This page is retired, but feel free to browse the past entries.

If I had real cojones, I wouldn't have to make this statement, but since I worry that I might ruffle someone's feathers, let me just say that, having grown up with a prejudiced father, I sometimes go overboard trying to be politically correct. But the sake of this diary, I'm just going to call it as I see it. If I say Mexican instead of Latino, it's because it really strikes me that way. Down here in Laredo, there are many people from Mexico and I think they are Mexico proud, so if I am not being super-sensitive, it's not meant as a racial slur. It's meant to give you an accurate picture of my observations and the fact that I find humor in most things. Plus, I really like Laredo, otherwise, I'd be keeping my big trap shut.

January 14, 2001

I think I am going to retire this column for the time being. My fascination with Laredo is fizzling and I think we are here on the short-term, so all my brilliant insights into the workings of border life will now go back, once again, for good, until I change my mind, or have something more to say, to Hissyfit. I will say that I wasn't being paranoid about the bullets on New Year's Eve. Sadly, a young girl died here from a stray bullet fired into the air that came down and hit her. As I mentioned before, my car was shot at and I have heard gunshots nearby and we live in a nice neighborhood. I'm just not so amused right now.

Libbi

January 1, 2001

Well, we made it through a crazy New Year's Eve in Laredo. Sitting at home, trying to figure out what were fireworks and what were bullets. I have to say, I am pretty sure I didn't hear any bullets (big sigh of relief) but being the slightly protective mother that I am, I moved my young son to an inner room and covered him with my husband's Kevlar vest as he slept, just in case any stray bullets came our way. My husband is always telling me "Don't worry" to which I reply "Don't try that logic stuff on me."

Many people here don't speak English as their first language and I guess it becomes a phonetic thing in trying to spell. There's a musician here, an older guy, who plays the trumpet and has a keyboard with preprogrammed songs like Girl From Ipanema, etc. Anyway, the first night we came to Laredo he was playing right next to the buffet at the Golden Corral. (Hey, at least he's working.) Anyway, I take it English isn't his first language, because I drove by his house the other day (he's in the hood) and there's a sign in his front yard that says "Romantic Trio Abailable for Parties." Ha! That's nothing. While looking in the newspaper for rental houses, I saw an ad that read "large dining room with separate leaving room." It took me a while to figure out what a leaving room was, but when I said it, not read it, I done figured it out.

Although we didn't have any gunshots, our house was like a missile range with fireworks whizzing by so loud and fast starting at 10:30 AM and on til 1:00 AM that I was certain someone was in our backyard firing 'em off. I think they were down the block at El Templo Shalom, which I assume is the Spanish-Jewish temple, where there's a little parking lot and I saw cars coming and going.

All is well here on New Year's Day in Laredo. Laredo is a nice enough place but it's definitely turned into 2001: A Place Oddity, er, Odyssey for me and my family. It's just sooooo different.

Happy New Year and best wishes.

Libbi

December 20, 2000

Pork. Bleck. Ever since the time I went across the border into Mexico a few years ago and had a side order of beans with a slab of pork with two long, gnarly swine hairs sticking out of it I have shivered at the thought of pork. Okay, so I like the smell of bacon and sausage but that's different -- it's disguised so I can pretend it's not pork. At least until my most recent pork experience. My husband was popping something in the microwave the other day, and we were all cozied up to watch a Viggo Mortensen (sigh) movie and I thought "great, popcorn!" when he says "no, it's not popcorn, it's better." Hmm...what could be better? Lo and behold, he brings toasty, steaming PORK RINDS freshly popped and fluffed from the microwave. Ack! I mean, like all good redneck kids, I ate pig's feet from the formaldehyde, er, vinegar jar straight off the bar when my dad would drag me to a beer joint in Houston, but I like to think I've "matured since then." Anyway, the next morning I got the paper and the ads for grocery specials and right on the front page of the HEB store ads was "Cabeza de Puerco." Okay, this is a skinned pig head right on the front page of the store specials. Eyes bugging, etc. Eewww. But it didn't prepare me for seeing several cabezas de puerco in the refrigerated case when I went to the store later that day. Ugh. Nas-tee. I think I'll lay off the puerco for a while.

Another new thing for me living in Laredo is living near gunfire. When we first moved here, I woke up one night to hear 6 gunshots being fired nearby. I thought I heard gunshots again last night, but convinced myself it wasn't. My husband came home shortly afterwards and reported that someone had shot at our car 15 feet away from where me and my son were sleeping, shattering the passenger window near the child's seat. I sound calm because I've been hitting the anti-anxiety pills, but really I am a nervous wreck about this. I have lived in towns like LA and NYC where innocent people get hit by stray bullets. This looked fired directly into our car. It's a tad disconcerting.

The Wal-Mart here is also a madhouse. Going to any Wal-Mart in a border town is a real experience. I knew I was in trouble when I had to park about 30 cars deep in the parking lot and not a single cart was available when I entered the store. The Wal-Marts in the border towns are so crowded because things are much cheaper in the US than in Mexico, so people from Mexico come to Laredo to shop, while all the white folk are running across the border to buy cheap silver, glassware, etc. Laredo (about 150,000 people) and Nuevo Laredo (larger than that) share one Wal-Mart so it's constantly packed, 24/7. The Wal-Mart is also about 2 miles from the border, so many semi-trucks heading to Mexico stop and park their trucks overnight so it is one popular place. Well, here's to pork rinds, cabezas and Wal-Marts.

Libbi

December 7, 2000

Yesterday I spent my afternoon sifting through the Bargain Bin at Salvation Army here in Laredo. Now, let me tell you, the Salvation Army is TINY here, but I did manage to find a pair of good jeans for my little boy for a mere 50 cents. I also found, if you can believe it, a Wagoneers tape circa God Knows When. On the cover was Monte Warden himself along with Brent Wilson and ......... Tom Lewis, I'm pretty sure. My memory is rotten. That was only yesterday. Anyway, I didn't pick it up because my tape player is out of commish but there must be another Austin exile living in Laredo because I also saw a copy of the radio program Folkways on KUT in the tape bin. I'd sure like to meet a friend here who I have something in common with. After the rather-depressing Salvation Army, I hightailed it to a warehouse having a "sale." "Sale" in Laredo means anyone with a driveway or a carport dragging junk out front and selling it. Lo and behold, this was a real, live warehouse full of used clothing, or ropa usada, and a huge mound of clothes was piled in a corner of the warehouse. Picture this, a mound of clothes, about 3 feet deep, and covering a floor space of about 15 feet by 15 feet. Which means, to look at clothes other than on the edges, you literally had to climb on the mountain of clothes and walk on top of the very clothes you were considering buying. I, being caught between my Martha Stewart Fantasy of Myself and Poor White Trash Grew Up On Welfare Reality Check, could not resist the urge to go Clothes Climbing. It was kind of weird walking across these clothes with my dirty tennis shoes but those bike workouts have come in handy because my Quads were working overtime navigating that terrain. I did find a couple more pairs of jeans, some workout shorts and a man's suede coat which is in terrible condition but which will be revived via the enormous talents of my mom. The best thing about Clothes Climbing is that the clothes in the huge pile weren't priced individually. They were priced by the pound. A first for me. So, I got all that for a rather good price of 30 cents per pound totaling $1.80. Then later in the day I headed to the Bordertown Flea Market (a sort of Flea Market/shantytown where the vendors set up shop and some even live out of their tents) and picked up even a couple more jeans and a toddler sized almost new car seat for a mere $5.00 (car seats not being very popular down here I guess they lose their value quickly!) That for sure appeals to my poor upbringing.

Libbi

November 30, 2000

Just got back from doing my bike ride in the nearby section of Laredo. It's cool here, which means about 70 degrees for Laredo. That's a warm summer's day in some spots. I have never seen a town where so many people chain their dogs to the front porch with thick, heavy links so they have six inches of stretching space, then ride in the front seat of a car with an infant in their laps with no child restraint whatsoever (no adult restraint either). I don't know where that attitude comes from, but I guess it's just a learned thing. I have a cousin who firmly believes that a person is more likely to get trapped in a car than thrown from it. I guess you can't change everyone's mind. I just can't stand to see these babies unbuckled like that, in the front seat nonetheless. It makes me want to join the Laredo Police force and bust a move on these fools, but would it really do any good? Maybe I am sensitive because once I was in a wreck where a van rolled through a stop sign and I was on the highway (right of way) and plowed right into him. Of course, their 7 year old son wasn't in a seat belt and he flew threw the windshield and sadly, he died. Even though it wasn't my fault it still haunts me, and I can't understand why anyone would let a child go without a seatbelt. I saw a pickup truck in Houston a few weeks ago traveling at a high rate of speed up I-45 through downtown Houston, weaving in and out of traffic with seven children in the back. I was lucky enough to have just gotten a cell phone and whipped it out and called the Po-lice. I wouldn't let my dog ride in the back of a pickup truck. In fact I saw a dog fly out of the back of a truck once, also on I-45, and you can guess what happened to the dog. Pretty sad. I remember when I was a kid, WAY BACK WHEN, when seat belts were also out of fashion and we would stand up in the front seat of the car and jump up and down screaming "Are we there yet?" I guess it's the same thing but I hate it. Especially when I see the way the dogs are chained up. Except of course, the wild pack of chihuahuas roaming my neighborhood that chased me on my bike. Poor little suckers couldn't even reach my ankles. That's what they get for imitating rats.

I need to get a new bike seat. My butt feels like I've been sitting on rocks. That's all for now. Profound, eh? And oh, so uplifting. I think I'll go slash my wrists now. More later. Pictures coming soon to this page.

Libbi

November 28, 2000

Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday dear me, me. Happy birthday to me.

Okay so I'm a whopping 36 but something miraculous happened today. I was out doing that exercise thing (riding one said bicycle) and this cute Latino guy laying tar on the driveway down the street gave me a cat call! Whoo-hoo! Ten years ago I would have been very upset and all indignant and stuff, but it brought a smile to my lips. It must mean I am, alas, actually 36 and sort of worn down on ideals. 36 going on 12, right?

One more thing I saw today: a guy on a bicycle with the Junk Collector version of the basket in the front: attached to the front of his bicycle was a huge platform on wheels and on it was a washing machine, baby bath, furniture, etc. and he was pedaling away, even though the stuff was stacked 6 feet high and he couldn't see a thing. Where there's a will there's a way.

A sign above the sink in the Ladies Room at the Laredo Public Library reads:

No Shaving. No Bathing.

Darn. And I was hoping to shave my legs in the sink at the library.

November 16, 2000

I never should have left the house today. In fact, I didn't until 6:30PM when my husband returned home form work and I had to go to the laundromat to do some laundry. You see, brilliant young individuals that we are, we sold our washer and dryer in a fit of apartment living and thinking "We'll be rolling in dough when we have to move into a house. We'll just buy new ones!" Anyway, doing laundry in Laredo is an experience, as there are lots of little 4, 5 and 6 year olds running throughout the Wishy Washy and screaming and trying to pry gum from the gumball machine. I guess I can relate to this because, being of the poor class, I have no washer and dryer and I take my own screaming kid to do the suds thing and let him run completely wild so that I do not twist my head off trying to keep him in view. I figure the doors are locked and as long as I don't hear the negative air pressure whoomp of the door opening he's okay. It must be an unspoken rule that kids are allowed at laundromats--even encouraged. I remember when I was a kid we played the white trash version of "doing laundry" whereupon my brothers and sisters and I would take turns getting in the dryer and turning it on. Somehow, being the littlest of six children, I ended up in the dryer the most. (The door always stayed open. Hey, we weren't no dummies). Anyway, laundry done, I proceed to the post office to send off some packages, but alas, my last dollar bill gets stuck in the change machine. Frustrated, I go out to the car, where it's starting to rain, and peel out of the parking lot (in my bad-ass Honda) and the laundry goes every which-way in my car. I knew I should have stuck to my instincts and stayed home. Miserable, wet and a dollar shorter, I drive to the cozy little casa we call home. I did, however, see an uplifting sight on the way home, which put me back in a chipper, albeit skewed, mood: A bright, gold flecked, highly metallic/glitter low rider Lincoln Continental with big white letters across the back window that read: "Laredo Dreamer." Yes.

November 11, 2000

Today I went with my family across the border to Nuevo Laredo. I guess I expected something a little different than every other town I've been to in Mexico. I've been to: Juarez, Tijuana, Mexicali and Reynosa and some are nicer than others but there's always the inevitable 6 year old girl begging for handouts on the street. I'm not trying to pass judgment, but I don't care if I was starving I would never make my child beg for money. It was so depressing. I mean, Laredo, on the Texas side, is very, very interesting and for some reason it's got me a little captivated. I actually like it much better than any other border town I have been to. It's just teeming with culture, good and bad, and it's a real experience. I was thinking of applying for a part-time position with the Laredo radio station down here because I heard they are looking for someone, anyone, to spin CDs. The only problem is they play lots of things like Men At Work and Foghat and I'm not sure if I have the stomach to relive my youth. Now if it's AC/DC, The Clash and Journey we might have a deal. "Anyway you want it, that's the way you need it, anyway you want it." I remember going on a date with a guy when I was all of 18 and living in Hollywood or New York or some other place I had no business being in, and we were parked in his car at (okay so it was California, must have been 17) the Pacific Ocean and I was rocking out to Journey, screaming at the top of my lungs and he was telling me I had potential. I wonder what that rascal meant. Hmmmm. Anyway, I worked out five times this week, all in the same day (ha, ha) and today is my "free" day to eat and drink what I please without worry so of course I opted for the ever-popular Foster's Beer and PB&J sandwich. Aaaahh. I must try hard not to think about the restaurant we ate at in Nuevo Laredo, the one where the filth on the floor was definitely a "Slime in The Ice Machine" episode (for those Marvin Zindler fans in Houston), lest my peanut butter and jelly be gurgled up. Hasta.

November 9, 2000

My legs hurt like a mofo from that exercise thing. By the way, I'd like to congratulate Paul Skelton on losing 57 pounds! WOW. But back to me. Ugh, how I ache. Sounds like a country song, right? For now I'll keep separate my musings on Laredo and my weight loss extravaganza. Laredo continues to fascinate me more every day. It is so much more like Mexico than where my husband was living in El Centro, California. El Centro had this real California stucco house vibe with nice, big, clean, wide streets. Here it's really much more of a mix. Stucco houses, trailers, shacks, villas. All mixed in together.

I definitely feel like an onlooker here, but am enjoying the experience, which I didn't expect. For one thing, there's zero traffic. Hallelujah. For another thing, the culture and neighborhoods are very Mexico proud. I haven't yet whipped out my Spanish but it's coming. Watch out for the white girl. The families in my neighborhood are extremely friendly, although it hasn't passed me by that most homes have bars from top to bottom (as I said the tenant who lived here before me nailed the windows shut in addition to bars!). Another Mexican thing. Seems like every city I have been to along the border the houses have these huge cement fences surrounding them with cement driveways instead of yards. Very small garden areas and bars all over the doors and windows, often filigree-style wrought-iron ornamental bars. Okay, so, I'm no architect, but you get the idea. Another possible reason for the bars? There's that little thing of the 6 gunshots I heard fired last night. Close. Too close. Tuck my boy in. Read him stories, stories, stories. He wakes up from a bad dream and I'm laying down with him in his bed trying to get him back to sleep and I hear, without a doubt, six gunshots fired, probably within a block from my house. I am pretty sure they came from the building right across the street. I won't mention the building, just in case some bad asses are reading this. Having lived in New York City and Los Angeles, I immediately moved my son into the center of the house, just in case any bullets came to visit our house. The police came by, I think. Maybe someone found a rattlesnake in their house and decided to shoot it. Right. Anyway, I have no clue what it was.

When you get close into the center of the old section of the city, there are tiny, small buildings that look like they used to be storefronts. Most of them are empty or people living there now, but these buildings are real close together with sidewalks and wrought iron short gates, again with the cement "yards." I also saw a tour bus for sale. Hey, I might be looking for a tour bus one day. The sign shoe polished on the windshield said "call bepper 723-5555." Love it. Today I saw a van for sale that said $950 O.M.O. I guess that's the Spanish equivalent of Or Best Offer. Bet you don't know who the major candidate was for Mexico? Vicente Fox. I've seen it on posters and bumper stickers all over here. Don't know if he won or not. Dang, I don't even know who my own presidente is.

Anyway, adios from Laredo. Check back with ya soon.

Libbi