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…..

Creating Opportunities

Creando Oportuniades

I’ve had relatives tell me how lucky I am, because my life has been very stable, and in fact when it comes to finances and taking care of my family, I have been very blessed.  To those relatives I always respond with, yes I am, and the funny thing is the more I prepare and the harder I work the luckier I get. Throughout my adult life I have always been fortunate to have pursued a career, while working a family business alongside of that career.  My family has always had all their needs, and many of their wants growing up.  The following is an excerpt from a book that I am writing (working title: East Lincoln):

• Seems that most of my life I've had a special ability to find opportunity where no one else seems to see one, and then make the most of it. A fine example is when at eleven years old, I walked into a new barber shop to get my hair cut. I noticed that the shoe shine stand was unmanned. I asked the barber that was cutting my hair, "Your shoe shine boy didn't show for work today?" He answered no, he is my son and went away to college. I asked if he had someone to replace him with. He in turn asked me if I was interested in the job. He said I could use the supplies that were in place, but would have to replace them as they ran out. In exchange for the opportunity I was to maintain the floor swept. I accepted the job without checking with my mother, but she was very happy for me.

As usual I did the very best job I could do. My customers liked my work so much that they would regularly drop off their dress shoes so I could shine them while they were at work and they would pick them up on the way back from work. I guess I invented the first ever drive-in shoe shine. The barber shop was mid-range as quality went, and I was told to charge 25 cents for a shoe shine and the men would tip between 15 and 25 cents. I was making more money than some adults who worked by the hour.

My new job kept me in spending money and I was able to contribute to the home budget. My mother couldn't believe how much money I was contributing. Waitress pay at the time was $28 dollars per 40 hour week plus tips. I was able to contribute regularly $10 to $14 dollars per week, and more in the summer time during school vacation. As I mentioned before my mother worked two jobs in order to make ends meet. We didn't enjoy any luxuries but we had all the essentials and a few treats now and then.

Throughout my life, I’ve lived with a sense of loyalty to people that treat me right, or extend opportunities that I might not otherwise have a shot at.  In competition, I believe in being fair and up front, whether it be in sports or business.  I once passed up a chance at second place finish in a motorcycle race because I stopped to help a rider that had taken a spill and broke his leg.  I guess I am driven by my conscience, after all I have to live with myself.  The best is yet to come…

Love of all Music

Dance Concerts/Promotions 

My father and mother met over their love of music and dancing, my wife and I actually strengthened our interest in each other over our appreciation of music.  When my mother and father met it was over ballroom dancing to the big famous orchestras of their time.  In Tampico, Mexico the Orchestra they first and regularly danced to was “los Gatos Negros.”  It didn’t hurt that my mother had the looks of a movie star of the era, and my father had a keen eye for beauty.

 

When my wife and I met, I was very much into all kinds of music, but I was at the time heavy into promoting dances (Tejano style dances).  In fact, I was the biggest and best known promoter for five years covering the Northwest (Oregon, Idaho, and of course Washington).  I also was involved in Spanish Radio Broadcasting (I was a popular Locutor – DJ) about to become a regional known DJ covering the above mentioned States, plus Northern California, and Utah.

My favorites at the time were Los Classicos de Roberto Pulido, Los Fabulosos 4, Ramon Ayala, and Cornelio Reyna.  I had first been introduces to Ramon Ayala, and Cornelio Reyna In King City, California, where I saw them perform as “Los Relampagos del Norte,” back in the late 60’s.  Those guys were young, and I was even slightly younger.  I’ll never forget their impressive entrance, as the crowd was looking all over the place to see what direction they would walk in from after they were introduced (outdoor open field), and to the crowd’s surprise they were brought in by helicopter.

 

As a Spanish Radio DJ, I also pioneered music that was not previously played in the Northwest.  I introduced my audiences to Julio Iglesias music (when he was just getting started), also Palito Ortega, King Clave, and of course the up and comers of the time, Los Tigres del Norte, Los Huracanes del Norte.  Amongst the many performers that I brought to the Northwest Dance Promotions are:  Los Tigres, Los Huracanes, Little Joe Y La Famila, Ramon y Cornelio (separately of Course), Roberto Pulido, Carlos Guzman, Los Diablos (From Los Angeles, California), Los Muecas, Los Freddys, Los Bukis (that’s right Anotnio Solis himself), Los Cachorros de Juan Villareal.  I can write a book just about the names that I brought to the Northwest and hung out with.

 

The dance promotions went on every weekend year round even when the nasty winters were upon us.  People still needed a distraction.  There were no Spanish television programs, or movie rentals in Spanish, not much radio programing except the few hours that were provided by people like myself.  I know that many people prefer a quiet life compared to the one I had, but I was able to handle it, and have a great time doing it.  My life has always been exciting, and challenging.  I have many things going for me, amongst them two very important ones are: Whatever you do be the best at it, and equally important, know when to get in and when to exit.  Some people overstay their welcome, and eventually turn into failure what should have been a success.  The best is yet to come….

Killing Kennedy

Kennedy motorcade

Killing Kennedy by Bill O’Reilly is the title of the newest addition to my personal reading collection. I have always had a special interest on anything written about the 35th President of the United States, President John F. Kennedy. Our nation was unified in shock and grief on November 22, 1963. Anyone that lived through that infamous day has the moment etched in their memory, I know I do.

 

Friday November 22, 1963 started like any other Friday, with the anticipation of the weekend to be followed by the Thanksgiving Holiday being the only difference. I don't remember the exact time but I do remember that it was early morning, not long after school started (sometime after 10 am).  I was looking forward to a normal day of classes, and making plans for the weekend when all of a sudden the routine of the classroom was interrupted; The Principal’s voice came over the intercom system. 

Abraham, Martin and John-Dion

There were usually two or three musical notes that preceded the voice message, not unlike a musical doorbell.  This time we heard a crackle over the intercom almost like fumbling with the microphone. That was the first thing that was different about the interruption, the second thing I noticed is that the principal never delivered the message himself.  His voice sounded very different from the person of authority that he always projected. He was almost apologetic in delivering the news, with a quivering voice he began; we just got a report from the school district administration office that our president, President John F. Kennedy has been shot while in a motorcade in Dallas, Texas.  He has been rushed to the hospital and is being attended to.  A short time later we were informed that the president was dead.

 

Everyone in the room was stunned, and some started to cry out loud, even our teacher was shaken and red eyed.  I was supposed to be one of the tough guys in the school, and I couldn’t control the tears welling from my eyes.  I felt lost I didn’t know what to think, and I wasn’t sure what might happen next.  I certainly didn’t want my class mates to see me lose control, and for once I didn’t feel that I had a leadership role in helping bring calm to my fellow students.  A radio was apparently placed in front of the open microphone in the office carrying the news broadcast throughout the school as it developed.

Since I didn’t feel that anyone was in control I left the classroom, walked down the hall and straight out of the building to my car in the student parking lot.  The first thing I did before leaving the area was to find a strong radio station that I could clearly listen to, for the developing story.  My family loved and respected President Kennedy so much that I felt a need to rush home and be near my mother to comfort her.  The 15 miles between town where my high school was and home must have been a difficult drive but all I can remember is that I had tears streaming down my face.  It’s not easy to write this portion because after all tough guys of any age don’t cry.  I arrived home to find my mother crying in front of the television set.

 

The perceived American Dream doesn’t have tragedy of this level in it, so it was a rude awakening for the country and the world.  The next two weeks were filled with being glued to the television set and included the live coverage of the assassination of Oswald by Ruby.  The country since that time has made progress in many areas, including medicine, technology, and space exploration to name a few but I feel that society has regressed in the area of crime and violence in general.  We have become indifferent and much less caring for one another. I know that this terrible tragedy in American History changed me, and I’m not sure that I can explain how.  I guess one way that I changed, is that from that incident on, I always expect the unexpected.

 

I still have high hopes for our country, and believe that our best days are ahead of us, and that is why I always say; the best is yet to come…..

Welcome/Bienvenidos

I have no doubt that my family's life is not much different than all the other families that came to the USA in an effort to live the American Dream.  There are of course differences that make it interesting and good reading.  My immediate family has never followed the agricultural migrant stream.  Back in the 1940's and 1950's on through the 1970's, I was aware of families that still traveled around the country following the crops from state to state as a way of life.  In almost all cases the families had a base (home) that they always returned to. Some of the States that provided the larger numbers of migrants were Texas, Florida, and California.  The destination States are numerous but I am most familiar with Washington State, and the Northwest in general.

My family tree like many others is diverse, and has roots and branches all over the place.  I was born in Tampico, Tamaulipas Mexico, where my mother and father were fairly well of, and when we did immigrate to the USA, it was a joint effort between my father and his family in California.  My father retained legal services out of Monterrey Nuevo Leon, and my California uncles retained legal services out of Los Angeles California. 

• Tampico is a city and port in the state of Tamaulipas, in the country of Mexico. It is located in the southeastern part of the state, directly north across the border from Veracruz. Tampico is the fifth largest city in Tamaulipas with a population of 297,284. The Metropolitan area of Tampico is populated with 859,419 inhabitants. Economic development during the 1920s made the city a pioneer in the aviation and soda industries. Oil is the chief export, but the city also is a major exporter of silver, copper, and lumber, together with wool, hemp, and other agricultural products. Containerized cargo, however, is mainly handled by the neighboring ocean port of Altamira.

 I've learned in life that any effort that involves government bureaucracy, and lawyers, is destined to be complicated and this effort was no exception.  At some point we were told to move closer to the border crossing (Mexicali) because the application for permanent residence was approximately 6 months from approval.  Before I go any further I want to mention that I have a few strong beliefs in mind that pretty much guides my life.  Perhaps my strongest belief is that; "everything you say and do today will come back to you positive, negative or indifferent, but it will come back to you."

The fact that our crossing to the USA was delayed by as much as a year, completely changed the trajectory of our futures.  My life as of the day we left our home to be near the port of entry (which was later delayed) set in motion my destiny for complete and total change from the expectation.  You will want to check here regularly so you can eventually get the whole story.  You will find that my story isn’t very different from your family story, we have infidelity, divorces, death in the family, periods of struggle and moments of celebration.  The big difference may well be that I am taking the time to document our family’s journey.

I am in the process of writing a book about our life as a family, from my point of view, and through my mind’s eye.  The book is into some 180 pages already and is only approximately 30% completed.  The working title of the book is “East Lincoln.”  I am bilingual Spanish/English, but have a preference for communicating in the English language.  Please don’t judge me. I am happily married, and happily retired (retired early).  I enjoy retired life doing the things I like and enjoy doing.  The best is yet to come….