Gustavo Arellano: Why I hate jacarandas
LOS ANGELES — I met my first jacaranda tree in the spring of 1989. My parents had recently moved us from a granny flat in a rough part of Anaheim to a three-bedroom, two-bath, one-swimming pool American dream in a better part of town.
With a frontyard of their own, my parents did what any good Mexicans would do: They planted colorful flowers and trees. Vibrant roses, flashy birds of paradise. A massive bougainvillea that doubled as a thorny fence to make sure cholos didn't climb over from the apartments next.
