"What Herrera-Anderson has done is lay bare the alma, the Latin soul. Her stories show how such nurture, encouragement and affirmation, at critical moments of childhood, help the human transcend the forces that could have kept one down. " - L. Griffiths, East Valley Tribune "This gem of a book manages to be as tender as it is devastating.Herrera's disarming honesty draws readers into her world, a world where pain and love share equal time. Many will see themselves in these stories, others may, for the first time, gain an inside look at into the ravages of poverty and the survival of the human spirit."- Dr. Ursula Casanova, Arizona State University

Puerto Rican Goldilocks

A Lyrical Journey Through El BarrioBy Marisel Herrera-Anderson

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2010 Marisel Herrera-Anderson
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4520-2449-3

Contents

Acknowledgements......................................................................ixIntroduction..........................................................................xiRhythm................................................................................1Daisies That Grow In Cement Ground Are Daisies Still the Same ........................3Papi Love.............................................................................7Tapando la Olla/Covering the Pot......................................................9La Bodega.............................................................................11Ni Comas Ni Puntos....................................................................15La Trapera/Thrift Store...............................................................17Luchadoras............................................................................19Rhyme.................................................................................21Dirty Pigeons &Traffic Jams...........................................................23The Day Mami Realized I Would Not Be Miss America.....................................25Barbie Dreams.........................................................................29Welfare...............................................................................31Deep Sockets, Empty Pockets...........................................................33Puerto Rican Goldilocks...............................................................35Schoolgirl............................................................................39If I Had Met You When I Was Five......................................................41Bilingual Girls Wear Tube Socks and High Heels........................................43Las Hijas de Mara....................................................................47Our Father............................................................................51Rosario...............................................................................53Agua Florida Love.....................................................................55Chuleta/Pork Chop.....................................................................59To...................................................................................61Girl Scouts in the 'Hood..............................................................67A Conversation Between My Educated and Inner Self.....................................71Reason................................................................................75Nice - N - Sweet......................................................................77Poverty...............................................................................79El Banco..............................................................................81Improvise Mi'ja.......................................................................83Singing My Life with Her Words........................................................85A Parade of Birth.....................................................................87Bendiciones/Blessings.................................................................89Luminaria.............................................................................91Safe Passage..........................................................................93Need A Speaker?.......................................................................97

Chapter One

Rhythm

Daisies That Grow In Cement Ground Are Daisies Still the Same ...

Birthdays in the barrio were the best especially if you were a girl. For that one day, you felt like a princess as the sun shone down through the towering project buildings that cut the rays making a beautiful prism all for you. First Mami would take us, the twins, to "1a 149" - 149 street in the South Bronx to buy us new clothes a few days before. The ride on the crowded BX15 (Bronx 15 bus) toward Alexander's Department Store and the store lined streets was so full of anticipation. I would go over and over in my head the many different ways I could spend my half of the budget. We would select outfits and always a new pair of panties - usually the ones embroidered with the appropriate day of the week, and we would head back to El Barrio.

Then we would walk over to order our cake from the Valencia bakery and my favorite, select our corsages from the corner pharmacy owned by a Judo. The bakery was a tiny storefront on the corner facing La Marqueta that was always packed and in demand. I don't know if the owners were from Valencia, Spain, but even the suggestion made us feel a certain class and restraint was required upon entering. Mami would order their classic cake - made with the best white frosting and moist pineapple-filled yellow cake known to mankind. I couldn't wait until we blew out the candles so I could savor all this as it melted in my mouth and to roll my tongue over Valencia's signature touch - silver bolitas - little round silver balls sprinkled on each cake - till none remained.

Once the cake order was taken care of, we would make our final stop at the farmaca owned by a Jew that everyone in the community knew and no one bothered. We would lean over his dusty glass shelves, pouring over the different designs and colors of his corsages - each with different candies and ribbons depending upon your age. Tootsie rolls, Lifesavers, those fruit candies wrapped in strawberry paper, all marking your coming of age on some symbolic food chain. After much indecision, we would select the ones we wanted prompting Mami to then haggle with the owner for no tax added or some sort of twin discount.

All accessories in place, we would head to school on the big day in our coordinated Sunday finest, adorned with brightly colored corsages that elicited smiles and silent birthday wishes from passersby. We would be doted on by our teachers who treated us special because we were twins, and perhaps because they sensed the effort and sacrifices revealed in our attire. In the middle of the fenced in school yard, as recess came to a close, I would steal away a moment of perfect silence. In that perfection, the project's prism of light would shine upon me, upon the tenderness of coming of age and erase all of the awkwardness and acne of adolescence. That warm sun would leave instead a budding, gentle flower full of all its glory, a royal flower growing strong in the fertile cement of the barrio.

Papi Love

What I miss most about not having had a father growing up is the protection they offer, and no I don't mean the Papi-I'm-scared-and-you're-my-hero-kind-of-protection. I mean the kind of quiet security a father offers his daughter, that silent love - strong and stoic enough to permeate his daughter's memory even as adult. The kind that slips into a day when the world has beat you up, when your womanhood has been reduced to a little girl's muffled hiccup as you drive home.

The Papi love I miss is one made up of countless images of worn, male hands, the protruding veins that are landmarks of his pain, borders between the virility of his youth, the reflective-ness of his old age. Those fingers filled with power, tenderness as they reach over, and rest on your shaking hands. That Papi love...