#Heroica Matamoros

[marisala]

Un dibujito que hice ayer en el envivo en tiktok Momento Sasusaku 🌸✨️ Lo hice con marcadores copic, touch, chameleon y prismacolor. #sasusaku #sakuraharuno #sasukeuchiha #boruto #naruto #drawing #sketch #copicmarkers #touchmarkers #prismacolormarkers #chameleonmarkers (en Heroica Matamoros, Tam.) https://www.instagram.com/p/CocoWjKO7BG/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[chrisperezrockers11]

𝑆𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑎 - Live la Heroica Matamoros 1987 FULL

[marisala]

Pecesillo 🐟🖌💕❤️ #watercolor #goldfish #art #sketch #traditionalart #ilustradoramexicana #artistamexicana (en Heroica Matamoros, Tam.) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpyORjcO6zl/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[goalhofer]

Border wall between Heroica Matamoros, Mexico and Brownsville, Texas.

[chrisperezrockersworld]

𝑆𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑎 - Live la Heroica Matamoros 1987 FULL

[dentedhalostories-blog]

Gabby got on the city bus.

She sat down beside a small woman, a woman so slight she might not have seen her if she hadn’t been looking closely, so quiet she might not have heard her if she hadn’t been listening carefully.

“Cómo estás, Luisa?” she asked.

“Bien,” she answered. “Un poco cansada. I cleaned a lot of rooms at the motel today. Y tu?”

“Si, bien. Un poco cansada, tambien. I scrambled a lot of eggs at the Scrambled Egg. I can’t wait to put my feet up and rest them. What you doing this evening?”

“I’m going to cook supper and take my daughter to help me clean the doctor’s office. Then I’ll rest.”

Gabby put her arm around Luisa’s shoulder.

“Eres una buena mujer,” she said.

“Tú también, mi Amiga. Tú también.”

Gabby got off the bus at the corner of her apartment building.

‘Sup Gabby. How you doin’?” asked Bryant, who everyone called Big B.

He’d just gotten home from his job as a mechanic at Shoeless Joe’s garage.

“Hola Big B! Not much. You know, glad to be home. How was your day?”

“It was all good. The squeaky wheel got the grease, as they say.

“One of these days I’m gonna buy a car and you’re the only person I’m gonna let work on it.”

“Deal. If you need anything, let me know, okay?”

“Sure thing! Same here.”

“I could use some of your steak and eggs,” he chuckled.

“Ugh, anything but that. I’ve cooked enough steak and eggs today for a lifetime!”

“Bet. I’m jus’ kiddin’ wit’ cha. Night Gabby.”

“Night B. Sleep tight.”

She took her key out of her pocket and unlocked the door to her apartment.

It was one room.

There was a holey sofa against the wall that pulled out into a bed.

A small table and a lamp was beside it.

One book, Poems for a Brown Eyed Girl, was on a bookshelf made out of a cut board and two concrete blocks against the other wall.

A water color painting of the Statue of Liberty was above it, the first gift she’d received at a little Catholic shelter on the Texas side of the US - Mexico border between Brownsville and Heroica Matamoros, Mexico.

She’d arrived there barefooted and broken hearted, with tears of hope and sorrow, after the long migration from Honduras to America.

There was no TV, just a battered transistor radio that had belonged to her papí.

The room was simple and beautiful, like her.

She picked up the small book of poems, worn now at the edges from nights and nights of reading.

She turned on the lamp, sat down on the sofa, and stretched out her legs in front of her.

She opened the book to the poem Ode to a Migrant Woman’s Feet.

She read,

feet

are

calloused

and so cracked

rocks in the plowed ground

she walks over the land barefooted

as her abuelo turns the earth with donkey and plow

she has the feet of her abuelo, for she walks beside him down the long rows of beans

her abuelo walks down the rows until his feet are broken and bent by genuflecting to the land or land owners

when her feet are in the soil, it is as if they are the land, as if they hold the secrets of the earth, the mystery of seed, dirt, water

becoming a bean in a pod, a kernel on corn, a beautiful tomato

her heart is in her feet, the land, the mystery her

feet speak, "Estoy aquí," "I'm here"

her feet are our signs

"I'm human"

human

"I'm

here"

She closed her eyes.

She prayed a small prayer to God.

God,

here

I am

barefooted,

open-hearted. Walk

with me, work with me migrant God.

Dust on my feet, callous on my hand, you are here, God.

She listened closely with the ears of her heart.

“I hear, I’m here,” said God in a still, small voice from somewhere far away, somewhere right beside her, somewhere deep inside her.

“You hear, you’re here.”

She smiled.

And God smiled, too.

[marisala]

Practicando para el taller de flores en acuarela más tarde 😊💐🖌💕 10pm en mi página de Facebook #flowers #watercolor #art #ilustradoramexicana (en Heroica Matamoros, Tam.) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpUYBtcOQhS/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[cuautlahoy]

FORTALECEN HERMANAMIENTO CUAUTLA E IZÚCAR DE MATAMOROS CON INTERCAMBIO CULTURAL.

Cuautla participará en los Festivales del Elote y de Corpus Christi en Matzaco Este fin de semana, en Izúcar de Matamoros, Puebla, ciudad hermana de Cuautla, realizará el Festival del Elote (02 al 04 de junio) y el próximo 08 al 12 del mismo mes, realizará el Festival de Corpus Christi, por lo que la Heroica tendrá una participación especial en las dos actividades para refrendar su compromiso al…

[olebg]

Busca contactos online en Heroica Matamoros

En Heroica Matamoros hay muchas mujeres bonitas y hombres atractivos. Muchos de ellos tienen perfiles en Elmaz.com

[zero-xlr]

A comer…. (en Heroica Matamoros, Tam.) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cp_TQiAscpp/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[rogeliocda]

Libre y fuerte ❤️‍🔥 #cuandotomofotos #noiretblanc #sinmiedo #gayboy #matamoros #blancoynegro #photography 💙 (en Matamoros Centro, Heroica Matamoros) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpfYLevLW82/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[luzuriag]

Ya me dispongo a comer. (en Heroica Matamoros, Tam.) https://www.instagram.com/p/Co2uHtpvuLB/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[teachandwrite-blog]

Gabby got on the city bus.

She sat down beside a small woman, a woman so slight she might not have seen her if she hadn’t been looking closely, so quiet she might not have heard her if she hadn’t been listening carefully.

“Cómo estás, Luisa?” she asked.

“Bien,” she answered. “Un poco cansada. I cleaned a lot of rooms at the motel today. Y tu?”

“Si, bien. Un poco cansada, tambien. I scrambled a lot of eggs at the Scrambled Egg. I can’t wait to put my feet up and rest them. What you doing this evening?”

“I’m going to cook supper and take my daughter to help me clean the doctor’s office. Then I’ll rest.”

Gabby put her arm around Luisa’s shoulder.

“Eres una buena mujer,” she said.

“Tú también, mi Amiga. Tú también.”

Gabby got off the bus at the corner of her apartment building.

‘Sup Gabby. How you doin’?” asked Bryant, who everyone called Big B.

He’d just gotten home from his job as a mechanic at Shoeless Joe’s garage.

“Hola Big B! Not much. You know, glad to be home. How was your day?”

“It was all good. The squeaky wheel got the grease, as they say.

“One of these days I’m gonna buy a car and you’re the only person I’m gonna let work on it.”

“Deal. If you need anything, let me know, okay?”

“Sure thing! Same here.”

“I could use some of your steak and eggs,” he chuckled.

“Ugh, anything but that. I’ve cooked enough steak and eggs today for a lifetime!”

“Bet. I’m jus’ kiddin’ wit’ cha. Night Gabby.”

“Night B. Sleep tight.”

She took her key out of her pocket and unlocked the door to her apartment.

It was one room.

There was a holey sofa against the wall that pulled out into a bed.

A small table and a lamp was beside it.

One book, Poems for a Brown Eyed Girl, was on a bookshelf made out of a cut board and two concrete blocks against the other wall.

A water color painting of the Statue of Liberty was above it, the first gift she’d received at a little Catholic shelter on the Texas side of the US - Mexico border between Brownsville and Heroica Matamoros, Mexico.

She’d arrived there barefooted and broken hearted, with tears of hope and sorrow, after the long migration from Honduras to America.

There was no TV, just a battered transistor radio that had belonged to her papí.

The room was simple and beautiful, like her.

She picked up the small book of poems, worn now at the edges from nights and nights of reading.

She turned on the lamp, sat down on the sofa, and stretched out her legs in front of her.

She opened the book to the poem Ode to a Migrant Woman’s Feet.

She read,

feet

are

calloused

and so cracked

rocks in the plowed ground

she walks over the land barefooted

as her abuelo turns the earth with donkey and plow

she has the feet of her abuelo, for she walks beside him down the long rows of beans

her abuelo walks down the rows until his feet are broken and bent by genuflecting to the land or land owners

when her feet are in the soil, it is as if they are the land, as if they hold the secrets of the earth, the mystery of seed, dirt, water

becoming a bean in a pod, a kernel on corn, a beautiful tomato

her heart is in her feet, the land, the mystery her

feet speak, "Estoy aquí," "I'm here"

her feet are our signs

"I'm human"

human

"I'm

here"

She closed her eyes.

She prayed a small prayer to God.

God,

here

I am

barefooted,

open-hearted. Walk

with me, work with me migrant God.

Dust on my feet, callous on my hand, you are here, God.

She listened closely with the ears of her heart.

“I hear, I’m here,” said God in a still, small voice from somewhere far away, somewhere right beside her, somewhere deep inside her.

“You hear, you’re here.”

She smiled.

And God smiled, too.

[cartimia]

Bendito mar que limpias toda la maldad, retiras toda la ansiedad y alivias los sentidos.

[ingragmphotography]

Spring Tec.

Marzo 2015.

[collinthenychudson]

Day 5: EMD SD45

Info from Wikipedia

The SD45 is a six-axle diesel-electric locomotive built by General Motors Electro-Motive Division between 1965 and 1971. It has an EMD 645E3 twenty-cylinder engine generating 3,600 hp (2,680 kW) on the same frame as the SD38, SD39, SD40, and SDP40. As of 2021, most SD45s have been retired, scrapped or rebuilt to SD40-2 standards. 1,260 were built for American railroads before the SD45-2 replaced it in 1972, along with the related SD45T-2 'Tunnel Motor'. SD45s had several teething problems. Reliability was not as high as anticipated; the twenty-cylinder prime mover was prone to crankshaft failure from engine block flex. Though it produced 600 horsepower (450 kW) more than the 16-645E3 in the SD40, some railroads felt the extra horsepower wasn't worth it, even after EMD strengthened the block to eliminate crankshaft failures. At low speeds, when tractive effort was adhesion-limited, the SD45 provided no advantage over the SD40. Buyers included the Burlington Northern, Southern Pacific, Santa Fe, Pennsylvania Railroad, the Great Northern Railway, Union Pacific and the Northern Pacific Railway. Many SD45s still exist, some rebuilt with sixteen-cylinder 645s for lease companies. SD45s and SD45-2s owned by Montana Rail Link retain their 20-cylinder prime movers. Wisconsin Central used to roster a large fleet of SD45s, but its sale to CN has resulted in the retirement of the entire fleet, with mass scrappings. Montana Rail Link is also starting to sell some for scrap.

Preserved SD45 locomotives:

Great Northern 400, named "Hustle Muscle", was the first production SD45. It is preserved by the Great Northern Railway Historical Society, based out of Saint Paul, Minnesota. It was in active service on the Minnesota Transportation Museum's Osceola and St. Croix Valley Railway until it suffered a crankshaft failure in its original 20-645E engine, requiring a replacement engine to be installed. BNSF Railway overhauled a 20-645E engine from a retired ex-ATSF SD45-2 and donated and installed the new engine in January 2019.

Erie Lackawanna No. 3607 is preserved at the St. Louis Museum of Transportation. Restored to EL colors, this unit is a static display.

Norfolk and Western No. 1776, a high-hood unit, is a static display at the Virginia Museum of Transportation.

Northern Pacific 3617 is preserved at the Lake Superior Railroad Museum. It has been restored to active service.

Seaboard Coast Line No. 2024 is preserved at the Southern Appalachia Railway Museum.

Southern Pacific No. 8800/7457 is a static display at the Utah State Railroad Museum.

Wisconsin Central No. 7525 is at the Illinois Railway Museum and is operable. It is one of two WC SD45 units to be painted in an Operation Lifesaver scheme.

Kansas City Southern No. 1200 is at the Rail Museum of Heroica Matamoros in Matamoros, Mexico on static display

Models and Route by: Trainz Store, Auran, and Download Station