Author: David Diego Rodríguez, Ph.D.

I teach Spanish and I am a standup comedian.

Accents


On the road in México

Accents are a funny thing. An accent separates or distinguishes you from another person or group when you speak. For as long as I can remember, I have always had an accent. In kindergarten, I spoke broken English since I only spoke Spanish at home. So, I had a Mexican accent. But when I went to Mexico, I had a gringo accent when I spoke Spanish. Then, I met my friend Patrick McDonnell in the second grade, and I spoke with a little bit of an Irish brogue. Since I attended a Lithuanian Catholic grade school, I picked up a few Lithuanian words. In high school, classmates made fun of the way I talked, so I only talked when necessary. I remember reading books aloud to practice my pronunciation. I was trying to eliminate any trace of an accent. Unsuccessfully, I might add.

When I enlisted in the Marines, I met people from all over the United States for the first time in my life. It was the first time someone told me that I had a Chicago accent. I was surprised when I met someone new, and he said he knew I was from Chicago because I had no accent. My accent adapted unconsciously so it would fit in. And I did fit in. During my enlistment, I spoke with the accents of Brooklyn, Texas, Queens, Boston, Virginia, Oklahoma, and California. But I didn’t do this on purpose. I just somehow blended in with everyone around me.

When I began teaching Spanish, I also unconsciously adapted the accent of the people around me. So, depending on to whom I spoke, I would speak like them. I’m not sure what my authentic original voice sounds like anymore. A colleague once said, “I was trying to figure out what dialect you were. Now I know you’re Mexican because you said, “Mande.”

I suppose if I listen to myself carefully, I hear all these different accents in my voice from different places.

DDR

My unique name


Chicago telephone directory, 1983

What’s in a name? Where have I heard that question before? A Rodríguez by any other name would be a Smith or a Jones in English. But I digress.

I have such a common Spanish name: David Rodríguez. So my mother always told me to use my middle name Diego to distinguish myself from all the other David Rodríguezes in the world. So I am now David Diego Rodríguez. And my oldest son is David Diego Rodríguez, Jr. I lost the naming argument with my ex-wife when she was pregnant.

At the time, I realized that this world didn’t need to add another David Rodríguez to that already extensive collection. And that’s why I wanted to name my first son Carlos. Wait a minute! That would make him Carlos Rodríguez! I know there must be hundreds of Carlos Rodríguezes in the world since Rodríguez is one of the most common Spanish last names in the world. Do you see the problem of having such a common last name?

So I began using my middle name religiously: David Diego Rodríguez. Always. Even for my telephone book listing. However, one friend didn’t call me after finding my listing because he thought it sounded too Mexican and he didn’t think of me as Mexican.

Well, thanks to the Internet, I discovered that there were two other David Diegos in the world, one in Spain and one in Israel. However absurd this may sound, we felt a certain kinship with each other! Mainly because they didn’t live on my block and we wouldn’t get each other’s mail. I’m thinking of changing my name to something very unique: DavidRodriguez.us!

DDR

Ken Burns and the Latino protest


My Uncle Joseph Rodriguez is on this wall.

There is no doubt that Ken Burns makes some fine documentaries. That would explain why there was a protest for the inclusion of Latinos. Well, the impact of the protests affected the content of the final version of “The War” by Ken Burns and now Latinos are mentioned in the documentary.

I don’t often think about Mexicans in war except in the Mexican Revolution or Vietnam. The Mexican Revolution is part of the Mexican psyche even for those who were too young to recall it.

I always recall Vietnam because I met some of these veterans when they returned from Vietnam. My Uncle Joseph died in Vietnam in 1968 and I remember going to his funeral thinking that I would someday have to go to Vietnam, too. Well, all this reminded me of my father-in-law Louis L. Chávez when he lived with us while I was still married. He was proud that his grandfather had been a general in President Porfirio Díaz’s army. However, when the Mexican Revolution began, his grandfather and family escaped to Chicago where they had family. Louis had his grandfather’s commission papers for general signed by Porfirio Díaz himself.

Well, during WWII, Louis enlisted in the army was immediately shipped to Europe where he was an MP in a prisoner of war camp. One day, one of the German prisoners, was saying something in German to Louis, which he didn’t understand. Finally, the German prisoner spoke to Louis in Spanish because the prisoner thought he looked Mexican. So Louis carried a short conversation with this prisoner in Spanish. It turns out that the German prisoner was living in Argentina, but was drafted by Hitler. The German prisoner referred to the Fuhrer as “ese maldito Hitler” [“that damn Hitler”].

Well, there were plenty of Mexicans in WWII, but not many people know about them, so Ken Burns should at least make a passing mention of them.

DDR

Maxwell Street


I’ll have a Polish sausage with mustard and onions, but hold the cholesterol!

Last night, I watched The Blues Brothers movie again, mainly to show my sons a classic movie about Chicago. I first saw it in 1980 when I was in the Marines. I saw the 25th anniversary edition DVD at my local library and I borrowed it since I always talk about classic movies with my sons.

This is an age of reproductions and sometimes my sons will quote something from a song, a TV show, or a movie they have seen without knowing the source of the imitation, parody, or spoof. So whenever possible, I try to educate my sons by pointing out the original source. Perhaps the most famous scene from The Blues Brothers movie is the one that I’ve seen in many contexts and that is the scene where Jake and Elwood Blues go to the Triple Rock Baptist Church and find God. You know the scene where Jake back flips up and down the aisle. I once saw this scene with my sons at a movie theater during the previews. My sons had seen the scene before, too, but they had never seen the whole movie.

I liked the scene at Maxwell Street because I still remember going to Maxwell Street as a boy with my father and uncles when we lived in Pilsen. When we went to St. Francis of Assisi Church on Roosevelt and Halsted, we were right around the corner from Maxwell Street. Sometimes we went to Maxwell Street after mass. My father always went to Preskill’s hardware store where my father could look at tools for hours. I always remember the little shacks that were built in the middle of the street to sell food such as red hots (hot dogs), Polish sausages, and other appetizing greasy foods, but we never ate there.

When I was old enough to drive, I often returned to Maxwell Street, against my mother’s wishes. This was a wonderful place to buy nice clothing cheap. And tailors would alter it for a perfect fit.

It was then that I was finally attracted to the fine cuisine that Maxwell Street had to offer. Yes, I’m talking about those Polish sausages and pork chop sandwiches, way before they started serving them with French fries. Jim’s Original Maxwell Street Polish Sausage was right on the corner of Maxwell and Halsted. That was my favorite eating establishment.

Sometimes I would stop there on the way home from the comedy clubs because they never closed. I mean never! Not even Christmas or New Year’s Eve. Where else could I buy a Polish sausage and pork chop sandwich at any hour of the day, any day of the year? Sometimes I would drive by just to smell the all the Polish sausages, pork chops, and onions piled high on the ever-grilling grill that was the equivalent of Maxwell Street’s eternal flame.

I would always meet interesting people there, too. I once saw a limo pull up and the passenger in the backseat got out to buy a Polish sausage and then got back into the backseat of the limo and then it drove off. I’ve often wondered about the true story of that purchase. How cool would it be to go to Maxwell Street in limo?

When I became a Chicago police officer, if I drove past Maxwell Street, I just had to stop for a Polish sausage and a pork chop sandwich. No matter what district I worked in, if I somehow found myself going by Maxwell Street on the way back from the Cook County Jail, the Cook County Hospital, or the Cook County Juvenile Detention Center. Of course, I would stop at Jim’s Original Maxwell Street Polish Sausage and partake of their fine cuisine.

DDR

Gold Cup


Fútbol

Last Sunday, I watched the Gold Cup soccer / fútbol match between the U.S. and Mexico. Okay, I have to admit that my allegiance was divided. Not only could I not decide which team to root for, Mexico or USA, but I was also switching channels so I could watch the White Sox play the Cubs. Talk about mental anguish! No matter which team won, USA or Mexico, I would feel some sort of disappointment. On the other hand, I wanted the White Sox to win since I am a southsider. The Cubs won. 😦  Sniff!

Well, team USA won, much to the disappointment of the Mexico fans who outnumbered the USA fans at Soldier Field. Almost three million households tuned in to watch the game. However, it was broadcast only on Univision, a Spanish-language station. Not enough Americans were interested in watching a soccer game. Ironically, a female announcer interviewed a flagged-draped American from the winning team and he spoke to the announcer in fluent Spanish! Doesn’t this send mixed signals to the general public about American culture? How do we deal with the English only issue when Americans are speaking languages other than English? At least we beat someone at their own game, that is, a non-American sport.

This reminds me of the immigration debate now before President Bush, the senate, and congress. No matter how many amendments are added to the bill, someone is disappointed, particularly the illegal immigrants who seek amnesty. There are too many issues to satisfy everyone. The immigration issue will not soon be resolved.

DDR