All posts by Oscar Casares
What Charro Days taught me about being a real cowboy.
Growing up at Charro Days.
Here’s how I came to spell it that way.
And the story of how I started spelling it that way (with the accent) begins with a kidnapping.
I wanted my first book to be available to the people I was writing about. That’s how I ended up signing copies between the produce aisle and the food court at the H-E-B.
The grand opening of a new H-E-B in McAllen drew crowds—including several who showed up to hear a native son read from his collection of locally set short stories.
I grew up running along the border, on a dirt path that followed the Rio Grande. But my old trail is no longer what it was.
A jogging path along the Rio Grande was a treasured, secret place—until it became part of the front lines in a war I still don’t understand.
The border fence cuts through a Valley farmer's property, upending his family's life.
The border fence cuts through a Valley farmer’s property, upending his family’s life.
I was eight when my father first told me that he knew Brownsville’s federal district judge. But it wasn’t until I was grown that I believed him.
Brownsville’s first federal judge was a legendary figure in my house. So legendary that I never believed my father when he said he knew the man.
One by one, nearly all my people (including me) have left my hometown. Is it still my hometown?
They say you can’t go home again—especially when pretty much your entire family has moved away.
Amigoland, the new novel by Oscar Casares, follows a retired postman named Fidencio Rosales as he escapes his senior home and heads for Mexico with his brother to explore a decades-old family mystery. In this exclusive excerpt, Fidencio daydreams his way out of the drudgery of exercise hour.
An exclusive excerpt from writer-at-large Oscar Casares’s forthcoming first novel, Amigoland
What the new president means to me.
Was January 20 really the dawn of a new and more inclusive age?
After my father died I made a decision that would have greatly disturbed him: I hired somebody to do my yard work.
My father was passionate about lawn care. Me? Not so much.