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the most famous person to graduate from my junior high school was the actor anthony quinn. of course, he wasn't famous in junior high nor was he even anthony quinn yet. but his picture was on the wall in the administration building, one of those group photos of his class. if you studied it long enough you could spot him among all the shiny faces, looking pretty much like zorba the greek. if you could imagine zorba the greek as a ninth grader. i saw my first dead body when i was eight or nine, some vato lying face down in the gutter with a knife sticking out of his back. "i think we can safely rule out suicide," a cop said. the cop was wearing a joe friday haircut and a wrinkled gray suit. the tips of his black shoes were scuffed, as if he'd spent a lifetime on the eastside prodding dead bodies in the gutter. amazingly, the hood has remained pretty much the same -- still the same working-class barrio that always seems to be on the brink of total urban decay. police helicopters still hover above at night, shinning their spotlights bright and cold as gamma death rays. the city did put in a nice jogging path along the perimeter of the cemetery, where crowds of middle-aged hispanic ladies in multi-colored swap meet sweatsuits burn off calories and perhaps life's little frustrations. it's quite a sight. i worked at a jack in the box during high school, jack in the box 240 to be exact, on what used to be known as brooklyn avenue, now known as cesar chavez avenue. at one point, it was under surveillance by the narcs, but it was never raided and no one ever got busted. on special occasions -- like new year's eve -- we'd take turns going into the walk-in cooler to smoke a joint. every once in awhile the crew from the mcdonalds by the junior college on the other end of the eastside would stop by to shoot the shit and boast about how many burgers they sold. on a good night, we'd do maybe a thousand dollars, but the mcdonalds would be doing that much in an hour. on the other hand, you could drive up to our window and order a cheese burger, fries, soft drink and a lid of mary jane. i was in the fifth or sixth grade when my class went on a field trip to the newspaper building downtown. it was mid-afternoon as we gawked our way through the newsroom. two guys dressed in short-sleeve white shirts and ties sat at their desks in the back, throwing paper airplanes at us and cackling. i remember thinking, "that's the kind of job i want when i grow up." little did i know that i'd be working there myself one day. i have to admit, though, i haven't thrown any paper airplanes at any of the little kids who still tour the building. i don't want to give them any big ideas, i guess. |
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