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….

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…..

Aha vs. Ha-ha

Aha vs. Ha-ha

Aha moment is the unusual occurrence when things come together to create an awakening, also thought of as the time when the light bulb goes on over your head, after the fact some people refer to it as a stroke of genius.  Not to be confused with opening the door when opportunity knocks.

Ha-ha moments are very frequent occurrences with very little if any value, other than to go through life avoiding ulcers.  You see laughing at life and even at yourself is the opposite of taking life way so serious that you develop ulcers unnecessarily.  I guess if you have never had ulcers you couldn’t appreciate the value of avoiding them.

Once upon a time at the age of 21, I was having a difficult time with life in general; I was holding down two jobs while going to college and being married with a baby girl at home (that little girl by the way will accompany me in completing a couple of items on my bucket list later this year).  I guess you could say that I had symptoms of the beginnings of ulcers.  Eating even a little bit of salad would cause excruciating pain in my stomach, and would keep me from eating even though I was starving.

One day I happen to be enjoying a round of golf with a friend that was finishing medical school, and I decided to ask him for a prescription for my ulcer problem.  Without literally missing a stroke, he said, wait till we finish the 18 holes of golf and I will give you the cure for ulcers over lunch at the 19^th hole (the 19^th hole was the name of the restaurant at the Club House).

I remember that we had lunch and as it turned out I only ordered a glass of milk because my stomach couldn’t handle the food.  As obvious as that would seem we had such a good time discussing the game we just finished that I forgot to ask him for the prescription.  When we left the restaurant we stored the golf equipment in the trunk of our cars and he drove away.

I ran like a crazy guy after his car until he finally saw me in the rear view mirror, and came to a stop.  I reminded him that he was going to give me a prescription for my ulcer problem.  He corrected me and he said I told you I would give you the cure for ulcers, not a prescription.

Here comes the “Aha” moment; He said, “If you have a problem that you can solve, solve it and don’t worry about it; if you have a problem that you can’t solve, don’t worry about it, because all the worrying in the world won’t solve it.”  I was perplexed for a couple of days but then it began to make sense, and I applied that rule of wisdom to all my perceived problems.  Today, some 40 plus years later, I have gone through life without developing ulcer.

I am unusual In that I have gone through life experiencing many an Aha moment, but I probably owe that to the fact, that I am aware of Aha moments, and am constantly on the lookout for them.  I also enjoy my share of Ha-ha moments, but I do take life very seriously.  The best is yet to come….

Why I Stopped Fishing

Why I Stopped Fishing...

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…..

Comic Books

Comic Books

I never thought of myself as a geek, but then again we didn’t have that word in our vocabulary when I was growing up. In 1956 my parents had just separated and were going through a divorce.  My sister and I stayed with our mother and we moved from California to Texas.  All my thoughts were of my parents working out their differences and coming together as a family again.  As I’ve said many times before, this is a subject for another posting.

I needed something to take my mind away from my everyday problems, and it was then that I discovered Comic Books.  Comic books at that time were the equivalent to the game systems of today without the interaction.  However, to be most effective the reader had to have a very active mind.  You see, the comic book storyline was merely the spark that made the mind take over and go beyond the images that were on the pages you were reading. 

I remember vividly that while I looked forward to getting my hands on the next issue, I dreaded finishing the comic because I knew that I would have to wait a whole week before the next issue arrived at the store.  The cost of a comic book in 1956 was 6 cents, I didn’t understand finances back then but I am glad my mother loved me enough to give me a 50 cent allowance per week.  My mother kept busy with two jobs in order to maintain a home in a nice neighborhood where we could be safe while she earned a living.  

Our house was close to school, and about 7 blocks away from a community park where my sister and I regularly went swimming especially during summer vacation from school.   Looking back I can’t get over how much society has changed.  My sister and I could walk anywhere we wanted to without fear of predators, or bullies, but then again neighbors looked after each other.  Our local store where I purchased my comics was a block away from my house, and I would walk there by myself to get my weekly fix.  I had three or four comics that I followed, some were weekly issues and other like Batman was bi-monthly, amongst my favorites; Superman, Aquaman, Green Lantern, and the Flash. I remember that at times I arrived so early at the store that all the publications were bundled, and I was often told that I was the stores best customer.

It’s funny that so many years had to pass by before realizing that I was at the front end of something big.  One of my sons became a fan of comics at an early age and he now attends annual conventions.  I used to take my comics with me when I visited my grandmother and would read them to her; we spent many afternoons together sharing comics. 

Today’s cost of a comic book is prohibitive, for many of the young people that need the distraction the most.  I was lucky that I found an outlet for my challenging times that not only was entertaining and often took me to fantasy land, but it also was instrumental in making me an excellent reader.  I don’t know that everyone would agree, but I feel that reading ability is the key to great performance in the classroom.  There is so much more that I can share about the comic books and my early life.  You can expect a future post on Comic Books part 2.  Just a reminder the best is yet to come….

Budget 101

Budget 101

I was recently standing in line at my Credit Union where my wife and I have been members for some 25 plus years.  I started paying attention to the television monitor on the wall behind the counter where the cashiers are seated.  There are mostly news articles but every so often they make a mention about other services that are offered by the Credit Union.  The one ad that I am about to address is going to save my wife and myself and at this point at least 10 other families untold amounts of money. What I am about to tell you will most likely surprise you.  Paying attention to the monitor reading the article and following up on it will save my wife and me over $120,000.00 over the next 30 years. I know I still can’t believe it either.  You hear all this talk about home refinancing, but half the time you can’t believe the hype. 

A large percentage of home mortgages end up owned by Fannie Mae, or Freddie Mac (government agencies). The way it works:  banking institutions like Wells Fargo, Bank of America, Home Street, Credit unions, etc., promote their mortgage departments, and once they have a customer, they package a bunch of loans and offer them to Fannie Mae or Freddie Mac for sale.  There is a lot of money to be made over the term of the contract, just by looking at my savings and you know they are making more off of me than I am saving.  The problem for the smaller institutions is that they have to hold on to the mortgage for the length of the contract to realize the big profit.
By selling to the government agencies, they can make a quick sum for the sale and free their own money to keep financing homes.  What you need to know is that at present the interest rate is hovering right around 3.5%, so if you have a rate higher than say 5 or 6% you would save as much or more than I did.

There is a catch, you do have to qualify; make sure your mortgage is financed by one of the government agencies mentioned above (even if you are making your payments to Bank of America for example), and your income to debt ratio has to meet the requirement.  You don’t have to have positive equity but if you do it still works, this program is for people that are in trouble with their mortgage, but even if you are not you can qualify.  It’s worth checking out.
Just to tie this post to the blog theme, I will share something from the past.  The first home I ever bought was in Eastern Washington in 1971 and I bought it for $21,500.00.  The following are statistics for life in in the US (1971):

Cost of Living 1971

How Much things cost in 1971

Yearly Inflation Rate USA 4.3%, Year End Close Dow Jones Industrial Average 890 Average                                                         Cost of new house $25,250.00, Average Income per year$10,600.00 Average Monthly Rent $150.00 Cost of a gallon of Gas 40 cents Datsun 1200 Sports Coupe $1,866.00 United States postage Stamp 8 cents Ladies 2 piece knit suites$9.98 Movie Ticket $1.50

As we use to say back then put that in your pipe and smoke it.  Remember the best is yet to come….

The King of Rock & Roll

Elvis Aaron Presley
The King of Rock & Roll
Born: 1/8/1935 Tupelo
Height: 6'0"
Died 8/16/1977

Songs, albums, and movies too many to mention on this blog (this won't the last post on this subject).

Anyone can Google Elvis and get enough material to choke a horse. As usual what you are about to read is my first hand experience and perspective. Before today, you couldn't read this information on the Internet.

September 9, 1956 was the first appearance of Elvis on the Ed Sullivan show. I will never forget that event for the impact that Elvis made in the music world, but equally important I will always remember because at that very young age, I experience mass hysteria. 1956 was one year before my family bought our very own black and white Phillco television set. Due to that fact we used to go visit with a family that lived a half block away most every Sunday after early dinner, and catch a couple of television shows with them. I loved going because they had three daughters and a son. One of the girls was my age (Norma), and the other two girls were teenagers 13 and 16. The son was younger than me by two years, and he kept telling me that Norma liked me. I guess it was an ego builder nothing else.

On the night of the Elvis performance, Mr. Sullivan was in the hospital due to a car accident during the week prior. Some performer from England stood in for him. For this particular program the girls had invited about 6 or 7 of their close friends. When Elvis was introduced all the girls started screaming and pulling their hair, it seemed fake except that they all had tears streaming down their faces. I was amazed at what I witnessed, and it took me a long time before I could make sense of Mass Hysteria. That day Elvis performed Ready Teddy, and Hound Dog. I went on to become a devoted fan of Elvis (to this day). I even traveled to Las Vegas specifically to catch his performance in 1975 at the La Vegas Hilton. I wish I had saved the ticket stub, but how was I to know that he would die within two years.

When I arrived in Washington State from Texas, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that my new sister-in-law was also an Elvis fanatic. She had the full Elvis collection, which at the time consisted of five albums (1956-58)

Another sad note: my wife and I were married in 1977, three months after getting married we were driving the highways of Easter Washington when a song was interrupted to report that the King of Rock & Roll had died. I felt a sense of loss almost as if I had lost a close relative. In the future I will also post about other great artist, and even attempt some music comparisons across the time spectrum. Do you have any special memories or stories of Elvis? Stay tuned the best is yet to come......

Mother vs. Hulk Hogan

Mother vs. Hulk Hogan

I could give many examples of my wife’s love for me, but none is more significant than when she asked me if we could invite my elderly mother to come and live with us after her divorce from my step-father.  In all honesty I kind of longed for that type of arrangement, but I wasn’t about to impose that on her.  Again showing grace beyond belief she worked out chore responsibilities with my mother to make her not only feel welcomed but also a working part of the family.

My mother having a reputation for being a great master of the kitchen was assigned the chef duties and my wife handled everything else.  I of course was in hog heaven.  I ate the foods I enjoyed growing up, plus I had my whole family under one roof to look after, and provide for.  I’m sorry to say that the arrangement lasted no more than six or seven months.  We began to notice that my wife and I were gaining weight quicker than ever before, so my wife rearranged the duties and mother came out of the kitchen.  To be sure my wife cooked with healthy eating in mind, while my mother just made sure that the food was finger licking good.

My duties now included entertaining my mother and it involved the following, but not limited to: maintaining her in a supply of yarn, and materials for other crafts that she and my wife shared, including embroidery.  All those crafts after a while were not enough so I made the mistake of introducing my mother to Bingo at the local Casino.  We got lucky almost immediately, and before you knew it we were playing bingo on an average of 3 times a week (about two hours per outing).  It didn’t help that we lived less than a couple of miles from a very popular casino.

Another big interest of my mother’s became the WWF (later changed to WWE).  Most all the wrestlers were her favorites, Hulk Hogan, Macho Man “Randy Savage,” Kamala the Butcher, Jake the Snake, on and on.  I actually took my mother to some live wrestling matches at a nearby Domed Arena, and she had the time of her life.  There is a big reason for the build-up on the WWF.

The following year my mother for a short period of time seem to act a little depressed, so I came up with a great idea to bring her out of it.  I contacted my grandmother in California whom my mother had always maintained a close relationship with, and invited her to come to the Northwest and visit for a week.  Due to the fact that my grandmother was already in her 80’s, I also invited my grandmother’s daughter (my only aunt from my father’s side of the family).  After purchasing two round-trip airplane tickets for them, I had to make up a story so my mother would accompany me to the airport without giving away the surprise.

I told my mother that Hulk Hogan and a bunch of other wrestlers including Macho Man, and his manager Ms. Elizabeth, were coming to town for a Main Event, and that they would be arriving by plane at the airport.  I further told her that a friend gave me inside information and that we could go see them arrive and get their autograph.  Mother cheered up at the thought of meeting the Hulk, and Macho Man in person.

Once at the airport, the flight I was expecting (prior to the security restrictions of September 11, 2001), arrived and we were sitting nearby watching everyone come out of the tunnel.  I told mother to keep her eyes focused on the people coming off of the plane.  I was expecting that she would see and recognize my aunt and grandmother, as they entered the terminal.  When I saw them and they saw me, they walked towards and stood right in front of us, but my mother didn’t even notice them.  She was trying to look around them still looking for Hulk Hogan.  I finally said mom look who is here, she was filled with joy and stood up and hug them both, but as soon as she could she turned to me and in a low voice asked me; “Does that mean that Hulk is not coming?”  The following week was the best ever for catching up, adding details to the family tree project, and just plain fun.  That would also be the last time that my mother, grandmother and aunt would visit together.  I guess I did do a good thing after all.  Stay tuned the best is yet to come……

Latin Oldies but Goodies

El Charro de America

 I enjoy all music styles but I must admit some of my very favorites are of days gone by.  These beautiful music I speak of is never going away.

Some examples are: Ella, En Mi Viejo San Juan, Cancion Mixteca, Uste, etc., etc.  My mother and father’s favorites were Historia de Un Amor, Cien Anos, and Tampico Hermoso.  Some of their favorite recording artists were Jorge Negrete, Pedro Infante, Lola Beltran, Jose Alfredo Jimenez, Libertad La Marque, Agustin Lara, etc.

·       Pedro Infante nació el 18 de noviembre de 1917 en Mazatlán, Sinaloa — murió el 15 de abril de 1957 en Mérida, Yucatán, fue el actor y cantante mexicano más famoso, carismático y publicitado de la época de oro del cine mexicano, así como uno de los más grandes representantes de la música ranchera. 

·       A partir de 1939 apareció en más de 60 películas, y desde 1943 grabó aproximadamente 310 canciones. Por su actuación en la película Tizoc (1956), fue acreedor al oso de plata del festival internacional de cine de Berlín al mejor actor principal, y al premio globo de oro a la mejor película extranjera, otorgado por la prensa extranjera acreditada en Hollywood, premio que ya no tuvo la oportunidad de recibir. Los mariachis de antaño lo recuerdan porque siempre tuvo mucho cariño por sus músicos, sus mariachis.

I enjoy Trio music like Los Panchos, Los Dandys, I also appreciate the Merengue, Salsa, Bachata, Corridos Nortenos, Polkas, Huapangos, Cumbias, Rock, Baladas, y Boleros.  I am in the planning process of starting a Podcast for Spanish music.  I can picture a romantic half hour once weekly, and a separate half hour also once weekly with just a mix of music from our younger years.  Stay tuned for additional information.

Once music gets into our blood, you are stuck for life.  At about twenty years of age I got real lucky and was hired at a (24/7) Spanish Language Broadcasting Radio Station in central California.  I started out as a copy person translating Associated Press news into Spanish for Broadcast, and eventually worked my way to reading the news on the air, with my own air time on the weekends.  I’ve been involved in the music business in one way or another ever since.

My music involvement has been from owning music stores, to promoting recording artists in concerts and dance venues, to owning a multi-system wedding Disc Jockey service.  All my entrepreneurial efforts have been successful, but all businesses reach a point of saturation or completion.  My longest effort was the multi-system wedding Disc Jockey service.  I owned it and successfully operated the enterprise for 22 years before I sold it.

My life like everyone else’s life has had ups and downs, but you have to remember that you can’t enjoy the highs if you never have experienced lows. Having gone this far in life, I wouldn’t change anything if I could.  The best is yet to come…..