There are cultural traits that are different from one culture to another, while there are human traits that are similar across all cultures. Much too quickly, we blame other cultures when that same fault lies in all cultures. Or like George W. Bush said:
“Too often, we judge other groups by their worst examples while judging ourselves by our best intentions."
A good example of this rush to judgement is the cultural difference found between the concepts of volunteerism among strangers in the Anglo culture, versus support of the extended family among relatives, in the Hispanic culture, which substitutes volunteerism. Each one criticizes the other for not doing things their way.
As work on the Carrillo Pool progressed, the mural painted by the Barrio kid was a work of art. Colorful, vibrant, full of life and energy. It was a professional, artistic mural by a very gifted young man. If there is a mountain of evidence against me, for things that I should have done, or fights I did not win, the fact that this mural, which I approved, is not still standing is one of the most regrettable. A second mural I will bring up later, was another. There were so many failures on my part that it is sometimes really depressing.
The mural stood for many months, but two things happened that need to be told.
With the City’s architect final plans for the bathhouse, location of two new windows required the removal of the mural. The architectural firm submitted a new compatible mural, and to tell the truth, equal in quality to the first one, but not done with the participation of those who struggled and fought to keep the pool open. I hang my head in shame for not putting my foot down and demanding the mural be preserved. Of course, at the time I didn’t know how much weight my foot had. The understanding of the use and abuse of power had not been one of my strongest assets. Could there have been alternatives I didn’t use to save the work of the Barrio’s artist? Anything, but defeat.
There was however another incident that, for totally different reasons, took away the force of my conviction. An artist more mature and recognized than Paco, wanted to do a mural on another wall, next to the bathhouse, and I said Yes. When he was about 70% or 80 % done, it seems Paco vandalized his work, destroying all possibility of saving the mural. Nobody saw him do it or would not talk about it, or he got someone else do it for him, but there was never any question as to who was behind it. The whole affair left a very bad taste in my mouth. You want to think that young people with such talent are by nature ethical individuals, just as physical beauty could but does not imply mental beauty, and it came as a shock that such an artistic talent as he was, and a talent for truth and justice, do not necessarily go together. Attractiveness and fairness, or intellectual and emotional maturity do not necessarily go together either. Just think of Hollywood actors and political endorsements.
The artist who lost his work, to his credit, did not take any action, not even by badmouthing Paco, but when the City’s contractors demolished and re-built the wall, eradicating the first mural, and commissioned a third and the only lasting mural painted, the general feeling was one of Karma.
We had won! The pool was near completion and when we thought that we could take a pat on the back for work well done, I received one of the greatest and most painful kicks in the head. At a final meeting called by Bill Eally, only three of us were there this time; Morton, Willy, and me. Big mistake.
“Here is what we propose: the City has built a pool within a pool.” Bill Eally started. “A bit smaller, but not much. A brand-new locker room, showers, and bathrooms, all more modern. We will charge entry. It will not be free, and it has a new wall mural.”
I forgot or didn’t even think of asking the most important question. We knew they would try to charge, there is usually no more free stuff. Morton and Willy agreed happily right away. They considered it a triumph that the pool was reopened[viii].
“I don’t like the fact that children have to pay to go swimming where there was no cost before.” I objected.
“We need to cover some of the expenses of the pool, and that policy was about to be changed any way.”
“But if it had had proper maintenance, there would not have been a need for a new pool, no cost to recover.” I proceeded with my argument.
“We have gone over that already. Do you all agree with our proposal?”
“I do,” Morton said snugly.
“I do,” it came from predisposed Willy.
“I am not happy with this,” I objected again.
“We fought hard for what we got,” Morton began his counterargument, “we don’t want to lose it now for not agreeing.”
“It is not what we fought for. It used to be free. I don’t know that all mothers can afford $1.00 each day for five children. That is $150 per month in the summer that would pay for food for that child. The pool gets children out of the house and gives them a place to expend their energies rather than creating havoc at home or on the streets.”
Bill Eally was quiet all this time.
Compromise has its pluses and its minuses. “They can get food stamps.” A term I had heard before, in a different context, came to mind: useful idiot. This term is used for well-intentioned people who fall for the pretty words of others. Morton and Willy had their personal agenda fully satisfied by the results. It was not convenient for them to jeopardize their gains by further action that would not enhance their standing. Neither of them had children in the Barrio. Therefore, they wishfully thought that the City’s proposal was reasonable, and thus went along with it without digging deeper.
We argued some more among ourselves. I lost. Defeated by my own group. Who was the real useful idiot here? Me. A few times in my life, more than necessary, I could have kicked myself for being a chicken, for giving in even if I knew that I was right, for bending under the mediocre weight of others’ opinions. This was one of them and one of the worst. In the back of my mind, undesirable thoughts were battering each other:
These two don’t really care for the kids, only that they look good. The City doesn’t need the money like the families do. If I say “no” I know I will win, the City will not dare to go against my opinion, but then, I gave these other two, the right to be here. I could claim their opinion don’t really count, and diminish them in front of Bill Eally, and he will believe me, but I don’t want to do that to them. Why not? They worked hard, they helped, they deserve some credit- not a put-down.
Sometimes sharing the power does not bring the good results one desires. Instead, I caved in. Stupid! Embarrassing! Weak! I caved in. Why? I still have no answer. It was not the first time, nor will it be the last time, but it was the next to worst time. Like a chicken-shit, I never told anyone how this went down. And it got worse.
“Okay.” I finally said.
It got worse, they were charging each time a child left the pool and came back that same day, something I didn’t know they were going to do. I was furious, furious with myself. Kids used to go in and out three and four times per day. That would be $500 per month per child. With food and rent the families simply could not afford it. I wanted to beat myself up for being so stupid. I could have blamed everyone else and their cousins, but it had been within my reach, and I failed. Blaming others wasn’t worth anything. No one else was happy either and they were not happy with me. I forgot the saying of never, never give up. I never saw Willy again, while Morton would show up now and then, but he was never elected to anything that I know of. It was not to be the first time that I would be shot down by people on my same team, although in this case it was clear to me that I had no one to blame but myself for the final outcome, even if we did get a new pool.
