Author: David Diego Rodríguez, Ph.D.

I teach Spanish and I am a standup comedian.

South side dinner


El Gallo de Oro Mexican restaurant, Chicago, Illinois.

Well, now it can be told. First, you must admit that you have a problem before you can solve it. My problem? I like to retrace my steps all the way back to my youth.

So tonight, I went to El Gallo de Oro, bought a steak burrito, and parked in Marquette Park by the Rose Garden to eat it, as I am wont to do. I used to do it all the time, but tonight I compared scenarios.

The first time I bought a burrito at El Gallo de Oro, I lived down the block at 3006 W. 64th Street and I only paid $2.25 with tax. But that was twenty-seven years ago. Today, I paid $6.06 with tax. Today, I barely finished my burrito, but twenty-seven years ago, I would also order two or three tacos or tostadas on the side. I would practically inhale all this food and I only weighed 140 pounds, compared to my 180 or so today.

And Marquette Park isn’t the same, either. No one cruises through the park like in days of old. This used to be the place to hang out, to see and be seen by everyone. I don’t think anyone even noticed I was there tonight. Not even the police car that drove past me driving the wrong way.

On the plus side? I felt very safe there in my solitude reminiscing about my days of old when I was young and naïve and didn’t realize that the grease from the burrito had dripped on my shirt until the person I was trying to impress would point out the grease stain. Okay, I don’t miss the dripping grease all that much. I’m much older and wiser now.

DDR

Béisbol


Chicago White Sox Promotion in Spanish.

I’m watching the World Series even though neither the White Sox nor the Cubs are playing. “World Series” is a misnomer because it’s not really a world competition at all. However, there are many players from many countries such Venezuela, Mexico, Cuba, Dominican Republic, and Japan among others.

When I read Ragtime by E.L. Doctorow years ago, he described a professional baseball game in the early 1900s. He noted that the ethnicity of the baseball players was representative of the immigration pattern of the period. Here’s the passage from Chapter 30 of Ragtime:

On the Giant side were Merkle, Doyle, Meyers, Snodgrass and Herzog, among others. The Boston team boasted a player named Rabbit Maranville, a shortstop who [sic] he noted roamed his position bent over with his hands at the end of his long arms grazing the grass in a manner that would more properly be called simian. There was a first baseman named Butch Schmidt, and others with the names Cocrehan, Moran, Hess, Rudolph, which led inevitably to the conclusion that professional baseball was played by immigrants.

If you look at the players of today’s Major League Baseball, you will see many Spanish last names. Of course, those, too, are representative of the migration patterns of Spanish speakers from Latin America to the U.S.

When I was in Mexico last July, I watched the All-Star Game with my cousin and her family. We laughed every time the announcer mispronounced a Spanish last name. Both announcers consistently mispronounced Evan Longoria. Well, tonight, I had to laugh when Jason Bartlett stole second base and the announcer let everyone know that Taco Bell had a promotion: Steal a Base, Steal a Taco for every stolen base. So next Tuesday, we can go to Taco Bell for a free taco. They even interviewed Taco Bell president Greg Creed who personally invited everyone to go to Taco Bell to get their free taco!

DDR

Drive-in


Dr. D. collects souvenirs.

Quick! What do you think of when you hear drive-in? I think of the movie Grease! and John Travolta singing Stranded at the Drive-in after Sandy left him.

Unfortunately, there aren’t many drive-in theaters in America anymore. I used to love going to the drive-in. I remember sneaking my friend in by putting him in the trunk, so we wouldn’t have to pay for him.

The drive-in was always a unique way to watch movies. I used to go to a drive-in in Twenty-nine Palms, California, where you could roller skate and watch a movie simultaneously. Well, I was telling my sons about my drive-in adventures, and they couldn’t understand what I was talking about. I always like to broaden their horizons, so when I failed to explain to them how much fun we used to have at the drive-in, I wanted to take them to one, but I didn’t think there were any drive-ins left in our area. But I googled “drive-in” and discovered there was a Cascade Drive-In in West Chicago.

I took my sons just so they could see what a drive-in was like. Things were a little different from the last time I went. You can now listen to the movie on your car radio on AM or FM! They still had gray steel speakers on the poles, but they didn’t work. All cars are supposed to drive with their headlights off, but mine stay on whenever I start the engine. I sat on a lawn chair so my sons could sit in the front seats. Boy was I sorry! The compact car next to us contained an entire family. And they were so crammed into their little car that they were complaining during the whole movie.

Well, my sons and I thoroughly enjoyed the experience, but we decided never to go to the drive-in again.

DDR

Haunted house


Halloween at the Haunted House

I was with my sons yesterday and my oldest son suggested we go to a haunted house for Halloween. So we went. Because I’ve become my father and I almost always do things that my sons suggest we do. My sons can pretty much talk me into doing just about anything–provided that it’s not too expensive or too dangerous.

After last night, I realize that about the safest place you can be in America is a haunted house, despite its eerie appearance and all the blood and gore. I must admit that I wasn’t too thrilled about going to a haunted house since I recalled my traumatic first and only trip to a haunted house in the third grade that was sponsored by the eighth graders. We were guided through it blindfolded. I was fine until someone grabbed my hand and forced it–yes, I instinctively resisted–into a bowl of something slimy. I could feel whatever was in the bowl slithering between my fingers. A voice informed me that I was touching Frankenstein’s brain. I wasn’t really afraid. Okay, I was afraid to laugh and hurt anyone’s feelings because I wasn’t afraid after touching dead brain matter. My best friend Patrick later told me that the brains were really just spaghetti. I never went to a haunted house ever again.

Anyway, I had fun at the haunted house last night because I got to see exactly how brave my sons were. Not! They were fraidy cats! When it was our turn to go in, they insisted that I go first. I didn’t even get scared! Okay, I did get startled whenever someone slammed open a door as he or she in all his or her glorious blood gore jumped out at us. But I wasn’t really scared. Not really. I mean it was just the loud noise that made me jump. Kind of like when I saw Halloween at the show when it first came out. The movie didn’t scare me at all. Except when the entire audience of the sold-out show screamed in unison and my date dug her fingernails into my thigh. But except for those five or six times, I have never gotten scared!

DDR

Coffee


Dr. D.’s favorite household appliance.

I never used to drink coffee until I discovered its magical powers of keeping me awake after sleep-depriving nights and its ability to make me look pensive and meditative while reading in the coffee shop. While I do enjoy the coffee that baristas offer, I always prefer to drink my own home-brewed concoction. I don’t know why, but my coffee tastes better to me than even the most expensive gourmet coffee at any coffee shop.

I love to lounge around the house in the morning sipping at my coffee while I read my e-mail before I go out for my morning run. I used to have a Mr. Coffee with a timer that my mother-in-law gave me for my birthday, but then she died, I got divorced, and my Mr. Coffee stopped working.

So, I decided to splurge on a new coffee maker. I bought a Cuisinart Grind and Brew coffee maker in 2003 and enjoyed its coffee until about three months ago. It had a timer, so I was able to set it up the night before and literally wake up and smell the coffee. About two years ago, my beloved Cuisinart stopped functioning like new and I tried to fix it–following in my father’s footsteps–but I was lucky to put it back together again without improving its performance. The only thing I got out of the experience was a headache, minor cuts on my fingertips, and a very lame blog entry. But I continued using the coffee maker until about two months ago when I could no longer disassemble the grinder to wash it. I tried everything to pry it out, but it was more stubborn than me.

Finally, I decided to buy another coffee maker. This was my chance to try a new brand, but I loved my Cuisinart so much that I decided to buy the exact same model again. I bought it in 2003 for $125 plus sales tax. So, I expected to pay much more in 2008. Surprisingly, that model was still about the same price at most stores, but I like shopping online and I noticed that amazon.com sold it for $119, with no sales tax and no shipping charges.

Then, I noticed that they also sold a refurbished version of the same model. I was incredibly surprised to discover that a refurbished coffee maker cost more than a new one: $144! Obviously, I bought a new one. I received it at my door within three business days! I happened to be home at the time and the UPS guy put the package directly in my own hands! I was glad I bought the new model because Cuisinart had improved its performance ever so slightly, but enough to make a notable difference that was apparent from the first cup of coffee. In fact, I burned myself with the very first sip. I didn’t realized the my old coffee maker was no longer making very hot coffee. Wow! Hopefully, I’ll get at least five years out of this one.

DDR