Blocked Calls

By Kiki

My cell phone started barking late yesterday afternoon, so I picked it up to see "Blocked" on the caller I.D. I usually do not answer blocked calls, but for health reasons (old age ailments), I've been spending most of my time in bed, and I could use some amusement to pick me up from my dum-dums; I decided to answer the call. I picked up the horn and responded with a"hello," then a raspy and creaky voice that sounded well polished from too many Bourbon and Cokes and unfiltered Pall Mall's said: "I would like to speak with Frank Baltazar. Is he there?" I said to the creaky voice, "well, that depends on who's calling" The creaky voice creaked. "I think I am speaking with Kiki," I told the creaky voice that he was speaking with Kiki, and I asked, "and who am I speaking with?" The creaky voice then told me his name (real name omitted). I remembered him, but I knew him as "Babe." 

The last time I saw Babe was around the mid-'60s when he did some photo work for me; he is an old acquaintance from Pico who married a girl from Simons. After establishing that I was Kiki and that he was Babe, I had an interesting conversation with many "huh's?" in it because Babe, at 87, and I, at 80, are both hard of hearing due to old age. 

Between "huh's," we reminisce about the pet crow he used to have and the Cushman scooter that, as a teenager, he used to ride and about all the time he spent at my uncle John's house. 

We traded stories about our days in Pico, stories that have changed significantly with time - Babe then told me that he has read most of my stories on my blog (he said he loved my 'Juana the Loca' story)  and wanted to know if I was writing a book. I told him no that I had no plans of doing so. I explained to him that I am not a writer per se and only write as a hobby, "so no book," I again said. - I asked Babe how he came around to get my phone number, and he answered with a classic "I made a few calls"  We ended our half-hour conversation with a "huh?' and plans to get together for lunch soon. Isn't life wonderful?!

80 or 81

By kiki 

Yesterday afternoon while walking out to the mailbox, I found myself walking on unsteady legs. I thought while I reached in and grabbed the mail (bills) 'man, it's a bitch getting old' Looking for a wall to grab onto, but finding none, I instead grabbed the mailbox for support and to steady myself before I started the trek back indoors. Once indoors, I told Connie, who was sitting in her easy chair, "sweetie, I am having a hard time walking; my legs wobble when I walk" With a smile on her sweet face, she said, "well, babe (yes, she called me babe) that's because you are 81 years old" 81! that grabbed my attention real quick, "hold it there woman!" I heatedly protested, "I am 80; I still have a month to go before I hit 81!" "80 or 81, we can all agree that you are old, so what we are arguing here is just how old you are, but instead of arguing, we should think about what to do about it, get you a cane? No, you already have a few of those; how about a walker?" I responded to her with what I thought was a better idea, "how about an electric scooter?" "hell no!" she almost felled out of her chair when I said 'electric scooter' "the way you drive you'll run the dogs and me over. Hence, an electric scooter is out of the question, so go for the walker" Connie is a hard woman to do business with, so I said to her, "Okay, I'll think about the walker. Still, sweetie, I would never run the dogs over" At that, she opened her eyes real wide and asked, "how 'bout me, would you run me over?" And without answering her, I grabbed the wall and wobbled my way to our bedroom. Damn, there goes my custom low riding electric scooter!

Played Like A Fiddle

By kiki

In 1980, my brother Mando, his then-wife Terri, Connie, and I were on a motorcycle road trip, and one late afternoon, we pulled into a camping ground in Old Monterey Bay (California's Central Coast). And after setting up camp, we took the wives on a romantic stroll around the campground, and as we were strolling the campgrounds, we came upon some Gypsies setting up camp. We first noticed their big fancy Cadillac and brand new Chevy pickup truck. It was all good, but we couldn't take our eyes off the truck because there was a massive TV in the bed; it was one of the most prominent color TVs of the time. 

As Mando and I stared at the TV, a Gypsy Cat that was watching the TV while sitting on a chair inside the bed of the truck pointed to a Gypsy kid trying to set up a big tent and said to us, "Hey, boss, you know how to set up that tent?" "Sure," Mando and I responded. So we started helping the Gypsy kid, but soon the Gypsy kid was gone; he was also up on the pickup bed watching TV with his Gypsy brother. As Mando and I continued to set up the tent, the Gypsy Cat would now and then yell at us, "Hey, boss, you need a hammer?" That Gypsy Cat played us like a fiddle Lol!!. As Mando and I (the wives were long gone) walked back to our camp, we kept asking, "Hey, boss, how did that just happen?" Good memories (even if we were played like a fiddle) from times past 

Armando Cotero vs. Sal Flores

By Kiki

I am sure that most of us as boxing aficionados have a fight that we have watched, whether it was years ago, or yesterday that will forever be one of, if not the one fight that you will always say, "that's one of the best fights I've ever seen" - In my 70 years of watching fights I have a few fights that I can say that about. The Basilio/DeMarco fights and the Corrales/Castillo fights, et al. come to mind. But none stick in my mind like the two blood and guts wars Armando Cotero and Sal Flores fought at the Olympic Auditorium back in the early fifties. (watched the first one on TV, the second one live) Flores won both fights by stoppage, but that is not important as both men fought their hearts out as if a world title was at stake. The two journeymen fighters who will never be remembered as great fighters will nonetheless be remembered for fighting two of the greatest action fights ever fought at the Olympic Auditorium.

I was a teenager when Armando and Sal fought those memorable fights, 'memorable? You asked. I have never heard of these two guys; you say,' Well, yes, and that is the beauty of watching fighters fight on all levels for 70 years.

Armando Cotero from Los Angeles via Mexico left us a few days ago at age 88/89. May he rest in peace - Sal Flores, a local boy from La Habra: I have no idea what became of him.

Many thanks to Armando and Sal for their thrills to a young teenage kid who will never forget them.

Taking A Fall

By kiki 

While walking into the house from the patio with a basket full of clean laundry (I do the laundry), I tripped over my camping suitcase. My camping suitcase, which I had yet to completely empty, was on the floor, and as I walked by it, it moved and tripped me (I guess it was pissed off because I was just treating it like an old suitcase). Needless to say, I went down like I had been shot by a 357 pistol ( as I was going down, my dad's face flashed in front of me. He died after a fall). As I Landed on my right side, I bounced off the hardwood floor couple of times. It took me a few minutes to get up - This morning, I woke up with every bone in my body hurting and a few loose screws in my head. A question: will smoking a joint ease the pain and tighten back the screws in my head?

US Constitution and Kneeing in Protest

By kiki 

Here are a few words on my take on the NBA and NFL players taking a knee in protest as the National Anthem is sung. 

I think the black, and some white ones too, players are within their rights (though I wouldn't do it, I would fight to the end for their right to do so) under the US Constitution to take a knee to protest peacefully against what they feel is unjust racist treatment. 

  

President Trump is just pouring gas on the nation's racist flames with his over-heated statements, such as this one "Get that son of bitch off the field right now. He's fired. He's fired!" Trump and others against the kneeing need to sit down and read the constitution: The US Constitution is a unique document that our young men and women have fought mightily and gallantly to defend against foreign and domestic enemies. - Now, as to the people, some are my dear relatives and good friends,  that argue that their sons, fathers, and other loved ones fought wars or are serving in the military and feel disrespected by the players kneeling; they need to understand that they fought/are fighting to defend the same constitution that gives the players the right to protest as they see fit, as long it is done peacefully. My friends, you can not have it both ways; you can not want your freedom and, at the same time, try to take it away from people expressing their views simply because you disagree with their opinions. Unfortunately, some of my friends/family, when they see the folly of their constitutional argument, go by the wayside and fall back on the Holy Bible to try to convince themselves and us of their righteousness. But the founding fathers were intelligent; they knew that religion had no place in our government, thus 'Separation of church and state was inserted into the most significant document ever written by men.

Montebello Junior High School.

By kiki 

In 1950, I entered Montebello Junior High School.

Somehow some of my Vail schoolmates and I got a year behind in our school years. After 7th grade, some schoolmates and I were asked to skip the 8th grade and go straight into the 9th grade. I said yes. My best friend Coy and others said no.

My two years at Montebello Junior High were not very memorable. Besides getting thrown off the school bus for shooting spitballs at the driver, finding a girlfriend that dropped me after a couple of months for a high school guy because he had a car, she told me. And seeing Mr. Martin, our English teacher, and another teacher whose name I can't recall—I'll just call him Mr. Dude—go after another teacher, whose name I can't remember, so I'll call her Miss Dudette. Both were trying to win Miss Dudette's heart. Mr. Martin won out in the end, and he married Miss Dudette.

One day in Mr. Martin's English class, my friend Chano Diaz asked permission to go to the boy's room, which he got from Mr. Martin. On his return from the boy's room and sitting at his desk, Chano bolted up in the air, yelling, "cabron, I am going to kill you!" at me. It seemed like somebody had put a thumbtack on his chair. Why he thought it was me, I've no idea. I was asked by Mr. Martin if I had put the tack on the chair or knew who had done it. I told him, "I ain't squawking." By the end of the class, Chano had gotten over it, and he didn't beat me up, which he could have quickly done as he was a big boy. By the way, Chano is a distant cousin.

The most exciting times at M.J.H. were in Mr. Archer's agriculture class. Mr. Archer had a fenced land plot for his agriculture classes; the lot had a locked gate. Mr. Archer would count the number of students going in at the start of class and coming out at the end. He was short one student coming out; he would look us over and ask, "Where is David?" Nobody would say they knew where David was, so he would send some of us to look for him. Of course, some of us knew where he was because some of us would tie David up in the tool shed during class. We would untie him once Mr. Archer asked for him. Some may say we were bullies, but we were just mischievous. It was all done in fun. Even David used to laugh at what we did to him.

Another fond memory of M.J.H. was trading my lunch with the gabacho boys. At the start of my 7th-grade year, my mom would pack me a "brown bag" lunch with tacos; they are now known as burritos. I would trade the tacos for sandwiches with the white boys. It was a good trade in that everybody was happy. But that didn't last long. About halfway into the school year, I started getting lunch money. Across the school was a mom-and-pop burger joint where we could buy a burger, fries, and a coke for 50 cents, and that's what I had for lunch for the rest of the time I was attending M.J.H.

My two years at Montebello Junior High went by fast. Finally, the spring of 1952 came around, and it was time to prepare for graduation. I needed to buy a suit, but before we could go to a men's store, a tailor making the rounds in Simons came to our door. My mom told him yes that I needed a suit for graduation. "How much?" she asked him. "$50.00," said the tailor. My mom said okay, even though we didn't have the $50.00. With the material picked and the measurements taken, the tailor said he would deliver C.O.D. with a small deposit in two weeks.

My mom then remembered that my paternal grandmother was holding $50.00 from a cow sale for me. "A cow sale?" When I was about 8 or 9, my grandma Lupe gave me one of her calves. After a couple of years, she sold my cow for $50.00 and told my mom and dad that she would hold that money until I graduated. When my mom told her we needed the money for my graduation, she said no, that I only graduated from junior high and not high school. So, in the end, she gave us $50.00 plus $20.00.

With the cost of the suit taken care of, I now needed a shirt, tie, and shoes. I settled on a white shirt, yellow knitted tie, and blue suede shoes to go with the light blue suit that had been tailor-made for me.

Graduation day was in mid-June. Ceremonies were held at Montebello City Park.

We sat on stage, and as our names were called, we walked to the center stage to receive our diplomas from the principal, Mr. Collins. After receiving our certificates, we would coolly walk back to our seats. Mr. Collins' daughter, who graduated with us (I can't remember her name), skipped-hopped across the stage, and after receiving her diploma, she skipped-hopped back to her seat. She had everybody laughing. - With the ceremonies over, it was party time at the Brickyard.

Dreamers

By kiki

Never in my 80 years have we ever had a bunch of: mean, ignorant, inhumane, racist men running our country. To send those "Dreamers," who are Americans for all intents and purposes and who have done nothing wrong, back to their country of origin is genuinely inhumane and heartless. Those Dreamers, some of who have been here since early childhood, and have gone to school here, served in our military, worked and paid their fair share of U.S. taxes, and have lived a high moral life, deserve better from the only country they have really known. Instead, the land they identify with and love is treating them as second-class citizens, which is unacceptable because their parent's crimes of illegally crossing the border are not theirs to bear.

Waiting For Time To Catch Up

By kiki

Earlier this morning as I was sitting outside waiting, as I do nowadays, for time to catch up to me I was reminded by the birds feeding on our bird feeder just how beautiful and precious life really is. Seeing the little birds flap their tiny wings and listening to their chirping songs brought the true meaning of life into focus for me, and realizing that, like the little birds feeding, we are only here for the moment, and that we need to seize that moment in time to truly live and at the same time to really understand what's important in life and what is nothing more than inconsequential drama - Live for the moment as you wait for time to catch up to you!

Feeding The Snails

By kiki

Early this morning when Connie walked out to go to work, around 4:30, or so, I was watering our dried lawn and she asked me "What're you doing?" I told her that I was feeding the snails. As she turned and walked away I could hear her mumbling "crazy old fool, you should be locked up in Norwalk" Sometimes I agree with her with the crazy thing, but doing crazy is fun, my friends.

Eastern Sierra 2017 Trout Opener

By kiki

                                 Bobby with his 3-pound rainbow

While I was anxious to get back home, I was still sad to leave the beautiful Eastern Sierra mountains behind. But rest assured that many great memories, though lacking the funny drama of past years (some of the class clowns didn't make it this year), were made on this 2017 trout season opener. And I tried to record as many of those new memories as possible with my camera for future generations to enjoy. I hope you all enjoy my photos, too - The 2017 trout season opener was one of the most productive openers our group has had in years, especially in the last three years in which we were snowed in for most of our time on the June Loop. Most of the guys caught their limit with some pan-sized fish and some good-sized (above two pounds) rainbow and brown trout.

                             Silent Mike with his 2.9-pound brown

I also had the pleasure of meeting for the first time some cousins from northern, or is it central, California? Either way, it's north of Southern California. Last year I invited my cousin Ernie Adame to join us at the opener. Ernie, whom I had not seen since around 1982, accepted my offer and made the trek to June Lake with his son Jose AKA Ernie Jr. This year, Ernie made the opener with Jose and two other sons Julio and Marcos. And even though they didn't stay in the same cabins we did (they were about 3 miles down the Loop from us), we were still able to spend some time together. I found Ernie's sons to be a chip off the old block: respectful - I would like to thank Ernie, I would be omitted if I didn't, for the tee-shirts that he presented my boy's, and I, with. Thank you, cousin Ernie.

James, with his 2.7-pound rainbow

Vietnam Traveling Wall

By kiki

I saw this gent sitting there deep in thought and it took all the courage I could muster to ask him if I could shoot his picture "sure" he said, but before I could shoot the pictures he removed his glasses and wiped off a tear or two. After shooting the pictures I thanked him for his service and we shook hands. we, two complete strangers also shared a hug.

European fighters

By kiki

For the last three decades, I have noticed that European fighters have come close (if they are not already doing so), to dominating pro boxing. But it wasn't always like this. - If you're old enough to have watched boxing in the 1940s and up to the 1980's you know that the American and Mexican boxers dominated the sport in those years. Then, in the '60s and '70s, the Japanese came to the forefront with some great fighters. But the European fighters were still lagging behind, and why was that? In my humble opinion, it was because they brought their amateur Olympic-style of straight-up, chin in the air, no-body punches, kind of style into the pro ranks. But, unfortunately, that style was not good enough to compete with the great American and Mexican fighters of 50+ years ago. The European fighters only came into their own once they adopted the American and Mexican styles of fighting; now that they have, they are producing some very good, some you could even call great fighters. Just my thoughts.

Speaking Ebonics

By kiki

Back in the early '50s I used to hang out at Dolphins of Hollywood Record Shop, the record shop was located deep in the heart of black Los Angeles, on Central Ave in South Central L.A. - I had made some friends among the brother's that used to hang at the shop, so one time I invited a couple of my white friends from white Montebello to go to the record shop with me and meet with my friends, they reluctantly agreed to go - As we neared the shop I could see my white friends were scared shitless. But once inside the record shop they began to loosen up some. They started talking with my black friends as they looked for some records to buy. After buying some records we all went to a burger stand that was a teen hangout. And after a couple of hours of hanging at the burger stand my white buddies fears had evaporated and they were now jiving with the brothers in their best interpretation of ebonics - On our way home all I heard was "yo brother"

Feeling Hale

By kiki

This morning Connie asked me, “how do you feel today?” She did so because I have been having a rough (health wise) time lately. I told her that I was feeling hale (I lied) and that I was thinking Viagra. She laughed and said “better be careful you crazy old man; because that stuff will get you in trouble” “how so?” I asked her “it will make you blind, and get you arrested for groping other people” Some much for the Viagra!!

El Norte

This story is dedicated to my family, and to some extraordinary friends, some that I've met in Paicines (San Benito, County, Calif.), and others that I already knew from Southern California, and who made the journey to El Norte with us, and, yes, some who came from parts now forgotten. - I've been fortunate to have kept in touch with some, others we renewed our friendships on Facebook and other social media websites. And others are just distant memories. So this one is for you, my family, and friends, and I don't need to put names; you know who you are - And a big shout-out goes out to my friend Phil Rice who edited this story. I know I put him through hell with my Spanglish, but Phil is a good sport and, even with his limited Spanish, did a great job of editing my story. - For those that were there, I hope this story brings back great memories of a time long past, and for those that are too young to have had this experience, well, just close your eyes and imagine your parents, grandparents, great-grandparents doing the piscas.

And while this story is peppered with real-life events, it is still a work of fiction (which means I made stuff up)

                                         Taking a smoke break

By Kiki 

On a Friday in late April of 1952, Manuel Fernandez and Jose Garcia stopped at Chuy's Bar for some beers after getting off work. As they sat at the bar sipping their Eastside Beer, Manuel said to Jose, "Lupe is talking about going to El Norte again; she also said that it would be nice if you and your family would also go."

"Manuel, we don't need to go. We have good jobs at the Simons Brickyard. Why would we wanna go and work so hard for so little money?" said Jose.

"Lupe wants to go because of her mother, la viejita Ana wants to go. Claims that she was a Campesina back in her youth."

"Si, Manuel, la viejita also claims that she rode with Poncho Villa and that Villa had an eye for her. Esta Loca!"

"Si, I know she is crazy, Jose, but Lupe has a good point. She says the kids are growing up and soon will be out of the house and that we can make this like a family vacation."

"Family vacation? Por favor! Manuel, that's crazy. Getting down on your knees and picking plums off the ground—you call that a vacation? But I might be nuts too because I'll talk to Elsa about it." Jose told Manuel as he took a swig of his beer.

The next day as they were having huevos rancheros for breakfast, Jose told Elsa what Manuel had said.

"Good idea, Jose. I would like to go again. It's been what? Five years since we went? Maybe my Mamacita would like to go too."

"Esa bruja? Elsa, you know that she doesn't like me; she always says that you would have been better off if you had married El Guero."

"Cabron! Don't call my Mamacita a witch, and it's not that she doesn't like you. She just thinks that I would have had a better life with Guero."

"A la chingada! OK, we'll go. You talk to la Bruja, and if she wants to go, we'll take her."

Monday at work, Jose told Manuel that he had talked to Elsa and agreed to go, providing that he didn't lose his job at the Brickyard. "We didn't lose our jobs in '47, did we? Let's go talk to the foreman," said Manuel. They found the foreman, Pedro Gomez, napping in the lunchroom.

"Pedro, we need to talk to you," said Jose.

"Si?" said Pedro as he opened one eye.

"We need to take vacation time," Manuel and Jose said in unison.

"What are you two loco's up to now?" asked Pedro

"We want to take the families on a long vacation," said Manuel

"How much time do you need?"

"About two months," said Jose looking down at the floor.

"And you want me to save you your jobs, right?"

"Well, si, if you would be so kind," said Manuel

"Go ahead, I can use a two-month vacation from you two locos. Good luck," said Pedro, never sitting up or opening both eyes.

"Why didn't you tell him we are going to las piscas?" Jose asked Manuel as they walked out of the lunchroom.

Manuel laughed. "The pendejo doesn't need to know where we are going or what we are doing. How come you didn't tell him?"

Two weeks later, the two families got together for a barbecue at Steamland Park in Pico. Jose and Manuel got all the kids together to tell them about their plans for a "vacation."

"Guys, the two families are going on a vacation together this year," said Jose.

Jose's sixteen-year-old son, Johnny—he was not Juan anymore—wanted to know where they were going. "Where are we going, Pops? Hawaii or maybe Cancun? Can I take my girlfriend? I would love to go to either place."

Jose looked at Manuel, Elsa, Lupe, and the two abuelitas and rolled his eyes. "No, Mijo, we're going to las piscas. Remember how much fun you had in '47?"

"That's not a vacation; that's work," said Manuel's seventeen-year-old son, Tony.

"Ya! That's right, it's work," said Rudy, Jose's fourteen-year-old son.

"Look who's talking. You hardly worked in '47, Rudy, and Pops bought you a bike," said Rudy's twelve-year-old brother, Luis.

"Ya! But the bike was stolen two months after I got it, and Pops didn't buy me another one!"

"Well, if you work hard this year, maybe you'll get a new bike," said Jose to Rudy

"These youngsters don't know what hard work is. I remember back in '09 when I was a Campesina, we used to work day and night, all for the revolución."

"Si, we heard that story before, Dona Ana, and how Poncho Villa had eyes for you," said Abuelita Juana to Abuelita Ana as they sip on some Patron.

"He did Juana, but you know how men are, only interested in one thing, I told him 'no'"

By the time the barbecue was over, it was settled, they were going to the piscas. They would be leaving on the second Saturday of July.

Manuel had sold the '38 Ford flatbed truck he drove in '47. Now he was driving a '46 Ford station wagon. Jose was driving his own car this year, that being a '40 Chevy pick-up truck. After getting their vehicles serviced in the first week of July, they were ready to go.

                             Las Viejitas with a young Campesina

II

The second Saturday of July finally arrived. Manuel, his family, and their dog Pinche Perro drove to Jose's house, where they found Jose and his family ready to go.

"Compa, we'll take Highway 99, just like we did in '47, is that okay?" said Manuel.

"Si, that's okay with me. Compa, can my mother-in-law, the Bruja, ride with you?" Jose asked Manuel.

"Why?"

"She doesn't want to ride in the back of the truck. She wants to ride in front with Elsa and me, and all she wants to talk about is Elsa's old boyfriend, El Guero, about the nice cars and home that he has . . ."

"Jose, I wish I could help you, but I got suegra problems too. All la viejita wants to talk about is how she was a Campesina back in Poncho Villa's days and how Villa would make eyes at her. You keep your suegra, and I'll keep mine," laughed Manuel.

The two-car caravan got a late start on the road to what las viejitas kept calling "paradise."

"When we get there, I'm going show you, young whippersnappers, what it means to be a Campesina," Dona Ana said to Manuel's kids as they traveled up Highway 99.

Going up the Ridge Route, Jose's '40 Chevy truck got hot, so they had to stop to let it cool down. Once it cooled down, it ran great, and so did Manuel's '46 Ford station wagon. It was late night when they got to Highway 152. They stopped in Los Banos to get some coffee so Manuel and Juan could stay awake. As the adults sat at the counter sipping coffee, las viejitas, to no one's surprise, slipped shots of brandy in their coffee. The kids found a jukebox with some R & B records from the late '40s to the latest ones. They kept putting nickels into the machine, listening to Lloyd Price, Fats Domino, and Wynonie Harris.

"There they go again, listening to that junk. Don't know what's going to become of this generation; I remember back in my youth, we didn't listen to chingaderas."

"Yes, we know Dona Ana. You listened to classical music," said Manuel to his suegra as he rolled his eyes.

Back on the road, they drove over the Pacheco Pass. They arrived in Hollister at 3 a.m. and still had seven miles to get to Tres Tinos, where Carmen and Enrique Perez with their daughter Ruth waited for them with huevos con chorizo, homemade tortillas, and hot coffee for breakfast.

Enrique and Carmen with Ruth would drive into the fields on a 1929 Ford Model A pick-up truck and sell raspadas to the Campesinos on hot days, and every day was a hot day. Enrique was a big man who weighed close to three hundred pounds. The suspension on the left side of the Model A was broken, so when he got behind the wheel, the truck would lean over to the left side. People wondered how he could even get behind the wheel.

"Are you still selling shave ice cones to the Campesinos?" asked Jose as he ate breakfast at Perez's dinner table.

"Si, la Gente need something cold in these hot days of summer, you know," replied Enrique.

"I hear you all are going to be working in Paicines. That's a good ranch to work at. They have nice little houses, and they have a big one saved for big families. Maybe if you all stick together, you can get the big house," Enrique said to Jose and Manuel.

"Si, that a good idea, Enrique," said Lupe.

"Thanks a lot, Enrique, Carmen, and Ruth, for your kindness. Now we will get to Paicines and get settled in," said Jose.

"Jose, Manuel, tell the foreman—his name is Harry Williams—that I said to give you the big house," said Enrique.

"Thanks, we will," said Manuel.

The families drove the six miles to Paicines right after sun up. Jose and Manuel went looking for the foreman, Harry Williams. They found him opening the general store, which he owned. The store also housed the local Post Office.

"Mr. Williams, I'm Manuel Fernandez, and this is Jose Garcia. We are here to work the harvest. Enrique Perez said that if we, the two families, stuck together, we could maybe get the big house," said Manuel.

"Yes, if the families are big enough, you can have the big house," said Mr. Williams.

"No house is big enough with that Bruja around, El Guero!" muttered Jose, drawing a blank stare from Mr. Williams. "Sorry," Jose added.

"Okay, it's settled. Twelve people and a dog are big enough for the big house. Now let's open you an account here at the store. You buy your provisions here, and at the end of the harvest, we settle up," said Mr. Williams.

After opening their accounts, Jose and Manuel walked back to check the house. As they walked, Manuel said to Jose, "A la chingada, compa, they get you coming and going, que no?"

"Si, but what are you going to do? We are here now."

Manuel and Jose got back to their familias and told them that they would be sharing the big house. Jose and Elsa would have a room, as would Manuel and Lupe. The girls would share one room, the boys and Pinche Perro would share another, and las viejitas would share a room with their brandy or Patron, or whatever their drink of the day was.

They still had a week before the start of the harvest, so Manuel and Jose with Pinche Perro set out to meet las familias already in camp. There were Victor and Josie Cruz and their two sons, Frankie and Raymond, ages seventeen and fifteen; Jesus and Yolanda Gonzalez and their two daughters, Lisa and Carol, ages seventeen and sixteen; Hector and Irma Ramirez, their son Eddie and daughter Dolores, seventeen and fifteen; and Isidro and Hilda Hernandez with their son Danny and daughters Linda and Rosemary, ages sixteen, fifteen, and fourteen, respectively.

As Manuel and Jose walked around the camp, they found Hector Ramirez working on his car. After introducing themselves, they asked what was wrong with the car. "Got a broken piston, and now everybody in camp is calling me El Pistón," said Ramirez.

They left "El Pistón" to walk and meet some more people. As they were walking, they saw a man with two teenage girls by his side arguing with two teenage boys. "I told you boys to leave my daughters alone. I don't want them associating with boys like you. You boys will not amount to anything in life. You will always be working the piscas!" said Jesus Gonzalez. He told the girls, Lisa and Carol, who were crying, to get inside the house.

Jose and Manuel walked up to the boys and asked what the problem was. "Pinche Viejo. He thinks his daughters are too good for us," Frankie Cruz explained.

"Just wait till tonight. The girls will sneak out the window when el pinche Viejo and his pinche Vieja are asleep," added Danny Hernandez.

At night, the teenagers would play records and dance outside, close by the common bathrooms. The boys and girls would pair off to dance to Lloyd Price's "Just Because," a record that they would play over and over again. "Is that the only record they have?" Isidro Hernandez asked as he drank a beer.

Most adults were outside drinking beer, but Jesus and Yolanda Gonzalez and their daughters stayed indoors. Around 11 p.m., the music stopped, and everyone went inside to go to bed—except Frankie Cruz and Danny Hernandez. They walk behind the general store with a few beers to wait for Lisa and Carol Gonzalez. While they were waiting for the girls, Frankie told Danny about shooting a deer two weeks before, said he and some friends went out late one night into the orchards, blinded the deer with the car headlights as it was eating plums, shot it, loaded the deer in the car, and took it to an abandoned farmhouse where they dressed the deer and divided the venison. "Divided the what?" asked Danny.

"The deer meat, pendejo. 'Venison.' That's what it's called," answered Frankie. "Anyway, Danny, this is what I've been thinking about doing. Shooting deer and selling the venison here at this camp and also at other camps. You think you would like to join us? We can make spending money, but you know that it's illegal, and if we get caught, we can be thrown in jail and get a big fine." Frankie also told Danny about how last year, while he and a friend were hunting for deer en El Gavilan Mountain range, they ran into a bracero camp, and one of the braceros told Frankie and his friend about how nice things were at the camp except for the lack of women. Frankie told Danny how he and his friend took care of that problem for the braceros. They went to Watsonville, picked up some of the streetwalkers, and took them to the braceros. Everybody in the bracero camp had a happy face that night.

"Let's do it. The deer, I mean, not the streetwalkers," said Danny as Lisa and Carol Gonzalez walked up. Frankie and Lisa went one way, Danny and Carol, another.

Two nights later, Frankie and Danny went out and bagged a deer, dressed it at the abandoned farmhouse, and the next day went out to sell the venison. They went to Paicines first, and they sold meat to everybody but Jesus Gonzalez and Hector "El Pistón" Ramirez, who told Frankie and Danny, "We don't need to buy from you pendejos. We can get our own deer."

Three nights later, they did get their own deer. They also got arrested. "Los pendejos were dressing the deer right where they shot it, and the game warden snuck up on them and busted them. So now they have to pay a thousand-dollar fine. They are lucky they didn't get any jail time. Now their familias are going to have to work all summer just to pay the fines. I don't know about Pistón, but Gonzalez? Serves him right," said Frankie Cruz to Danny Hernandez.

"Frankie, I don't want to shoot deer anymore. I don't want to hurt mi familia," Danny said to Frankie.

"I'm with you on that, Danny. But, I don't want to hurt mi familia either."

III

On Sunday morning, Jose and Manuel and their families went to Immaculate Conception Catholic Church in Tres Pinos. After mass, on their way back to the ranch, Dona Ana spotted a sign advertising chilies. "Stop, Manuel. Let's buy some chilies, and we'll have chili Verde with homemade tortillas tonight," she said.

Manuel pulled into a gravel road with Jose right behind him. They stopped in front of a barn as a man came out to meet them. He spoke with a heavy Italian accent.

"We want to buy green chilies," said Dona Ana. After selling them the chilies, he asked them if they would like a glass of vino. He didn't have to ask las viejitas twice. In unison, they said "yes!" He invited them into his wine cellar, where las viejitas had a couple of glasses of red wine. He told them that he made his own vino and that they could stop any time for a drink or two.

On the way back to the car, Dona Ana said to Juana, "Did you see the way he kept looking at me? He was giving me the eye."

"Vieja loca. Every man she meets is giving her the eye," Manuel said to Jose.

"I heard what you said, Manuel. You better not repeat it," said Lupe.

Every two days or so, las viejitas would ask Manuel to let Tony drive them to see El Italiano. He would, and they would always come back tipsy.

IV

                            The Paicines Boys and the '48 Mercury

After being on their hands and knees picking plums for two weeks, the boys needed some fun. So on a Saturday night, Frankie Cruz borrowed the family car, a '48 four-door Mercury, to hit the town for that much-needed fun. Tony Fernandez, Johnny Garcia, Danny Hernandez, Eddie Ramirez, Frankie, and Raymond Cruz found a high school dance in Hollister, San Benito High School; the boys were quickly thrown out on their butts. "We don't want no Pachucos here," they were told.

"Why do they call us Pachuco? Don't they know that this is 1952 and that there is no more Pachuco's, man? This not 1941!" said Tony Fernandez.

"Tony, this town is ten years behind times. Did you hear the music they were playing at the dance? Glenn Miller! Can you believe that? Where is "Lawdy Miss Clawdy?" said Eddie Ramirez.

Frankie Cruz wanted to score some beer, which was not hard to do in the wide-open town Hollister used to be. He told Raymond that he would drive since he didn't drink, and the boys jumped in the car as Raymond got behind the wheel. Raymond was only fifteen years old, and it was not every day that he was allowed to drive, so as the boys drank beer, he drove the thirteen miles from Paicines to Hollister four times. Finally, with most of the boys either asleep or passed out from drinking beer, Raymond parked the car in front of their tiny house at 3 a.m. The boys then woke up and went to their respective homes.

At 9 a.m., Abuelita Juana went to wake Tony, Johnny, Rudy, and Luis up. She walked into the boy's room and started yelling, "Pinche Perro threw up in the boy's room," not knowing that her grandson Johnny had vomited from drinking too much beer and that Pinche Perro had nothing to do with the mess on the floor. That afternoon when Victor Cruz went to start the Mercury, the engine wouldn't turn. Raymond had driven the car without oil and burned the motor.

V

In early September, as days had turned into weeks, the harvest was just a week away from being finished. But, first, Frankie Cruz needed to talk to his dad, Victor Cruz.

"Dad, I need some money."

"What do you need money for at this time, Mijo?"

"Lisa is pregnant, and we want to go to Reno to get married before her old man finds out. We don't want to get killed, Pops!"

Victor Cruz went to see Harry Williams and asked for a five hundred dollar advance on his pay. "Mijo, I got some money from Mr. Williams, but you don't need to go to Reno. You and Lisa came of age since we started the harvest, right? So you can get married at the church in Tres Pinos. I'll talk to Lisa's father if it's alright with you."

"I'll talk to Lisa and see what she says."

It was agreed that all three would talk to Jesus and Yolanda Gonzalez. It was also decided not to say anything about Lisa being pregnant.

"Jesus and Yolanda, my son Frankie would like to talk to you," Victor Cruz said to the Gonzalez's.

"Mr. and Mrs. Gonzalez, we are here to tell you that Lisa and I are getting married and would like your blessing," said Frankie.

"Is that right? You, a plum picker, asking my blessing to marry my daughter?"

"Dad, with all due respect, you are a picker, too. Are you saying that Mom shouldn't have married you?" asked Lisa.

"But Mija, our days were different. You see, these are different times."

"Jesus, I married you when my father said you were not good enough for me, remember that? So I'm asking you, as your wife and Lisa's mother, to give these young people your blessing, just like I'm going to do," Yolanda Gonzalez firmly stated. Jesus Gonzalez looked at his wife.

"Si Vieja, I remember your father well. Too well!" Jesus laughed. He walked up to Lisa and Frankie and gave them a big abrazo. "Welcome to the family, Mijo. You both have my blessing."

Arrangements were made for a quick wedding at the Immaculate Conception Catholic Church in Tres Pinos. The lovely couple was attended by a maid of honor, Carol Gonzalez, and best man, Danny Hernandez. A reception for all the Paicines Campesinos was held at Bolado Park. The Italiano was invited to bring some vino, which he did. Sitting at a table with las viejitas, he felt Dona Ana playing footsies with him.

                                      The Paicines Girls 

At the end of the harvest, the Paicines families were ready to get on with the rest of their lives.

The Hernandez's would go back to the San Fernando Valley.

The Ramirez's, "El Pistón," with a thousand dollars less, would go back to Jimtown.

With a thousand dollars less but with a new son in the family, the Gonzalez's would go back to Pico.

The Cruz's had decided against going back to Southern California and would instead go to San Jose.

Frankie and Lisa Cruz would make their home in Hollister.

Jose and Manuel would go back to working at the Simons Brickyard.

Elsa and Lupe would return to being housewives.

Rudy and Luis would get new bikes.

Ana would keep on seeing men making eyes at her. Juana would keep on talking about El Guero. Both would keep on drinking.