Fallbrook Locos gang, Torrey Pines Gliderport confrontation, lobster season all-consuming, Vietnamese looks closely at English, Otay Mesa tunnels, he teaches war lit, Bill Kolender
Nico said that after some years he went through the ritual of being jumped into the gang. “It’s basically when your inner circle of friends just jump you, beat you up.” He thinks he was 17 years old when five or six men pounded on him for some minutes. “It’s basically initiation from all of them.” His best pal Torito, who is two years older, was present but did not participate in the beating.
“It was a beautiful Sunday morning,” Kuczewski, 57, recalls the moments before the second arrest of his life. His first arrest had taken place in the same spot just a few months earlier. Both the March 8 arrest and the one in November 2014 happened at the Torrey Pines Gliderport. The first was for trespassing, the second for malicious mischief.
Just after 7 a.m., when most of San Diego is getting ready to start their day, Medak pulls his first trap. He swiftly slides it down the gunwale to Hartman. Three California brown pelicans take up residency on the rear of the boat. One slyly moves closer at the scent of lobster. It eyeballs Hartman as he handles the lobsters and measures them from the end of their shell to their eye sockets using a metal ruler. One by one he throws each lobster back in.
By Siobhan Braun, April 8, 2015
Release papers for Tam’s father. My dad spent five and a half years in the “re-education camps” of post-war Vietnam, and that is why we were able to be here.
If you grew up speaking Vietnamese, like I did, there was probably a moment in your life when you realized the limitations of your vocabulary. So, a conversation with your mom went something like this: “Vietnamese Vietnamese registration Vietnamese units Vietnamese Vietnamese credentialing.”
The word that comes to mind is “static.” Or maybe even “arrested.”
The amount of warehouse space in Otay Mesa has nearly quadrupled since the mid-’90s, and the expansion has been almost as frenetic in Garita de Otay. Forklifts, jackhammers, and heavy vehicles attract little attention. Cartel trucks back into loading bays, pallets are loaded in, and the drugs are delivered north to distribution hubs. There are three official border crossings near Otay Mesa; one, for commercial vehicles, is inside the industrial zone. “All of this has created a candy store for smugglers,” a U.S. agent told me.
Currently, I teach tenth and eleventh grade English at Coronado High School. When I came to Coronado, one of the books on the reading list was Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried, a novel about the Vietnam War told through vignettes. Cool deal, I thought. It’s about Vietnam. I’m Vietnamese. Mission accomplished.
It was a last hurrah of sorts for two San Diego institutions, the late Bill Kolender and his onetime employer, the San Diego Union-Tribune. “Almost nobody didn’t love Bill Kolender,” said the U-T’s October 6 editorial of farewell. “Unless, perhaps, you were a crook or a political opponent who got creamed by him in an election.” Though unacknowledged, the paper’s tribute to Kolender was also an homage to its once-powerful self.
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Fallbrook Locos gang, Torrey Pines Gliderport confrontation, lobster season all-consuming, Vietnamese looks closely at English, Otay Mesa tunnels, he teaches war lit, Bill Kolender
Fallbrook Locos gang, Torrey Pines Gliderport confrontation, lobster season all-consuming, Vietnamese looks closely at English, Otay Mesa tunnels, he teaches war lit, Bill Kolender
Fallbrook Locos gang, Torrey Pines Gliderport confrontation, lobster season all-consuming, Vietnamese looks closely at English, Otay Mesa tunnels, he teaches war lit, Bill Kolender
Nico said that after some years he went through the ritual of being jumped into the gang. “It’s basically when your inner circle of friends just jump you, beat you up.” He thinks he was 17 years old when five or six men pounded on him for some minutes. “It’s basically initiation from all of them.” His best pal Torito, who is two years older, was present but did not participate in the beating.
“It was a beautiful Sunday morning,” Kuczewski, 57, recalls the moments before the second arrest of his life. His first arrest had taken place in the same spot just a few months earlier. Both the March 8 arrest and the one in November 2014 happened at the Torrey Pines Gliderport. The first was for trespassing, the second for malicious mischief.
Just after 7 a.m., when most of San Diego is getting ready to start their day, Medak pulls his first trap. He swiftly slides it down the gunwale to Hartman. Three California brown pelicans take up residency on the rear of the boat. One slyly moves closer at the scent of lobster. It eyeballs Hartman as he handles the lobsters and measures them from the end of their shell to their eye sockets using a metal ruler. One by one he throws each lobster back in.
By Siobhan Braun, April 8, 2015
Release papers for Tam’s father. My dad spent five and a half years in the “re-education camps” of post-war Vietnam, and that is why we were able to be here.
If you grew up speaking Vietnamese, like I did, there was probably a moment in your life when you realized the limitations of your vocabulary. So, a conversation with your mom went something like this: “Vietnamese Vietnamese registration Vietnamese units Vietnamese Vietnamese credentialing.”
The word that comes to mind is “static.” Or maybe even “arrested.”
The amount of warehouse space in Otay Mesa has nearly quadrupled since the mid-’90s, and the expansion has been almost as frenetic in Garita de Otay. Forklifts, jackhammers, and heavy vehicles attract little attention. Cartel trucks back into loading bays, pallets are loaded in, and the drugs are delivered north to distribution hubs. There are three official border crossings near Otay Mesa; one, for commercial vehicles, is inside the industrial zone. “All of this has created a candy store for smugglers,” a U.S. agent told me.
Currently, I teach tenth and eleventh grade English at Coronado High School. When I came to Coronado, one of the books on the reading list was Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried, a novel about the Vietnam War told through vignettes. Cool deal, I thought. It’s about Vietnam. I’m Vietnamese. Mission accomplished.
It was a last hurrah of sorts for two San Diego institutions, the late Bill Kolender and his onetime employer, the San Diego Union-Tribune. “Almost nobody didn’t love Bill Kolender,” said the U-T’s October 6 editorial of farewell. “Unless, perhaps, you were a crook or a political opponent who got creamed by him in an election.” Though unacknowledged, the paper’s tribute to Kolender was also an homage to its once-powerful self.