SandScript 2022

Los Metalicos
Victor Valdivia
My grandchildren were in the back seat of my car on their way to get their Covid 19 vaccinations. David
aged ten and Joy aged eight, were working hard to look happy about getting vaccinated. In truth, like all kids, they
hated getting shots. To distract them I decided to tell my story about the vaccine I got when I was even younger
than they are now, and it’s a true story.
I was part of the gigantic trial that involved thousands of school children designed to test the Sauk vaccine
for Polio. It was named after Jonas Sauk, the man who invented it. I remembered the time when every countertop
in every store in the country had a “March of Dimes” poster with a canister where you could drop in your coins to
help the research to defeat Polio, but my story was about the trial.
I was in first or second grade, and my parents, like most parents, signed the permission slip for me to be in
the trial. I remember when the class lined up for our march to the multipurpose room where a nurse was giving everyone
injections. The Salk vaccine was a three-shot regimen so the march to the multipurpose room occurred three
times.
The results of the trial are history now. It proved that the vaccine was safe and effective against Polio, but the
bad news for me was that I was assigned to the control group and received the placebo, not the actual vaccine. I had
to get another three shots. I remember feeling quite bitter about it at the time.
Happily, I did not contract Polio before I was able to receive the real vaccine. I described to David and Joy
how ticked off seven-year-old me felt about getting six shots instead of three, and how relieved and excited everyone
else was now that Polio had been defeated by Dr. Salk. Everyone scrambled to get their vaccine ASAP. Kids were
thrilled! Now they could beg mom and dad to go to the beach, the circus, or a Saturday morning kids’ movie, without
getting the ultimate unarguable response of “No way kids! Crowds like that are how Polio is spread.”
I went on to assure David and Joy that they were getting real vaccines for Covid 19, not placebos. Both kids
had listened politely during my story. When I finished, I glanced in my mirror. I watched them look at each other,
whisper something, and shrug.
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What's COVID-19
Grandma?
Carol Spitler Korhonen
Then I heard David’s voice. “Just one question. What’s Polio, Grandma?”
“Timid loser kid.”
Those were the words that Billy Mendoza had been labeled by a bully, way back as an adolescent, and the
words had stuck with him even now, all these years later, as a college freshman. At Rollins College, the little liberal
arts school in Orlando, Florida that he had decided to attend precisely because it was small and he wanted to
get more personalized attention, he had hoped that he might finally have an easier time finding people to talk to.
Unfortunately, he had a hard time making friends and an even harder time finding a place to be outside of classes.
Even in his dorm room he was always alone because his ostensible roommate was never around, choosing to rush
fraternities almost as soon as school started. When Billy graduated high school in June of 1991, he had high hopes.
Now, here it was late September, and nothing had changed.
Loneliness was never far from Billy. He was an only child, whose rather authoritarian father had frequently
stressed that Billy be modest, never stand out, and downplay his Hispanic heritage whenever possible, like insisting Billy
never speak Spanish in public. His father had claimed that this was so that Billy would not be discriminated against for
his ethnicity, but the result had been to make him withdrawn and awkward. Billy’s one solace was to blast heavy metal
music, the music he loved most of all, in his Sony Walkman. At least when listening to the music, he could escape his
loneliness and find glimmers of courage to push forward. It was the volume, the energy, the swagger that he loved. He
found it simultaneously exhilarating and soothing. Whenever he could scrounge up some money, he would hit his favorite
record stores in the area, Wax Tree and Rock N’ Roll Heaven. There he would take pleasure in browsing through the racks
and picking out the one or two metal records he could afford on his meager budget. He would look longingly at the other
people there, wishing he had the courage to strike up a conversation with someone. Unfortunately, he was too shy and
timid to do so, and often just left the store silently after paying for his purchase.
A few weeks after the semester started, he was already feeling tired, frustrated, and even at times, a little
desperate. Then, as he was walking through the student union building one Tuesday morning, he saw a flyer on a
bulletin board. He didn’t know why, but something made him stop and look at the flyer.
It was obviously cut and pasted with band logos and handwritten slogans and then photocopied in black
and white. So it wasn’t a professional job by any means but he was still captivated by it. That was because the logos
were of some of the most beloved and uncompromising heavy metal bands that Billy loved: Iron Maiden, Judas
Priest, Motorhead, Slayer, Anthrax, Megadeth, and a few others tucked away near the bottom. In big handwritten
letters were the words “Latino Metal Night” and in smaller letters underneath an invitation:” Are you a Latino or
Latina who likes heavy metal? Do you want to listen to real heavy metal and hang out with people who do as well?
Come to the Pipe-Fitters and Plumbers Local Hall Saturday night from 9:00 PM until 2:00 AM and join DJ Big
Dave as he spins some of the most brain-melting metal you will ever hear!” At the bottom, “$5 at the door! Beer
available i/y 21 and older!”
For Billy, this was a revelation. Latino Metal Night? How had he not heard about this before? What did it
mean? What was it like? His mind was on fire.
Billy tried to piece it all together. It would be nice to be around other people who loved metal as much as he
did. Maybe he might meet someone who could be a friend. He had to admit, though, it was always difficult for him
to find the courage even to go to record stores by himself, let alone a party.
All week long, he thought about what it would be like. Who would he see? Would he be laughed at if he talked
to someone? Even worse, would he be just ignored? Anxiety and excitement gripped him for the next few days. Finally,
though, he somehow forced himself to take a chance and made his way into the show on Saturday night.
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