S1: This is for the ones who left. This is for the bicultural scholars turned single minded amnesiac. This is for the ones who came and moved on. This is for the infant soothsayers turned miles by school. A treaty of peace , friendship , limits and settlement between the United States of America and the United Mexican States.
S2: Poetry has always surrounded Adolfo Guzman Lopez , even before he could read or write.
S3: He didn't know how to express it at the time , but he could feel the rhythmic beat of border life all around him.
S2: Like the incandescent bus lights that used to wake him up as a five year old boy at the crack of dawn as he talked along with his mother from Tijuana to Pacific Beach.
S1: I don't know exactly how many hours. It would definitely take about two hours. Take the bus down the hill. Get across the border. Which didn't take that long. In the mid 70s. Right.
S3: Or the old timey boleros playing on the bus ride back home at night that border life , muttering in the background of his commute filled the backdrop of his imagination as he rode that same buzz back and forth during those early years.
S2: These details would stay etched in his memory of growing up in the borderlands , and decades later , became the foundation of his work as a poet and journalist.
S1: So there's the anticipation of crossing , right. The lines are long , then right. Anticipation and anticipation. My mom would tell me , okay , we've we've got a passport and a tourist visa. We don't have a work permit. So if the agent asks you where you're going , tell him you're going shopping.
S3: Born in Mexico City , Adolfo moved to Tijuana when he was three years old.
S2: His mother cleaned houses in Pacific Beach , and as a child he crossed the border with her as she went to work.
S3: Adolfo , like many of us , saw these two worlds colliding.
S2: He saw the differences in race , class and opportunity.
S3: He experienced what it meant to move between Mexico and the United States. The long commutes on the 29 bus. The Californias and Tijuana , and all the details that are ever present when you grow up on both sides of the border.
S2: Those landscapes took center stage in 1994 when he co-founded The Taco Shop Poets , a groundbreaking San Diego poetry and spoken word collective that reflected what was happening in poetry clubs in cities like Chicago and New York.
S4: Did you come to Los Angeles looking for that eagle perched upon the cactus? In my new city.
S2: And those worlds also became part of his life at KPBS.
S1: This is the lounge.
S5: I'm Adolfo Guzman Lopez. This is the beginning of what will be , at times a strange and hopefully long trip , a radio excursion through the stories that make up San Diego in our region.
S2: From 1995 to the year 2000. Adolfo worked at the station where he launched The Lounge , a daily Gen-X arts and culture program.
S3: Now , decades after those early poems and those early morning bus rides. Adolfo has brought together his poetry and prose in his first book , California's Southern Writing From the road , 1992 to 2025.
S2: We sat down with him in front of a live audience at the KPBS San Diego Book Festival to talk about the book , his life between two countries , and the experiences that became his poetry.
S3: This episode is that live recording.
S2: We hope you enjoy it.
S4: Aqui nos vamos estamos aqui.
S3: From KPBS. This is Port of Entry.
S2: Where we tell cross-border stories that connect us. I'm Alan Lillington and I'm Natalie Gonzalez.
S3: You're listening to. Port of entry.
S2: Hello , everybody. Good morning. Thank you for being here. I'm Natalie Gonzalez.
S6: I'm Alan Lilienthal.
S2: And we are the hosts of Port.
S7: Of Entry. And we are here today with the amazing Adolfo. Yes , yes. You are amazing. Oh my gosh. Don't be surprised.
S1: Is a capital A or lowercase A amazing. With.
S7: With.
S8: All caps?
S7: Yes , with the amazing Adolfo Guzman Lopez. Yes. Believe it. Adolfo Lopez.
S9: Applause for him.
S7: Adolfo Guzman here. He's a transborder poet and journalist. He grew up in Tijuana , National City. And you could say Pacific Beach too.
S1: Oh , yeah. Yeah. Some of the best years of my life.
S8: That's a curveball. We've interviewed like a lot of people , and Pacific Beach has never come up as. like what? Tijuana Pacific beach. That that that route is new to us.
S7: Oh , really? You tell us why. Yeah.
S1: Yeah. There more.
S8: Um , anyways , in 1994 , he co-founded the taco shop Poets at the.
S6: Centro Cultural de la Raza.
S8: Right here in downtown and worked as a producer and host at KPBS. We were happy to find out. In the late 1990s , he paved the way for us.
S1: Oh , you guys took the ball and ran with it. Are you kidding?
S7: Today we are here to talk about his book , California Southern Writing from the road from 1992 to 2025 , and we're here to celebrate his book and talk about it. So let's start. Adolfo , please , before we go deeper into your book , tell us , what was your childhood like in Tijuana in the 70s , crossing the border back and forth every day with your wife?
S1: Oh , yeah. So I was raised by a single mother , and she's from Guanajuato , and we arrived in Tijuana because her aunt the attorney had moved to Tijuana in the early 1960s from Mexico City. And so she had someone to help her out. And so we lived mostly in Colonia Aleman , a couple different places there. I went to a Catholic school there for about two years , Colegio Baja California , and my mom didn't have , you know , money for , uh , childcare. And before I actually went to school , she took me to her jobs , her house cleaning jobs. Um , and so that mountain sold that Rancho road , sold that Rancho core up there , and she had jobs , um , you know , in the same neighborhood , probably about five different jobs. So every day we'd get up , um , I don't know exactly how many hours. It would definitely take. About two hours. Take the bus down the hill , get across the border , which didn't take that long in in the mid 70s. Right.
S8: Pre Nine. 11. Exactly.
S1: Exactly. We get on no San Diego trolley back then. Oh. The 29 bus from San Diego Transit. We go go under the Coronado Bridge. Uh , the stinky canneries , the tuna canneries there when they still had them and arrived downtown. Get the nine bus to take us up to up to her jobs. So that was Monday through Friday for , uh , for a few years. Yeah.
S8: Did it register to you as a kid? Like what did crossing the border mean to you? How did it shift your perspective of the world? Or did you not even think about it that much? Because it was just so common back then?
S1: I didn't think about it. It's only now that I look. And luckily , I have a good memory and you know that of some of the details. So sometimes we would cross by foot. Other times she'd get a ride with somebody and some other say , no , it has cleaning houses. So we'd all be , you know , in some sedan , you know , 4 or 5 senoritas and the driver and , you know , they'd pay the driver and then we'd cross and that sort of thing. And then , you know , when we crossed , I realized this is only something in hindsight. Right. So there's the anticipation of crossing. Right. The lines were long then. Right. Anticipation. Anticipation. My mom would tell me , okay , we've we've got a passport and a tourist visa. We don't have a work permit. So if the agent asks you where you're going , tell him you're going shopping. Oh.
S7: So 5 a.m. in the morning? Exactly.
S1: Exactly.
S8: I really got to shop.
S7: I love shopping.
S1: And so I like to say , you know , as an adult , I realized that I was on a perpetual shopping trip in the United States as a Mexican. Right. So. So it's only really in hindsight that I saw that and realized , um , you know , you know , what it was to live like in Tijuana. That process of crossing the border , which is kind of like this Transformation from being in Tijuana to being in San Diego. My mom would always say when. When I was with her and she'd cross , she'd say , I asked Augusto , aka you. You can you can breathe easier. The air is cleaner. As soon , as soon as you cross. Really , mom?
S10: I've heard that before. Yeah.
S7: Your mom is not the only one.
S8: At what point did you in that process start thinking about writing and turning these experiences? Because most poets in this world don't experience two very distinct cultures as their raw material. You know , they're like they everyone writes about what they know , but not many people have such dynamic experiences.
S1: I , I've realized as an adult that I had a very fortunate childhood. Right. Not only being able to , you know , be in San Diego schools , but also then go to Tijuana , hang out with relatives on the weekends , and then go to Mexico during the summers for 2 or 3 weeks. Guanajuato , Mexico City , that sort of thing. But in San Diego we would watch a lot of Mexican TV telenovelas , right? Um , you know , and then on the weekends , there was this program Grande with Ricardo Rocha. Right. And so it was from Mexico City. It was an interview program. And he would interview authors , writers , painters , musicians , you know , Guadalupe Trigo , Carlos Fuentes , um , Octavio Paz. And I would see these people and I would think , you know , because my heroes at the time were , you know , Dave Winfield and Tony Gwynn and that sort of thing , you know , and I but I looked at these people on TV and they were so articulate. Right. And that's how I want to be like them. Right. So there was that idea. But but it wasn't until college that I learned about artists in Tijuana , San Diego , like the Border Arts Workshop , that I realized that that that I got a template for how to put these stories together.
S7: I would love for you to read one of your poems , because we're going to talk about it later in the interview. It's called a morning crossing. Adolfo is going to read this for us , and he's gonna do a dance after when he's not just getting.
S1: The bell step.
S7: He's gonna.
S11: Do a.
S7: Dance while reading the poem. Uh , let's listen to to Adolfo reading to Morning Crossing right now. So.
S1: So. So you most of you have crossed so , you know , you're in your car.
S12: It's hot , man.
S1: And you know , oh , even even at night , it's hot. And there are people all around you selling stuff. And then you're anticipating crossing and then you're thinking about , you know , what you did in Tijuana. You had a good time. Maybe it's morning and you see north over there. Maybe you're the driver bringing five senoritas to work with tourist visas , $10 round trip. Maybe you're the driver coming back from Laredo. A night of whistles. Tequila. Walking in the dream of neon bass echoes pulling you into every bar. Maybe you're the mother taking your son to the Catholic school on Riverside Drive. You'll breathe easier once he's in medical school. Maybe you're the retired sailor planted your flag in front of a three bedroom Tijuana house. Half the rent of a studio apartment in your country. Maybe you're the engineering student crossing to a job at the swap meet. Maybe you're the 25 year old mexicana thinking about the money in your pocket when your car gets across. Feeling your artery pump double blood. Hands clutched on the steering wheel. The back seats firm as a pile of bricks. Maybe you're the political scientist with an ocean view of playas entertaining your La Jolla friends , each with a crossover dream on the rocks. You're waiting. You're facing California. You're back to Latin America. You want to stand up on your car Has the heat rises? Papers , papers. I don't need no stinking papers. Car exhaust mix with sweat evaporating on the foreheads of the newspaper vendors. The plaster monkey vendors , the plaster cactus vendors , the plaster Uncle Sam vendors , the plaster sleeping Mexican vendors and I the corner of your eyes. Cigarette smoke from a cigarette holder between fingers. In the hills of Tijuana. Cars waves 13 seconds apart past layers of wanted posters of Pancho Villa's , the Arellano , the chapels , the Zetas , the hitmen. Not the newspaper. Arteries. North. Veins South. Beautiful.
S7: Beautiful. Beautiful.
S12: Beautiful.
S13: It's amazing.
S8: It's amazing to me how vivid these impressions are. And I'm. I kind of asked you this before , but I'm gonna ask again. Like , I'm curious if when you were living that life crossing these having these experiences crossing. Were you hyper aware of like were you putting them in your pocket for later use? Like , were you aware that you were going to do something with these things as an artist at some point?
S1: No , because you're there. You're living it. It's it's it's , you know , it's the sweat on your skin , right? It's that dust of Tijuana to this day. If I see , like , a picture of a video and it's like in , in , in Tijuana , before I know that it's in Tijuana , I can recognize it in Tijuana because of the dust. I see the dust on the ground. Right. And I can recognize it. So it just it just happens , and it and it it seeps in. And later , you know , the process of putting that all down on paper , right? Because if I remember it and it left an impression and , you know , an emotion , my , my approach to writing is that it will transport the plane description of those things. Will transport people there in some way or another.
S7: What kind of process do you go through to make sense of all these memories and experiences and maybe trauma?
S1: I think , you know , I was watching a clip the the Algorithm on Instagram sent me a clip of a of an Irish writer , and he described writing as a constant emergency. You have to be in a constant emergency to actually get the thing done , right? Right. And so my emergency for writing was poetry. And this group , Taco Shop Poets , that we started the series in 94 and we did readings when we were really busy in like 95 , 96. April was a big month because of , you know , National Poetry Month and everything. We were doing dozens of readings each year. Right. And so it's writing , you know. So that was my Those were my deadlines. Right. And so when we went out of town , when we went to San Francisco or San Antonio or other places , we were taking the stories of the border. Right. So Taco Shop Poets was made up of , yes , Chicanos , Latinos , but also people of their African Americans or Asian Americans , a wide age range , but me in particular , out when we went out of town and even San Diego. I wanted to tell these stories. Right. Of of my Trini going from Colonia Postal every day to Mission Hills or other jobs , cleaning houses and then coming back.
S3: You're listening to Port of Entry.
S7: I want you to read another one , that it's super short because I want to talk about what was going on in your life when you wrote , not when you wrote that point , but what was going on. What are you picturing in this poem? Because it's really interesting because you have three different scenarios and the poem is called The New San Diego. Can you read it to us , please? Yeah.
S1: Yeah. And so it's dedicated to Paul Espinosa , the , you know , much awarded filmmaker from San Diego. Um , and it was written as a tribute to him and the structure of this poem. Sometimes I write with structure in mind. Some of the poets that who I looked up to , um , were people. Writers like T.S. Eliot , writers like Ezra Pound , uh , the beat poets , um , Allen Ginsberg , Gregory Corso , Jack Kerouac for the musicality and kind of like the , you know , I think the beat poets , especially Kerouac , were looking back at a particular time with a certain , um , kind of fondness , sadness elegies. They were writing elegies anyway. So , so this is this is a tribute to Paul. because Paul had made a lot of documentaries about this area , in particular the new Tijuana.
S7: The new Tijuana. What does that mean?
S1: Well , at the at the time , it was , you know , the band had just won , you know , the governor's office. Right. So Tijuana was changing. There were some changes in Tijuana. This was the mid 80s , mid to late 80s. Right. And so at this point I'm , I wrote probably in the mid to mid to late 90s. Right. So you know I threw in here you know some of the , the , the things that we hear often still here often in San Diego. That's my mom still lives here. I still come down. But you know , it's a tourist city , America's finest city. You know , the artist David Avalos coined the term for an art project America's finest tourist plantation. Right. As a critique of that. Of that industry and exploitation. Right. Vision. Numero uno. Somos de Nuevo México. Somos del viejo México. Somos muchas on UN radar. Somos Los on Cuevas. Somos la. Vision. We live in a postcard world. We live in a postcard house. We work in a postcard office. Our salaries , our postcard size. We go out to postcard bars. Our homies shoot each other up in postcard drive bys. Our city hall is a postcard chamber with postcard vision. The border still bleeds. The maids still cross. Brown is still on the wrong side of the rainbow. OT NC still means the future UCSD is still on a hill south of eight. Still means Brown. Paul's vision still rings true. The battleships are still docked on our ass. The revolutionary whistle led by a tequila shot. When will the next video be made? When will the next documentary be cut? When will the next down filmmaker stand up? We already have the new Tijuana. When will it be time for El Nuevo San Diego? Nice.
S7: Nice.
S8: I love this bone. I'm going to ask a selfish question. Being a songwriter , a musician myself.
S12: There you. Go.
S8: Go. When? Because this , like this poem in particular , is so potent. Every word , every word is just so precise , you know?
S12: Thank you.
S8: It's the pearl. Every. Every color is well placed. How do you work with a poem? How many drafts do you go through? Did they sometimes. Do they just download?
S1: Some more than others. Some more than others. I love that you brought up music because , um. So. So California Southern is split up into three parts. It's split up into the the border and San Diego. And then the second part is Los Angeles. That part of Southern California. And then the third part is kind of like as you're leaving Los Angeles , going through the grapevine , going into the Central Valley and central California , kind of north of Santa Barbara. So one of the poems that I wrote , I wrote after , um , uh , listening to this Elvis Elvis Costello song , Blame It on Cain. I just really loved , you know , his incorporation of the lyrics and to the melody. And , you know , I tried I tried to write a poem based on on that it didn't come out. But sometimes I do think of of music when we were in talking to poets , when we were doing that , we had a bass player , a stand up bass player , and we had a drummer. And so I over time developed a pretty acute ear for reading with music. Right. So it's different. Some poems like like that poem , um , the new San Diego I spent quite a bit of time on , you know , in terms of , of its sections , other poems are kind of like the street preacher , you know , on On Market Street , you know , Sunday mornings telling people not to sin and to return to God.
S7: Can you explain a little bit more to the audience the concept of taco shop poets and talk a little bit more about that because it's amazing.
S12: Thank you.
S1: Thank you. So. 1994 spoken word across the country is big right? Def Poetry Jam. You know you've got spoken word out of Chicago , out of New York with the New York and Poets Cafe. And in San Diego , we very much knew about all that. Uh , one of my , um , uh , good friends , co-founder of Talk Shop Poets , was a student with Quincy Troupe , the great African-American poet who was teaching at UCSD at the time. When I worked at UCSD. There was this San Diego poet , but actually he was from New York. Pablito Melendez , he was a poet in the schools here. And , you know , I saw him perform and he performed like the beat poets , right? So I said , I said to myself , wow , I wanted to do that. So the concept of taco shop poetry was taking the poetry space to the taco shop , right? So taking poetry there , but not saying that , oh , we're bringing culture to that now , we weren't saying that because there was already culture in the taco shops. There were the freebie , the literature of the taco shops or those freebies. The newspapers and the symphony of the taco shop was I know it was a long time ago , but the jukeboxes , right. You can select your music. Right? And then we did a performance at , at , uh , Tacos El Gordo across from the checkout. Once there was no indoor space there. It was right there outside.
S14: What was the reaction of people?
S1: You know , when we read on the trolley once we had the senator's put their fingers on my fingers. Hey , it's part of the people know what they like. So , uh , you know , and some people were like , whoa , what's this? What's this? And so we did this series. We got some news articles , the L.A. times , which had a big presence back then. There there are , um , you know , writer , uh , did a story on us. And so the reactions were. So we were combining these spaces , right? Which really is something that border arts workshop together. So in the mid 80s and for about a decade later was doing they had this last supper on the beach in Tijuana , where the border is. Before there was a big , big fence there. A last Supper with like a carnival type atmosphere.
S9: So you wrote about.
S7: All of this experience of growing up , uh , crossing back and forth. But I wonder , what are you writing about now? What feels urgent to you now as a writer and a journalist and a poet.
S1: What am I writing about now? I have to write about the detentions. I have to write about that. I don't , you know , I'm a news reporter in Los Angeles and I've , you know , written quite a bit about immigration , but lots of other things. And in 2020 , I was covering a protest that one of the George Floyd protests in , uh , in Long Beach and , uh , it got it got heavy. And the cops shot foam rounds , and one of them hit me in the neck. Oh.
S8: Oh. Yeah.
S1: Yeah. And , uh , fortunately , I mean , I'm here , right? No. No major , no significant damage. Went to the E.R. and everything , but. But there was a shift in me after that. There was a shift in in terms of , like , seeing and really reporters dive into those stories. I mean , when I was at KPBS , Carrie Kahn was the border reporter , and she was going to I remember this big shooting and then said that one of the first major , you know , shootings of of of uh , not apparently non cartel people. You know , it was discovered she went there like right. So anyway to the so let me , let me read part of uh part of the uh.
S9: To circle.
S7: This whole conversation. There is another poem that I think it is perfect because Sierra por completo esta conversation and the circle. I sometimes have. Pictures.
S8: Pictures.
S7: Yeah , I sometimes just have to say it in Spanish. Uh , it's a full circle. And it's a beautiful poem because for me , the way I perceived it , it's connected to one of your first poems in your book , which is Morning Crossing , that it was the first one that you read today. And this is the last poem , actually , I think of your book and it's called morning , and I want you to read it.
S1: So , yeah , this poem was written , um , within the last ten years. I want to write when my body is still warm. When I can still feel the dream. A dream , my dream. Evaporating from my skin when my skin still feels freshly peeled from yours. That moment of existence. Life. Consciousness. Dream. Death. Nothingness. A six way tug of war for me. The warmth escapes , leaves the womb. I enter the day. At that moment so many thoughts remain fully formed. Ready for me to transcribe. Then I'm fully awake. My trusted journal and pen. Downstairs the cold floor wakes my feet. My son watches TV. Gives me the day's plan. My wife hugs and breathes me back to the day before I step back into the room. I opened the journal on the desk next to the bookshelf and the ink flows. The words come , but they're mostly packing peanuts. the warmth of all. This has mostly gone , and I pray that I'll have another chance to do it again.
S15: Thank you.
S7: So what would the adult for that road morning would say to the Adolfo that was leaving the reality of mourning crossing?
S1: Thank you for asking that. Um , you know , I don't know who said it , but , you know somebody who asked. Oh , you know , where's the the poet's biography? The poet's biography is in the poems. Right. And and so I think looking at those two poems like you , like you asked me to it's about transformation , right? So , so in , in in morning Crossing , you've got this transformation of of your existence. What you did in Tijuana , you're crossing , you're getting ready , right? You're in that world , right? And then you're you're going into the world of San Diego , California. You know , whether you're working or visiting and that sort of thing. And I think , I think mourning the poem I just read speaks to some of my interests now , which are more which are more spiritual , more about the body , more about somebody who is approaching late middle age and , you know , knows what the trends are , um , and really trying to understand and put words to that transformation in the morning. Right. You're in the sleep world and you know , oh , man. Just like this morning. Right. I was I was like , oh. And and it's weird because in the morning , you know , your your body feels so different. Like it's almost like there's , there's no blood in the extremities. And then , but you wake up and somehow the body wakes you up and you transform. You go from that dream world into the world of of being awake. Right. And it's about gratitude , I think , to answer your question directly , I think it's I would have the different Adolphus would express gratitude or help the other understand to be thankful for those crossing those thresholds. Right. Beautiful.
S8: Beautiful. Thank you.
S7: Thank you , thank you for sharing that. I think it's time for you to ask some questions to Adolfo if if you have some. Does anybody have a question for.
S16: Iris Rubio cava? I'm from Escondido. Um , when you were talking , I could remember 19 year old Iris reading House on Mango Street. And I want to know because like all of us , we all have these stories that we want to share in these poems. What was that first step that you were like? This is the push. This is how I'm going to start writing my thoughts , my memories. I could remember when you were talking about the dust on your arms and driving through and all this stuff. I used to get up at 430 in the morning , wait at the bus stop at 450 in the morning. I was 18 with a four year old and a two year old , and I would have to run , take my kids to a daycare that I filled out all the paperwork for , to apply for a scholarship , and I would run , catch the bus , drop them off , go to class , and I lied about like , my skills , of course , like we all do , right? We all lie about our potentials. Go to my part time job , pick up my kids. But if I miss the bus , I would get beat up and I would have to figure out how I was going to hide the bruises the next day. So I want to know how , why or How was that push that got you to start writing? So because everyone's like , oh , you need to write your stories. You need to share your stories. I don't know how to.
S8: Before you answer that , you just shared , like I think that's a great way to start. It's like that bravery you just took is you. That's the first step.
S7: Thank you for that.
S17: Oh , wow.
S1: How to answer that? Because I think you're right , Ellen. That's two things. So when I was a teenager , going to , um , Pacific Beach Junior High and Mission Bay High School , um , mission Bay High School , mostly , uh , when I ditched school to go to Tijuana to hang out , I would see in the afternoon all these teenagers like me , they'd all be carrying around a a Cuadernos Universitario , which which , you know , is a notebook. It was a black and white marbled notebook in which they wrote their notes. Right. And so , like , I wanted to be like them. I couldn't see myself. Okay. I was surrounded in San Diego with students , but I don't know , it didn't I didn't it didn't click to like that. That was my my camarda , my crew , my , you know , some some something just didn't click. But being in Tijuana and seeing those teenagers did. So what did I do? I bought these notebooks. I went to the library , the papel areas , and I bought these notebooks , and I started writing in there that for some reason the writing came out if I was writing in those notebooks. Right. And , uh , that's for me. Right. And and so , you know , point number two is that I don't remember which writer , but , you know , a writer said getting those details down in a plain , in plain language , as plain language as possible is the first step right for me? Now the first line is always key. Always , always , always a key. When I have a first line , it's like I write it and there's like Maw Maw , Maw Maw , Maw Maw comes. So find , find whichever way.
S7: Anybody else have a question?
S18: My name is Victoria Brink and I live in El Cajon. And you , um , shared how you use your writing as part of the resistance to what's happening right now. You talked about the detentions and how you have to write about that. Um , it's it's hard to get on the street and protest and deal with the noise and the traffic and the people giving you the finger , but there's quieter ways to be part of the resistance. And I'm wondering , I don't want to put you on the spot , but do you have some ideas for us whether to use writing or especially writing?
S1: So I have two ideas. So. Earlier this year , I led a workshop at space for Art over there on University. By the 805 and , um , it was a workshop , um , that pulled out an idea from California Southern , which is women who go to work and who take their kids. Now , that was me , right. And so that was the idea. We invited people , and there were probably about 13 or 14 people who came different ages , some in their 20s , 40s , 50s , older , different backgrounds , not all Latinos. Right. Um , and it was amazing how not amazing. But it was it was very interesting to see how once you introduced the idea of watching your parents and that relationship with your parents to their work brings out , um , brings out memories. And so the workshop was about putting those memories down , right? and about. And then we had , you know , the big post-its and we could put those ideas up. So one idea is , um , to write with others. So that's , that's that's one idea. Second idea is to help young people , right? We all are around young people. Help them. Right. Hey , I'm going to read you this story. Let's let's write something about it. I think that is further down the line , transformational in the way we want it to be transformational. Yeah.
S7: Um , Adolfo , thank you so much for being here , for giving us your time. And I just want to say this , um , the thing that I love the most about your poems is that some of them reminded me that whatever hurts , I can just transform it into art. And I love that about your work. I appreciate it a lot. And thank you so much for being here with us today.
S8: Thank you.
S15: Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
S3: Turning life experiences , even the painful parts into art , can be a way of honoring ourselves and the people who helped shape us. And I think that's what Adolphus poetry does. His poems don't just document his own life. They capture a specific time and place , and most importantly , honor the people who traveled alongside him , especially his mother.
S2: And speaking with him about how his mother used to cling houses. I kept thinking about the way her hands might look like picturing them drying , worn from years and years of cleaning houses that hit close to home for me. My mom also cleaned offices when she first started working in the United States. Even now , she still struggles with dry skin from years of handling cleaning products. And then I think about Adolphus own hands. For decades , they have carried a pen from one place to another , writing down what he sees , what he remembers , and sometimes what he has to say. His mother's hands made a life for him , and in turn , his hands turned that life into poetry. And that's one of the most beautiful things about California. Southern Adolphus writing gives those lives , those journeys and those hands a place to be remembered.
S3: This episode of Port of Entry was written and produced by Natalie Gonzalez.
S2: Adrian Villa-Lobos is technical producer and sound designer.
S3: This episode was edited by Chrissie Winn and Julio César Ortiz Franco.
S2: Lisa Morrissette is director of audio programming and operations. Soy yo soy Natalie Gonzalez. Nos vemos pronto.
