On Saturday, when the whole family was here, we got dressed up for cocktails and dinner. Lisa, Gretchen, Amy, Tiffany, and I were walking past the vacant lot on Leland that’s always full of drunks and drug addicts. Any time of day or night they’re there—white, black, American Indians, but strangely no Mexicans. They have fistfights, they build fires and pass out. As we walked by on our way to the L, a drunk woman fell in behind us and put her nose in the air, bringing up the rear in what she saw as a snooty parade. Then someone yelled out, “Hey, they’re people too!”
