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East of Aztlán

East of Aztlán Cam Rentsch Every morning, I use my grandmother’s co√eepot. Wait, no, that doesn’t sound quite right. Let’s start this again. I still own my grandmother’s co√eepot pot, a stainless-steel 12-cup electric percolator with no buttons and a cord the diameter of my thumb. I’d say that it shows no signs of slowing down, but I don’t want to jinx it. It was bought for my grandparents as a wedding gift in 1964, and now, in 2017, I use it daily. These grandparents, my mother’s parents, the ones I find myself writ- ing about often, were white. My other grandparents, my father’s biological father and mother, I never met. They were Mexicans, probably of mixed Spanish and Indian descent. My father was put up for adoption at the age of three, left as a ward of the state in Southern California. I own a lot of other things that were my mother’s parents once upon a time. These things were all handed down o√ that top shelf of wisdom that my grandfather was always reaching up to for me through my boyhood. A cast-iron skillet and pocket knives and flannel shirts and even guns, a proper essay topic for a http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Prairie Schooner University of Nebraska Press

East of Aztlán

Prairie Schooner , Volume 93 (2) – Dec 18, 2019

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Publisher
University of Nebraska Press
Copyright
Copyright © University of Nebraska Press.
ISSN
1542-426X

Abstract

Cam Rentsch Every morning, I use my grandmother’s co√eepot. Wait, no, that doesn’t sound quite right. Let’s start this again. I still own my grandmother’s co√eepot pot, a stainless-steel 12-cup electric percolator with no buttons and a cord the diameter of my thumb. I’d say that it shows no signs of slowing down, but I don’t want to jinx it. It was bought for my grandparents as a wedding gift in 1964, and now, in 2017, I use it daily. These grandparents, my mother’s parents, the ones I find myself writ- ing about often, were white. My other grandparents, my father’s biological father and mother, I never met. They were Mexicans, probably of mixed Spanish and Indian descent. My father was put up for adoption at the age of three, left as a ward of the state in Southern California. I own a lot of other things that were my mother’s parents once upon a time. These things were all handed down o√ that top shelf of wisdom that my grandfather was always reaching up to for me through my boyhood. A cast-iron skillet and pocket knives and flannel shirts and even guns, a proper essay topic for a

Journal

Prairie SchoonerUniversity of Nebraska Press

Published: Dec 18, 2019

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