"That's If You Make It"

                                                      By kiki

I reminded Connie that Christmas was just around the corner. Then I mention that our 60^th anniversary and my 78^th birthday are also coming up next month “it’s really going to be 60 years?” she asked me, I said “yes, babe, it will be 60 years that we married” “60 years, no wonder I look old and wrinkled” she told me “you old and wrinkle, what about me?, I’m going to be 78 years old”  “that's if you make it” my beautiful and funny wife told me…

Memories of the El Monte Legion Stadium

This story is fiction, but just because it never happened doesn't mean it isn't true.

By kiki                                                                                                                      

In 1955, you and your buddies arrived at the El Monte Legion Stadium dressed in your best threads. After parking your 1938 Chevy, you made your way to the cashier window and paid your 6 bits; you entered the stadium and looked for that girl who would be the best-looking there. You spotted her just as The Penguins, life, on stage, started singing Earth Angel. You asked her to dance, and she said yes; you took her by the hand and led her to the dance floor. You put your hand around her waist and drew her closer to you; you whispered sweet things in her ear as your hand started sliding down her backside "bam!" she slaps your hand and tells you, "stop it, I'm not that kind of girl" you asked her "what kind of girl are you?" "I'm a good girl," she replied "well, be good to me," you counter. She pushed you away and walked off the dance floor, leaving you looking like a fool. After a couple of more songs, you approached her and apologized to her, she accepted your apology, and you two danced the night away, and within two years, you were a man and wife.

“You’re a Curmudgeon”

By kiki

Last night as Connie and I were sitting up in bed we started going back and forth over nothing important. But at some point our give and take started to get heated and she started getting annoyed, I could see it on her face, and her eyes told me that I was not doing right by her, I do have to admit I can be annoying at times, like when I talk too much without making any sense.

“You’re a curmudgeon” Connie yelled at me

“A what?”

“A curmudgeon” she replied

“What the heck is a curmudgeon, and how the heck do you pronounce and spell it? Spell it out for me so I can look it up in my pocket dictionary” I asked her

“c-u-r-m-u-d-g-e-o-n” she very scholarly spelled it out for me

I took out my pocket dictionary and punched in the word, and the tiny dictionary told me that I am a “bad-tempered old man” really? And all the time I thought I was a cool dude!

“Hey, where did you get that word, you been reading behind my back or have you been talking to my friend Phil Rice? Now Phil would know that word” I was now mumbling

“Y' know how you always like to say ‘I ain’t squawking’? Well, I ain’t squawking!”

“That doesn't sound too scholarly, dear” that was the only thing that popped in my mind to say to her as a fast comeback

“Curmudgeon,” she said as she popped her head on her pillow, and with that, she was in dreamland.

1973: Ensenada, Baja California, Mexico

                                     Frankie (Fernie) Baltazar

By kiki

In the late spring of 1973, I received a phone call from a representative of the I.Y.B.C. The International Youth Boxing Club, located in Montebello, CA., was a youth organization headed by Southern California boxing figures such as Rudy Jordan and Mando Muniz.

The caller explained that the I.Y.B.C. would host a boxing meet between an Ensenada, Baja California, Mex.-based team and local amateur boxers. The caller asked if I would allow Fernie to fight in the 125-pound class. Fernie, at age 15, had just come back from a two-year layoff to fight in the Junior Golden Gloves, which he won against Francisco Flores. After being told that the event would occur in ten days at the I.Y.B.C. gym, I okayed Fernie's partaking.

I only remember a little about the other fights because I was focused on Fernie's fight. Fernie's opponent was a dead-ringer of a young Mando Ramos in facial looks and boxing style. Frankie won an exciting, hard-fought three-round fight by U.D…After the bouts were all fought, and as we enjoyed a beer or two with our Baja California counterparts, they invited us to Ensenada to do it all over again. They made a point about Fernie fighting the Mando Ramos lookalike again, and we accepted the challenge.

                                      Ensenada, Baja California, Mexico

We were told we would be at a private Ensenada Beach campground during the event. Owning a motorhome at the time was something we were looking forward to.

With my boxing partner John Martinez, his wife Bea, Fernie, our daughter, Linda, and Connie, and me behind the wheel of our motorhome, we left La Puente on Thursday afternoon (fights were scheduled for Saturday night). We arrived in Tijuana two and a half hours later. After doing a little shopping and having dinner, we left Tijuana on the Tijuana/Ensenada toll road, and a toll road it was; it seemed like every five miles, we had to pay a toll. We arrived at the gated beach campground around midnight. Standing in front of the gate was an armed sentry. With a rifle across his chest, he stopped us at the gate; I rolled my window down to tell him we were with the boxing club, and to my surprise, I found the young sentry mentally challenged. Why is this fella allowed to walk around with a loaded rifle? Well, we later found out that he was the owner's son. While parking the motorhome on the beach, I told everyone to stay out of the sentry's way and not forget that we were in Mexico and had to obey their laws. We spent Friday taking in the sights, eating and drinking a Mexican beer (Bohemia) here and there. By Friday afternoon, the rest of the team had arrived; I am trying to remember who else was on our team; the Montes were there, unsure if both Herman and John fought. I remember that Eddie "Animal" Lopez was there; not sure if he fought, though; he might have been a pro by then and was just along for the ride. We had a big beach fire; we sat around the fire, telling fishing lies and drinking a beer or two.

Weigh-ins for the fights were early Saturday morning. Fernie and the Mando Ramos look-a-like weighted in the low 120s. After the weigh-ins, we had a Mexican breakfast at a local restaurant. Fernie had a mid-afternoon dinner of seafood. It was soon time for us to make our way to the arena. Fights were fought before a packed auditorium, but I was focused on Fernie's fight; I can't tell you who fought them. Fight time! We entered the ring first; Fernie's opponent entered it a few minutes later, but it was not the Mando Ramos lookalike! I looked at the guy and told the referee that that was not our opponent, and the guy had to have been in his mid-20s. I looked around the arena and spotted Mando Ramos's twin with gloves on and leaning against a back wall. I told the referee as I pointed to the guy, "that's the guy we are fighting, or we won't fight. The "old" guy, probably a pro, walked out of the ring as the twin walked in. They were trying to put a ringer in with Fernie!... The fight was give-and-take for the first two rounds, but Fernie pulled it out by scoring a knockdown in the third and final round of a great amateur fight. After the fights, it was party time at the beach fire. As we were bullshitting around the fire, we spotted two horses with riders making their way in the dark toward the fire. The horsemen were Fernie and Eddie "Animal" Lopez. I asked them, "what the hell are you two doing? Don't you know that they still hang horse thieves in Mexico?" They jumped off the horses faster than you can say "horse thieves" and gave the horses a slap on the ass. It's a good thing the "Rife man" wasn't around to see our horse "thieves"; otherwise, we would have had to attend a hanging…Sunday, as we drove back home, I noticed Fernie rubbing his neck; he said to no one in particular, "we don't need to stop in Tijuana" We arrived home alive and well.

Wicked Sense of Humor

By kiki

Wicked Sense of Humor

Back in the ’90s, the company Connie worked for relocated to Tijuana, and she was offered a job transfer; I had just retired, so she accepted the transfer, so we moved to San Diego to start a new chapter in our life story. One early morning after Connie had left for work, I rode my Harley to a nearby gas station convenience store to buy the Los Angeles Times. Working the counter was a young girl, in her early 20’s I would say. Behind her on a counter were the condoms. I asked her for a pack of Trojan Condoms, and as she turned around to get them, I said, “extra-large, please” she made a fast turn-around and looked like she was going to faint, so I right away said, “I am just kidding, I don’t want condoms, especially extra-large.”

Lena - Joe and Johnnie

By kiki

The late Los Angeles boxing trainer, Johnnie “Mr. Golden Gloves” Flores, once told me a story about how he met the beautiful actress/singer Lena Horn. 

Johnnie’s story: soon after WWII ended, Johnnie was in a fancy restaurant in New York City with WWII buddy, longtime heavyweight champ Joe Louis. And according to Johnnie, both he and Louis were broke. So they were sitting there trying to figure out how to pay for dinner when Lena Horn and a friend walked in. Louis stood up and invited Horn and her friend to his and Johnnie’s table, and as he was doing so, he told Johnnie to order anything he wanted.

They all had a fancy dinner with fancy umbrella drinks. After dinner, Louis asked the waiter for the check, which he got; he then proceeded to check it out real good, making sure they were not over-charge; after making sure they were not, he handed the check over to Lena Horn, telling her “take care of this and don’t forget to tip well.”

Simons, California

Simons: to the outsider, was no more than a shantytown slum. But to the inhabitants, especially us kids when we lived there, it was heaven. - kiki                 

                                            My home town

        An excerpt from ‘The Brick People’ by Alejandro Morales

“Mr. Simons made it happen. Everything is his. The store, pool hall, post office, movie show, bachelor’s cabins, Vail School, the library, the church, the water tower, the electricity, the clinic, the trains, the machines, the lots. The houses, unpainted and battered by the weather, the walls of scrap lumber, barely standing together, all the same; two, maybe three bedrooms, a kitchen and small living room, no bath, no toilet. Some had been there for thirty, forty years, but they’re clean on the inside and the outside, pretty garden, lots of plants. It’s not too bad, it’s not too good. It was planned by Mr. Simons and the City.

Simons was built at just the correct distance from Montebello to discourage the Mexicans from going into town. It was logical to have a separate school, church, and other conveniences. The Simons Mexicans were to live, work, play, worship, and trade apart, at a safe distance from Montebello. When Simons was established it was never proposed that the company town be a part of Montebello, or for that matter any city. It was understood that the Mexicans were to remind apart in every way”