Past Perfect
García Márquez meets his angel in Laredo, 1961
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Like Lawrence, Leary and Cantinflas, like Highsmith, García Márquez stopped here
Past Perfect
Twinkle Toes is not about the good old days; it doesn’t point an accusing finger at anyone but me
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The weak spot had always really been all mine
Past Perfect
A bolillo’s memory of Christmas in Laredo: tamales, fireworks, red cowboy boots, and my own record player
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The portable hardwood roller rink showed up every December
Past Perfect
The danger of the parsonage: blue sparks and melting metal smells
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Trouble followed Pete around like a pet dog
Past Perfect
Smoking the Parade
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It was a midnight blue,’47 Plymouth 4-door that Mauro Luna sold us for $85
Past Perfect
The 1950s and 60s of our childhood were the heyday of guns
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We were the Gunmen from Laredo
Past Perfect
Remembering Chiqui Torres: May 1967, up there on the roof, a chapter of our lives closed and the page turned to our futures
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He was my dear companion in hilarity, the friend of a lifetime.
Past Perfect
The bats in the belfry at First Baptist Church
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The organist’s eyes locked on the Satanic bat dive-bombing her.