The “Earl of Tennessee” is another adult neighborhood character, almost as sad in his own way as Ruthie in hers (and Esperanza, who sees Rosa Vargas’ sadness clearly because Rosa herself sees it so well and with such vehemence, is only beginning to recognize sadness in these other adults). Earl is a lonely man, living alone in a damp basement, where he listens to country-and-western records that have been discarded from the jukeboxes he repairs for a living. He works nights—a standard shift for men in his trade, who get calls from bars where the patrons complain loudly and bitterly if their jukebox is out of order—and takes his two little dogs with him for company. He is kind to the neighborhood kids, giving them records and only occasionally coming out in the daylight and telling them to pipe down. And, on occasion, he brings a woman home during his off-duty hours, hurrying her into his apartment and not staying long. Esperanza, assuming the woman is his wife, is puzzled that no one who sees them together can agree on what the woman looks like. It has not yet occurred to her that each of them has seen a different woman.
Sire is an older neighborhood boy whom Esperanza is attracted to. She has been afraid of him, as young girls often are of the boys who stare at them; this is not fear of what he might do to hurt her, but rather the intimidation one feels when one is looked at in the way that Sire looks at her. “Sire” is probably a nickname—perhaps taken from a movie, for the word is an archaic form of address for a man of authority. It is also a word that means father. Characteristically, Esperanza refuses to be intimidated; still, Sire bothers her, and the fact that her parents don’t like him probably has an effect opposite to their intent. On the other hand, she doesn’t seem to be jealous that Sire has a girlfriend, a dainty girl who lets Sire tie her shoes. Esperanza fantasizes what it would be like to be that girl, what it would be like if Sire were to kiss her. Since Esperanza’s first kiss from a man was forced upon her and must have been unpleasant in the extreme, her interest in Sire is a hopeful sign that she has recovered—or will soon recover—from that insult to her young womanhood.
A recurring image in The House on Mango Street is that of a woman at a window, leaning on her elbow, watching the world outside her house or room. We see it first in “My Name,” where Esperanza says she doesn’t want to “inherit” this position from the great-grandmother whose namesake she is. It is the image of a captive, someone inside looking out, someone taking the world in through her eyes. Later Esperanza will associate this image with “Rapunzel,” the fairy-tale princess whose lover reached the tower where she was imprisoned by climbing up Rapunzel’s long hair. The women in Mango Street who assume this position are sometimes married, but they all seem to be, like Rapunzel (and like Marin, who stands in her family’s doorway), waiting for someone to come and change their lives. Now, in “Sire,” Esperanza herself leans out her window, wishing she were older and could stay out at night. She wants to be rescued from her tower, taken away from the parents who think boys like Sire are “punks” and girls like Lois, his girlfriend, sluts. Traditionally, that kind of rescue is by a young man; this is the way Esperanza’s thoughts are now turning.
And, in “Four Skinny Trees,” still leaning out her window, Esperanza is overtaken by a wave of adolescent angst, which she survives by almost literally seizing the branches of the four trees growing from the sidewalk in front of her house. As a poet, Esperanza may feel more than others a need to associate with natural beings; she has spoken of this need in “Darius and the Clouds,” and it is true that in many cultures trees are special creatures, full of spiritual meaning for human beings. This too seems to be a sign of Esperanza’s emotional health, for she is able to project her feelings of alienation, anger, intensity, and need for secrecy onto the trees, while taking from them their strength, determination, and deep-rootedness.
