Adolfo Guzman-Lopez
Adolfo's been a reporter at NPR affiliate KPCC since 2000. He's reported on three L.A. mayors, four L.A. Unified superintendents, and covered the LAPD batons and rubber bullets flying at the May, 2007 MacArthur Park immigrant march. In 1994 he co-founded the poetry-performance group The Taco Shop Poets. He continues to wander the sidewalks, streets and freeways of Southern California searching for the right words for the sounds he hears.
I've been thinking about laundry detergent.
It's time to take out your American Spanish glossary, that ongoing list of Spanish words mixed, blended and pureed by the American experience.
There's been a lot of winning in this gym. Some here now had lost everything.
The day after Barack Obama's win, think tanks used the words "surge," "swept," and "broadly rejected" to describe Latino voting patterns in different parts of the country
The tattoo was about the size of a passport. It was aligned on the part of the inner arm where a shield strap is held.
It takes a lot of memory to remember the Holocaust. Archivists at USC are using eight petabytes.
If he'd sailed last week, Columbus would have gotten here quicker, or ended up farther away.
Sure it's a Boston song, but for one Angeleno, the River Charles easily morphed into the L.A. River.
On October 2, 1968, Mexican soldiers opened fire on a peaceful protest in a large plaza in Mexico City's Tlatelolco neighborhood. Plenty of people in Los Angeles will not forget.
For years my mother's been telling me only I know what I'm carrying in my knapsack.
Adolfo Guzman-Lopez is a poet and journalist. He reports on education and arts for Southern California Public Radio. In 1994 he co-founded The Taco Shop Poets.