Good morning,
POETRY
I continue to be amazed at the emotion, depth of description and perspicacity of young writers. I found this evocative poem by Zora Skelton, the daughter of a friend of mine from elementary school, that made my day. With the permission of the author, I share it:
Observations from the corner of York Boulevard and Avenue 50, Highland Park Los Angeles, February 12th 2022
I sit on the corner of York and Ave 50
at the intersection of Charlie’s Birria Tacos and Pattye’s Vintage Closet,
and across from the new park, where the white kids come at 10 and the Mexican kids come at 12.
I forgot to bring a book, so I’ve decided to read the world.
I read the silkscreened shirts of every young white parent, the Lakers jersey of every AVE,
and the wrinkles in their foreheads when they pass each other and avoid the other’s glares each so thick in the 90° heat they permeate into your skin until you sweat them out.
It’s endless reading material.
The woman next to me introduces her baby Juniper to someone she has just met.
She laughs and says “In a few years, every baby will be named Juniper, it will be the new Ella or Grace!”
Later, I walk behind a couple and listen to them discuss the neighborhood,
they are clearly not local. From Silverlake or North Hollywood or somewhere that has been like this for longer than we have,
“There are so few places in LA where you can walk down the street and feel safe!” Says the man, the woman nods and agrees,
and although I don’t know if they mean this is one of the safe places or the dangerous ones, I do know that I want to wring my hands around their necks.
I look across the street and see a girl I went to high school with,
the rich one, who was friends with Kimora Lee Simmons’ daughter.
Nobody wanted to come here when I was in high school,
it’s too far from Pasadena! They would say, where I easily drove to go to school every single day,
and my parents say it’s “unsafe”, which was the real reason,
plus they weren’t allowed to take the gold line.
Traingoers will molest every little white girl they see, it’s scientifically proven.
On the corner of York and Ave 50,
I am thinking about how my oatmilk latte is from a locally owned coffee shop,
and there is a craft fair that goes down the street with mostly vendors of color,
but nobody is selling fruit, or elotes, they got ICE on call for them.
I say goodbye to the egregious mural of Malcolm X, painted by a man named Tristan,
which has been behind me my whole morning,
And bye to the man next to me who I recognize from years of life here,
because who knows who I will see,
next time I come home.
MUSIC
Rockin’ in the Free World, performed by over 250 musicians in the Grote Markt, Haarlem, the Netherlands. So much joy! Check all the faces and ages…
Have a great weekend,
Glenn
From the archives:
Thanks, Glenn.. Both our kids are SO opinionated, a touch of self righteous for sure...yet deep thinkers with a solid core. And so glad you and Parke have lunch tomorrow. I look forward to meeting you, and perhaps your wife too? And would you mind if I include you on various activism outreach I sometimes do? I'm judicious about what I'll send...I promise! Shana Tova...my brother's a kosher winemaker, by the by: Covenant Winery. Alison
Thank you, Glenn, for lifting up Zora’s perspective