My Chicago neighborhoods


West 110th Street, Beverly, Chicago, Illinois

Chicago is the greatest city on earth! It’s a microcosm of the world. Many of the world’s languages are spoken in Chicago. My greatest regret in life is that I wasn’t born in Chicago. Unfortunately, I was born in a place far, far away, called Perth Amboy, New Jersey. Where my parents led, I followed. To be honest, I wasn’t in on the pre-natal decision-making process. I was conceived in Mexico, but I was born in the U.S.

I have lived in several neighborhoods in Chicago. My grandparents came to Chicago in the 1950s and lived in Pilsen. So, naturally, when my parents moved to Pilsen, so did I. We also lived in the Back of the Yards neighborhood. When my parents divorced, my mother, my brothers, my sister, and I moved to the Marquette Park area. My father moved back to his father’s house in Pilsen. I bought my first house in Bridgeport and lived there until I started my own family and moved to Ashburn on the southwest side. When I divorced, I bought my present house in Beverly. Some people have told me that I live in a black neighborhood, but that’s not true at all. This is one of the few Chicago neighborhoods that is truly integrated! This is the best neighborhood in which I have ever lived.

DDR

Hot dogs, chop suey, pizza, and burritos


Yet another Taco Bell that I did NOT patronize!

Hot dogs, chop suey, pizza, and burritos. What do all of these apparently different ethnic foods have in common? They are all American foods! As American as Mom, apple pie, and the Fourth of July. And while we’re on the topic of American foods: just how Italian is spaghetti? Marco Polo brought the noodles to Italy from China and there were no tomatoes in the tomato sauce until Columbus sailed to the New World.

My friend once returned from a vacation to Mexico and complained to me that Mexican restaurants in Mexico didn’t sell burritos. “I thought burritos were Mexican food!” he complained. Actually, burritos are just another American popular fast food that you can order to go and eat while you drive. Because real Mexican food is extremely messy to eat and must be eaten with your fingers at a table. Just try to imagine someone attempting to eat a chicken tostada while driving. It’s not a pretty sight, is it? By the way, if you ask for a burrito in Mexico, you will get some strange looks. A “burrito” is a small donkey and they’ll wonder what you plan on doing to that burrito. My point is that you won’t get a burrito in Mexico. So don’t order a burrito unless you really want a small donkey.

When I teach my college Spanish classes, students are amazed by the photograph of the Mexican dinner table in the Spanish textbook. They are shocked! “Where is the basket of tortilla chips?” they ask. Well, mis amigos, you will only see a basket of tortilla chips in a Mexican restaurant in the U.S. The last time I went to Mexico to visit mi familia, no one ate tortilla chips, Tostitos, Fritos, or Doritos! When mi familia visits me from Mexico, I never say, “You must be hungry for some real Mexican food. Let’s go to Taco Bell!” Because Taco Bell does not really sell Mexican food. However, Taco Bell has opened restaurants in Mexico and is planning on expanding there. I just wonder if they claim to sell authentic Mexican food in Mexico?

DDR

My father and I


David Diego and José Diego Rodríguez

One day, I realized that I had become my father and had married my mother. Not literally, of course. Once, when I was at the show with my sons, I fell asleep during the movie. My oldest son woke me up, but I told him that I wasn’t sleeping. So, he asked, “Then what was the movie about?” And I didn’t know. So, he updated me on the movie.

But I had to ask myself, “What was this movie REALLY about?” Well, the truth is that I realized that I had become my father, who used to take us to the show and then fall asleep. The poor man worked the night shift, slept a few hours, and then would take us out to the movies on Saturdays without our mother. I have now become my father when I take my sons to the show and fall asleep at the show. But we all enjoy going to the show together! I was happy to go the show with my father even if he fell asleep. Otherwise, I would have missed a lot of good movies. My sons are happy going to the show, too, and they never complain if I fall asleep.

As a child, my father always took us to the circus every year. When I had children, I began taking my sons to the circus. The last few years, I have been going to the circus with my sons and my father, who is now 81 years old. On the last trip to the circus with my father, I told my sons, “See how I take my father to the circus? When I get that old, I want you to take me to the circus with your children!”

Well, it turns out that I did, indeed, become my father and marry my mother. But then I divorced her, just as my father did. Like father, like son. The candy doesn’t fall far from the piñata!

DDR

Lotería


Lotería playing cards

“Lotería.”

No, don’t say it like that. Say it louder.

“¡Lotería!“

No, no, no! Scream it like you mean it! Yell it with passion! Now try it again.

“¡Lotería!“

That’s much better. Now listen to me: “¡Lotería! ¡Lotería! ¡Lotería!” Did you hear the tone of my spine-tingling, blood-curdling, eardrum-shattering scream. You have to make your voice demand the attention of everyone in the room and the surrounding environs in order to brag to the world that you are the proud winner of ¡Lotería! Now get ready to be awarded your prize: a pack of Chiclets.

When we were little, we always played Lotería, whether we were in Chicago or Mexico. Lotería is a game very similar to Bingo–and sometimes people call it Mexican Bingo–where each player places markers on a card as the names of squares are called out. The first player to fill the entire card shouts, “¡Lotería!” and usually wins a small prize. Each card contains 25 pictures with the names listed below: La rosa, La dama, El valiente, El barril, etc. The names of the pictures are called out from a deck of cards that contains all the pictures. The cards are shuffled and called at random. The pictures on the card are marked by uncooked pinto beans. I always have fun playing Lotería. Especially when I win and I get to shout, “¡Lotería!” At our last family picnic, we played Lotería for 25 cents per card and the winner won the pot. It was certainly more exciting than playing for Chiclets.

When we were little, we once played Lotería with my cousins at their house. When we returned the next week, my mother noticed that my cousin Lulu had a strange odor emanating from her face. When my mother approached Lulu, she noticed that Lulu had extremely bad breath. My mother couldn’t understand how a five-year-old could have such foul-smelling breath. My mother looked in Lulu’s mouth, but saw nothing. However, while looking in Lulu’s mouth, my mother saw something suspicious in Lulu’s nose. My mother couldn’t tell what it was because it was so far up into her nasal passage. My mother and my aunt Marcela held Lulu down forcefully and used tweezers to pull the foreign object out of Lulu’s nose. Both my mother and my aunt shouted, “¡Ay, Díos mío!” They had extracted an uncooked pinto bean from Lulu’s nose. But the pinto bean had been in her nose so long that it had sprouted roots! Lulu must have put the pinto bean in her nose the week before when we played Lotería. So beware the dangers of playing Lotería, niños!

DDR

Only in Chicago


Chicago chess set.

I love Chicago, that toddling town. The City of Big Shoulders. The City that Works. Chi-Town. The Windy City. Well, you get the idea.

Living in Chicago is always an adventure. I love to analyze the little ironies of living in our fair city. Sometimes driving directions don’t make any sense. I remember once driving northeast on Southwest Highway, then driving southbound on Western Avenue, then going east on North Avenue, and driving North on Southport Avenue.

Only in Chicago. Western Avenue was named Western Avenue because it used to be the western border of Chicago. And North Avenue was named North Avenue because it used to be the northern border of Chicago. Michigan Avenue was named that because it ran along the Lake Michigan shore before the lake was filled with rubble from the Chicago Fire.

Let’s not forget my favorite Chicago Street, Lake Shore Drive. Aliotta, Haines, and Jeramiah wrote “Driving on LSD” about that street, but they admit in the song that they were high on LSD.

Another favorite street of mine is Wacker Drive with its upper and lower drives. Most Chicago streets run east-west or north-south. However, the almighty Wacker Drive runs in all four directions! What other street in the world can use all the compass points in their addresses and give us such addresses as 200 South Wacker Drive, 20 North Wacker Drive, 5 West Wacker Drive, and 71 East Wacker Drive? Only Wacker Drive in Chicago can make that curious geographical claim!

DDR