The L.A. Book-Signing Party

Friends & Family Book-Signing, hosted by my Mom

September 30, 2017

Just a few snapshots from the day, and some nice sentiments.....

"Now I have some history to share with my grandchildren. What a generational blessing..." -Lupe M.

"IN THE CARDS by Christina Saballos has made the Chicano community and the Chicano family a part of the American national narrative." -Ralph G.

"Makes you want more." -Ivan S.

"It's a great book. Can't wait for the next one." -Linda E.

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La Estrella - The Star

The sun had gone down by the time we reached San Diego County. On our right, we passed the twin water-power structures (a pair of boobs is what they're generally referred as) that unofficially mark the entrance to San Diego. We couldn't see the ocean but knowing it was out there in the night made this part of the trip ominous, like we were traveling along the edge of the world. At least it would have if any of us was actually paying attention. But we weren't. If we had run out of gas our incessant chatter could have fueled the car. Our high-pitched laughter was outdone only by the blaring music straining the twelve-year old speakers. Let's see, it would have been stuff like the Smiths, Depeche Mode, some Usher and Next, and a little bit of Tupac - it was 1998 after all and we were L.A. girls. Marina borrowed her mom's four-door Honda so we could take this road trip to El Valle de Guadalupe ( a town outside of Ensenada, Mexico) where her grandparents' ranch was

El Valiente - The Brave One

Back in 2000 I started recording family ghost stories as told to me by my Mom, my Grandma, and letters from my Aunt Socorro. Around that time I was taking an English course on memoirs and for an assignment I presented those family ghost stories as if they were being told to me and my other cousins by our Uncle George. Why did I choose my Uncle George as the storyteller? Because I (and my cousins who were present) share a vivid memory of one night we were all at his house, in my cousin Lorrie's room, waiting for him to tell us a ghost story. I can't remember what his story was about (something about an old outhouse) but the anticipation and excitement are what fuels this memory. That and the 10 feet leap into Uncle George's lap that cousin Desiree took when Ruben pounded on the window from the backyard! Here is the introduction to that memoir assignment, exactly as I wrote it, almost exactly as I remember it. The girls piled themselves onto the cushy queen-sized bed, wrap

La Mano - The Hand

The gush of blood surprised him. It came as quickly and unexpectedly as had the rage. Eight seconds after the last blow, hand sent message to head that it was in pain. Nothing too bad - he had felt it a dozen times before. Deliberately, he released the tension in his right hand, regarding the white knuckles. His fist must have been tightly clenched because its color was just now returning. He considered the speed of his reflexes and began to feel grateful. His mind thought something and without having to be asked twice, his hand reacted. No explanation necessary. At 16 years old he was sick of explanations. Mom. Counselors. Judge. Girlfriend. They always wanted answers, justifications, tell me one good reason why I should . When nothing else went his way at least he knew he could count on his dependable hands. His mom used to tell him and his brothers that if they refused to go to school they’d be forced to work with their hands for the rest of their lives. Not a horrible alternati

Stories of Lotería

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