Tag: America

Dear Arizona


By Lalo Alcaraz

Dear Arizona,

I regret to inform you that I have changed my vacation plans for this summer. I will not see you again this summer even though I have enjoyed visiting you in the past. Nor will I be visiting Arizona anytime soon.

I’m sorry, but I will not be celebrating the Fourth of July in Arizona as I have in previous years. I really enjoyed your Independence Day celebration in Phoenix! I was amazed at the diversity of the throngs of people waving American flags and feeling oh so patriotic! As I recall, about 90% of the visitors to the park that day were brown and had black hair and brown eyes. Many of them spoke English, Spanish, and/or Spanglish. We were all there for the common purpose of celebrating the independence from imperialist England. Everyone was thankful to be living in America and no asked or cared if they were citizens (not even the authorities). It was a peaceful and joyous day of celebration. No one cared or even thought about the fact that Arizona was once part of México. Everyone was just celebrating America!

I wonder how your Fourth of July celebration will turn out this year, since I will not be there. How many people do you think will actually show up now? I wonder. I look forward to someday visiting you again. Hasta luego.

Patriotically yours,
David Diego Rodríguez

P.S. I once visited the London Bridge in Lake Havasu City, Arizona. Is the London Bridge now a legal resident?

México


Marquette Park, Chicago, Illinois

One difference I noticed when I entered México was that EVERYONE speaks Spanish–as opposed to Chicago where only half the people speak Spanish. México is like a totally different country!

I may be Mexican, but I’m not a real Mexican who grew up in México. When I checked into a hotel in Matehuala, I realized that my name, David Diego Rodriguez, even though it sounds Spanish, is really American. My name, if I were really, really a Mexican, would be David Diego Rodríguez Martínez. But so far, I’m blending in here in Mexico. Or at least, I’ve convinced myself that most people don’t really notice that I’m from America. I found this Internet Café in Celaya and it has accent marks and ñ just like a real Spanish keyboard!

Well, I have to go now. My time is up at the Internet Cafe. Hasta pronto.

High on LSD


This sign is not on Lake Shore Drive.

As long as I now have your attention, I would like to inform you that, yes, indeed, I am still high from my drive this morning on Lake Shore Drive. That’s LSD as in the acronym for Lake Shore Drive and not the hallucinogenic drug (for those of you who are actually high on LSD).

I have always loved cruising on LSD! I mean, Lake Shore Drive. I love it! LSD begins/ends at Hollywood on the north end; I’m not sure where it begins/ends on the south end because every time I passed the Museum of Science and Industry, I would mysteriously find myself NOT on LSD.

There is something very relaxing about driving on Chicago’s lakefront on beautiful, sunny day. I have so many fond memories to my earliest driving days of speeding on LSD in my buccaneer red 1975 Pontiac Firebird in 1975 when I was only 18. Whenever I felt depressed, or extremely happy for that matter, I would cruise up one end of LSD and then back to the other, for no practical reason other than it was FUN! You see, I loved driving my car! Despite all the usual problems of an eighteen year old, I drove a brand new Firebird that I bought all by myself!

Every time I drove on LSD, I played special driving songs on my car 8-Track player: “I’m in Love with my Car” by Queen, “Ventura Highway” by America, “Highway Star” by Deep Purple, “AutoBahn” by Kraftwerk, and of course, “Lake Shore Drive” by Aliotta, Haynes, and Jeremiah. LSD was so soothing since I was under so much stress at the time. I was unhappy at home, I worked full-time on the midnight shift at the Derby Foods peanut butter factory while I was still in high school. Driving was a nice emotional release from all my problems.

So this morning as I’m driving on LSD, I had this incredible flashback to the days of my youth when I was to know what it meant to be a man. Oops, I just quoted Led Zeppelin, another favorite of mine. I kind of miss my 8-track player now.