Author: David Diego Rodríguez, Ph.D.

I teach Spanish and I am a standup comedian.

Día de Acción de Gracias


Back of the Yards, Chicago, Illinois

Happy Thanksgiving! I’m about to go out to a Thanksgiving dinner. While others are busy preparing for this cornucopious feast by shopping for groceries, cleaning the house, or cooking dinner, I’m, I’m–well, I’m busy writing my blog entry for today. However, I will buy an alcoholic beverage so I don’t arrive empty-handed at the Thanksgiving dinner today. I will also participate in the festivities by attempting to drink most of it. I love Thanksgiving because, well, because of all the food. Oh, yes, and the people with whom I eat and talk.

I always fondly remember my childhood Thanksgiving dinners at my tío Simón and tía Mari’s house. My father had a very large family, so the house was always packed with people, most of whom were related to my aunt and uncle somehow. Some of the others included friends of the family and neighbors past and present. My aunt did most of the cooking herself. She was an excellent cook! And there were never any leftovers!

As soon as people starting coming in, my aunt would start serving the food because there no possible way for everyone to sit down at the same table, at the same time to eat dinner. We had to eat in shifts and you didn’t want miss your turn because all the food would be devoured if you devoted too much time to your Margaritas. My parents in particular loved going to this dinner because this was the time to catch up on all the latest family news. My brothers and I loved going because we got to play with cousins we rarely saw. To this day, I love going to family parties because I always meet someone new who turns out to be related to me in some remote way.

Thanksgiving dinner was a special family occasion, so we had to dress up in our best clothes, something I hated to do because we’d get in trouble if we dirtied or ripped our clothes while playing. One year, my brothers and I actually wore suits and fedoras to the Rodríguez family Thanksgiving dinner. My grandfather had died the previous August and my mother said we had to wear suits to his funeral. So my three brothers and I went to Meyer Brothers on 48th and Ashland Avenue in Back of the Yards where she bought us all matching suits on credit. Since my mother had spent so much money on those suits, she would make us wear them for every special occasion, which eventually included going to Sunday mass.

DDR

Allow me to traduce


Mercy Hospital Emergency Room, Chicago, Illinois

Be careful with those translations! While I was still a police officer, I would have to take people to Mercy Hospital for medical treatment. Of course, that meant I spent plenty of time waiting in the triage area of the emergency room.

Since I love to read, I would read everything in sight. One notice to patients who were signing in always bothered me. In English, it read: “Attention. Please take a form from the basket and fill out completely. When finished place face down in completed basket.” Okay, the notice wasn’t exactly written in perfect English, so perhaps that’s why the translator had difficulty translating it into Spanish. However, no matter how many times I read the Spanish translation, I could never make any sense of it. And no one ever bothered to correct it.

Finally, after reading it for two years or so, I wrote it down: “Atención. Por favor tome un formulario en blanco de la cesta y llénese completamente. Cuando en el lugar terminado confronta en la cesta completada.” How, I wondered, did the translator arrive at this translation? And, what were the translator’s qualifications?

This reminds me of my Spanish student Elwood Chipchase who one day began telling me about July Churches. He was going on and on about July Churches and I had no idea what he was telling me. Finally, I had to ask him, “What are you talking about?” Well, it turns out that I didn’t understand him because he had translated the name of the Spanish singer Julio Iglesias into English!

DDR

A Steady Rain


Chicago’s finest.

I saw the play A Steady Rain written by Keith Huff at the Chicago Dramatists Theater, 1105 W. Chicago Avenue, Chicago, IL 60622. I really enjoyed this play because we see many of the dangers of being Chicago police officers. The two officers, Joey and Denny, have been friends since childhood and now they are also partners on the force, so they work well together even if they haven’t forgiven each other for some of their childhood grudges. They undergo some amazing turns of events throughout the play. I must admit that I had heard some of these stories as a police officer. In fact, I could tell when partners had worked together for a long time because they would have an act all worked out that they would perform whenever they met rookie officers. They would tell wondrous tales of harrowing arrests and narrow escapes from gunfire. However, I doubt that either of the two officers could have experienced all of the events that Joey and Denny experienced in A Steady Rain. I would recommend this play because you can get a better idea of what it’s like to be a Chicago police officer.

DDR

Mi casa


Mi Casa: Aztec calendar, la Virgen de Guadalupe, Mexican flag, and a picture of mi abuelito.

Mi casa es su casa. Come into my home, por favor. So you tell me. Am I Mexican or not? I have books written in Spanish on my bookshelves. I have movies in Spanish without English subtitles! I have a wooden Aztec calendar that my friend bought for me when he went to Mexico. However, I have a regular calendar to find the current date. I have a votive candle with the image of La Virgen de Guadalupe. My mother always lit up one of these when she prayed for someone or wanted something. I haven’t lit my candle yet, but I have it just in case of an emergency. Just in case there’s a blackout and I run out of tortillas at the same time. And I also have a Mexican flag hanging on the wall. Well, it’s actually a bandana that says “Made in China” in the corner. If you go to any Mexican home, you will find at least an Aztec Calendar, La Virgen de Guadalupe, and a Mexican flag.

DDR

La que buena


Photo by Torsten Dettlaff on Pexels.com

Every Sunday morning, I listen to 105.1 La Que Buena Spanish radio station because they play the old songs that I remember from when I was growing up.

I always wax nostalgic, as I am wont to do, when I recall my mother playing that Mexican music every Saturday morning. I’m not exactly sure why I keep listening every Sunday because that music always depresses me.

One sunny Sunday morning, I thought to myself, “Let me analyze myself to see why old Mexican music depresses me.” Well, unfortunately, I have a very good memory that doesn’t gloss over the negative aspects of my past.

Suddenly, I remembered that my mother hated to see me sleeping in on a Saturday morning all the way to 8:00 a.m.! She would try to wake me by shaking me and calling me lazy: “¡No seas flojo!” Of course, I didn’t get up, so my mother would play Mexican music on her portable 8-track player full-blast right by head! And why would I have to get up? To help my mother with the housework. But no matter what room I swept, she would sweep it again because I didn’t sweep it just right. Ditto with the mopping.

I think she just hated to see me sleeping comfortably.

DDR