Reading Graffiti

Jogging down Freedom Boulevard outside the Watsonville city limits, you get a chance to catch some of the Pajaro Valley’s particularities—aging apple orchards, rustic barn sheds and warehouses, barking dogs and the now-headless gorilla across from the 5 Mile house. One recent morning, I was running past some vines enclosed by a faded black tarp where I saw many of our favorite gang taggings spray painted, most of which I could not or did not care to decipher as I vigorously held onto my slow pace. But just as I approached the end of the tarp, I saw the words “Dios me ama,” God loves me.

I was surprised. And for some odd reason almost embarrassed as I had assumed each of the preceding spray paint authors were troublemakers, possibly the same ones I recently saw pull up one night at a local grocery store to steal a Christmas tree and for good measure yelled out, “Norte, putos,” at my bewildered friends and I. No, I don’t believe this person was one of those holiday, nature-loving fellows.

On the contrary, this person was unique. Obviously a Spanish speaker, possibly a fieldworker, maybe even somebody who hangs out with what we call ruffians. I would be surprised if it was a girl, but it was probably a guy.

If I could place my hall monitor whistle in the desk drawer for a minute, the important thing that I’d like to emphasize is that this person is shouting out to be seen, to have something of their creation be noticed, to express himself (or herself). And despite utilizing a traditionally gang-patrolled medium, something distinctively positive was affirmed by this individual. Dios me ama, I’m worth a damn.

Now, I don’t advocate that anyone rush out and write scripture or the name of Jesus or John the Baptist on a local swing set or Port-a-Potty. But I do wish to highlight that despite our community has a lot of great kids eager to excel at something they enjoy—even if they themselves don’t know it.

Many young kids have problems that include poverty, absent and/or overworked parents, domestic violence in the home, easy access to drugs and alcohol, and any other fill-in-the-blank you could think of. It’s great and preferable that families be strong and self-sufficient, but sometimes they struggle.

Fortunately, many organizations do exist that engage youth—from high school sports teams to science workshops and . I hope this coming year, our community can help to respond to the needs of our local youth and show that amor, love, is alive and strong in the Pajaro Valley. We need volunteers and people willing to donate 10 bucks or so to their favorite church group or non-profit.

Our youth shouldn’t be simply looked at as a problem but as something to be celebrated, and dare I say, exploited. Policy makers and local businesses alike would be served extremely well to harness the youthful energy and potential of our community as a central feature of how we advertise and market our Pajaro Valley identity to the greater Monterey Bay and world. In fact, we as voters and consumers should demand it.

Even though I’m not very good at them anymore, sports have always helped me to stay out of trouble and excel. Whereas I did get detentions and suspensions as a kid, I never did quite yell out gang slurs while stealing Christmas trees and I hope my spray-painting pen pal never does either. And if he/she does, I trust assistance and alternative outlets can be made available. For this coming year, I hope to be a good father and husband and to help others find their avenues through which they will excel—avenues that don’t necessarily lead to property crime but to self-esteem and sense of purpose. Because Lord knows, 2012 is a great year to volunteer with local youth and to become civically active.