Spotlight On Writers – Phyllis Souza

I was born in Southern California and grew up in Artesia, where most of the dairymen were of Portuguese descent. It was a town where people were named Souza, Silva, Santos, Pereira, and Machado. Olive complexions, dark hair, and brown eyes. They had strong family ties. A lot of the people got together for celebrations. I remember the feast of the Holy Ghost. There was a parade with queens, marching bands, and statues of saints on platforms carried on the shoulders of men. Everyone knew everybody, and gossip traveled faster than a cell phone conversation. Grandmothers were draped in dark clothes.

On Sunday afternoon of the fiesta, in a big dining room, Sopas were served, chunks of roast beef, simmered in wine and spices. Cabbage added for flavor and then poured over day-old French bread covered with sprigs of mint.

Saturday, Sunday, and Monday nights, there were dances in a great hall. I loved dancing the Chamarrita, a Portuguese folk dance.

Good question. Honestly, I never thought I had a creative bone in my body, but because life can be complicated, I continually struggled for answers. So, I started to live vicariously through my writing.

Calm

“After a storm comes a calm” — by Mathew Henry