Author: David Diego Rodríguez, Ph.D.

I teach Spanish and I am a standup comedian.

Love is …


Chicago Sun-Times

“Love is …”

I’m talking about the little cartoon that you see in the newspaper comic section. You know, the one with little cartoon couple that illustrate some aspect of love. I saw it today, but I didn’t even read it. I just kind of stared at the picture because I recalled the very first time I became aware of the cartoon way back when I was still in high school. All the girls loved reading it. Some of them even clipped out the ones that they especially loved. I was your typical teenage boy who didn’t pay much attention to those cartoons. But then one day, I met Maria Pardo …

At Gage Park High School, I met a lot of interesting people that I still remember to this day. I’m still friends with many of them. Instead of staying in the assembly hall for the study period, I used to go to the library because I loved reading magazines or whatever book caught my interest. I never actually studied for any of my classes. I used to read U.S. News and World Report cover to cover. Occasionally, I talked to the librarian.

Then, one day, I looked up from my magazine and I saw her. Apparently, she had been sitting there for weeks, but I had not noticed her before. Actually, she noticed me first, but it took her two weeks to catch my attention. But that’s how I am. I’m frequently oblivious to everything around me once I start reading. When I finally took a good look at her sitting at the table across from me, she was smiling and signaling me to sit by her. She was beautiful! She had long black hair and big brown eyes. She wore makeup even though most of the other girls didn’t. She even painted her fingernails. When I sat next to her, I smelled her perfume that just captivated me. From then on, I always sat next to her in the library. And somehow, she always managed to sit right next to me. She always read the Chicago Sun-Times, but she always read the horoscope first and then the comics. I always preferred brainy girls, but she was the prettiest girl I had met at Gage Park and she had asked me to sit next to her.

At first, I thought she was Mexican. I mean, she looked Mexican, very Mexican. But then she told me that she was born in Ecuador. I was surprised because I thought everyone who spoke Spanish in Chicago was either Mexican or Puerto Rican. She spoke English with this really very sexy accent. I loved listening to her talk, so much so that when she spoke to me in Spanish, I lied to her and told her that I didn’t know Spanish just so that she would continue talking to me in English with her sexy accent. But the highlight of the study period was when she would read the “Love is …” cartoon. No matter what it was about, she would always squeeze my hand and say, “Isn’t that so cute?”

Frankly, I didn’t get it, but I played along. We got to know each other quite well that year. Or so I thought. When spring came, I asked her to the dance, but she said that she already had a date. At the end of the school year, I asked her what she was doing for the summer. She said she was getting married and moving back home to Ecuador. I was disappointed, but for a while, everyone thought I had the hottest girlfriend in the school!

DDR

SNL


Sometimes when I think of funny TV shows that I used to watch, I remember them as being funnier or less funny than when I watch them again years later.

I’ve been watching Saturday Night Live for many years ever since the show began airing in 1975. I’ve always loved watching comedy shows because I wanted to learn to be a funny comedian. I can’t say that I ever watched the show religiously because there were stretches when I didn’t always think it was very funny.

I remember my friends telling me how funny it was, but I often disagreed, even when we watched SNL together. I liked everyone on the cast, but a lot of their sketches were just plain stupid. I’m sorry, but I just didn’t like them. The last few years, I started watching SNL again and I found it funny to be much funnier than in the 1970s.

So, I wondered if I my memory was clouded by age. So, this week, as a tribute to George Carlin who died last Sunday at age 71, SNL decided to air their very first show that Carlin hosted. The format of the show was slightly different than that of the present show, but it was more or less the same type of show. It was a refreshing blast from my past. I still found George Carlin funny even though I had heard most of his jokes countless times. To me, he will always be funny.

Andy Kaufman was kind of funny as he played the theme song for Mighty Mouse on a phonograph, although he was much funnier on later appearances. The skits weren’t that funny. But I did enjoy seeing John Belushi, Dan Ackroid, Jane Curtin, and Chevy Chase.

Billy Preston and Janis Ian were the musical guests and wow did I ever have some wonderful flashbacks. Music always reminds of many episodes from my past. All I have to do is listen to the radio and my life flashes before my eyes.

As I watched SNL objectively, I didn’t think the show was very funny, except for a filmed skit “Show Us Your Gun” in which people show their guns to a camera as it drives by. Women pushing baby strollers, little old ladies, and children show off their guns. Two mafia guys almost show their heaters, but then think better of it and keep them in their coats. Everyone seems to be packing, save the traffic cop directing traffic who seems to have forgotten or misplaced his service revolver–and he doesn’t seem to care.

But overall, the show wasn’t all that funny. I started remembering some other scenes and realized that they weren’t funny back then, and they wouldn’t be funny now. Somehow, the show survived.

DDR

What a riot


2509 W. Marquette Road, Chicago, Illinois

When I lived near Marquette Park, there was a lot of racial tension. The neighborhood suffered from panic as the blacks moved closer and closer due to white flight. When my mother bought our house at 2509 W. Marquette Road, the neighbors said, with a sigh of relief, “At least you’re not black.” But we weren’t completely accepted by many in the neighborhood.

No matter where you lived in Chicago back in the 1970s, there would be someone who resented you, regardless of your race. In 1966, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. had marched in Marquette Park was greeted by whites who threw bricks, rocks, and bottles at the marchers. We moved to Marquette Park in 1973 and people still talked about the Doctor King march. I was a typical teenager in that I wasn’t fully aware about the political events in Chicago or our neighborhood.

So, one Saturday in 1975, I was driving home from work at Derby Foods. When I got close to my house, all the streets were blocked off by the police and I couldn’t drive home. Helicopters flew overhead. I drove around until I found a side street that wasn’t closed. I managed to park my Firebird about four blocks from my house.  I had no idea why there were so many police officers in our neighborhood, nor why all the streets were closed.

As I walked home, I could hear people chanting in the direction of my house. When I reached Marquette Road, there were hundreds, if not thousands, of people lining both sides of the street. Reverend Jesse Jackson had led a protest march, but I had just missed it. The street was littered with rocks and bottles. A black man and a boy drove up Marquette Road and people threw rocks and bottles at his car shouting racial epithets. The car sped off westbound where he was greeted by more projectiles.

I had a tough time crossing Marquette Road to get home. When I finally got to my house, there were hundreds of people standing in front of my house. I couldn’t reach my front door, so I watched until the march was over and most of the people left. My younger brother told me how he saw police officers on horses near California Avenue. Someone blew up a cherry bomb near the horse and scared it so that it stood on its hind legs. Someone kicked one of horse’s hind legs and the horse and police officer both fell. The police immediately arrested the offender.

One of my friends told me he was standing on the curb watching all the action when a little old white lady gave him a brick and said, “You throw it! I’m too old!”

When I finally got home, my mother asked me where I was. I told her that I was at work and that I had a hard time getting home. When my mother asked my brother if he was at the march he swore he was at his friend’s house. My mother didn’t believe him. She didn’t want the neighbors to think we were causing trouble. Little did she realize that all our neighbors were out there throwing things. The next day, my mother punished my brother for being at the march and for lying to her. She had seen my brother on the news near where the horse was kicked down. They had more protest marches after that, but that was the only one I saw up close.

DDR

Neighbors


Marquette Park, Chicago, Illinois

Good fences make good neighbors. Words of wisdom by Robert Frost. Words I can live by.

My neighbors who complained about me not mowing my lawn until Memorial Day also complained to me when the fence between our properties was blown over by intense winds. It was an old wooden fence and the posts rotted at the base from the moisture. Well, her husband put the fence in my yard. They insisted it was my fence, but I didn’t know because the fence was already there when I bought the house.

So I took the fence apart and slowly threw it away with the weekly garbage. The wood was rotted beyond repair. Since I didn’t have any small children or pets, I didn’t think I needed to replace the fence between our yards.

But my neighbor would sneak up behind me while I was doing yardwork to insist that we get a new fence. I really couldn’t afford a new fence and I told her. But she insisted that we had to get a new fence and we would each pay for half of it. I said I wanted a three-foot chain-link fence because it would last longer than a wooden fence.

I had a red cedar wooden fence at my old house and the wind blew it over after about five years. What a shame that I had replaced the thirty-year-old chain-link fence with a wooden one that didn’t even last five years! I insisted on a chain-link fence, because the chain-link fence at my childhood home was still standing after all these years.

But my neighbor ordered a six-foot wooden fence for privacy. And I was supposed to pay for half. I reluctantly agreed, but when I contacted the contractor to pay for half of the fence, he told me that the neighbors had already paid in full. I just didn’t understand. They only paid for half of the fence, so only half of the fence was installed. I would be responsible for installing the rest of the fence.

Normally, I don’t get that involved with my neighbors. If my house would have come with a good fence, I could have avoided dealing with my neighbors on this issue.

DDR

UIC IBM vs. Mac


Dr. D. hard at work!

When I was a student at UIC, I wrote all of my papers on computers. I tried to do most of my writing on my own computer at home, but whenever I had free time between my classes I would use a computer in one of the few computer labs they had at the time.

I did a lot of writing on typewriters and then eagerly progressed to personal computers because of their word-processing capabilities. I was definitely an IBM aficionado since I couldn’t afford an Apple or a Macintosh. Our high school didn’t even have computers when I was a student.

Anyway, UIC had two types of computer labs: IBM or Macintosh. At first, no one used the IBM lab, so I had the lab pretty much too myself. Everybody was really into Macs at the time, although I’m not sure why. Supposedly, they were better than IBMs. Then there was a sudden shift in computing at UIC and I could hardly ever find an open IBM computer. Perhaps it was when IBM compatibles started using Windows, which was definitely inferior to the Mac operating system. I never did like those early versions of Microsoft Windows and stuck to MS-DOS 5.0 for much longer than most normal humans could endure.

Well, IBM’s were no longer readily available when I was. So being the adaptable person who I am, transformed myself into a Mac user. I have convinced myself that I can survive anywhere in the world, under any conditions. So, I sat down at a Mac computer for the first time in my life and started typing. When I looked at the screen, I couldn’t make heads nor tails of what I had written. You see, I can touch type and, when I put my fingers on the keyboard, I felt for the little bump in order to find the home keys. All electric typewriters and IBM keyboards always had those little bumps on the F and J keys. Mac, however, had the little bumps on the D and K keys. So my fingers were off by one key.

Macintosh always tried so hard to be different. Also maddening was waiting for the Mac to execute a command. Instead of the little hourglass to represent the waiting, a dialog box would appear that said, “Please wait. The computer is doing something real complicated right now.” So how was this better than an IBM computer? Well, I continued using IBMs and Macs, depending on which was available. To this day, I can go on any strange computer do some strange writing.

DDR