Here’s something new. A story about my grandmother.
In 1943, just outside of Oakland, California, in the community of Richmond, Guadalupe Duran brought down a baseball bat with full force onto the head of her young husband.

Lupe, as she was known, was petite and hot-tempered, and at age of 28 she was already the mother of four. She was an immigrant from Culiacan, Mexico, and her unfortunate husband, Charles, was a dazzling California-born playboy.
Lupe was 13 and Charles was 16 when Lupe’s family moved from Pasadena to Northern California. Charles made regular trips from Pasadena across California's Central Valley on the second weekend of every month to visit Lupe. At 14, Lupe married Charles, who, with the wisdom of 17 years under his belt, had a car.

Fourteen years later, on a hot and windy summer night, Charles was out philandering. He was notorious for it, and he was, as it happened, very good at it. He had majestic presence, and women adored him. Charles dressed and spoke well; he was serious and funny, strong and passionate. His hair, well coiffed, was resplendent with Brill Cream, and in a certain light, his profile resembled that of Clark Gable.

In the past, Lupe had thrown plates and swung her arms at her adulterous Don Juan. The smell of perfume and alcohol had driven her into hysterics on countless evenings and on countless bleary-eyed mornings. This time, however, the cheating was systematic and deliberate. It was ritualized in its neglect. It was an affair.

When Charles surreptitiously crept through the kitchen door, Lupe’s mood was murderous. Lupe screamed at Charles in her native tongue, damning him with strange and perverse curses. Because Charles was gentle, her soaring pitch escalated unchecked.
Charles, it was true, had been seeing the blond girl that hung around their bar. The girls called her Goldie. Her pale skin and her platinum hair were an anomaly, an eye-sore, and a threat. It was also true that Goldie was pregnant with Charles’ baby, so when Lupe reached for the bat and took it to her husband, she swung righteously.
The beating was rather one-sided; Charles was not violent. He was corrupt. Lupe, on the other hand was virtuous, but extremely violent.
She was also vindictive. When the police arrived, Lupe triumphantly had Charles arrested.

Why the police arrested Charles, and not Lupe, can only be attributed to the officers’ sense of self-preservation. At 5'2" and just over a hundred pounds, Lupe was more dangerous than a gang of hoodlums. The arrest was an act of mercy for both Lupe and Charles.