“Old Mr, Philips in 304, tn the Medial Flo, he gets his ath at
lee so dong aa him shut hie nena then rupees i stone
Mis, anil e910 tad Aline mel, ion eae ee
theater gil? Whois she? Vail at hae to cone bac lato Tee fa
food. I'm ying woman at yee that” When we eats bach sn hey
Inte, Mes: Danie was alep snoring ody.
Mx. Gustafson, asad weteyed, well dresed woman in her ate seis,
lame us fom the shade of ram curtain ay her husband OP at
estan the nde, ok ong and aul nape ony ache of sen sey
g9 back to sleep, Dogiming once more his esorbe wound of ee
"Wetrday 1 wsghedmyslin thea nd Fm geting fat. Ob, and yute
“The hipaa “the hips? *
“ou kn you rem me ef ht patting” Aen sai hough
ot which, who. The one inthe staiwell, Horence Nightingale, she
looks like you." ese
"Thats ho tha is”
“Theos
“She doe”
=
The yor
“had the bie
“Thee andthe ha? Mast the i but ot the een
“Teo thinks."
“Oh yes Everytime lok at 2"
ae
Aen ‘nd Isat talking at ou able inthe cafeteria, that later was to
Become el Ie faced the ding room: Frm that vane pote Tenad
ses everything and ot Be sess
We ale wo rends almost only che were so, , il gilish with
shone. Arlene ws il dang Henie ond wos gto neni nae
or bilo. They seemed dhe same In my nd bales mene an ogy,
Lowtsom, unplessontthiogs
seen forma ur special able dhnking teu, laighing wih Alene thea
28 sl ugmenta ll wondering snd sil sea under the ee
Of cline, decided to sick tor I would no ut te ok
"Hhows Me Pit 2007
Cather medline iad perineal
Tite Las oe run Mane Gann Tate
“He left yesterday, but hell be coming back. He's dying,"
“Did. you, see old Mr. Carte? They strapped him to the wheelchair
finaly.
"it was about time. He kept falling over.”
“Mrs. Dominguez went to bland.”
“She was doing so well.”
You think so? She couldn't hardly chew She kept choking.”
‘And that grouch, what's her name, the head nurse, Stevens in 214...”
“She's the head nurse? I didn't know thet—god, I filled out her menu for
her... she was sleeping and I... no wonder she was mad... how did T
Know she was the head nurse?"
Its okay. She's going home or coming back, 1 can't remember which.
Esperanza Gonailer is goona be in charge,
She was real mad.”
“Forget it, is okay.”
“The woman will never forgivesme, Vl lose my job,” I sighed
1 walked home past the Diary Queen. Tr took five minutes at the most.
stopped midway at the dtch’s edge, where the earth rose and where there
was a concrete embankment on which to sit. To some this was the quiet
place, where neighborhood lovers met on summer nights to kiss, and where
‘older couples paused between their evenirg walks to rest. It was alao the
talking plsée, where all the neighbor kids discussed life while eating hot
fudge sundge with nuts. The bench was lange; four eould sit on fe comfort
ably. t face! an open fed inthe middle of which stood a huge apricot tree
Lastly, the bench was a stopping place, the “throne,” we called it. We took
off hot shoes and dipped our cramped feet into the cool ditch water, ns we
sat facing the southern sun at the quit talking place, at our thrones, not
thinking anything, eyes closed, but sun, The great red velvet sun
One night I dreamt of fod, wading through hallways of food, inside some
darkeeil stomach, My boyiiend waved tome from the ditch’s bank I sat on
the throne, ran alongside his car, a blue Ford, in which he sat, on clear
plastic seat covers, with that hungry Church of-Christ smile ois, He drove
vay, and when he returned, the car was small and I was too big to get
inside.
Eutilia stired. She was tired. She did rot recognize anyone, I danced
around the bed, crossed myself, en el nombre del padre, del hijo y del
espiritu santo,’ crossed forehead, chin and breast, begged for forgiveness
‘even as I danced.
And on waking, remembered. Nabos. Turnips, But of course
It seemed right to me co be working in a hospital, to be helping people
and yet: why was lonly a menu gir? Once « menu was completed, another
would take its place and the next day another. It was a never ending round
of food and more food. | thought of Judge Gustafson,
When Arlene took a short vacation to the Luray Caverns, I became the
official menu girl. That week was the happiest of my entire summer.
‘That week I fell in love.
f besa put on band
5. inte he Faerie Sona th Hey Chat (Suni) Fob Dysish CHAVET
ELIZABETH RAINEY
Elizabeth Rainey, Room 249, was in for 8 D and C.* I didn't know what @
D and C was, but I knew it wes mysterious and to me, of course, this meant
ft had to do with sex. Elizabeth Rainey was propped up in bed with many
pillows, a soft blue, homemad: quite a the foot of her bed. Her cheeks were
fushed, her red lips quivering, She looked fragile and yet her face betrayed
‘a harsh indelicate bittemess. She wore a creme-colored gown on which her
loose hair fell about her like a cape. She was a beautiful woman, full-bodied,
‘with the translucent beauty certain women have in the midst of sorrow —
clear and unadomed, her eyes bright with inexplicable and self-contained
suffering,
She cried out to me rudely as ifT personally had offended her. “What do
you want? Can't you see I want to be alone. Now close tha. door and go
aveay! Go away!”
{fm here to get your menu."I could not being myself to say, 'm the mens
wi.
tg Oa BO away, I don't want anything don't want to eat, Close the
Elizabeth Rainey pulled her face away from me and turned! to the wall,
and, with deep and self punishing exasperation, grt her teeth, and from the
depths of her self-loathing a small inarticulate ery escaped-—"Ooooch,”
Tran out, frightened by her Fain, yet excited somehow. She was so beauti-
ful and so alone. ! wanted in my litle girl's way to hold her, hold her ight
and in my woman's way never 1 feel her pain, ever, whatever it was.
“Go away, go away,” she said, her trembling mouth rimmed with pain, "go
away
She didn't want to eat, told me to go away. How many people yelled to
‘me to go away that summer, have yelled since then, countless people, ofall
‘ages, sick people, really sick people, dying people, people who were well and
still rudely tied into their needs for privacy and space, affronted by these
constant impositions from, of all people, the menu girl!
‘Mave over and move out, would you? Go away! Leave me alone!”
‘And yet, of everyone who told me to go away, it was this woman in her
solitary anguish who touched me the most deeply. How could I, age seven
teen, not knowing love, how could I presume to reach out to this young
‘woman in her sorrow, touch her and say, “I know, understand.”
Instead, I shrank back into myself and trembled behind the door. I never
went back into her room. How could 1? twas too terible a vision, for in het
1 sav myself, al fe, all suffering. What I saw both chilled and burned me. I
stood Jong in that darkened doorway, confused in the presence of hiiman
pain, t wanted to reach out... wanted to. I wanted to. But how?
As long as Hive | will carry Elizabeth Rainey’s image with me: in a creme.
colored gown she is propped up, her hair fanning pillows in a room full of
deep sweet acrid and overspent flowers. Oh, | may have been that summer
girl, but yes, L knew, I understood. I would have danced for her, Eutlia, had
Tut dared.
4 Plan nd cureage: manda nd caning she wr by sap
Fi Lane or tiie Mami Ginte (dtr
DOLORES CASAUS
Dolores ofthe frog entrails episode, who'd played my later Iamene it
world literature class play,” was now a nurse’ aide on the surgical floor,
changing sheets, giving enemas and taking ectal temperatures.
Ik was she who taught me how to take blood pressure, wrapping the cuff
around the arm, counting the seconds and then multiplying beats. As u
fiend, she was rude, impudent, delightful; as an aide, most dedicated, One
slay for aut experiment, with me as a guinea pig she.took the blood pressure
of my right leg. That day I hobbled around the hospital, the leg cramped
and weak, In high school Dolores had been my double, my confidante and
the-best Ouija board partner I ever had. When we set our fingers to the
board, the dial'aced and spun, flinging out letters—notes from the long
dead, the erying outs Together we contacted la Llorona® and would have
unraveled chat mystery if SistersEsperidiana hadn't caught us inthe religion
00m during lunchtime communing with that distressed spirit who had so
much to tell!
Dolores was engaged. She had o hope chest. She wasn't going to college
because she had to work, and her two sisters-in-law, the Nurses Gonzalez
and Gonzilea—Esperanza, male, and Bertha, female, were her supervisors.
‘sa favo to Dolores, Gonzalez the Elder, Esperanza would often give her
8 left-over fray of "regular" food, the patient having checked out or on to
other resting grounds. Usually Td have gone home after the ritualistic glass
of tea but one day, out of boredom perhaps, most likely out of curiosity, 1
hhung around the surgical oor talking to Dolores, my only friend in all the
hospital. | clung to her sense of wonder, her sense ofthe ludicrous, to her
hhumor inthe face of order, for even in that environment of restriction, I felt,
her still probing the whys and wherefores of science, looking for vestiges of
inregularty with immense childlike curiosity.
The day of the leftover meal found Dolotes and me in the laundry room,
sandwiched between bins of feces and urine stained sheets to be laundered.
‘There were also dripping urinals waiting tobe washed. Hunched over a tray
of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, ima beans and vanilla ice
cream, we devoured crusty morsels of Mr, Smith's fried chicken breasts.
‘The food was good. We fought over the ice cream. I resolved to try 0 few
‘more meals before the summer ended, perhaps in a more plessant atmo-
sphere
" That day, I lingered atthe hospital longer than usa. I helped Dolores
with Francisca Pacheco, turning the eld woman on her side as we ited the
sheet on the matiress. “Cuidado, no me toquen,” she cried. When Dolores
took her temperature rectally, I ieft the room, but returned just as quickly,
ashamed of my timidity. [ was always the passing menu gil, to afraid to
linger, too unwilling to see, too busy with summer illusions. Every day 1
raced to finish the daily menus, punching in my time card, greeting the
beginning of what I considered to be my real day outside those long and
smelly corridors where food and illnes intermingled, leaving a sweet thick
2s Get, 27S. 8, The Vere Ght Spt) of dd
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Ros wong ied fags STEER en ach me eh. 2368 / Demise Cudver
{tof exasperation in my lungs. The “ooooh” of Elcabeth Rainey’s anxious
‘The “ay ay ay” of Great Aunt Eutila’s phantom
father’s room. On the wall the portrait of his hero Napoleon hung. shielded
by white sheets. The sun wes too bright that summer for delicate fading
the cool darkness of my purple room,
‘The inside of the house smelled of burnt food and lemons. My mother
hhad left something on the stove again. To counteract the burnt smell shed
placed lemons allover the house. Lemons filed ashtrays and bd, they ly
solidly on tables and rested in hot corners. HJooked in the direction of Eatih
{a's room. Quiet. She was sleeping, She'd been dead five years but, stil, the
oom was hers. She was sleeping peacefully. I smelled the cleansing bitter:
MRS. DANIELS
When I enteted rooms and sa sick, dying women in tr forties, Lahways
Mars. Daniel sly lyin bed whimpering Ike ale dogs meen
‘gerbe nay bling ber hn yg ol
‘Now, Maths, Martha. The lite gil only wants tage one one
“Send her away, goddammit!" een eT
On those days that Mr: Daniel was absent, Ms. Daniele whined for me
to po away. ‘Leave me alone, cant you see Tm ding” the tod ona ale
vere dep huts, deo snes I saw her need tosdce thee a
them a other, dibblngpunlangulshause, tickling tony thes veo
fl upon whom she spilled het dathened aces, She eied oat sbvee epee
me, sending me relng from ber room, that room of loathing ech a
That room anaious wth worms.
Who of us has not heard the angry choked werd af crying people, ti
tened, not wanting to hear, then shut our ears, said enough heer eg
Who has not sen the fearful tewstreamed faces, knownthe Vek oe eh
felt che holding back, an, ik sing thoughtless children, side Vea nd
the next room, Teould't help hearing I head saw, you didn kre
you? I know.” , ” mei
Werolld up the pai, asignel ita shelf, placed it inthe hardened place,
along with a cerainse-congntulatory cence of wonder at the watt
unfortnates ike Ms. Daniels. We were emberrnted toe sve,
TT
Tue Last oF He Menu Giniy J 2400
JUAN MARIA/THE NOSE
“Cémo se dice! when was the last time you had a hovel movement?”
Nurse Luciano asked. She was from Yonkers a bright ncwlywed. Exmini,
the ward seretary, tall hin horsey woman with postured Judes haldo
of exaggerated sausage ringlets, replied through chopped lis, “Oh, who
cares he’s sleeping.”
“He's from México, huh?* Luciano said with interest,
“A legal aie,” Rosario retorted, She mas Erminia's sister the superin-
tendent’s secretary, with the lok ofa bedl scared bulldog, She'd topped
by to invite Erminia to join her fr lunch
‘So where'd it happen Luciano asked
“At the Guadalajara Bar on Main Street” Erminia answered, moistening
her purple lips nervously. Ie war a habit of hers.
“Hey, Lemember when we ufed to wall home from school. You emem-
ber, Rocio?” Dolores asked, "Weld ty to throw each other throughs the
Soringing doors. I was real noisy in there”
“Father O'Keley said drink was the'defle:nent of men, the undoing of
staunch, god-fearing women,” I said
er has one now and then," Rosario replied, “that doesn't mean
anything. IP beeause he was one of those aens”
“Those ind of problems are bad arourd here T heard,” Luciano said,
“people sesking across the border and all”
“Hell, you don't know the half ff,” Nurse Gonzdlez said as she came up
to the desk where we ll stood facing the hallway. "It's an epidemic.”
*Udon's now, my mother always ha maid, and they were al real nice
except the one who stole her wedding rings. We had to track her al the
‘ray to Piedras Negras and even then she wouldn't give them up,” Ermine
interjected
“Stil it doesnt seem human the way theyre treated a ies.”
“Some of them, they ain't uma
“Still, he was drunk, he wasn't full aware.”
“Full aware, my ass," retorted Esperanza angry, “he had enough money
to buy booze If that's not aware, dont know whit aware i. Aint my goa
dam fault the bastard got into a fight and someone bit his nose off. Ain't ‘my
fault he's here and we gotta take care of him. Christ! If shar font awarerT
don't now what aware”
Esperanca Gonaile, head surgical Noor nurse, the short but highly
respected Esperanza of no esperanzay? the Esperanza ofthe shor bobbed
hr, the honky ferential oie, the commend the nowronseece enter
and brishness, Esperanra the future sister inlaw of Dolores, my onl fend,
Esperanza the dyke, who was later killed in ear accident on the Way to
somewhere, sai “Now get back to workall of ou, we'te jus hereto clean
up the mess"
ater when Esperanza was illed my aun said, “How nie. In the paper
they called her lover her sister. How wice™
“Hey, Exmina, lunch?” asked Rosario, almost sheepishly. “You hungry?"
1. Ha de yo ony Spy, 2 Hoge of nh Spi) 2470 7 Dumisn Chaves
“Coming, Rosario," yelled Erminia from the back office where she was
setting her purse. “Coming!
‘God, im starving,” Rosario said, ‘can you hear my stomach?"
Go check Mr. Carter's cath, Dolores, wil you?” said Experanga ina softer
“Well, 1 don't know, I just don't know," Luciano pondered. “It doesn't
seem human, docs it? t mean how in the world could anyone in det right
Imind bite of another person's nose? How? You know it, Gonuiles, outs ¢
‘ough rooster. IF1 didn't lncw you so well already, you'd scare the kell rag
of me. How long yos heen » murse>®
“Too long, Luciano. Lool, T ain't a new bride, that’s Kable to make a
person soft. Me, I just elean up the mess"
“Luciano, what you know shout people could be put on the head of pin,
You just leave these alien problems f0 those of ut who were brought up
ground here and know whats going on. Me, I dont feel one bit ocr fe
that bastard” Esperanza said firmly. “Christ Lacano, what do you crore
he don't speskao Engleshts moe
“His name is Juan Maria Mejia,” I ventured.
Laclane laughed. Esperania laughed. Dolores went off to Mr. Certer's
room, and Rosario chatted nisly with Ermita as they walked toad the
caleteri,
‘Hey, Rosario, Luciano cated out, “what happened tothe ings?”
Je war enchilada day. Teint was very bony.
Juan Maria the Nose was sleeping in the hallway; all the other beds were
filled. His hospital gown was awry, the grey shett folded through sleey,
deadened limbs is hands were tightly clenched, The hospital acreen benty
oncealed his twisted private sleep of legs akimbo, moist armpits and gro
Ik-vas asleep of sleeping off, of hard drunken wanderings, with deco of
bar, dreams of a:fight. He slpt the way litle boys sleep, earcleccy halt
‘exposed. stared at him,
1 stared across the hallway to Jran Marfa the Nose. He faced the wall
dangling LV. at the foot of the bed. Esperanza Gonzales, RIN, looked at
“Well, and who are you?”
‘im the mens T mean Foes the menu «4° stammered, “mn helping
Exminia,
$e eet me some cigarettes. Camels. Ill pay you tomorrow when I get
paid.”
Yes, it wus really Gonzélez, male, who ran the hospital
Arlene returned from the Luray Caverns with a stalactite charm bracelet
for me, She announced to Mr. Smith and me that she'd gotten a job with ao
Insurance company.
4. nn,
Hie Lane on une Manu Gitte 2 a0rT
“tl miss you, Rocfo."
“Me, too, Arlene.” God knows it was the truth. Pd come to depend on
her, our talks over tea. No one ever complimented me lke she did,
"You never get angry, do you? she sald admiring,
“Rarely,” I said, But inside, Iwas always angry.
“"What do you want to do?”
“Want to do?”
“Yeah.”
| want to be someone else, somewhere else, someone important and
responsible and sexy. I want to be sexy
“Tedon't know. 'm going to major in drama.”
“You're sweet,” she said. “Everyone likes you. It’s in your nature. You're
the Florence Nightingule of Altavista Memorial, that’s it!”
“Oh God, Arlene, I don't waht to be a nurse, ever! I can't take the smells
No one in our family can stand smells.”
‘You look like that painting, 1 always did think it looked like you...”
“You did?”
“Yeah.”
‘Comes, you're making me sick, Alene.”
“Everyone likes you.”
Well" ig
“So keep in touth, I see you atthe University.”
“Home Ee?”
“Biology.”
We hgged.
‘The seeks progressed. My hours at the hospital grew. I was allowed to
check in patients, to take their blood pressures and temperatures. 1 flipped
through the patients’ charts, memorizing names, room numbers, ypes of
dict I fingered the doctors’ reports with reverence. Pethaps someday 1
would begin to writ in them as Erminia did: “2:15 p.m, Mrs. Daniels, pulse
normal, temp normal, Dr. Blasse checked patient, treatment on schalule,
‘medication given to quiet patient.”
One day received a cal at the ward desk. It was Mr. Smith.
“Ms. Esquibel? Rocio? This is Mr. Smith, you know, down in the cafe:
“Nes, Mr. Smith! How are you? Is there anything I can do? Are you getting
the menus okay? I'm leaving them on top of your desk”
“Tvs heen talking to Nurcc Gonzalee, suryicaly she says they need you
there fulltime to fil ia and could Ido without you?”
“Oh, Lean do both jobs; it doesnt take that long, Mr. Smith.”
No, we're going by a new system. Rather, i's the old system. The aides
will take the menu orders like they used to before Arlene came. So, you
come down and see me, Rocio, have a glass of iced tea. | never see you any
'more since you moved up in the world. Yech, I guess you're the lest of the
‘menu gies.”
‘The summer passed. June, July, August, my birth month. There were ser
us days, hurled admissions, feverish errands, quick noter
doctors chars. I began to work Saturday. In my eagernens
vance,” 1 2372 / Denise Cudver
_unwitingly had created more work for myself, work I really wasn't skilled to
My heart reached out to every person, dogged itself through the hallways
Fuh the pein cred when they dd aged when thy did. Thad no
nusiness inthe job. Iwas too emotional.
Now shen I walked into a room I lew the patients history, the cause of
illness. {began to study individual cases with great attention, turning to a
copy of The Family Physician, which had its place among my father's old
books in his abandoned study
Gone were the ile hors of sting in the cafotera, leisurely dining Iced
tea, gone were the removed reflections ofthe outsider.
‘My walks home were measured, pensive. I hid in my room those long hot
‘nights nights ful of wrestling injured dreams. Nothing seemed enough.
Before I knew it, ie was the end of August, close to that autumnal te of|
setting out. My new life was about to begin. I had made that awesome leap
{nto myself that steamy summer of liness and dread-—confronting at every
turn, the flesh its Hngering eves.
“Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay, Canta y no llores! Porque cantando se aleyran, Cielito
