In which your humble narrator recounts some lunacy from his childhood.
So my parents, being good hippies harbored an illegal alien when I was a kid. Maria was a Salvadoran migrant worker. We lived in northern Indiana at the time and she had come up with a crew to pick produce. But she was pregnant and they wouldn't take her back to the winter camp in Florida. So Maria and her two-year-old son Jose moved in with us. Soon there after she had another little boy, Victor (pronounced Beek-tor).
One time we ran out of Pampers and she diapered the baby with a tortilla. True story.
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