Tuesday, March 28, 2017

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!!

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

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.