All day I’ve been thinking about the mix in my family and friends. It’s a pretty even mix,

Hispanic, African, Eastern European, Northern European, Mediterranean,  Middle Eastern, Caribbean. It’s been that way all my life. Unintentional, just how it happened.

I don’t love everyone, I hate a few people. That has always been based on who they are or what they did to deserve my hatred. I seriously don’t understand the bullshit that is tearing this country apart. If I love you I love you. If I don’t there’s a reason, that reason has nothing to do with your skin color, or where your ancestors came from.

I’d be dead if it wasn’t for a skinny little black kid named Archie Reed. He stood between me and a knife fight, and some very angry young men, mixed color, mostly black. I deserved what they wanted to do.

Archie had more balls than I’ve ever seen. Those guys had a reason for wanting to kill me. I’m really glad they didn’t.  I miss Archie like I miss Hector Luis.

Luis and I were Spic and Span and proud of it. I was Span, obviously. Luis always had my back and I had his. He died, violently. I always wish I’d been there. I should have been there. He would have been there for me.

This shit has got to end. We really need to look past the news and see what they are trying to sell us. We are all we have.

Those who work to divide us will never have our backs. Our division is part of their plan.