as WAYNE CAMBLE & GARTH ALGAR would say, "chaching" for your "shawing"
my friend Mohammad asked me what pisses off the most
i said when boys check out girls' assn'tits
he said baby if you ever see me doin that its just reflex if they're wearing something cute b/c i'm just imagining how good it will look on you and i'll go out and buy it for you.
at first i was pissed i was like you can't get away with that.
but there's a hole.
if i do catch him and hes "checking out her outfit" he can follow through with his statement and buy me that outfit.
chaching
Shauna Lawson
Teacher Buttler
11, March, 06
Ernesto Ibarro
Spider man comes in to web up the robbers; Super man catches a falling woman from a burning building; and Wonder Woman looks really, really hot in tight clothing while she carries a volcanic rock away from the death destined earth. I never had looked up to any of these characters growing up. I found my hero some where much greasier, some where much more unusual. Racism booming in the streets I was born in, my eyes were blue and they shouldn’t have paid attention to eyes so brown. Squeezed tight, being slowly rocked back and forth with my feet off the ground, I felt very safe in this skinny, and dark, mans arms. We can learn from people with different cultures and up bringing if we have child like eyes. In life, who knows who will affect you.
This Mexicans name is Ernesto Ibarro. He snuck across the Mexico boarder after giving money to a man who helps Mexicans cross to America for a living. Ernesto wanted to be prosperous and make a good living for his family. His aunt was already working for my parents business, La Esperanza, a family Mexican restaurant. She introduced him to my dad. My dad asked for a social security number, which he gave him. Two weeks later her arrived at work like usual and said “this number is better.” My dad laughed like they were in elementary on a play ground and it was some joke. My dad was often busy in the office doing pay roll or punching in numbers into a computer, Ernesto was like colorful painting in a black and white world. I met Ernesto when I was
three. I immediately took to his sharp nose, hairy face, and big smile. His arms were skinny but strong, and reached out like two steady poles for me to climb on. My parents
Lawson 2
didn’t want to pay money for a baby sitter so I was at La Esperanza almost everyday of the week. When it was time for my dad to do office work I would get itchy because the only TV in the restaurant was in the office. He would always make me turn my Waynes World down really low until I couldn’t stand it any more. I would get so frustrated my eyes would get huge while one of my eye brows lowered, with my mouth really small, I’d clinch my jaw and leave. I was like a mouse in a maze, I would soon fine out the TV was not the escape. Ernesto would be five steps outside the door prepping the food for the day. He would look at me in the eyes and smile and I would run towards his arms. He would help me jump up on the counter and I would talk with him all morning until lunch rush came.
At first my heart would be broken when my dad would send me out of the room, but I’m glad that he did. Standing on tip toe my eyes gleamed at the hot grill. Ernesto knew absolutely no English coming into America and so he couldn’t necessarily instruct a four year old how to cook tortillas; but something in his eyes connected with my brain and his facial expressions were all that I needed. He made a horrible screeching noise and a terrified face and acted like he burnt himself to tell me not to touch. I would always laugh at him because he would always laugh at himself first. No matter what he had just been acting out he would laugh and then I almost as if to say, did you get it? If I laughed that meant, yes I get it, I won’t burn off my four year old hands, thank you. Some mornings he would be there before me and already have a bucket set up for me to stand
on next to him. He taught me how to do so many things. Ernesto and I had cut tomatoes on many occasion and just sat and talked like we always did. One morning my mother,
Lawson 3
who was also a waitress, came back for a tray of chicken cheese enchiladas when she saw me and Ernesto cutting tomatoes. She freaked out that her four year old daughter had a knife in her hand, but we swore I was doing just fine. Ernesto not only spent time caring for me, he treated me like a capable equal. For the rest of my life I will see my self as a capable equal in society.
I never really wondered why Ernesto and I got along like two peas in a pod until recently. My dad told me that at the time his wife and daughter who is two years younger than me were in Mexico. It’s no wonder now why he would hold me to his side like I was his own little calf. If I ever let out a moo with a sad face he would come rushing to ask me “conpro miso niña” which means are you okay my daughter. Our restaurant is located on 3rd and Nob Hill, 6th street is where all of the shootings happen. When I got there I didn’t see Ernesto so I went out front to check for him. He was not there, but there was glass all over the floor and bullet holes everywhere. My little feet stopped in the middle of the broken glass and my heart broke into just as many peices. The only person I thought of was Ernesto and why is he gone. Soon I felt those same scrawny strong arms beneath my knees and back. I was six now and even though he had learned a lot of English he didn’t say anything. He had set up and bucket that he stood me on and we started making taquettos. I couldn’t roll them as tight as he could but he kept working with me. He never once scowled at me or got angry because I couldn’t do it right the first time. He always kept positive with me even though I was young.
The next day was my game day, Saturday. I sat in between the waitress area and the front, frustrated and angry out of my mind because I couldn’t get those tight soccer socks up
Lawson 4
over my huge shin guards and calves. It hurt my nails to try to pull them up and I would calm my self and try to pull with both hands again. Ernesto luckily found me and showed me to turn my sock inside out place the toe by the toe and roll it on backwards. When I came back from my soccer game later that day the floor was watery and greasy from the dish area. I ran in there just as fast as I could, forgetting that I had cleats on I slipped and slide around for awhile before my feet were in front of my eyes and Ernesto was right there to catch me. It’s like he knew every move I was going to make, from slipping on the floor to dropping an avocado pit on the floor. He would always catch them with his feet. He was so good at soccer and I loved it. I never could pick out an idol off of the TV, but Ernesto, Ernesto was my hero. Not just because he spent time with me, unlike the waitresses if I bothered them they’d hand me bleach and a towel and tell me to go clean the walls, but because we had things in common. Imagine that a seven year old and a twenty seven year old, best friends. My favorite was when we would talk about soccer. He would ask me what I did spectacular in my games and I would have a million of those stories, but he would also give me advice. He asked me “What is the most important thing in soccer?” I said “when they have the ball and you wait and you wait until its in the perfect spot and get it.” He said exactly, timing. At the time I sort of understood them to be the same thing, but as I grew in my game it has become the foundation of my game. My timing, I wait until it is in its perfect spot and them boom. Before each one of my games, I think about what he said, and during each one of my games he still pops in my
head. When I think maybe I should just stop and become a mom or take the easy way out and get fat; I think what if, what if he is at my next game, what if he is here right now?
Lawson 5
What if he is watching and saying “what is she doing, I am wasting my time”, or what if he is saying, “wow she is a good soccer player.”
Soon, quicker than I would have thought, I was a teenager. I had cooked here and there but I wasn’t very fast so I wasn’t put on the schedule that often. I was however put on the schedule to wash dishes quite frequently. I would dance like I was a hip hop dancer on In Living Color, listen to Aliah and wash dishes. Often more than not I would get yelled at for not washing fast enough. Ernesto would always wait until they were gone, come back to the flood I stood in, laugh and tell me what a good job I was doing. On my breaks some people would be smoking or getting fat and he would always come behind the restaurant with me even as I got older and juggle with me.
I am so glad my eyes were never closed by racism or I would not be the person that I am today. He was like a second father to me. I couldn’t have asked for a better influence, I couldn’t have asked for a better hero. In life who knows who will affect you. I know who has affected me and I am very grateful for Ernesto Ibarro.
i said when boys check out girls' assn'tits
he said baby if you ever see me doin that its just reflex if they're wearing something cute b/c i'm just imagining how good it will look on you and i'll go out and buy it for you.
at first i was pissed i was like you can't get away with that.
but there's a hole.
if i do catch him and hes "checking out her outfit" he can follow through with his statement and buy me that outfit.
chaching
Shauna Lawson
Teacher Buttler
11, March, 06
Ernesto Ibarro
Spider man comes in to web up the robbers; Super man catches a falling woman from a burning building; and Wonder Woman looks really, really hot in tight clothing while she carries a volcanic rock away from the death destined earth. I never had looked up to any of these characters growing up. I found my hero some where much greasier, some where much more unusual. Racism booming in the streets I was born in, my eyes were blue and they shouldn’t have paid attention to eyes so brown. Squeezed tight, being slowly rocked back and forth with my feet off the ground, I felt very safe in this skinny, and dark, mans arms. We can learn from people with different cultures and up bringing if we have child like eyes. In life, who knows who will affect you.
This Mexicans name is Ernesto Ibarro. He snuck across the Mexico boarder after giving money to a man who helps Mexicans cross to America for a living. Ernesto wanted to be prosperous and make a good living for his family. His aunt was already working for my parents business, La Esperanza, a family Mexican restaurant. She introduced him to my dad. My dad asked for a social security number, which he gave him. Two weeks later her arrived at work like usual and said “this number is better.” My dad laughed like they were in elementary on a play ground and it was some joke. My dad was often busy in the office doing pay roll or punching in numbers into a computer, Ernesto was like colorful painting in a black and white world. I met Ernesto when I was
three. I immediately took to his sharp nose, hairy face, and big smile. His arms were skinny but strong, and reached out like two steady poles for me to climb on. My parents
Lawson 2
didn’t want to pay money for a baby sitter so I was at La Esperanza almost everyday of the week. When it was time for my dad to do office work I would get itchy because the only TV in the restaurant was in the office. He would always make me turn my Waynes World down really low until I couldn’t stand it any more. I would get so frustrated my eyes would get huge while one of my eye brows lowered, with my mouth really small, I’d clinch my jaw and leave. I was like a mouse in a maze, I would soon fine out the TV was not the escape. Ernesto would be five steps outside the door prepping the food for the day. He would look at me in the eyes and smile and I would run towards his arms. He would help me jump up on the counter and I would talk with him all morning until lunch rush came.
At first my heart would be broken when my dad would send me out of the room, but I’m glad that he did. Standing on tip toe my eyes gleamed at the hot grill. Ernesto knew absolutely no English coming into America and so he couldn’t necessarily instruct a four year old how to cook tortillas; but something in his eyes connected with my brain and his facial expressions were all that I needed. He made a horrible screeching noise and a terrified face and acted like he burnt himself to tell me not to touch. I would always laugh at him because he would always laugh at himself first. No matter what he had just been acting out he would laugh and then I almost as if to say, did you get it? If I laughed that meant, yes I get it, I won’t burn off my four year old hands, thank you. Some mornings he would be there before me and already have a bucket set up for me to stand
on next to him. He taught me how to do so many things. Ernesto and I had cut tomatoes on many occasion and just sat and talked like we always did. One morning my mother,
Lawson 3
who was also a waitress, came back for a tray of chicken cheese enchiladas when she saw me and Ernesto cutting tomatoes. She freaked out that her four year old daughter had a knife in her hand, but we swore I was doing just fine. Ernesto not only spent time caring for me, he treated me like a capable equal. For the rest of my life I will see my self as a capable equal in society.
I never really wondered why Ernesto and I got along like two peas in a pod until recently. My dad told me that at the time his wife and daughter who is two years younger than me were in Mexico. It’s no wonder now why he would hold me to his side like I was his own little calf. If I ever let out a moo with a sad face he would come rushing to ask me “conpro miso niña” which means are you okay my daughter. Our restaurant is located on 3rd and Nob Hill, 6th street is where all of the shootings happen. When I got there I didn’t see Ernesto so I went out front to check for him. He was not there, but there was glass all over the floor and bullet holes everywhere. My little feet stopped in the middle of the broken glass and my heart broke into just as many peices. The only person I thought of was Ernesto and why is he gone. Soon I felt those same scrawny strong arms beneath my knees and back. I was six now and even though he had learned a lot of English he didn’t say anything. He had set up and bucket that he stood me on and we started making taquettos. I couldn’t roll them as tight as he could but he kept working with me. He never once scowled at me or got angry because I couldn’t do it right the first time. He always kept positive with me even though I was young.
The next day was my game day, Saturday. I sat in between the waitress area and the front, frustrated and angry out of my mind because I couldn’t get those tight soccer socks up
Lawson 4
over my huge shin guards and calves. It hurt my nails to try to pull them up and I would calm my self and try to pull with both hands again. Ernesto luckily found me and showed me to turn my sock inside out place the toe by the toe and roll it on backwards. When I came back from my soccer game later that day the floor was watery and greasy from the dish area. I ran in there just as fast as I could, forgetting that I had cleats on I slipped and slide around for awhile before my feet were in front of my eyes and Ernesto was right there to catch me. It’s like he knew every move I was going to make, from slipping on the floor to dropping an avocado pit on the floor. He would always catch them with his feet. He was so good at soccer and I loved it. I never could pick out an idol off of the TV, but Ernesto, Ernesto was my hero. Not just because he spent time with me, unlike the waitresses if I bothered them they’d hand me bleach and a towel and tell me to go clean the walls, but because we had things in common. Imagine that a seven year old and a twenty seven year old, best friends. My favorite was when we would talk about soccer. He would ask me what I did spectacular in my games and I would have a million of those stories, but he would also give me advice. He asked me “What is the most important thing in soccer?” I said “when they have the ball and you wait and you wait until its in the perfect spot and get it.” He said exactly, timing. At the time I sort of understood them to be the same thing, but as I grew in my game it has become the foundation of my game. My timing, I wait until it is in its perfect spot and them boom. Before each one of my games, I think about what he said, and during each one of my games he still pops in my
head. When I think maybe I should just stop and become a mom or take the easy way out and get fat; I think what if, what if he is at my next game, what if he is here right now?
Lawson 5
What if he is watching and saying “what is she doing, I am wasting my time”, or what if he is saying, “wow she is a good soccer player.”
Soon, quicker than I would have thought, I was a teenager. I had cooked here and there but I wasn’t very fast so I wasn’t put on the schedule that often. I was however put on the schedule to wash dishes quite frequently. I would dance like I was a hip hop dancer on In Living Color, listen to Aliah and wash dishes. Often more than not I would get yelled at for not washing fast enough. Ernesto would always wait until they were gone, come back to the flood I stood in, laugh and tell me what a good job I was doing. On my breaks some people would be smoking or getting fat and he would always come behind the restaurant with me even as I got older and juggle with me.
I am so glad my eyes were never closed by racism or I would not be the person that I am today. He was like a second father to me. I couldn’t have asked for a better influence, I couldn’t have asked for a better hero. In life who knows who will affect you. I know who has affected me and I am very grateful for Ernesto Ibarro.