Cinco de Mayo

Happy Cinco de Mayo Celebration

Every year just as spring like weather starts to be enjoyed in most of the USA (with emphasis on most), people come together to eat, drink and make merry. I thought I would write a post on the subject because there seems to be so much mis-information about what exactly is being celebrated.  The last person I heard tonight about plans to celebrate Cinco de Mayo, referred to it as Cinco de Bud Light.  Two things it definitely isn’t;

• Mexican Independence Day
• The Mexican St. Patrick’s Day

Cinco de Mayo celebrations are probably more popular in the US, than in Mexico, but also very different levels, styles, and reasons for (of) celebration.  One might even suspect that the US beer distributers are behind the hype build-up as the day approaches.  Almost every ad campaign by restaurants and grocery stores, nightclubs etc., involves the sale of alcohol.  Another major push of the celebration is Mexican music, and authentic Mexican food.

Cinco de Mayo has to be the most celebrated holiday, and least understood.  Here are a few facts about the what, where, how and when of Mexico’s Cinco de Mayo:

• Literally Cinco de Mayo means the fifth day of the month of May
• The Celebration is about: the Battle of Puebla, which took place on May 5, 1862. In 1861, France sent a massive army to invade Mexico, to collect on some war debts. The French army was much larger, better trained and equipped than the Mexicans struggling to defend the road to Mexico City. It rolled through Mexico until it reached Puebla, where the Mexicans made a stand, and won a huge victory.
• A common misconception is that the celebrations is about the Mexican Independence. Mexico celebrates its independence on September 16, because it was on that day in 1810 that Father Miguel Hidalgo took to his pulpit in the village church of the town of Dolores and invited all present to take up arms and join him in overthrowing the Spanish tyranny. Independence Day is a very important holiday in Mexico and not to be confused with Cinco de Mayo.
• In Puebla and in many USA cities with large Mexican populations, there are parades, dancing and festivals. Traditional Mexican food is often served or sold. Mariachi bands fill town squares, and a lot of Dos Equis and Corona beers are served. It’s a fun holiday, really more about celebrating the Mexican way of life than about remembering a battle which happened 150 years ago.

Have a happy Cinco de Mayo and remember to assign someone as DD (Designated Driver).  The best is yet to come…

Abuelita (Grandma)

Full disclosure (that's not my abuelita)

Because my mother so loved her mother, many of our vacations were spent at mi abuelita’s house in Mexico.  I have many fond memories of our vacations en el Humo, Veracruz (an island).  What’s not to like, by comparison it would be like visiting your grandmother who lives in Hawaii.

At the age of 8 or 9 years old, there was always someone to take me fishing off of a boat, or one of my uncles would take me for rides on a speed boat.  All I know is that I haven’t seen a speed boat more impressive (other than the ones they used on the TV series Miami Vice).  My uncle’s speed boat had dual outboard Mercury motors.  He could turn that boat on a dime, and go so fast that he could create a large whirlpool.  I remember that he was a daredevil, and would always pull out of the turns just before losing control of the boat.

 

Plenty of wild life, chickens, dogs, pigs, cows, donkeys, goats, etc., etc.  The locals got their drinking water from underground natural springs.  There was a sweet taste to the water.  My grandmother owned and operated a “puesto,” (small general store), and she let me work there whenever we visited.  Her merchandise included: eggs, raspas, sodas, pan dulce, carne seca, especies, Manteca, galletas, dulces, agua fresca, café, leche, and anything you can think of including navajas para resurar (shaving blades-Gillette).  Please don’t think of the bulk purchases we make today.  I am talking about one blade at a time, two or three eggs at a time, and so on.  Maybe that’s where the label convenience store originated.

 

In retrospect, just maybe that’s where my entrepreneurial spirit got its start.  The bottom line is that you couldn’t plan a better vacation for a fast growing city boy.  While on vacation, our most common meals consisted of seafood’ shrimp, prawns, lobster, oysters, fish and crab.  Caldo de marisco was on the menu on any given day.  I remember my grandmother always being apologetic for the poor people’s meals.  I guess she didn’t realize that we couldn’t afford to eat like that in the U.S..  I almost forgot to mention that my mother’s side of the family made their livelihood, from the seafood industry.  I come from a long line of fishermen.

My favorite line is; "give a man a fish and he will eat for a day, teach him to fish and he will drink for a lifetime (just kidding)."  Lo major de los tiempos…..

By Hook Or By Crook

By Hook Or By Crook

After the age of 8 my parents separated (soon divorced) and I was raised by a single mother.  Sound familiar, I guess back than like today it happened a lot.  We lived in Salinas, California when my parents decided to go their separate ways.

Being originally from Tampico, Tamaulipas my mother decided to move to Texas to be closer to her family, while remaining in US to allow me the opportunity to be all I could be.  This post is not about my successful life story it’s about one very small aspect of living with my mother, and how she made the rules to meet her needs.  First of all out of all the cities in Texas, we ended up in Harlingen (no rhyme or reason), without having family or friends there.

My mother was very extremely resourceful, she immediately landed a full time job at a food processing plant (casa fria), and a part time job to make ends meet.  Her goal was to get the best house she could afford in the best neighborhood (safest) she could afford to raise me in.  Unlike many families in similar situations we had one major thing going for us, permanent residency (green cards).

She was determined to make sure I had a college education, and a religious upbringing.  Like many children, I had a sharp mind that was open to learning.  All I needed was a proper atmosphere, and good teachers.  Texas was and has always had a great reputation for a top educational system.  School was a very easy sell for me, I loved learning, and still do.

 

The hook or by crook part also known as the carrot and the stick, was when it came to church.  For example if I wanted to get my fifty cent weekly allowance, and go to the movies on Sunday afternoon, I had to go to church.  Sometimes I would claim to be sick, and my mother would say, fine stay home, but you are not going anywhere else.  All of a sudden I would make a miraculous recovery and go to church.

 

If all went well and I behaved, my mother would take me to lunch at a special tortilleria where they sold menudo, caldo de res, pollo en mole, and barbacoa with rice and beans, and hot tortillas right off the parrilla.

Life was good, but it was even better when I acted like a model child.  El major de los tiempos….

Porque Deje De Pescar

Pescando en el Rio Yakima

 

My fishing experience was very special, for safety reasons it always included family outings.  There’s no way I would be allowed near the river or lake by myself at that age (we are talking nine or ten years old).  My mother was very protective, and possible overly cautious.  I can honestly say that I inherited that from her.  When the family moved to the Northwest from Texas, is when we became (especially me) one with nature (everything and anything outdoors).  I totally identify with the large number of Dallas Cowboy fans, even if my NFL team allegiance belongs elsewhere.  When I lived in Texas, I was so young but already indoctrinated into believing that no other State mattered.  Some of the more popular television programs helped to heighten the hype.  One such program was “Tales of the Texas Rangers,” (1955-59).  There again television programing of the 1950’s and 60’s will be material for another blog posting.

 

I guess the relevance is that in Texas I was a city boy, and when we arrived in Washington State I became a country boy.  The relocation introduced me to my 21 year old step brother that I was meeting for the first time.  I swear if you looked up outdoors in the dictionary, his picture would be there.  He was a hard working foreman at a large farm (approximately 7,000 acres).  I was so impressed with his work ethic, and especially his well-rounded skills.  His truck had a gun rack and he regularly would go pheasant hunting on his way home from work (during open season of course).  He taught me how to fish, how to ride horse, drive tractor, he even introduced me to deer hunting.  I don’t think I’ve ever told him but I owe him a big debt of gratitude for helping me build the foundation that would become the life platform on which I still stand.  That is another great subject for future posting.

 

Meanwhile back at the farm; before I got caught up in the world of work (due to age limitations) fishing was a regular part of my day.  We had ponds on the property that were stocked with fish, and whenever possible we would fish off the side of the river that bordered our property.  I must remind you that we didn’t have Nintendo, Xbox, or any other Game Systems.  We actually had to use our bodies and minds to keep ourselves entertained.  It wasn’t unusual for me to be riding a horse from one pasture to another and make believe that I was being chased by outlaws, or god forbid a band of wild Native Americans (politically correct).  Now back to fishing and the reason I quit.

 

It was a typically beautiful hot summer day with not a cloud in the sky (easy 87 degrees).  The river was as usual running beautifully fast and smooth taking the mountain snow melt right past our property.  The river water level was low typical of the time of year, and there were many boulders that were sticking out above the water level.  Being the adventures type that I’ve always been I took all my fishing gear (tackle box, fishing pole, fish net, some bait, a couple of candy bars, and a soda), and jumped from boulder to boulder until I was half way into the river some 20 feet from shore.  My arms were actually filled to overload.  Approximately three and a half hours later, after catching my limit for the day, I decide to get back to shore. 

 

By now the river level was a little higher and some of the smaller stepping stones were no longer above water, so what had been a fairly easy skip and jump out to the fishing spot was now a larger jump, and jump situation.  You see, when the gap is that far apart, you have to keep your momentum going, to complete the jump.  To make a long story short the last boulder that I jumped on to had a curled snake laying on it enjoying the warmth from the boulder.  In retrospect, it was probably all of 18 inched long, but at the time it may as well have been a python, or rattle snake.  By the time I saw the snake I couldn’t do anything but land on it.  The snake wrapped itself around my ankle, and that night I couldn’t sleep from the experience.  I never went fishing again, unless it was from a boat, and only into my twenties.

 

That is about as big and bad as my fishing story gets.  What’s your best fishing story?  Stay tuned the best is yet to come…..

Tales From the Dark Side

Tales from the Dark Side 

I’ve already established in previous posts that I loved, and looked up to my step-brother and his wife ever since I met them upon arriving in Washington State.  In trying to figure out the reason why I liked them so much, I can come up with one that is definitely a good argument.  Up until I met him, I pretty much went everywhere and anywhere either alone or with my parents.  Alone was always played safe, and with my parents, it was mostly boring (running errands, etc.).  My mother and step father were very nice and loving people in a parent way, but not very exciting.

While the above is a good argument, the real reason I settled on is that they were young and adventurous.  They did all the things that my parents thought were risky or foolish.  My brother loved firearms, and he had a nice collection; 30-30 over/under Winchester, a couple of 22 pump rifles and 3- 22 caliber handguns, a 20 gage and a 12 gage shotguns.  The best part about this wonderful couple; they loved taking me with them everywhere.  We would go swimming, hunting, camping, horseback riding, target practicing, and regularly to car races.

At the age of thirteen my brother and his wife invited me to a carnival at the annual Rodeo and Pow-Wow.  We were having a blast and were almost ready to go home when we decided to make one last walk through the carnival promenade.  As we walked past a group of small mobile trailers a beautiful young woman was standing at the doorway of the Fortune Teller trailer, and I made the mistake (this is Monday morning quarter-backing, talking) of making eye contact.  She signaled me to come to her but I kept walking behind my brother and sister in-law, as we passed by. 

After going past her trailer about 30 feet I suddenly felt my hand being grabbed and tugged at.  I turned around and was surprised to see the beautiful young lady was trying to get me to go with her to her Fortune Teller trailer. Trust me I know it sounds bad, a 13 year old being lured by a beautiful young woman (Gipsy woman no less), but this story is a lot more serious, as you will eventually come to find out.

The slight commotion got the attention of my brother and his wife who were amused to see a woman pulling on my arm.  He asked her what was going on.  Her response was that she had something important to tell me about my future.  My brother asked how much she charged and she said a dollar but I won’t charge him anything.  My brother being the adult and in charge said, let’s see what the future holds for you, it’s not even going to cost anything.

We went to her trailer where I was asked to seat across from her at a small round table.  She grabbed my right hand and turned it palm side up, where upon she immediately started to trace what she called my life line.  I remember staring at her face, not only for the obvious reason that she was beautiful, but as much for the fact that she had a very serious look on her face.  I felt a sense of imminent life changing information about to be disclosed about my future.  There again what could be so important about a 13 year Old’s life?  Please keep a look out for Tales from the Dark side Part 2.  The best is yet to come….

Cocooning

Cocooning

According to an article I read on USA Today (today) I am very cool and trendy.  I didn’t realize that I was living on the leading edge of change.  Cocooning was coined in 1981 and was used to describe individuals or families that felt more comfortable staying at home and bringing their entertainment to the environment that they can control.  Some examples are:  home swimming pools, large HD televisions for viewing sports events and viewing new movie releases at home instead of going out to venues, and one of the biggest is bringing home the always improving Home Game Systems.

I remember having to take my children to the Arcade at the Mall because the early home systems were so primitive, that blinking lights of different colors represented the football teams on the television screen.  We must not forget the very first video game “Pong,” that was supposed to be a game of tennis.  With that game even I could be a tennis champion.

Recent events such as shootings at theaters, assaults at sporting events, and crimes in general are bringing cocooning to a level now being called Super Cocooning.  Fear was never my driver, although recent events are beginning to make me look like a genius for my choices over the years.  My smallest television screen at home is 55 inches and comes with internet technology.  After all how many trips to the local Cinema will it take to pay for the latest technology?

Two tickets for my wife and me are slightly under $30 dollars at least double that cost if you go to IMAX Theater.  The cost of admission to go to the theater is the inexpensive part of the experience, have you tried eating anything once inside. My wife and I can easily spend $40 to $50 dollars by the time we head home.  The abuse is very obvious, and yet we go for it because we are a captive audience.  A 32 ounce soft drink is usually $4 or $5 dollars (3/4 of the 32 ounce cup is filled with ice that doesn’t cost the theater to produce because they have ice machines).

Sporting events are even more outrageous.  The last time I treated my boys to a football game, it cost me over $500 dollars and that was just the admission.  I didn’t enjoy the game because we were sitting next to some very drunk and obnoxious fans.  With a nice setup at home any sporting event can be much more enjoyable, not to mention the up close shots that professional HD camera work can offer with modern day technological advances.

I mentioned the costs of participating in entertainment of any type outside the home, and yet my biggest concern is the level of enjoyment vs. the safety of my family.  I am not suggesting that we drop out of society, simply that we be aware of options, and always our surroundings.  The best is yet to come....

Larceny In My Heart

Larceny in my heart

It is a known fact that we all have larceny in our hearts, at least I’ve heard it said somewhere.  The rumor, if that is all it is, sounds good enough to me for the purpose and title of this posting.

The year was 1963, and summer was the season. A perfect summer day for a drive; I never missed an opportunity to go for a drive in my 1956 Ford Victoria.  I swear I would have lived in that car if only my mother would allow it.  I regularly would ask my mother if she had any errands for me to run, or if she needed to go somewhere so I could drive her there.  The family car was 1962 Plymouth Belvedere Station Wagon with automatic transmission, air condition the whole nine yards as the saying goes.  I enjoyed driving my mother around in it, that is, until I acquired my Ford.

Teenagers didn’t make fun of each other back then for driving the family car even if it was a station wagon.  Besides, this station wagon had a 383 cu. in. V-8 engine that could outrun most anything in town, and I should know.  You could say I was ungrateful to prefer my Ford without air condition during the hot summer days, but trust me when I say that the Glass-Pak Cherry mufflers, more than made up for it.  People could hear me approaching a country mile away, especial that I loved down shifting as I approached stop signs.

But I digress, back to the subject of larceny in my heart.  Before you go off conjuring pictures in your mind of me robbing banks or even gas stations, here is how it went down.  I had a step-brother two years younger than me, and he loved riding around with me.  You can bet that my mother influenced his love for riding around with me.  He was supposed to keep me out of trouble, not to mention tell on me if I didn’t do everything by the rules.

On a beautiful day in June a week prior to the start of cherry harvest my brother and I drove into town to get haircuts.  We also stopped at Western Auto buy leather gloves and couple of straw hats, to ward of the hot summer sun while working outdoors.  Of course we also made a stop at A & W for a grilled ham and cheese sandwich with a frosted large glass of root beer (still my all-time favorite).  On the drive home (we lived 15 miles out of town) is when the dastardly deed took place.

We were driving along the beautiful country roads among the open fields of alfalfa, mint and cherry orchards, admiring the ready to be picked plump purplish red cherries.  I suddenly decided that we should pick a few to eat as we drove home.  My little brother and I pulled to the shoulder of the road and went a few yards into the orchard to pick a handful of cherries.  As we came out of the orchard with my brother holding as many cherries, as he could put in his tee-shirt, which he folded up like a pouch in front of him, we were apprehended. 

Apprehended is an exaggeration; we actually came into the open to find a Sherriff’s Patrol Unit parked behind my car.  We were ready to drop the loot but he told us there was no sense in wasting the fruit, so he allowed us to keep it.  He continued to lecture us about how the farmer wouldn’t be able to make a living if everyone that drove by could just stop and pick some fruit.  As he instructed us to get in our car and go home, he mentioned that he knew our older brother, and would tell him about the incident the next time he saw him.

We learned our lesson, and never again took anything that didn’t belong to us.  We became very appreciative of law enforcement, and probably kept us from bigger jobs like robbing banks.  Our older brother never mentioned it to us, so it was probably just a scare tactic (that worked well).  The best is yet to come…..