Our Lady of Guadalupe,
leaning in the mercado window,
make intercession for the West Side.
Mystical rose of yellow, red, and blue,
protect those who journey through
the corners of George, State, and Chavez streets —
New Tepeyac, District del Sol.
I know this sounds ridiculous: to love the speed by which one can get across town. Big deal, right? Yes. It is. You have no idea. Prior to moving to Saint Paul in 2008, I lived in Seattle, a city with an enormous and ever-worsening traffic problem.
It was my mom’s first marriage proposal. At eight, she was the older woman. George was only six. After hasty consideration, Mom turned him down. As she explained to her mother, she couldn’t marry George. He liked carrots. She didn’t.
Even though it seems like the economy has gone through the wrong tunnel, we as a community have to keep going through the right tunnel. We come together as one, to a place where everyone can pitch in and get something in return.
“I had found my spot on the roof of a red woodshed in the back yard shaded by an overhanging apple tree. An inveterate reader, I found that by lying flat on my stomach, I could remain concealed, safety ignoring any voice calling me from below.”
—Blanche Yurka, Saint Paul-raised actress
“As long as the children need me, I’ll be there; and unless we mess up their minds and visions of the future as adults, they are our hope for the future.”
—Mabel Cason, Saint Paul African American educator
“You can’t have an underworld without an overworld, if you know what I mean.”