I was born when the nation was listening to Disco; wearing Bell Bottoms; decorating houses with orange and strings of beads; hating Russia; and was afraid of the possibility of a nuclear war.  But all I knew at the time was what was happening in a few blocks surrounding Lehigh Ave. in Philadelphia where gangs ruled the streets; the words ‘nickel’ and ‘dime’ did not only mean a particular coin; and lifetime friends were made on the front steps of a broken-down row home.

My name is Alicia.  That’s pronounced AH-LEE-SEE-AH.  I’ve realized that only Hispanics can read my name correctly.  I’m Hispanic.  More specifically, I’m Puerto Rican.  There were a lot of us where I lived; so much so, I’ve heard that area called “Little Puerto Rico”.

I have blue eyes, brown hair, and lighter colored skin.  I am also relatively tall.  The way I looked definitely played a big role in the chapters of my life.

Like most Puerto Ricans I know I have a huge extended family of Aunts, Uncles, and cousins, but I was an only child.  I didn’t mind it though.  I was never alone.

Like everyone else on my street, we were poor.  We were so poor I remember standing for hours in line for a five pound block of government instituted cheese.  Yes….cheese!  Since this is my earliest memory this is when this episode begins…..