No Regrets; By an Unapologetic Woman


“I live with no regrets. Unapologetic. And one day at a time.”  _Evelyn R.L.

( Poema al Cristo Crucificado; No Me Mueve Mi Dios Para Quererte)

“No me mueve, mi Dios, para quererte
el cielo que me tienes prometido,
ni me mueve el infierno tan temido
para dejar por eso de ofenderte…

Tú me mueves, Señor, muéveme al verte
clavado en una cruz y escarnecido,
muéveme el ver tu cuerpo tan herido,
muévenme tus afrentas y tu muerte.

Muéveme, en fin, tu amor, y en tal manera,
que aunque no hubiera cielo, yo te amara,
y aunque no hubiera infierno, te temiera.

No me tienes que dar [nada, ni golpes] porque te quiera,
pues aunque lo que yo espero no esperara,
lo mismo que te quiero, te quisiera.” _Anonimo 😉

*(Feel free to use a translator to translate this poem avobe)

Author’s Note:

Part I-

Hello World!

As I began to write this blog, I wondered why would anyone want to read my blogs? What is it that will finally bring you, readers and followers, to my pages or books? And what can I do better, (besides re-taking English grammar lessons and improving my spelling), to get people to read me and finally see me as a Writer & Author and not just a regular Sales person trying to sell them Articles/ Adds or a Self-Published Poetry books?

I often ask myself that.

Am I able and talented enough to achieve that? (Well, I’m def. a talented story teller and not a square person for sure, as someone once called me.) I’m pretty much out of the box, fierce, and very unapologetic, as the title states. So there is def. a change for you (reader) to find and read some of my blogs, articles, and poems, and even a good chance that YOU will share it in Facebook, Twitter, or Tumbler, etc… (At least I hope you do. Pretty please do share it.) But am I a good enough writer and Poetess, or I’m I just some just Multi-dimention personality type of person with the delusions of a big Best Seller Writer complex. ( My dream was becoming a NY Bestseller Author like Danielle Steel (Answered Prayers) or a great renoun famous writer like Isabel Ayende ( The House of the Spirits Author) or Gabriel Garcia Marquez ( One Hundred Years of Solitud Author) But I’ve hit the roof cradhing my head, and I’ve hit rock bottom and I’m barely crowling out of it now. No more grandious dreams for me. Yet I still have a slight hope that you will fall in love with one of my Poems or my short novels and tell the rest of the world about it, and that maybe one day you scrape enough pennies from your curse jar and use it to buy one of my poetry books or recently published novels. I have few around, they are hard to find. Check out this link to make it easier to find them:

I hope that you will read me and then go tell people about this blogger who calls herself @EvelynBlogger, and loves to write every single thing that comes to her mind from fashion articles, to family activities, movies or places reviews, and lots, lots of poetry, both Spanish and English, and share lots and lots of photos here, on Twitter, and Instagram too. (@Evelynblogger101 in Istagram and @EvelynBlogger in Twitter) Sorry, I tend to overshare. If you are still with me thus far 🙂 please read on…


Part II-  Every morning, as the sun penetrates the sheer lime green curtains of my windows, and bathe me with its glistening warm, I hesitantly open my eyes and curse at the sun for waking me up so untimely and begin my wondering. I say to myself,

“I’m awake. I’m alive. I exist! What now? What’s next? Where was I in my writing projects or ideas. What did I left of to complete last night, last month, or maybe last year, in last 15 years to be exact?” I take a deep breath, and sighting I say.

“Is it all worth it? Who will ever read you?

That’s always a hunting question in my mind, will anyone ever read a Novel I write, or a short story? Will I finally have the courage to turn all these scribbles into a book, a novel, or just a poetry booklet to share in open mic. days, with friends and relatives? What will I be sharing with you, my few readers and followers that somehow read me, but rarely comment me, in Instagram, Twitter, or Facebook?  These book lovers, who follows me and my random short stories and novellas, will they ever buy my book?

But what if I’m sharing to much, or maybe to little? What if I’m to bold, or to reserved. What things will interest them, hook them to my work? Do the same things I so candidly write about will interest me, if it was the other way around?  Will I even click on one of my own titles if I were them? You?

I wander, and wander. How can I get people like me, and read me, and then share my stories with the rest of world? Will you help me do it. Will that ever happen? Will these blog really help me reach my followers, create a following chain of avid lovers aka readers. Maybe yes. Maybe not. I’m leaving it all to fate. If you do happen to enjoy reading me, as much as I hope you do, please check out my book below:


I have so many many questions. Writing has become an obsession. Almost in an Autistic or OCD way.  Yet, this is not what I am really writing about on this post. There is more about me and my art. So much more. You may ask, why do I care so much? Well yes, I really care too much! I want to be liked, and admired. Not judged, or ever feel irrelevant. Writing and being appreciated has made me grow as a person. It has passioned me, involved me in a dream of words and letters that wasn’t important for me before.

Fashion and makeup was my passion and main love once. Reading too, but writing was something I only used to do to kill time, but not something I was interested in really sharing or in making it a blog, specially not write a book. Until one day, when I found nonowrimo ( and the defunct site Script Frenzy, and out of boredom and curiosity I decided to write stories and novels.  I decided to give it a shot and discover my own potential. And a miracle happened. I did not won their writing contests. But I met great people who didn’t judge me and were extremely supportive .

So I began to relearn myself through writing. And appreciating myself more for all the many varied things I was able to discover through my writings. I learned that I was stronger and fearless too when it came to share my emotions, and my deepest thoughts.

Like the old adage say , “The pen is mightier than the sword” Yes, words are mightier than the sword. I think bloggers, journalists, writers, and artists, in general, have a bit of need for approval, and some small form of exhibitionism too, if you may.

We are a little bit of attention-addicts, opinionated people, and dreamers, just like I am. Some of us may be gifted, or geniuses turned crazy. Some are a bit crazy turned into geniuses. Or maybe a just a healthy mix of both. I consider myself to be a little bit of both. There is a fine line for everything. So I try to concern myself in being  myself, unapologeticaly me! Nothing more, nothing less_and breathe. Namaste!

Part III

Most of the time people only get to see half of who I am, unless we are really  close friends. Writing help me share with them a bit more about myself. I have created an outer wall, even from the closest people to me. There’s many levels of friendship to me, more than the levels in Scientology, I believe.

And is not  that I don’t trust people, is that as a person I can be a bit distant  when I don’t know or like someone. Being hurt,  turn you into an onion, with many thin or hard layers, all unique, and different, and not always easy to peal. And people may take me as superficial when they don’t know how deep of a person I am. Unless I open up to them  and let them in in my life.

But in turn, as a writer I can just be bold, let my walls down, and cloaks fall. I get to express my opinions bluntly and sometimes being brutally honest. It’s a total thrill to me being bold when people don’t expect me to be.

I love sharing my controversial ideals, and my out of the box, points of view. Many people may not agree with me, yet they do like my sincerity and will follow me or form a discussion, a healthy discussion about this or that subject. I respect all ideas and point of views, just don’t insult mine. You won’t like my comebacks.

I hate injustice and bullying. It makes me feel so helpless and hurt when people think they can abuse others, hurt other people’s feelings, and treat others as less. I really hate bullies. Maybe not hate but I dislike them a lot. Greatly!

I was always this sort of person that stepped forward and voiced out my feelings to help someone else.  I wanted to be the hero who solved everyone’s problems, and listened to everyone’s issues. I always been unapologetic and fierce.  Lately not so much.

I’ve changed, by becoming cynical, distant, and a bit cold and reserved. Those are some of the not so great things I’ve picked up since living in Florida. So many things have changed since I came here. Not the best place to make friends or grow a family. Not a great place to have dreams or follow them. Is just another sink hole by the water. A quick sands kind of place.

I felt  my heart sinking as the years passed and there wasn’t a way out of here. Not a way to “go back home” to New York or Puerto Rico. Nothing to do, besides work and probably write some and fatten up.

But when I write, I feel better with myself and my surroundings. I am honest, soft, kind, open, and even fierce again. Overall, people’s opinions are important to me. It’s not what you say, it’s how you say it that really matters.

I would usually speak up my mind, when it comes to stand for myself, though I pick my battles. But if I stay quiet when someone offends me, it will still be bothering me later on, and will linger on my pillow at night like a funky smell, with the akin thought that I wasn’t really there for myself, to defend myself. But you can’t just fight everyone or take people to seriously these days. The world is near its end and it’s crazier than ever. So I try to ignite lots of things and lots of stupid people.

Someone once told me, when I first came to Florida, and was all about running my mouth like any regular teenager would do, “Chill-out kiddo, and learn to pick your fights!” and “you carry your heart on on your sleeves. That’s not a good thing…”

So nowI pick my fights more carefully. But I won’t stay quiet when I face or see injustice. I will find a way to speak up even if its by writing and Blogging. That’s just who I am.

And I certainly have no regrets of being Me! I am an Unapologetic Woman. And I’m proud to be that way. And I’m proud to share a bit of myself to  those wants to befriend me, follow me, read me, and get to know me and know a little more about me and what moves me in this life.

Besides God, friends, and family, writing moves me, people moves me. You move me! 🙂 Thank you for supporting my writing with likes and comments here, on Facebook, Twitter and so on.

Come back for some more of my stories, blogs, or poems. Thanks again!

Author: Evelyn R. Lallave /  @EvelynBlogger

Read More…


Buy My New Book Here.

Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.
Hello World! Please click on the link above to be directed to my recently published poetry book humbly titled “Poems From a Gypsy Soul” is the second edition. The first once can be found in and Barnes and Noble by the same ISBN and/or Book Title. Thanks and Enjoy the reading!

Strange Things

Strange things happens to people every day. One morning you wake up from the wrong side of the bed, and with the left foot to make things worst. Your day begins with an overflow of coffee, a stained shirt and a few things to do that you don’t want to do, like morning laundry. Is Saturday morning on a Winter day. Today I just wanna go to see the snow and then go to see a movie and then I will probably have a good day. But that coffe stained in my shirt reminded me that I only have one clean shirt left and is not fit for cold weather. And my old jacket is dirty too I had spilled some hot coca on it the other day. I’m prone to spill things all over myself. And prone to accidents too. So I go to the overflown laundry room and fell in a pile of laundry face first. Definitely not my day, Firth the coffee on my last winter proof turtle neck off white shirt now this. I lifted myself move the clothing back into their basket while separating the whites from the colored ones. Segregation again, and in my own house.

Fuck segregation and racism. Why do that have to come to my mind while I’m trying to laundry. I really need to bring this crap to my therapist, when I find one, because I don’t presently have a therapist. But this needs to be studied deeply. Clothes and racism and how are they connected. Ok I’m trying to be funny and I’m sounding more like a lunatic or schizophrenic woman than a comical lady. Anyhow check mark on the things to do list.

Fist load of laundry finished. Dry shirt. Coffee is good and still hot. Next is googling a matinee movie go to after watching the fake snow show at the mall. Aquaman and Braven, but with Jason Momoa in the main role, are playing on theaters. Hard choice, but he looks sexier in Aquaman and my daughter wanted to see the movie too so Aquaman it is. I put on a second load of laundry finish cleaning the dishes and the kitchen, then run to the bathroom to remove the curlers and hair pins I had put on the night before, once that was done I was ready to go and all set. I call my daughter to confirm the movie schedule. She was happy as a child to go to the movies, specially when I was the one paying that ridiculously expensive movie ticket of $12 per person. That’s an assault, a robbery on daylight and in front of everyone’s faces. But nevertheless I got the tickets online and got a students discount. She is a college student. After the movies we ordered pizza at home, mother daughter time. We like to eat pizza and watch more movies in Hulu, etc. while talking any silly topic that comes to mind. The pizza boy arrives and is an ex coworker who looked more like a male stripper than an Uber eat delivery guy. He begins to dance as he hands the pizza to me and I think my daughter has hired a male stripper for real. Turns out that he recognized me from his previous job and was doing a silly happy dance. Ok then! Dance away. I have that effect in people, just don’t ruin my pizza or it’s free. Next strange thing the home phone rings. I forgot I had a home phone and a home phone line for that matter. It was some Trump supporter asking for donations. Well I’m democrat so that call was very strange to me and two is not elections time. The caller ID read Scam Likely. I have Scam Likely number sabes on my iPhone but not on my caller ID so this call was probably a Scam, for real.

Now is raining, phone ringing, movie on, pizza getting cold, pizza delivery guy gone untouched and with a small tip in his pant’s pockets, and my daughter complaining about how late the pizza arrived and the delivery guy flirting with me. My children over protect me. They think someone is going to steal me away one day. My oldest daughter specially, she monitors my life, how I talk, what I say to people specially her friends, and how I dress, what to shop at the stores, and how much alcohol to drink. Etc. But she won’t hear or take any of my advices. Now she is sleep training her baby, her own way. No advices from me will help cause she won’t take them. She gets angry instead if I insist on helping her. So I answer the phone and to my surprise I just won a trip to the Bahamas and 4 nights and 3 days at the Ramada hotel in Orlando Florida all expenses paid except hotel taxes and 299.00 port fees. Wow! I’m trolled. I never completed any online travel survey they claim I did. But I take the trip anyways and have a whole year to use it, well to claim it. I tell them to keep the Bahamas part and that I will pay the 20.00 hotel tax ahead. Heck 60.00 for 3 days can’t be beat! It was my lucky day after all. My daughter was ballistic of how naive I was and how I let people fool me into buying stuff. I like shopping what can I say. I’ll pay you to sell me something, if I really like it and can afford it. But that just me…

Keep reading. More of my trip soon…



It’s being such a long day, today. 

Such a dragging day!
It’s being raining all day,
How could a single day be this gloomy and sad?

How could I be this mad!

My tears had turned into a non stop river. 
My home into a lake.
It is so cold and clouded outside;
And I truly miss being by your side.

I couldn’t hug you today
like I used to do every day.
I couldn’t hold you.
I couldn’t kiss you goodbye.

With someone else
you ran away, last night.
How could you dare
breaking my heart?

It’s being a long day, today.
It’s being raining all day,
How could a day be so sad?

Then I Could Hear My Heart Beating

Then I could hear my heart beating

I saw his bright face and time stood still.

It was as if my soul could recognize his.

As if my past was connected and entwined with his.

As if my pain and broken heart could feel his.

It hurt.

Staring at him was ripping out my soul.

His face was bright, and his soft full lips, 

looked thirsty to me as he slid closer and closer

He was tall, with wide bright eyes.

His naked chest was beating so fast,

Hard, harder than my own heart.

I couldn’t touch him. 

Although I tried.

All I could do was to feel.

Stay still.

Feel my blood rushing fast

into my head, my mind,

and through parts of my body

that I though long time forgotten and death.

And it hurt somehow,

knowing that this feeling

was the closest thing that I ever had to love.

It was much more than passion,

or even lust.

But he was forbidden to me.

My charming dark knight,

hurt by my same pain,

same loneliness,

and same longing

was finally face to face with me.

And I had to let him go,

as I felt my heart crack, breaking in two,

beating, and dying for love,

a love that couldn’t exist

because he was a only a ghost.

Poem by: Evelyn Rodriguez-Lallave

The “Indians” are Coming

“I think of the lizards airing their tongues 
In the crevice of an extremely small shadow 
And the toad guarding his heart’s droplet. 

The desert is white as a blind man’s eye, 
Comfortless as salt. Snake and bird 
Doze behind the old maskss of fury…

…The sun puts its cinder out. Where we lie 
The heat-cracked crickets congregate 
In their black armorplate and cry. 

The day-moon lights up like a sorry mother, 
And the crickets come creeping into our hair 
To fiddle the short night away.” ( Excerpt  of Sylvia’s Plath poem, Sleep in the Mojave Desert )

They are comming on foot, in horses and in caravans, reclaiming what was theirs, what once belong to them, their fathers and forefathers. But this time around the “Indians” as some derogatorily call them, these indigenous by blood and Americans by right of their land, North, Central, and South, are coming in avalange to take what’s theirs. But not by brute force as they lost their land once to the British, and the Spaniards or the Anglo-Americans that weren’t either British nor Spanish conquistadors.  Yet their modus operandum were as equally as devastating as the later ones.

To them,  the Anglo-Americans’ actions were worst, because they were determined to make home in a country that was already populated by Natives, and indigenous, from the Chayannes, to Navajos, to the Apaches, and the forgotten Taínos, and many more. So now a new group with indigenous blood and fire in their eyes and soles were coming into the “New America” as they called it. 

The New America

Over centuries a group of people called Gringoes, and who were direct descendants of the British and Spaniards Pilgrims and Soldiers showed up to the Native people’s  backyards with either food or weapons. With friendship or war. It was something very confusing to each one of the 3 nations, the North, the Central and the South American Native tribes. Each one had one single leader the North was a nice old man named Noel. No one knew his real indigenous name for he only went by his Anglo given name as his mother as Anglo too. 

My Grandson’s Deranged “Other Grandma”

Face off imageSo as usual, I took my grandson/son to have breakfast out with me. Today we went to Waffle House in Pinellas Park, FL, one of his favorite places at his young age of 9 months. I couldn’t help to think that he will be one year old very soon, in a matter of months and not his biological father and grandparents are doing anything for him. They don’t even want to see him or acknowledge him. They have probably seen just one single photo of him unless they follow him, us, in the social media sites. ( not promoting any of them here) Other than that they have no knowledge of my grandson.

While we were eating I head an older white lady chuckling. I turned to her and then to him, they were smiling and laughing to each other, the strange funny thing is that they didn’t knew each other till then.

She was just a nice older lady having breakfast at the near by table. It seems he found her familiar or interesting and would stop smiling at her and making funny faces to her.  I tell him not to talk or stare at strangers but he doesn’t know better, he is  only nine months old so I apologized to the lady and said, he thinks you looked familiar that’s why he is smiling and staring. She said I can probably remind him of his grandma.

That’s when it hit me, my boy is mixed, Hispano and White, and she looked white. At this early age in his life he is starting to relate and notice resemblance and things. He is literally a sponge, absorbing and learning. But I also noticed how sad that she wasn’t right cause he’ve never met the woman, his other grandma, a woman that hasn’t even asked for him, her own grandson, her bloods flesh, a woman so deranged and racist that she ruined my daughter’s life, future, and relationship with that woman’s son, a man-baby mama’s boy good for nothing old ass debth bit dad. That woman that is so heartless that because of  her manipulations her son did not wanted my daughter to bring my little boy to this world. But against all odds and even his own mother, my little Many is a gorgeous smart handsome baby and he will know one day how evil, mean, and heartless these people are.

It breaks my heart as a grandmother that my grandson has to go through all this being so young. Karma is a bitch. What you do comes back to hunt you, it will haunt them. She don’t know she is missing the love and care of such an amazing person like my boy is. So no he is not confusing that old nice lady for his deranged other grandma. He has never met her. But one thing I know you have to be crazy to not love my little Many, just to look at him smile your heart melts and everything else is good again…


Article by Evelyn Rodriguez-Lallave

Hueles a Mar: Poema por Evelyn “Eva” Rodriguez

Hueles a mar, a Neptuno.
Es verano y el calor de ayer
que aun sigue impregnado
en tu tosca piel.

Todo en ti sabe a océano.
Hasta tu pelo me huele a sopa de algas y tu cuerpo a carolas y a arena mojada…
Tu sudor tiene también el sabor
de la sal de mar.

Hueles a océano, a rocas y a mar;
Hueles a arena.
y a rios desbordados,
a lagos y a charcos…

Eres árbol maduro
y yerba seca;
Hueles a arena y a tierra mojada
y a las hojas de la Palma
y me sabes a plátano, y a pastel…

Hueles a cerveza
Y a jugo de manzana,
hueles a uvas en sangria y a vino tinto…
Tus manos firmes pero suaves
huelen a trigo
cuando cocino
ya sea un arroz,
una pasta, salami con quesos y un vino
o galletas con caviar…

Tu aroma es el sol sobre el mar,
con un natural suave y varonil musk.
Hueles a caracol y playa,
a marinero y a pescador.

Tienes la escénica de la miel y veranos de pasión;
Me sabes a ayer
y a nuestras tórridas noches
de pasión y amor
que se quedaron tatuadas
en el pasado
en el reloj de tiempo sembradas
muy hondo en las múltiples mareas
y olas de mi corazón.

Our Government should provide immigrants with Long Term Work Visas & give them Citizenship or Green Cards, Asylum and an apology!

Many people asked, begged and demanded President Trump to create a Temporary Shelter, and provide immigrants with Temporary Long Term Work Visas & give them Citizenship, Green Cards, Asylum, and an apology to these families that has been separated so cruelly and vicious from their most precious and value things they have their children.

These immigrant families are currently been victimized by our current President’s zero tolerance policies. The ones that were released and the ones still detained are not criminals as the President and his followers want you to think. They are brave victims, refusing to stay victims and taking action no matter how hard and difficult may be for them so they can have a better safer life for their children as well as themselves.

The immigrants got here to America running from the violence in their own country, running from their lives, away from gangs,  corrupt police officers, drug cartels, criminal & corrupt government and the militias, and mobs  of human traffickers and gangs. Any country have those but in some countries the criminality and murder rates are high and these families are afraid for the uncertain future of their children and their well being.

But sadly young girls as young as 10 or 12 yrs. old are in a huge danger of becoming sexual slaves or being kidnapped in those countries. Young boys, teenagers, and even young adults are forced by militias, drug dealers, and human traffickers to steal, and sell drugs, and are terrorized daily by them. These families need asylum.

Families, like these brave ones, who do not want that atrocities happening to their children are coming to America asking for Asylum. Lots of the immigrants arriving to our borders are Professional people. It costs over 10,000 to pay someone to cross them to America.

In trun it costs Trumps administration 35,000 dollars and some to keep each immigrant child jailed. This was said by a Republican representative as argument to defend his conservative bill and his request for money to build their wall. As of today the amount of children detained is over 3,300, you do the math.

Wealthy professional immigrant families, and poor families too, are being harassed, robbed, even kidnapped and murdered by criminals that are usually  backed by drug lords, like the late Pablo Escobar, and the corrupt politicians and government leaders in their countries. They need and deserve asylum, not to be treated like common criminals and not to kidnap and hide their children from them.

The immigrant families and the families in separation detention camps have lost everything they had and worked so hard for, they been kidnapped, beaten, sexually abused, and their loved ones killed or forced to pay protection money to mobsters im their countries, and they come here so same thing doesn’t keep happening to them and their children. The criminals are not only gangs but government militias. Other people come to the U.S, because they are abused by their spouses, or out of plain fear, and necessity too. They need asylum.

This is not a fiction story. These are real events. A real story of what these families and their children in cages have experienced and are experiencing right now. The unmentionable horrible things that happened the taken babies and children and their families are TRUE and are to many to mention.

President Trump and the Nazi wanna be Jeff Sessions and few heartless Republican Senators are putting the immigrants currently crossing the border in jail and their children in cages like wild animals and not giving them a choice and option or a helping protective hand. THESE FAMILIES NEED ASYLUM.

The money wasted in jails, tent segregation separating camps, cages and transporting immigrants in buses or planes and in paying so much staff, plus the money used to prevent helping people and politicians have access to these children it’s wasted tax money that can be put for better use, such as to help our emporiverished communities for example.

TAKE OUR TAX MONEY, to create shelters, visa programs, humanitarian programs, long term work and training programs for everyone who needs it. The immigrants coming here are not bad uneducated people, there are doctors, lawyers, teachers, social workers, nurses, engineers, contractors, and poor people too but with experience, such as laborers with experience in gardening, landscaping, child care, maintenance, cleaning and cooking, clothes making, assemblers, electricians, farmers, and all kind of jack of all trades who are immigrating to seek Political asylum, here in America. They deserve our help. They need asylum.

These immigrants are good normal people like you and me and possibly more grounded and stronger than us as they were able to endure such hardships and have the bravery, strength and courage to get themselves to safety. Even victims of domestic violence are trying to get asylum but are getting it denied. Instead they are paying for being brave and leaving abusing relationships and rescuing their children from those abusing partners they had, whom were probably and most likely members of the same gangs that had terrorized them and their families for many years know.

Children are been sold or taken from these immigrant families. The immigrants are coming here to get their children to safety out of the hands of those criminal predators. To learn, to become productive citizens like you and. To live, grow old here, marry, have children and grandchildren like our fore fathers did so long ago. We are the new generation, multicolored, multiracial, multi-talent people.

But President Trump is still keeping these families detained, even after he signed some documents. Immigrant children are now receiving even more abuse by heartless, irresponsible, inconsiderate and plain evil and Border Patrol agents who have sexually abused some of those same immigrants and even their children after they suffered through hell to get here to America and request and beg for help.

There has been reports of few cases of abuse and sexual abuse and rape by the same the staff in those facilities. This is unacceptable, inhuman, cruel, and heartless. We are begging, asking, demanding that this is fixed for good. Not in part but in whole. We beg that these families get proper treatment. Asylum, shelters, visas, legal and medical assistance and therapy.

Let’s be the Americans we once were, the ones who helped others, the ones who were respected and admired  and even feared by other countries. Let’s be the America that welcomes everyone no the one that segregated people for their religions, backgrounds or skin colors. Let’s Be Better! Let’s be a Better Great America, if is in our power to do so.

Let’s help the immigrants become productive Americans and possibly live as equals. Thanks!

Children in Cages- Zero Tolerance = Zero Heart


Yesterday morning President Trump signed an executive order, while saying, “Yvanka doesn’t like it. Things are going to change…” Yet not much has changed. In Texas border, the Border Patrol has been doing the same thing they’ve done since about a month now, arresting immigrants who turn themselves in requesting Asylum, and the separation of families policy and process continues.

According to a retired U.S. Border Patrol she urged Border Partrol agente to refuse arresting and separating these particular families quoting, “I won’t do it because it’s illegal” They can say that but to this moment no one knows how many Border Patrols have done that and how many have left their jobs because of the Borders issues, so called “crisis”. Plus no one knows what will happen to Border Patrol if they refuse, will they be fired, which they shouldn’t since they are doing what’s right refusing to do something that is illegal even if it’s order by the President himself.

In the meantime shelters are overflown, some families were reunited yesterday and are still been rescued I meant reunited with their families while they are processed or as they are released to shelters and on their own. There is no knowledge of where will most families that are arrested and or detained will be going too.  And why there are still families not reunited with the formerly Caged Children.