Hi, folks, This is another post in my American Dream series. This week I am handing over the reins to a former student who beat all the odds. She crossed the border mojada (i.e., wet), did great in high school, and was an even better…
Last summer, while the rest of the country was celebrating Independence Day, waving flags and shooting off fireworks, I decided to do something terribly unpatriotic: I dug out a picture of my Great Grandparents, Sicilian immigrants, who came to this country around a century ago,…
With all the trouble going on these days with housing mortgages, protesters on Wall Street, and fat cat bankers, it’s no wonder that people are worrying about the future. Maybe we’ve lost sight of the basics? Did people really need houses with 4000 square feet,…
Dear Dog, I’ve omitted your name from this letter to prevent further shame to my family, but everyone knows I’m referring to you. Yes, it’s true: you are a walking sculpture, a Pharaoh Hound, a thing of beauty, an exotic specimen and a living tribute…
With the combination of a deep-fried steak, an over-proof mojito, and fart gas that would have knocked a horse out, the woman complained of being dizzy and asked her father to take her home. The wait staff had emerged victorious. In the meantime, we had…
The worst faux pas a guest in a restaurant can make is offend the staff before dinner is served. Invariably the customer will pay a high price for this egregious sin. Upscale restaurants will keep a database that records the names of those who don’t…
Our waitress’s name was Debbie, and like her movie counterpart, she had come to the Big D to hit the big time. She had grown tired of pickup trucks, line dancing and honky tonks on Friday and Saturday nights. Dallas offered style and class for…
Gabacho Does Dallas After another afternoon of shopping, we packed our bags. Our flight back to Chicago was in the morning and, for our last night in Dallas; we had dinner reservations at Cafe Pacific. According to the hotel concierge, it was the best restaurant…
It was windy when we left the museum at Daley Plaza; we walked several blocks trying to decide what we were going to do. Since that section of Dallas doesn’t have much going for it until after dark, we caught a cab back to the hotel. When we arrived, we found my youngest daughter had been traumatized into semi-catatonia by the noises coming from the suite next door. She was in shock, her face was white, and her hands were cold. We revived her by putting her hands under warm water and promising to take her shopping. Soon after, she explained what had happened. After a terrible, overpriced breakfast at the hotel, she returned to bed with a stomach ache, hoping to get some rest. The young couple with three little children next door had other plans. The little monsters had been wailing like banshees since seven o’clock that morning and they hadn’t even come up for air. They were slamming doors, jumping off the bed, and screaming at each other all morning.
By ten o’clock the grandparents showed up to take the three little bastards out for the day, and try to run some of their energy off. So, for a few brief minutes, things were quiet. Nonetheless, as soon as the kids were out the door, the parents decided it was time for butt-spanking, headboard-banging, and livestock-sounding sex. The cattle sounds echoed down the hall. 
My youngest daughter exclaimed, “It was horrible! What do people do that for?”
On the elevator on the way out of the museum a guy who must have been in his 70s joined us. He wore a dark overcoat and hat; he had those bushy hairs coming out of his ears, and he felt like talking. His accent…
A part of every one of us stopped living when the three shots were fired, and the painful events continued to unfold: the news of the capture of the suspect, the death of a policeman, a stammering and inaudible Lyndon Johnson taking the oath of…
The next day my youngest daughter was feeling under the weather so we left her in the room at the hotel while we headed to the Sixth Floor Museum, which is commonly known as Texas School Book Depository. It was the place where the rat-brained…
Like the rest of what we had seen of Dallas, the mall was something akin to Epcot: a stray piece of someone else’s world that Texans just had to have. It could only be compared to Vegas and Disneyworld. The big attraction for my girls…