Crash Course Big History #1: The Big Bang

Crash Course Big History #1: The Big Bang

Una mirada al interior de ‘Facebook’

                      Una mirada al interior de ‘Facebook’ es un tema interesante a investigar.

Si conocemos como funciona este sistema le sacaremos mejor provecho. Este tema va a ayudar a las personas a protegerse más y estar seguros al integrarse al mundo de ‘Facebook’. Debemos como usuarios escoger aplicaciones con una plataforma estable y que ponga a sus usuarios en primer lugar. En los últimos años ‘Facebook’ ha trabajado para conectar a todo el mundo. Las personas algunas por desconocimiento, otras por no pasar trabajo, ven a Facebook como la simple aplicación azul que nos deja hacer muchas cosas.

           Hoy día Facebook es una familia de aplicaciones. Este pasado 25 de marzo de 2015 Mark Zuckerberg en su evento anual F8 dio a conocer que 1.4 Billones de personas utilizan ‘Facebook’, 700 Millones utilizan ‘Groups’, otros 700 Millones ‘Whats Up’, 600 Millones ‘Messenger’ y 300 Millones utilizan Instagram cada mes. Como están las cosas hoy día tenemos que conocer cómo trabajan los medios de comunicación. Es muy importante mirar hacia el interior de ‘Facebook’ ya que todo tiene un propósito y debemos conocerlo. No debemos olvidar que nada es gratis en esta vida.

Publicaciones Prohibidas en Facebook.

Lunes, 16 de Marzo 2015  |  7:09 pm
Fuente de Ciencia y Tecnología

Facebook modificó sus términos de uso y dio a conocer qué tipo de contenidos, imágenes y mensajes están prohibidos de publicar en la red social.  Al actualizar su página de normas comunitarias, Facebook detalló a los usuarios más guías sobre qué puede ocasionar la eliminación de un mensaje que, por ejemplo, justifique la violencia y explotación sexual, la actividad criminal o imágenes de desnudos. 

El objetivo de este cambio en la normativa es ser más claro y ajustarse a las exigencias demandadas por los usuarios, al tiempo de evitar la confusión originada en algunos casos. También explica por qué no sólo censura a los grupos terroristas o bandas criminales, sino que también retira el contenido que los apoya.

Los nuevos términos tocan muchos puntos polémicos en la red. Por ejemplo, el desnudo en internet. El párrafo no deja lugar a dudas sobre lo que respecta a menores: “La política de Facebook prohíbe terminantemente que se comparta contenido pornográfico o cualquier otro contenido sexual en el que esté implicado un menor”. 

Asimismo, advierte que los desnudos subidos por adultos tendrán marcados sus "límites". Las fotografías que tengan a las nalgas como motivo central, que muestren pechos femeninos con pezones o genitales de ambos sexos serán prohibidas en Facebook.

Por otro lado,  la red social de Mark Zuckerberg ha aclarado que los mensajes violentos, las publicaciones relacionadas con organizaciones terroristas o sus miembros están prohibidas y no se ajustan a la normativa. Tampoco se podrá hacer alabanza o mostrar apoyo a actos terroristas. 

Además, también prohibieron comentarios amenazadores a la gente con daño físico o financiero, o la intimidación mediante publicaciones de artículos destinados a degradar o avergonzar. Al igual que páginas que apoyen el suicidio o desórdenes alimenticios. 

Cabe señalar que este nuevo documento de casi  2.500 palabras por el momento está disponible solo en inglés.  

Facebook Eliminara Millones de ‘Likes’ Procedentes de Cuentas Inactivas

Facebook Eliminara Millones de ‘Likes’ Procedentes de Cuentas Inactivas

          

          Como una noticia nuestra en el mercado hispano y debido a que en los pasados días hemos estado experimentando una baja en gran descenso de likes o me gusta en las páginas de Facebook hemos encontrado que como experimento los profesionales de esta red social han estado observando miles de cuentas comerciales y poco a poco han ido eliminando los likes o me gusta de usuarios o cuentas inactivas.  Por eso Facebbok ha anunciado en su página y en las encuestas que están midiendo (Insights) la forma en que los usuarios entran a las paginas comerciales de otra manera, hay que prepararse ya que para este próximo MARZO 12 podríamos ver un gran descenso en nuestras páginas comerciales.

          El anuncio lo vimos en uno de nuestros Insights o encuestas que diariamente guardamos para evidenciar nuestro trabajo sobre las cuentas que manejamos Tecnológicamente el cual dice: “We’ve recently update the way we mesure how many people like your Page. Pages may see a decrease in likes after March 12, when we remove likes from inactive Facebook accounts.” 

    Es un gran alivio para nosotros saber por qué Facebook toma esta decisión, y que no se esta fallando en la forma de hacer las promociones. ¿Quiere saber más? Siga leyendo..... 

          El anuncio hecho por Facebook Negocios, contempla de esta forma datos verdaderos y actualizados para que así los comercios o empresas sepan verdaderamente quienes son sus clientes, como son y hasta las cosas que les gustan.  La existencia de las cuentas inactivas según Facebook pertenecen a usuarios que han muerto o que no lo usan, nosotros decimos que el tener cuentas Fantasmas o cuentas impostoras también hacen una gran diferencia. Estas proporcionan datos incorrectos en cuentas de empresas, que cuentan como nosotros el número de ‘likes’ como referencia.

          Esta decisión tendrá como beneficios  el resultado del negocio y la consistencia, al ver cómo se comportan los usuarios activos. Asi que en las próximas dos semanas debemos esperar una baja considerable en el número de ‘Likes’ como resultado de esta actualización según como lo dice el anuncio de Facebook.

¿Facebook tendrá una voz de la conciencia cuando la tuya falle?

Un visionario científico propone crear un "asistente digital" que te alerte antes de publicar información que sea comprometedora en la red social.

Si eres de los que “la coges larga” y en medio de la inconsciencia de una noche loca, te pones a subir las fotos del momento en Facebook y al otro día, están circulando por el ciberespacio fuera de control y te mueres de la vergüenza, este artículo te puede interesar. Si no formas parte de dicho grupo, también deberías continuar leyendo.

Es bueno que sepas que existe una persona en el mundo que está buscándole una solución al vergonzoso problema. Su nombre es Yann LeCun, un investigador de informática francés, un visionario que ha realizado importantes contribuciones en el campo de la neurociencia de las computadoras y los robots móviles y  que, además, supervisa el “Facebook Artificial Intelligence Research lab”, de la famosa red social fundada por Mark Zuckerberg. 

Dicho laboratorio (conocido como “FAIR”) cumple un año de vida y, según www.wired.com, ha logrado notables contribuciones en orden de satisfacer a sus usuarios.  Sin embargo, se encuentra moviéndose hacia adelante desarrollando un tipo de “asistente digital” que reconozca cuando estés a punto de publicar información comprometedora, te lo notifique y haga que te cuestiones  preguntas como: ¿Estoy seguro o segura de que me gustaría que mi madre o mi jefe vean esta publicación? 

Esta propuesta tipo “Big Brother” podría resultar incómoda para aquellos que no quieran recibir “instrucciones” o “consejos” de una máquina. Sin embargo, podría salvar los puestos de trabajo a muchos y evitar el regaño de una madre preocupada. 

El científico también quiere desarrollar una notificación que te indique cuando alguien que no conoces publique una foto tuya sin tu consentimiento en la red social en vías de proteger tu información privada. 

“Imagina que tienes un asistente digital que puede mediar en tu interacción con tus amigos”, sostuvo  LeCun. “Y también con los contenidos de Facebook”, agregó. 

La "prueba" busca saber el nivel de “melonismo” de los boricuas.

De Primera Hora
 

La "prueba" busca saber el nivel de “melonismo” de los boricuas.

En Facebook se consiguen todo tipo de juegos, cadenas de mensajes y chistes. Pero además hay otra tendencia muy compartida y comentada: los quizes.

Se trata de una infinidad de breves “exámenes” para determinar qué princesa o príncipe de Disney mejor te representa, a qué personaje de las películas famosas o series de televisión te pareces, qué país va más acorde con tu personalidad o de qué color es tu aura, por mencionar algunos ejemplos.

La cantidad de cuestionarios es de lo más variopinta. Y justo cuando uno piensa que los ha visto todos irrumpe en el muro de la red social un nuevo quiz, en español, criollo, que busca saber el nivel de “melonismo” de los boricuas.

Recordemos que, en Puerto Rico, melón no solo es la fruta sino el que se autoproclama independentista, (a quienes se les identifica con el color verde,) pero a la hora de votar se inclinan en mayor o menor grado por los populares (a quienes se les asocia con el color rojo). Así pues al igual que la fruta hay personas que son “verde por fuera y rojo por dentro” políticamente hablando.

Los melones son rechazados por los independentistas por entender que son traidores al ideal de lograr un Puerto Rico que no dependa de Estados Unidos, y por los del Partido Nuevo Progresista (PNP) quienes buscan la anexión como el estado 51. Ambas facciones culpan a los melones cuando no logran ganar o no cumplen con las expectativas mínimas de votos.

Según este examencito, si contestas seis preguntas, puedes determinar qué tipo de melón eres y te aseguran que la respuesta te sorprenderá.

Cada pregunta tiene cuatro posibles opciones para elegir una de ellas. Una vez se contesta una pregunta tocando una de las alternativas con el cursor, automáticamente sale la siguiente.

Las preguntas giran en torno a algunos de los temas políticos más hablados actualmente comenzando con cuánto se “odia” al PNP, cómo es tu voto durante las elecciones, de quién es culpa la crisis económica y cómo se resuelve la situación colonial. Pero además se te cuestionará qué piensas de los estudiantes de la Universidad de Puerto Rico y qué hacías el día que asesinaron al líder nacionalista Filiberto Ojeda Ríos.

Las alternativas de entre las que se tienen que elegir están llenas de humor.

Al final del cuestionario te debe salir uno de varios personajes de la política que en algún momento han hablado a favor, luchado o defendido la independencia de Puerto Rico pero a nivel público se les ha cuestionado que verdaderamente crean en ese ideal. Según las contestaciones que elijas, te deberás parecer a alguno de ellos. Lo más curioso es que además te explicarán por qué te pareces, nuevamente con un toque de humor… ¿negro?

Puerto Rico: Island of Debt and Opportunity

Crash Course Big History: The Big Bang

Bill Gates acepta el retodel Bucket Challenge

El Internet En Tiempo Real Según Penny Stock

Bill Gates Nos dice

If you ask Thomas Corley, being rich has very little to do with luck and everything to do with habits.

Corley, who spent five years monitoring and analyzing the daily activities and habits of people both wealthy and living in poverty (233 wealthy and 128 poor, specifically), isolated what he calls "rich habits" — and many of them are simply patterns of thought.

"I found in my research that wealthy people are by and large optimists," he says. "They practice gratitude and look at happiness like a habit."

Corley, who presents and explains many of his findings in his book "Rich Habits: The Daily Success Habits Of Wealthy Individuals" and on his website, defines "rich people" as those with an annual income of $160,000 or more and a liquid net worth of $3.2 million or more, and "poor people" as those with an annual income or $35,000 or less and a liquid net worth of $5,000 or less.

Here are 10 ways Corley found that rich people think differently, based on statements with which they identify.

1. Rich people believe their habits have a major impact on their lives.

"Daily habits are critical to financial success in life."
Rich people who agree: 52%
Poor people who agree: 3%

Wealthy people think that bad habits create detrimental luck and that good habits create "opportunity luck," meaning they create the opportunities for people to make their own luck. "When I looked at luck," Corley remembers, "a lot of rich people said they were lucky and a lot of poor people said they were unlucky."

2. Rich people believe in the American dream.

"The American dream is no longer possible."
Rich people who agree: 2%
Poor people who agree: 87%

"The American Dream is the idea of unlimited potential, that you can make it on your own," says Corley. In his study, the vast majority of rich people believed that wealth is a big part of the American dream (94%), and that the dream is still possible.

3. Rich people value relationships for professional and personal growth.

"Relationships are critical to financial success."
Rich people who agree: 88%
Poor people who agree: 17%

Not only do rich people feel that their relationships are critical to their success, but they put a lot of effort into maintaining them, making a habit of calling up contacts to congratulate them on life events, wish them a happy birthday, or reaching out just to say hello. "When I applied the hello calls and the life event calls to my own life," recalls Corley, "I ended up making another $60,000 as a result."

4. Rich people love meeting new people.

"I love meeting new people."
Rich people who agree: 68%
Poor people who agree: 11%

Hand in hand with valuing relationships comes making new ones. Rich people both love meeting new people and believe that being liked is important to financial success (in fact, it's a whopping 95% that believe in the power of likability, compared to 9% of poor people).

5. Rich people think that saving is hugely important.

"Saving money is critical to financial success."
Rich people who agree: 88%
Poor people who agree: 52%

"Being wealthy is not just making a lot of money," explains Corley. "It's saving a lot, and accumulating wealth. Many of the people I studied aren't wealthy because they made a lot, but because they saved a lot." He's trying to instill what he calls the 80/20 rule in his own children: Save 20% of your income while living on 80%.

6. Rich people feel that they determine their path in life.

"I believe in fate."
Rich people who agree: 10%
Poor people who agree: 90%

Poor people are significantly more likely to believe that genetics are important to becoming wealthy, and significantly less likely to believe that they're the cause of their own financial status in life. "Most of the wealthy people I talked to were businesspeople who weren't always wealthy," Corley explains, "but they had this attitude that they could do anything."

7. Rich people value creativity over intelligence.

"Creativity is critical to financial success."
Rich people who agree: 75%
Poor people who agree: 11%

While rich people are more likely to believe that creativity influences success, poor people are more likely to think that being "intellectually gifted" is critical. They're also more likely to believe that wealth is usually accidental. "If you look at my stats, you'll find that a lot of wealthy people were C students," says Corley. "There's more to wealth than just being smart."

8. Rich people enjoy their jobs.

"I like (or liked) what I do for a living."
Rich people who agree: 85%
Poor people who agree: 2%

"Many of the wealthy in my study loved their job — it's not an accident," says Corley. In fact, 86% of the wealthy worked an average of 50 hours or more per week (compared to 43% of the poor), and 81% say they do more than their job requires (versus 17%). Corley says it's related to the idea of creativity being important to financial success: "These people found a creative pursuit that could turn into monetary value. When you engage in a creative pursuit that can make money, the rewards are often obscene."

9. Rich people believe that their health influences their success.

"Good health is critical to financial success."
Rich people who agree: 85%
Poor people who agree: 13%

"One of the individuals in my study told me 'I can't make money in a hospital bed,'" Corley remembers. "Wealthy people think that being healthy means fewer sick days, which translates into more productivity and more money."

10. Rich people are willing to take risks.

"I've taken a risk in search of wealth."
Rich people who agree: 63%
Poor people who agree: 6%

"A lot of the wealthy people in the study were business owners who started their own businesses," Corley explains. "They became successes because they were master self-educators who learned from the school of hard knocks." In fact, 27% of the wealthy people in Corley's study admit they've failed at least once in life or in business, compared with 2% of the poor. "Failure is like scar tissue on the brain," Corley says. "The lessons last forever."

Read more: http://www.businessinsider.com/ways-rich-people-think-differently-2014-5#ixzz32sjK5QJM

Facebook: los mensajes de nuevos miembros no serán públicos

La red social anunció novedades en cuanto a la privacidad de la información de sus usuarios. 

       La popular red social Facebook anunció que las publicaciones hechas por sus nuevos usuarios dejarán de ser públicas por defecto para pasar a ser restringidas a sus círculos de amigos. Según publicó la red social, ahora sus usuarios decidirán con quien compartir cada publicación hecha en su perfil. Hasta el momento cualquier publicación era hecha de manera pública a excepción de los usuarios menores de edad, quienes tenían la categoría de contacto “amigos” configurada por defecto. De acuerdo con Facebook, sus usuarios antiguos disfrutarán –desde las próximas semanas- una nueva herramienta de revisión de privacidad que permitirá revisar las cosas que se comparten, cuáles aplicaciones la usan y la privacidad clave en la información del perfil.


NUEVOS CONTROLES Además, la red social anunció una serie de nuevos controles para la privacidad de la información compartida por sus usuarios Entre ellos, el más interesante es Anonymous Login. Según su propia definición es una herramienta que permitirá a los usuarios ‘loguearse’ a distintas aplicaciones sin necesidad de compartir información personal desde Facebook. Esta opción permite a los usuarios elegir qué información compartir con la aplicación.Otros controles son la alerta de actualizaciones públicas, los selectores de audiencia simplificados y el rediseño del panel de control de aplicaciones.

Dispositivos Y Drivers

      Los dispositivos periféricos estan en la periféria, en los alrededores de la computadora, los que están ajenos a la computadoras como lo son la:

1.      Teclado (Key Board) = El teclado es un dispositivo o artefacto de entrada.

2.      Monitor (Monitor) = Este es un dispositivo de salida, puede mostrar las imágenes, videos, códigos y distintos tipos de información.

3.      Ratón (Mouse) = El “Mouse” es un dispositivo de entrada de datos que se combina con el teclado, juntos ayudan a escoger la información que necesitamos.

4.      Impresora (Printer) = El “Printer” es un artefacto de salida, nos muestra la información que vemos en la pantalla de una forma impresa .

5.      Micrófono (Microphone) = El micrófono es un  dispositivo de entrada de datos, necesaria para los datos en formatos MP3, entre otros.

Drivers

      Los drivers son unos programas que trae el dispositivo para que puedan tener interacción con el Sistema Operativo (SO) y asi puedan llevarse a cabo las gestiones que estos ejecutan.

Existen distintos tipod de Drivers para cada tipo de periférico; ¿donde lo podemos encontrar?

Bueno, existen distintas formas para encontrarlos. En el caso de los dispositivos como: teclados, monitores y mouse muchas veces el Sistema Operativo trae integrado los mismos.

    En el pasado cuando comprabas una computadora esta te traía un CD dentro de la caja que te permitia instalar todos los programas, drivers y otros en la computadora. Hoy dia también puedes encontrar los drivers en la pagina web del que fabrica el artefacto. Por ejemplo en el caso de una impresora o “printer” el cual es un artefacto de salida, de la compañía Lexmark puedes encontrar los drivers en su pagina web. (http://support.lexmark.com/index?page=driversdownloads&locale=en&userlocale=EN_US)

    Otra forma de poder obtener los drivers es atraves de terceros fabricantes de programas pero con estos hay que tener cuidado o mas bien hay que tener cuidado con quien uno escoje para estos pues pueden contener virus.

Referencia:

·         Imagen CD - http://trucosenlaweb.blogspot.com

·         Lexmark - http://support.lexmark.com/index?page=driversdownloads&locale=en&userlocale=EN_US

Lo que no debes hacer en FB cuando te molestas, Si quieres lucir como un ridiculo entonces haslo.

La privacidad es importante, sobre todo, cuando tienes una relación de pareja, por ello, te decimos qué comportamientos debes evitar en las redes sociales.

Cuando una se pelea con su pareja es inevitable no desahogarse y contar lo sucedido a una amiga, ya sea para que te de unos consejos o simplemente para que te escuche. Pero si estás pensando en desahogarte por Facebook es mejor que te detengas y lo pienses dos veces. Las consecuencias no pueden ser buenas y tus peleas no son algo que quieras que todo el mundo sepa. Te decimos las cosas que no debes hacer en esta red social.
 No cambies tu estado civil
Por más molesta o fastidiada que estés con él, no cambies tu estado. No es grato que aparezca en el feed de noticias de tus amigos “ella ya no se encuentra en una relación con él” y todo el mundo comente en el post “¿qué pasó? ¿Estás bien? Inbox!“ Los trapos sucios se lavan en casa.
No borres tus fotos
Cuando una está molesta no piensa con claridad y por eso lo primero que quieres hacer en Facebook es borrar todo rastro de que mantuviste una relación con él. Al borrar tus fotos darás a entender que ya no son una pareja y no podrás evitar las preguntas incómodas.
  No publiques tu molestia
El Facebook no es tu mejor amiga y todo lo que postees lo verán tus 3 mil amigos. Nadie quiere enterarse de que te molesta que él llegue tarde a recogerte o que no sea una persona considerada con tus sentimientos. Tranquila, lo mejor es hablarlo con él o con tu amiga para que te de otra perspectiva de la situación.
No publiques canciones tristes
Puedes estar triste por la pelea que tuviste con él pero nadie tiene porque contagiarse ni enterarse del humor en el que estás. Publicar canciones tristes solo hará que tus amigos se sientan fastidiados.
No publiques fotos con mensajes
Es muy común ahora ver fotos con mensajes y memes, y si por un momento pensaste colgarlos en tu Facebook mejor piénsalo dos veces. No querrás quedar como la despechada de la relación o la persona que quiere llamar la atención.

 No elimines tu cuenta Ok. No cambiaste tu estado y no borraste tus fotos, pero eliminaste tu cuenta y eso es aún peor. La gente en Facebook no hace más que estar pendiente de lo que haces y al notar que tu cuenta no existe pensarán que es porque te peleaste con tu pareja.

Si quieres lucir como un ridiculo entonces haslo.

Sistema Operativo Para Android "Ubuntu"

Intel Seguridad Y Un Poco De Su Historia....

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KkfPFWKuMQE

SEA attempts to hack Facebook and other MarkMonitor domain customers

If you find a good tactic and it works you stick with it, right? That certainly seems to be the case for the Syrian Electronic Army (SEA). Early in 2013 we watched them phish major media organizations in succession. More recently they have moved on to more sophisticated techniques, mixing together social engineering, phishing, email hijacking and domain hijacking. Today, it was Facebook's turn. It appears the SEA were able to gain access to an administrative panel at DNS provider MarkMonitor. MarkMonitor prides itself in providing brand protection services, including DNS hosting. Despite the blemish from today's SEA shenanigans, it can still stand reasonably tall because it was able to stop the attack while it was still in progress. They weren't able to totally prevent the incident, however. The SEA began by altering the contact details in Facebook's WHOIS records to allow them to authorize a transfer to an account that would allow them to make further changes. SEA-Facebook-DNS-1-500 You can see the records were altered at 2014-02-05T23:33:44 UTC. Here in Vancouver that was on Wednesday at around 3:30 pm. More important to note is that the name servers still point at the legitimate nameservers for Facebook.com. I was watching this in real-time and there appeared to be a struggle for control around 23:49 UTC, with MarkMonitor winning the war at 23:56 UTC. Facebook-DNS-Fixed-500 The SEA Twitter account also claimed to have been able to potentially alter domain records belonging to Yahoo!, Google and Amazon. All of these companies appear to use MarkMonitor for their DNS services. According to The Next Web, MarkMonitor would neither confirm nor deny whether Facebook is in fact a customer of its services.
 

 Pro tip to the PR people at MarkMonitor: Don't refuse to confirm things that are obviously true if you don't wish to make a statement. Say something like, "We can't comment on things that involve an ongoing investigation by law enforcement." Far classier. The real challenge in these situations is that the design and protocols of the Internet were not designed to defend against malfeasance. DNSSEC170To a degree we are like the little Dutch boy in Hans Brinker attempting to save ourselves by plugging holes in the dike. We must bootstrap the Internet into modern times by taking things like DNSSEC seriously. Stealing someone's password or convincing an innocent customer service representative you are someone else should not be sufficient to take over someone's online identity.  Stay vigilant, folks, and look into what your organization's DNS provider offers in the way of protection. Note: Folks seem to think that I am suggesting DNSSEC would have prevented this. Not in this case, but it is another piece of the puzzle that needs to fall in place to shore up the integrity of our name resolution system.

American History Judith Ortiz Cofer

American History Judith Ortiz Cofer I once read in a “Ripley’s Believe It or Not” column that Paterson, New Jersey, is the place where the Straight and Narrow (streets) intersect. The Puerto Rican tenement known as El Building was one block up on Straight. It was, in fact, the corner of Stra ight and Market; not “at” the corner, but the corner. At almost any hour of the day, El Building was like a monstrous jukebox, blasting out salsas from open windows as the residents, mostly new immigrants just up from the island, tried to drown out whateve r they were currently enduring with loud music. But the day President Kennedy was shot, there was a profound silence in El Building; even the abusive tongues of viragoes, the cursing of the unemployed, and the screeching of small children had been somehow muted. President Kennedy was a saint to these people. In fact, soon his photograph would be hung alongside the Sacred Heart and over the spiritist altars that many women kept in their apartments. He would become part of the hierarchy of martyrs they prayed to for favors that only one who had died for a cause would understand. On the day that President Kennedy was shot, my ninth - grade class had been out in the fenced playground of Public School Number 13. We had been given “free” exercise time and had been ordered by our PE teacher, Mr. DePalma, to “keep moving.” That meant that the girls should jump rope and the boys toss basketballs through a hoop at the far end of the yard. He in the meantime would “keep an eye” on us from just inside the building. It w as a cold gray day in Paterson. The kind that warns of early snow. I was miserable, since I had forgotten my gloves and my knuckles were turning red and raw from the jump rope. I was also taking a lot of abuse from the black girls for not turning the rope hard and fast enough for them. “Hey, Skinny Bones, pump it, girl. Ain’t you got no energy today?” Gail, the biggest of the black girls, had the other end of the rope, yelled, “Didn’t you eat your rice and beans and pork chops for breakfast today?” The other girls picked up the “pork chop” and made it into a refrain: “Pork chop, pork chop, did you eat your pork chop?” They entered the double ropes in pairs and exited without tripping or missing a beat. I felt a burning on my cheeks and then my glasses fo gged up so that I could not manage to coordinate the jump rope with Gail. The chill was doing to me what it always did: entering my bones, making me cry, humiliating me. I hated the city, especially in winter. I hated Public School Number 13. I hated my sk inny, flat - chested body, and I envied the black girls, who could jump rope so fast that their legs became a blur. They always seemed to be warm, while I froze. There was only one source of beauty and light for me that school year — the only thing I had ant icipated at the start of the semester. That was seeing Eugene. In August, Eugene and his family had moved into the only house on the block that had a yard and trees. I could see his place from my window in El Building. In fact, if I sat on the fire escape I was literally suspended above Eugene’s back yard. It was my favorite spot to read my library books in the summer. Until that August the house had been occupied by an old Jewish couple. Over the years I had become part of their family, without their knowi ng it, of course. I had a view of their kitchen and their back yard, and though I could not hear what they said, I knew when they were arguing, when one of them was sick, and many other things. I knew all this by watching them at mealtimes. I could see the ir kitchen table, the sink, and the stove. During good times, he sat at the table and read his newspapers while she fixed the meals. If they argued, he would leave and the old woman would sit and stare at nothing for a long time. When one of them was sick, the other would come and get things from the kitchen and carry them out on a tray. The old man had died in June. The last week of school I had not seen him at the table at all. Then one day I saw that there was a crowd in the kitchen. The old woman had fi nally emerged from the house on the arm of a stocky middle - aged woman, whom I had seen there a few times before, maybe her daughter. Then a man had carried out suitcases. The house had stood empty for weeks. I had had to resist the temptation to climb down into the yard and water the flowers the old lady had taken such good care of. By the time Eugene’s family moved in, the yard was a tangled mass of weeds. The father had spent several days mowing, and when he finished, from where I sat I didn’t see the re d, yellow, and purple clusters that meant flowers to me. I didn’t see this family sit down at the kitchen table together. It was just the mother, a redheaded, tall woman who wore a white uniform — a nurse’s, I guessed it was; the father was gone before I got up in the morning and was never there at dinner time. I only saw him on weekends, when they sometimes sat on lawn chairs under the oak tree, each hidden behind a section of the newspaper; and there was Eugene. He was tall and blond, and he wore glasses. I liked him right away because he sat at the kitchen table and read books for hours. That summer, before we had even spoken one word to each other, I kept him company on my fire escape. Once school started, I looked for him in all my classes, but PS 13 wa s a huge, overpopulated place and it took me days and many discreet questions to discover that Eugene was in honors classes for all his subjects, classes that were not open to me because English was not my first language, though I was a straight - A student. After much maneuvering I managed to “run into him” in the hallway where his locker was — on the other side of the building from mine — and in study hall at the library, where he first seemed to notice me but did not speak, and finally, on the way home after s chool one day when I decided to approach him directly, though my stomach was doing somersaults. I was ready for rejection, snobbery, the worst. But when I came up to him, practically panting in my nervousness, and blurted out: “You’re Eugene. Right?” he smiled, pushed his glasses up on his nose, and nodded. I saw then that he was blushing deeply. Eugene liked me, but he was shy. I did most of the talking that day. He nodded and smiled a lot. In the weeks that followed, we walked home together. He would li nger at the corner of El Building for a few minutes, then walk down to his two - story house. It was not until Eugene moved into that house that I noticed that El Building blocked most of the sun and that the only spot that got a little sunlight during the d ay was the tiny square of earth the old woman had planted with flowers. I did not tell Eugene that I could see inside his kitchen from my bedroom. I felt dishonest, but I liked my secret sharing of his evenings, especially now that I knew what he was rea ding since we chose our books together at the school library. (page 1) One day my mother came into my room as I was sitting on the windowsill staring out. In her abrupt way she said: “Elena, you are acting ‘moony.’” “Enamorada ” was what she really said, that is — like a girl stupidly infatuated. Since I had turned fourteen . . ., my mother had been more vigilant than ever. She acted as if I was going to go crazy or explode or something if she didn’t watch me and nag me all the ti me about being a señorita now. She kept talking about virtue, morality, and other subjects that did not interest me in the least. My mother was unhappy in Paterson, but my father had a good job at the bluejeans factory in Passaic and soon, he kept assuring us, we would be moving to our own house there. Every Sunday we drove out to the suburbs of Paterson, Clifton, and Passaic, out to where people mowed grass on Sundays in the summer and where children made snowmen in the winter from pure white snow, not lik e the gray slush of Paterson, which seemed to fall from the sky in that hue. I had learned to listen to my parents’ dreams, which were spoken in Spanish, as fairy tales, like the stories about life in the island paradise of Puerto Rico before I was born. I had been to the island once as a little girl, to Grandmother’s funeral, and all I remembered was wailing women in black, my mother becoming hysterical and being given a pill that made her sleep two days, and me feeling lost in a crowd of strangers all cla iming to be my aunts, uncles, and cousins. I had actually been glad to return to the city. We had not been back there since then, though my parents talked constantly about buying a house on the beach someday, retiring on the island — that was a common topic among the residents of El Building. As for me, I was going to go to college and become a teacher. But after meeting Eugene I began to think of the present more than of the future. What I wanted now was to enter that house I had watched for so many years. I wanted to see the other rooms where the old people had lived and where the boy spent his time. Most of all I wanted to sit at the kitchen table with Eugene like two adults, like the old man and his wife had done, maybe drink some coffee and talk about bo oks. I had started reading Gone With the Wind. I was enthralled by it, with the daring and the passion of the beautiful girl living in a mansion, and with her devoted parents and the slaves who did everything for them. I didn’t believe such a world had eve r really existed, and I wanted to ask Eugene some questions since he and his parents, he had told me, had come up from Georgia, the same place where the novel was set. His father worked for a company that had transferred him to Paterson. His mother was ver y unhappy, Eugene said, in his beautiful voice that rose and fell over words in a strange, lilting way. The kids at school called him “the Hick” and made fun of the way he talked. I knew I was his only friend so far, and I liked that, though I felt sad for him sometimes. “Skinny Bones and the Hick” was what they called us at school when we were seen together. The day Mr. DePalma came out into the cold and asked us to line up in front of him was the day that President Kennedy was shot. Mr. DePalma , a short, muscular man with slicked - down black hair, was the science teacher, PE coach, and disciplinarian at PS 13. He was the teacher to whose homeroom you got assigned if you were a troublemaker, and the man called out to break up playground fights and to escort violently angry teenagers to the office. And Mr. DePalma was the man who called your parents in for “a conference.” That day, he stood in front of two rows of mostly black and Puerto Rican kids, brittle from their efforts to “keep moving” on a November day that was turning bitter cold. Mr. DePalma, to our complete shock, was crying. Not just silent adult tears, but really sobbing. There were a few titters from the back of the line where I stood shivering. “Listen,” Mr. DePalma raised his arms over his head as if he were about to conduct an orchestra. His voice broke, and he covered his face with his hands. His barrel chest was heaving. Someone giggled behind me. “Listen,” he repeated, “something awful has happened.” A strange gurgling came fr om his throat, and he turned around and spat on the cement behind him. “Gross,” someone said, and there was a lot of laughter. “The president is dead, you idiots. I should have known that wouldn’t mean anything to a bunch of losers like you kids. Go ho me.” He was shrieking now. No one moved for a minute or two, but then a big girl let out a “Yeah!” and ran to get her books piled up with the others against the brick wall of the school building. The others followed in a mad scramble to get to their things before somebody caught on. It was still an hour to the dismissal bell. A little scared, I headed for El Building. There was an eerie feeling on the streets. I looked into Mario’s drugstore, a favorite hangout for the high school crowd, but there were on ly a couple of old Jewish men at the soda bar talking with the short - order cook in tones that sounded almost angry, but they were keeping their voices low. Even the traffic on one of the busiest intersections in Paterson — Straight Street and Park Avenue — see med to be moving slower. There were no horns blasting that day. At El Building, the usual little group of unemployed men was not hanging out on the front stoop making it difficult for women to enter the front door. No music spilled out from open doors in t he hallway. When I walked into our apartment, I found my mother sitting in front of the grainy picture of the television set. She looked up at me with a tear - streaked face and just said: “Dios mío,” turning back to the set as if it were pulling at her eye s. I went into my room. Though I wanted to feel the right thing about President Kennedy’s death, I could not fight the feeling of elation that stirred in my chest. Today was the day I was to visit Eugene in his house. He had asked me to come over after s chool to study for an American history test with him. We had also planned to walk to the public library together. I looked down into his yard. The oak tree was bare of leaves and the ground looked gray with ice. The light through the large kitchen window o f his house told me that El Building blocked the sun to such an extent that they had to turn lights on in the middle of the day. I felt ashamed about it. But the white kitchen table with the lamp hanging just above it looked cozy and inviting. I would soon sit there, across from Eugene, and I would tell him about my perch just above his house. Maybe I should. In the next thirty minutes I changed clothes, put on a little pink lipstick, and got my books together. Then I went in to tell my mother that I was going to a friend’s house to study. I did not expect her reaction. (page 2) “You are going out today?” The way she said “today” sounded as if a storm warning had been issued. It was said in utter disbelief. Before I could answer, she came toward me and h eld my elbows as I clutched my books. “Hija (daughter), the president has been killed. We must show respect. He was a great man. Come to church with me tonight.” She tried to embrace me, but my books were in the way. My first impulse was to comfort her, she seemed so distraught, but I had to meet Eugene in fifteen minutes. “I have a test to study for, Mama. I will be home by eight.” “You are forgetting who you are, Niña (girl). I have seen you staring down at that boy’s house. You are heading for humi liation and pain.” My mother said this in Spanish and in a resigned tone that surprised me, as if she had no intention of stopping me from “heading for humiliation and pain.” I started for the door. She sat in front of the TV holding a white handkerchief t o her face. I walked out to the street and around the chain - link fence that separated El Building from Eugene’s house. The yard was neatly edged around the little walk that led to the door. It always amazed me how Paterson, the inner core of the city, had no apparent logic to its architecture. Small, neat single residences like this one could be found right next to huge, dilapidated apartment buildings like El Building. My guess was that the little houses had been there first, then the immigrants had come in droves, an d the monstrosities had been raised for them — the Italians, the Irish, the Jews, and now us, the Puerto Ricans and the blacks. The door was painted a deep green: verde, the color of hope. I had heard my mother say it: verde - esperanza. I knocked softly. A few suspenseful moments later the door opened just a crack. The red, swollen face of a woman appeared. She had a halo of red hair floating over a delicate ivory face — the face of a doll — with freckles on the nose. Her smudged eye makeup made her look unreal to me, like a mannequin seen through a warped store window. “What do you want?” Her voice was tiny and sweet sounding, like a little girl’s, but her tone was not friendly.