All posts by Christine Granados
How I learned to stop worrying and love my mother’s (slightly tacky) Mercado Juárez taste.
As a teenager I thought a quick paint job would help my family blend in to our white suburban neighborhood. Now I’m glad it wasn’t that simple.
Forty years ago I would burrow inside the nose cone of a three-story rocket slide at Album Park. Not Eastwood Park—officials have force-fed El Pasoans that name since the park opened, in 1968, but, like ketchup on hamburgers, we don’t ever use it. Peering through the steel rods that made up the rocket walls, I […]