Okay, I wasn’t ready for it today. I was caught completely off guard today by the mail. I opened my mailbox and there it was: AARP, The Magazine.
I really needed someone to hold my hand at that moment, but I was all alone. I still can’t believe I’m old enough to belong to AARP. Even scarier: Somewhere along the line, I became a dues-paying member. However, I don’t remember writing a check to AARP, much less mailing it out. This qualifies me to be a member of AARP. WOW! I guess I went on the road to senility when I wrote out the check.
I am now fifty-one. That’s 11 Celsius. (I stole that joke from George Carlin.) I have now lived longer than my mother who died of cirrhosis of the liver. Unlike my mother’s final years, I have been extremely happy these last few years. I’m not sure why, but I attribute it to the fact that I never thought I would live to see twenty-one. That in itself is a very long story for various reasons.
I don’t usually celebrate my birthday because to me it feels like just another day. There are no significant milestones for your birthdays after you turn 10, 13, 18, 21, and if you’re a male, 25 because then you auto insurance rates drop. I must admit that I was initially nervous about turning 30, but when my thirtieth birthday came, I felt no different than the day before.
More than a year has passed since I turned fifty. But I will never forget it as an important milestone since I had an unusual fiftieth birthday party. As a police officer, I worked with Vinny and John as regular partners. One day, Vinny told me he was having a surprise birthday party for John. I said it was a great idea and that I would help him arrange everything. Then Vinny asked when my birthday was and how old I would be. Well, John’s birthday was in July and mine was in May, and we were both turning 50. I told Vinny that I didn’t want a birthday party, but he insisted on including me in the party. I reluctantly agreed.
Well, Denise and Margaret, two other police officers we knew well, helped with the party arrangements. Denise took charge of ordering the cakes. Everyone was surprised when she unveiled the cakes at the birthday party. Denise and Margaret were so proud of themselves. One cake was topped with a pair of breasts and the other with a vagina. I’m proud to say that mine was the vagina cake. It was pure, unadulterated pornography! Denise knew of a Mexican bakery that specialized in custom cakes. I truly believe that only a female could think of something as creative as this because we lesser male beings would have come up with something as lame as, “Happy Birthday!” Everyone, male and female, loved the cakes!
When the party ended, we had leftover cake. No one wanted to take any home, so I volunteered to take home the leftovers to my sons. When I looked in the cake boxes, all that was left of the cakes was the breasts and the vagina. “I can’t take that home to my sons!” I said.
I could just see my sons waking up, opening the fridge, and looking for something to snack on. Somehow, I didn’t think I could come up with a satisfactory explanation. So Denise scraped off the female genitalia from the cakes and I felt safe taking them home. That was certainly my most memorable birthday party.
One of the comedy clubs that I remember fondly is The Clout Club. I performed there in late 1986 and early 1987. It was in the back of a bar called the Lounge Axe across the street from the Biograph Theater on north Lincoln Avenue. I went to perform there for the open mic, and I got to know the manager quite well after a few weeks. His name was Jim McManus, but I’m not so sure now. My friend Vito wrote me a joke that I always used there: “I once broke my arm in three places. Halsted, Lincoln, and Fullerton.” Sometimes it would get laughs and sometimes the audience would just stare at me with their mouths hanging wide open, leaving me to wonder why I wanted to be a standup comedian in the first place.
One day, the manager brought in Jim Wiggins who was a TV comedy writer. He had the bright idea to do political humor about the Chicago political scene since the mayoral election was coming up in February of 1987. And thus, The Clout Club was born.
I was lucky enough to be part of it after a few short months of being a comedian. Eventually, I was the emcee for the club. The highlight of my career was when CBS News came to cover one of our shows because it was right before the mayoral primary. I performed my standup act and got big laughs. I was even recorded by the camera for the sake of posterity during my whole performance! Jim Wiggins, Aaron Freeman, Bob Odenkirk, and Bill Gorgo also performed. Many others, Judy Tenuta, Kevin Lampe, Tom Johnson, and Bob Harris also performed back then. The Clout Club soon became the mayoral campaign headquarters for Don Haider on election night of February 1987. I was excited to be part of the entire process. During one performance, Judy Tenuta had Don Haider go up on stage with her. She told him to raise his hands, to put them down, to jump up and down. He did everything she commanded. Finally, she said, “You’re going to make a fine leader of men!”
I remember that Spike Manton was also at the club at the time. He was using his real name Kevin Manton at the time. He told me he was thinking of changing his name to Spike Manton. I told him, “Don’t do it! I don’t think people will like it.” I lost track of him for a while. So, imagine my surprise when I started hearing him introduced on the radio as Spike Manton! I am always amazed at how wrong I can sometimes be about certain things.
Dr. D.’s business card.
Working at The Clout Club was the highlight of my standup comedy career. That eventually led to my only cable TV performance that was forgotten by everyone except me. Sometimes when I recall that epoch of my life, I want to return to the stage. But then I come to my senses.
A Mexican meal without tortillas is not really a Mexican meal. You can mix and match different entrees, but you always need tortillas with every meal. Tortillas have been around since Aztec times and are the equivalent of bread in many cultures. The tortilla, tlaxcalli to the Aztecs, is flat, round, made from corn, and may serve as a plate or an eating utensil such as a fork or spoon. When the Spaniards first encountered them, they called it a tortilla because it was circular like their Spanish dish of the same name.
Tortillas have always been part of my life. My father could eat a bowl of soup using only corn tortillas! My abuelita and mother were always heating up tortillas at the stove for every meal. They even made their own. They would use a rolling-pin to flatten the masa out, or in case of an emergency, a Coke bottle. My mother once bought an aluminum contraption that flattened the masa into a tortilla, but everyone agreed that they didn’t taste the same.
When we went to Mexico, I used to like going to the Tortillería to buy tortillas. They had a giant machine that would just make hundreds of hot tortillas for the customers waiting in line. You didn’t need directions to find the Tortillería because you would find it by following your nose. I would always eat at least one or two before I took the rest home.
Tortillas were also good for an after-school snack. I’d sometimes come home and heat up some tortillas on the stove and eat them with butter. I rolled them up very tightly like a flauta. Sometimes I would eat them with just salt inside. Sometimes I would just heat them up and eat them plain. I really loved tortillas. When we kept the tortillas too long and they got hard, my mother would fry them and use them to make tostadas or chilaquiles. No tortilla was ever wasted in our home.
Occasionally, we ate flour tortillas, tortillas de harina, but they were always store-bought. We just preferred the taste of corn tortillas. Mexican restaurants use giant flour tortillas to make burritos. Other restaurants use them to make chicken wraps, where the “wrap” is actually a flour tortilla. Tortillas also evolved into the tortilla chips in Mexican restaurants, Frito’s corn chips, Tostitos, Doritos, thanks in no small part to capitalism.
I still have a comal to heat up my tortillas. Occasionally, I’ll eat them with cheddar cheese inside. Or I’ll eat them plain when I feel like reminiscing. But I definitely eat them when I make huevos con chorizo. I always keep a dozen corn tortillas in the freezer, so I’ll have them whenever I crave them. They keep very well in the freezer and thaw out quickly in the microwave before I heat them up on my comal.
Since my parents came from Mexico, Spanish was my first language at home, and we never spoke English. When I started kindergarten at Holy Cross School, I didn’t know any English. So, when Sister Mary Joseph talked, I did what the other kids did. I sat next to Bridget, the smartest and prettiest girl in the kindergarten. I didn’t understand Sister Joseph’s instructions because she spoke English, so I watched Bridget’s every movement. When Bridget took out her crayons, I took out my crayons. When Bridget took a nap, I took a nap. Kindergarten was not that complicated. When Bridget got up and got in line, I got up and got in line. But I got in trouble. Sister Joseph walked me back to my desk. I noticed that the entire kindergarten class was laughing. I had followed Bridget to get in line to go the girls’ bathroom!
I always had a problem learning English. I didn’t quite understand everything correctly. I liked standing outside the corner bar on my block. You see, they had a sign that read, “3 IDs required. No minors allowed.” I was always waiting to see these miners wearing helmets with lights on top to come to the bar. And then they’d get really mad because they weren’t allowed in the bar and start a fight with the bouncer because he wouldn’t let them in. But I never saw any miners try to get in. I guess that sign really worked.
Chicago USA 