Its Starting

Well it finally happened, and I'm sure its simply the precursor to more of the same. Soon we'll be loading all the Mexicans up on buses and sending them south of the border and Lou Dobbs will start whining about something new.

You see, the 'Strada' guy..... ('Strada' is what he hollers out when your driving by. Nope, I'm not sure what it means. It might be Mexican for 'strawberries' but I'm not sure)....anyway, the Strada guy that stands on the corner of Oxford and Cedar selling strawberries has been removed. I'm not sure where to, but he's gone. He probably got his bus ride home is what I'm thinking.

Here's how I know.

I was driving down the hill to go to Office Depot and 'Strada' was in his usual place with about 10 flats of strawberries. The difference though is that he had company. A big woman in her official looking pantsuit and 3 Berkeley police officers. The woman was wagging her finger at the 'strada' guy. He just looked at her with the same blank expression he always has. I don't think he knows english very well, since all I've ever heard him say was 'Strada'.

Anyway, he looked like he was either bored with the whole thing or just didn't understand what the big hipped pantsuit lady was condescendingly telling him. He's probably sick of standing on the same corner day after day selling those damn 'stradas' anyway, I thought. Just hoping day after day that he can get his free bus ride home and hang out with some people that know what 'strada' means. Getting away from people who talk loudly because they think if they just loudly enunciate every syllable of the english words he's never heard before, he'll all of a sudden say, "Yes you most certainly may have these gift wrapped. Allow me two minutes and I will have them wrapped, taped and bowed with the most beautiful bow you've ever laid your eyes on. Can I deliver them for you also?"

But I digress, back to the action... let's see, I was saying that 'Strada' looked bored. However, the pantsuit lady did not looked bored. As a matter of fact, she was very interested. This I ascertained by the intenstity of her wagging finger. Yep, wagging right in 'Strada's' face. I thought it would be really funny if he just turned and bit it.

As I drove past I thought I should stop to see if I could buy some strawberries. I decided that I was probably the only one who would think that was funny so I just continued on my errand.

So I got my supplies, I stopped to eat and on my way back they were still there. One of the police officers was doing that turned head with this hand on his shoulder mic thing, and his mouth was moving like he was talking to someone. The other two officers consisted of a white guy who was looking very official as he stood with his one hand tucked in his belt and the other on his gun holster, ready to unclip it in an instant should 'Strada' make any sudden moves.

I was struck by the hispanic officer as he remained about 6 or 7 feet away from them. His gaze was darting to the street and to the house and to the bush and to his feet. The only thing he wasn't looking at was 'Strada' and the pant suit lady. It seemed to me like this was the last place he wanted to be. I thought he probably had the same look that the 'secretly jewish' nazi police officers had when they had to send the jewish children to be gassed, feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt as they betrayed one of their own.

But it seemed the pantsuit lady was really in charge, even though 'Strada' probably had no idea what she was saying, she stood shoulder to shoulder with him, all the while pointing at her clipboard, her mouth wagging, and 'Strada' looking at the clipboard. I'm sure to him it might as well have been a blank sheet of paper for all the sense it made. I envisioned them all standing around him and asking many questions, him listening with his usual blank expression and then, after some amount of time, him picking up a strawberry from the flat he had hanging from the sash around his neck and saying 'Strada?'.


Anywyay, not much I could do, so I continued on up the hill, hoping that Strada would be ok. So, about 2 hours later I went by again on my way to the post office and 'Strada' was gone, the pantsuit lady was gone and the police officers and their cruisers were gone.

So, no more strawberries will be found on the corner of Oxford and Cedar in Berkeley it seems. At least for a while. I've often wondered if 'Strada' had a permit but I was pretty sure he didn't. I'm sure some Berkeley good citizen, with the pension for order and good christian (neocon) values, must have complained.

So as I drove back by on my way back home, I felt wistful. A Cedar street icon was removed and I was immediately reminded of how there are no guarantees in life. I would no longer pause to think '...

...maybe I should buy some strawberries today.' and then talk myself out of it because I knew they would probably be sour just like they always are. And besides, partner would put them in the refrigerator and they'd hurt my teeth when i tried to eat them.

No more would I wonder how 'Strada' was going to sell 10 flats of sour strawberries in 1 day.

No more would I wonder how long it would take until someone complained about the Mexican on the corner of Oxford and Cedar selling strawberries without a permit. That one seems to have been answered.

And no more would I wonder how long it would be until 'Strada' got his free bus ride home.

No it seemed that life as I know it has changed and I just better get used to it. I will miss his vacant look and the raspy sound he made as he did his best to communicate with a world that just wasn't ready to understand his simple indifference. An indifference evidenced by his using a word that no one knew, to maintain his livelihood.

I will miss the fact that the only mark he cared to make on the world was to mispronounce the word strawberry even though it seemed to be the one thing above all else that he should know how to say. The one thing that his entire livelihood depended on. Think about it. His sole means of providing for himself a less than acceptable existance was convincing people to buy his sour red fruit. Its amazing that with the importance that that fruit had on his life he didn't even know how to pronounce its name. But alas, that was our 'Strada', plodding through life and indifferent to his own survival.

Anyway, for me an icon is gone. I will never look at another strawberry without wondering....'whatever happened to Strada?'

And after asking that question, my mind will wander to this one day and I'll wonder, what do you supposed happened to the 10 flats of strawberries he had with him? And then the answer will come to me as it had every time before. The pansuit lady took them home with her right after she put 'Strada' on the bus.

Sorry this is so depressing. It just hit me hard. Please, I'm begging each and every one of you, write your congressman and demand 'Strada's' return. I'm sorry but I don't know his last name. Just give his first name and explain he was a fruit vendor on the corner of Oxford and Cedar. That should help find him. Together, with enough of us, we can certainly save 'Strada'.

OBTW, I'll be selling Save Strada from Tijuana bumper stickers. They're $25.00 each. $1.00 from each sale will go to bus fare to return Strada from Tijuana to Berkeley. Make all checks payable to the Save Strada Foundation. Check with your tax attorney about non-profit write-off. I think it might be tax deductible.

Anyway, don't forget to answer the blog poll to make this a multi-lingual blog. I wonder if I should add Mexican to the list of languages?