Water fountains and fun

I have recently been pondering the summers I spent in chinatown with my aunt and cousins. The sweltering heat of L.A used to cause us to run down and up into the streets of downtown to the sky rise buildings where we would cool off by jumping into the huge public water fountains. I remember all the corporate and office suits staring down at us with smiles on their faces, as if they were wishing they could strip from their boring grow-up lives and jump in with us. The gang consited of myself, my brother Adrian, my cousins Buddy and Chris, and on some days the occasional neighbor friends. My aunt was always short on money, with four kids of herself, there never seemed to be enough. But she always managed to make it through the day. Even if it meant cooling off in public water fountains rather than the public pool, that cost three dollars a person. Hey, it was free and honestly alot more fun! There was something about all the attention we got that I loved.

I miss walking home drenched in water, stopping at the local fast food restaurant and fighting over who drank the most soda, as we had to share, one big soda for 5 kids! Although i was not underpriviledged, my parents worked hard and made more than enough to fulfill my brother and my needs, but it was humbling sharing food, not being able to go to a water park or public pool, creating fun free ideas of ways to entertain ourselves during the long summer days. Life seemed to be so much liberating with little money. And growing up in this city, we found there to be so much one can do with NO money, so much is free! Not to mention how exciting it used to be sneaking into movie theatres through the back door! Life was good as a young kid during those summers, boredom never made an appearance.

The other day I passed by the huge water fountain we used to jump and play in, I saw two kids shyly dipping their feet in the water. I smiled and yelled, "Jump in! It's fun!" The kids laughed and began splashing one another. I smiled and realized I was one of the suits now, looking in and wishing I could jump in and be a kid again.

Working in the slums of L.A.

I'm working in Pico-Union these days. A small 3 bedroom house, with 12 plus people living in it. Poverty is rampant in this neighborhood, violence is everywhere. On my way to work the other day I saw two seperate men in a 1 mile radius beating on their girlfriends. My stomach turned and I began to cry, I called the police but they never came. I give in home therapy to a young autistic boy. His mother is an immigrant from Guatemala, she is sweet and cares alot about her son. She is alone, her husband was killed in an auto accident. I am placed in these environments because I speak spanish, I am one of 5 bilingual employees in my company. A part of me hates working in the area, but when I see how much his mother appreciates my time, and how much progress I make with the little guy, it makes it all worthwhile, kind of.