We moved in with my aunt, she lived just out- side of L.A, near the fields; that’s where my father began working, while my mother cleaned houses...for high class white people in the suburbs of L.A. I guess it was when I was teen that we moved again, my dad had been working as a mechanic part time, and my mother was making good money. My father was offered a cantina (a bar) that was near the fields and he bought it. It was an old place in a very ratty neighborhood. It had a little apartment. ”“She is an excellent, actress, Hettie, dear,” I said, putting a hand on my sister’s shoulder, “we didn’t mean to confuse you, sweetheart, but we do need somewhere to stay for a couple of nights as Mary cannot remain at her hotel, or be recognised anywhere in public at the moment.”Mary said, “And I really am plain old Mary Jones, Hettie, at least to my dear friends, and the family of dear friends. Marcia la Mare is not the real me at all.”“I can see that, dear,” Hettie embraced her again, “You. Mary saw his shoulders slump at the revelation. "I'm sorry, Jordie."She rubbed his shoulders. "I didn't know what was in it. I guess thesewere just for grandma to fix her sewing machine."Jordan nodded, then said, "Machine?" What?" You said 'machine.' Is there a sewing machine here?"Mary smiled at his excitement. "Yes. It's in that black case behindyou, but it hasn't worked in decades. Grandma gave up sewing becauseof her arthritis and my mom only used it for occasional repairs. Iremember the. The phone rang. ‘Matthew Jensen?’ ‘Yes. To whom am I speaking?’ ‘Jean Clark. I’m a reporter from the Daily Chronicle. We’re doing a series of articles on local personalities and want to include your biography. Could we meet over lunch tomorrow?’ ‘Sure.’ I was flattered. —- ‘I’ll have the catfish and a side salad.’ The waitress took our order while we talked. ‘You grew up around here?’ ‘Yes. I’m an only child…’ I talked for an hour, with her asking an occasional question. ‘What about hobbies?’.