C is for Can

Si se puede.

Last night I had the honor of meeting the author of the book Migrant Daughter.  Our book club selection of the month, and one member had worked with the author when she was a teacher in the Mission District in San Francisco in the late 60's.  Frances Equibel Tywoniak celebrated her 82nd birthday with us last night at our book club.  We had a great time getting to know her and question her about her experiences as a migrant farmer's daughter during the depression and attending UC Berkeley in the 1949 as one of the few Mexican Americans on campus, much less a woman.

Born in 1931 in New Mexico, her family had lived on their land for several generations before being forced to move to California to work as migrant labor.  She navigated her parents culture with Spanish only spoken at home, her school culture with Anglos being assigned to a very different academic tract based solely on ethnicity, and society's ever changing view of who she was based on her last name, her neighborhood and her language.

Fran persevered and made choices, sometimes heartbreaking ones like when she broke up with a boy she really cared about because she knew he'd settle for living in the barrio his whole life and she wanted more.  She graduated from UC Berkeley, taught school in San Francisco and ultimately was principal of a high school in the Mission.  She had a fire in the belly and was always questioning her world.





She signed my book, 'Si se puede'   Yes, we can.

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A to Z challenge begins tomorrow

Tomorrow begins the Blogging from A to Z challenge, which I am trying to do individually AND as a contributer to my Write On, Mamas! group challenge. With the opening of baseball season (Go Giants!) Spring is in the air and a huge distraction, so wish us all well.

The good news: Only one more middle school dance on the calendar and it coincides with the opening of the new Star Trek movie, Into Darkness, and is on my DD's 13th birthday, so obviously she's NOT going to the dance.

More good news: DS applied to one college and by some miracle was accepted and by the second miracle agreed to go. So, despite the discovery of our first born's newest tattoo, a turkey vulture, whose wingspan covers his entire chest, things are looking up considerably.  As my friend DJ commented, 'not as emo as a crow'.  Yes, thank god my boys aren't emo. That would be unbearable.

Play Ball!

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