Essays

"heartbeat"

Callaloo Salutes Texas Writers. 32.1 (2009): 235-240.

Opening excerpt:
“Go away, you Puerto Rican.” The woman slammed her back door shut and pulled the frilly white curtains across the glass window.

I stood in the warm sun and contemplated her words. Then I shrugged my shoulders, clenched my clipboard and walked down the driveway to the next house.

That evening turned out to be rough. Only a few people opened their doors to listen to my request for signatures in support of lobbying for the Superfund, and no one signed a check. I was working in the College Hill neighborhood of Providence, RI, and most people were vacationing somewhere else. Those who did open their doors were not interested in environmental waste, especially if there was criticism of Ronald Reagan. At nine that night, when the station wagon pulled up to pick me up, I jumped in and reported my day to the other college students and the team leader, Bill. We shared tales of an evening of collecting insults, few signatures and even fewer donations—which was the real reason we were walking door-to-door around Rhode Island, a state small enough that we could canvas most of it in one summer.

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