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The New Republic used to run a regular small item where they would publish two contradictory headlines. They could be in two separate newspapers on the same day, or in the same paper on two different days.
I heard a story this morning that referred to a neighborhood as “The Lost Barrio.” I get the merchants along that stretch of Park Avenue south of 12th St wanting to brand themselves. It’s interesting, though, that when they wanted an evocative name, they ignored the name that went back to the beginning of the last century, Barrio San Antonio, and instead came up with “Lost Barrio.”
I’m hearing a lot of folks referring to the whole neighborhood that way now. The phrase “Lost Barrio” gives some sort of indie/hipster cred with it’s generalized Hispanicism. However, actually acknowledging that Hispanics had their own name for the place before you came along would be too much. I guess I should be thankful that they kept the word “Barrio” in the name.
My mom’s family grew up in Barrio Millville, literally on the other side of the tracks from San Antonio. Both neighborhoods were working class, but that doesn’t mean there weren’t differences. My Uncle Kiko let me know about it once.
“The people in San Antonio actually owned their own houses,” he told me.
“If the world were searched over I suppose there could not be found so degraded a set of villains as then formed the principal society of Tucson. Every man went armed to the teeth, and streetfights and bloody affrays were of daily occurrences…Volunteer soldiers are stationed all over the town – at the mescal-shops, the monte-tables, and houses of ill fame.” – J. Ross Browne, 1864
There is work being done on the lights in the Depot Garage downtown, or so the signs say. I had to turn on my headlights to make it down the driveway, and the lighting inside was a bit spotty, dim spots with over big shadows.
After I parked my car, I looked around to see if Hal Holbrook would emerge and tell me to follow the money.
I heard this morning that Michael Ronstadt passed away. I didn’t know him well, but I had friends who played with him and I know many members of his family. He was always up for a chat after the show. He loved talking politics with me. If you are familiar with the last name but not familiar with his singing, here is a sample:
I downloaded Pokémon Go purely for research purposes. I have only logged on to see what shows up at my regular haunts, but yes, I captured two creatures (Pidgey and Bulbasaur, if you must know). I checked it at work to find that there is a “gym” in our parking lot.
The guy at the water window says he’s spotted some folks wandering the parking lot with cell phones.
It’s hard to tell from Speedway, but the building I work in is actually part of a sizeable complex of buildings. There’s us, a fire station, the recently vacated parks and recreation office plus an office and storage facility used by a variety of city departments.
The complex used to be bigger. The old solid waste transfer facility to the west of us is now a high school, which must make for fun taunts at basketball games. This is why I thought it was weird when I found out that the air conditioning for the whole darned place runs off of a single chiller, located on the far north end of our block. Apparently, this sort of thing is pretty common.
We have a maintenance guy that visits pretty often. He came in yesterday to ask if it was okay to shut the air conditioning off for a bit. Sure, but why?
He took out his phone and showed a picture of something furry stuck in a metal box.
“That’s in the chiller.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know until I can shut everything off and take it out.”
He came back in a half hour later to tell us it was a “huge squirrel.” I don’t know what was so attractive about our air conditioning unit. We can’t really ask now.
One of the frustrations with maintaining a blog these days is the amount of automated spam that comes your way. I’ve got Akismet, which means you never see most of it. However, I get dozens of phony posts advertising Viagra and, for some reason, Old Navy that are put into an “approval” cue where they wait for me to get approved. Sometimes, I don’t have time to go through what can be up to eighty of these ridiculous comments a day.
That means that once in a while there is a real comment from a reader that gets buried and doesn’t show up. I found this one that was posted in April to my “about” page.
Greetings my fellow Polish-Mexican friend! I thought my family was unique but it appears that there are others from Arizona that share a similar cultural blend. I enjoyed your historical accounts of AZ history as well. I wish you and your family health and happiness.