Happy Birthday, Mija

Happy Birthday, Mija; we wish you well, and may you have many Happy Birthdays after this one.

By kiki

On August 21, 1956, our beautiful daughter Linda was born after nearly two years of marriage. I vividly remember picking Connie and baby Linda up from Los Angeles County General Hospital with my late sister Mary Ellen's then-boyfriend, later husband, Danny, and goofing off like kids in the hospital hallways.

I have so many fond memories of Linda growing up, but one memory embedded in my mind is when Linda was about two years old or younger. One Sunday afternoon in the days before child car seats and seatbelts, I took Linda out for a spin in my '46 Chevy, just her and me. 

Linda was standing up on the car's front seat as we were cruising and listening to some tunes in Pico Viejo. I would like to think that we both were rocking out to the Rock & Roll music blaring out of the car radio, but Linda was too young to understand the concept of that new music called Rock & Roll, or any kind of music for that matter.

As we were cruising; a stray dog cut across us, and I had to slam the brakes to keep from hitting the dog; as I did so, Linda went flying forward; I tried to grab her to keep her from hitting the car's dash but was too late. I noticed a bruise on her right eye as I gave Linda, scared and crying, a good look to see if she was hurt. I got her home, and before I had a chance to explain, Connie wanted to kill me, my aunt Tillie came over, and she tried to kill me; heck, everybody wanted to kill me! All the time, I was yelling at everybody, "no fue culpa mia, fue culpa del pinche perro" (it wasn't my fault, it was the freaking dog's fault), but nobody was listening. I'd survived the killing machine. But my baby had a black eye for a week or so. I have so many memories of Linda as she grew up, but I will take this one to my grave with me. Happy Birthday, Mija, We Love you!!

Through good and bad times, Linda, who has fought a great fight against cancer, has grown up to be a proud mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother in her own right.