Tag: mother

Tippecanoe and Maverick, too!


1971 Ford Maverick

One of my most (im)memorable vacations was back in 1973. My father decided that we would go camping for our summer vacation. My father had never been camping before, so this was destined to be quite an adventure!

My parents had been divorced about two years by then, but my father always exercised his visitation rights. I always enjoyed spending time with my father because he always asked me what I wanted to do together. And he usually accepted my suggestions But not until after he had completed all his errands such as going to the bank, paying his utility bills either at the bank or the local hardware store. Then, we would either eat at a restaurant or buy food at the Supermercado to eat on the way to our destination.

My father worked at Curtiss Candies, located near lower Wacker Drive near downtown Chicago. I remember because both my parents worked there at one time. Curtiss Candies made Butterfinger and Baby Ruth candy bars, among other candies that I don’t recall. Oh, yes, they also made these saftey lolly pops with the looped handle. That job had its perks. For example, the employees could take home any of the damaged candy that wasn’t visually pleasing for sale. So my father worked as a mechanic mostly in the Butterfinger section of the factory. He brought home Butterfingers that were too short, too long, with too much chocolate, not enough chocolate, mangled, or doubledecked. Now matter how deformed they looked, they still tasted great.

When my father wasn’t working, he would come pick up my brothers and me so we could spend time together. Sometimes my brothers didn’t want to go, so I would go alone with him. My father and I spent a lot of time talking. He was always interested in what I was doing. When I told him about my wrestling matches or chess tournaments, he insisted on going. The wrestling meets were usually walking distance to Davis Square Park, or to another nearby park to which the wrestling coach drove us. My father would always be at my wrestling meets.

For the chess tournaments, we would just meet in downtown Chicago at the La Salle Hotel Grand Ballroom. I took the bus early and my father would drive there later. My father started playing chess because of me, and then later we, my father, my brothers, and I, visited his brother, my Uncle Chucho, in Pilsen to play chess and eat pistachios. We would also go to the Chess Pavillion at North Avenue Beach to play chess in the summer.

Well, we didn’t just play chess! at the beach My father tried to pack in as many activities as possible in order to spend the whole day at the beach. That meant packing two bicycles, balls, baseball bats, baseball gloves, a barbecue grill, and that day’s newspapers. We would all squeeze into his lime green 1971 Ford Maverick for a full day of fun. Beleive me, we had fun after driving to the beach all scrunched up!

That car was the first car my father ever bought brand new. In fact, everyone who knew him was surprised he would consider buying new car, especially after recently getting divorced. Plus, he had to pay weekly child support of $60 for six children, $10 per child. This was 1972, so it was a lot of money back then. However, part of the divorce settlement included dividing the profit of the family house. (The family house is a story for another day.)

So my father was single again with a huge cash reserve after the sale of our house. So he decides to buy his first ever new car. Many people would have chosen any other color than lime green, but my father loved how the car looked in lime green! We learned to love it, too, after a while. My friends knew when my father would come to pick us up for visitation by the lime green color of the Ford Maverick.

I learned a lot about how not to handle my finances by watching how my father handled his finances. In fact, to this day, when I have a critical finanacial decision to make, I ask myself, “How would my father handle this situation?” And then, I do the exact opposite! So my father has this huge cash reserve from the sale of our house, and he has enough to pay cash for the car, but then he buys the car on credit. He explained why to me, but I didn’t understand at the time because I was only sixteen years old at the time. Looking back now, I still don’t understand why.

Anyway, my father often asked me about my life at Divine Heart Seminary and what we did and how we lived, and he would share stories from his childhood and his life at the seminary in Montezuma, New Mexico. My father was really interested in my stories, especially after visiting me at the seminary in Donaldson, Indiana.

What intrigued my father the most was the stories about our camping trips with the Exploreres group at the seminary. We went camping at Meyer’s Lake and Tippecanoe River State Park. We also went camping at the farm of our fellow seminarian Dan G. I told my father how we pitched tents, chopped wood, built campfires, and went canoeing. My father loved hearing my descriptions of roughing it in the woods.

Soon after the divorce, the sale of our house, and the purchase of the lime green 1973 Ford Maverick, my father comes to pick us up for his child visitation one July Saturday morning. He tells me to ask my mother if he could take us camping for the weekend. I’m dumbfounded because we had never gone camping as a family. We didn’t have any camping gear, either. Well, I had my own winter mummy sleeping bag, but that is also a story for another day. My mother immediately grants my father permission to take us away for the weekend, or longer if he wanted. And the farther away the better. Needless to say, my brothers and I were somethimes a bit too much for my mother endure.

“How are we going camping without a tent?” I asked my father as we drove away. My father had a plan! Now it’s about 8:00 AM on a Saturday morning, and my father had just finished working the Friday nightshift. He came straight from work to pick us up to go camping. Knowing him, he probably didn’t sleep much on Friday before going to work because he was so excited about his camping trip! And he wanted to go camping at Tippecanoe River State Park just like I had done with the Explorers!

But my father had a plan! First, we had to run his errands before we could camping. He had just gotten paid, so we had to go to Drovers Bank to cash his check and get a $60 money order for child support to give to my mother. Then we had to go to another bank so he could make his car payment. Then we had to go to the hardware store so he could pay his utilities. Then we had to back to my house to give my mother the child support money order before we left for Indiana.

By this time, we were hungry. Rather than eat in a restaurant, my father took us to the Supermercado where he bought carnitas and bolillos for our breakfast/brunch/lunch. As I recall, we never ate at a restaurant when we were children. My brothers and I didn’t complain because we were starving and we loved carnitas! Once we where sated, I asked my father, as the oldest of the brothers looking out for the welfare of his younger brothers, “How are we going camping without any camping gear?” My father said, “I’ll show you!”

And he drove us to the Goldblatt’s Department Store. He drove around the block twice until he found a parking space directly in front of one of the entrances. We go upstairs to the sporting department and they sell camping equipment. I had never noticed before that they sold tents and sleeping bags. I would only look at the baseball gloves and bats.

“What do we need to go camping?” my father asked.

“We need tents and sleeping bags,” I said. It was July, so I said we probably didn’t really need the sleeping bags. We could take our blankets and pillows. My father approved of the two two-man pup tents I chose. However, there five of us. One of us would have to sleep in the car. I said that we would need a lantern at night since we would be out in the woods in the dark. My father got really excited when I picked out a Coleman lantern like the one the Explorers used. I couldn’t think of anything else we would need for camping.

My father had enough cash to pay for everything, but he decided to go to the finance department and buy everything on credit. So he had to fill out an application since he didn’t have an account at Goldblatt’s. My brothers and I were getting rather antsy waiting for the credit approval, but it finally came. My father was very surprised that he was approved because usually my mother handled financial matters such as these, even though he had to be by her side to show she had her husband’s approval.

And then we were ready to depart to Tippecanoe River! Or so I thought! My father thought that he should take me back home to get my mummy sleeping bag. It must have been about two in the afternoon when we returned home. My mother asked me if the camping trip was cancelled. I said that we needed my mummy sleeping bag. And then we left.

But first my father needed to go to his house in Pilsen to get some things, which only took him about forty-minutes or so. And then we debated whether we should take our bicycles on the camping trip. By now the Maverick was pretty much loaded the tents, pillows, blankets, sporting equipment, my father’s tools, including a floorjack, because you just never know when you’ll have to jack up the car in the middle of nowhere.

By now, my father is getting sleepy because he hadn’t slept all night and the day before. But then I remembered that we needed to take food with us if we wanted to eat on our camping trip. So we go to to the Jewel on Ashland Avenue. We’re parked in the lot, so my father decides he needs to take a nap. And take a nap he does. for about an hour. My brothers and I entertain ourselves in the crowded car and we get so rambunctious that we finally end up disturbing my father’s sleep.

“I feel so refreshed now!” my father says. And we go into Jewel to buy our camping groceries. Looking back, I realize that we didn’t have a cooler to store our food. When I went camping with the Explorers we didn’t need a cooler because we didn’t take any perishable food items with us. We bought mostly non-perishable food until we walked past the freezer section and my father saw the Banquet frozen chicken. He took two boxes. I thought that was a very bad idea because the frozen chicken would spoil before we could eat it. Wow! Was I ever wrong! As you shall see.

So we take our brown bags of groceries to the car and place them in the trunk because there’s no more room in front- or backseat of the car. My father takes another “short nap” and then we take off for Indiana!

It must be about 5:00 PM and we still haven’t crossed the Illinois state line. Yes, my father is so tired that he has to take another nap. We finally got to U.S 3o East about 8:00 PM. About 11:00 PM, my father pulls over at a hotel parking lot in Valparaiso, Indiana. My father is sleeping so soundly that he is snoring. After a couple of hours, we start nudging him to wake him up. Unsuccessfully, I might add. My brothers and I are starving by this time. We open the hot trunk and start foraging for food. We ate the chips, pastries, and fruit, but we were still hungry. My brother Tato sees the two boxes of Banquet frozen chicken and suggests that we eat the chicken. As the oldest brother, I suggest that we shouldn’t because it has been in the hot trunk for hours. We refrain from eating it for a very short while, but then we feel very hungry again.

Much to our surprise, the chicken had thawed in the car trunk. So we ate the chicken right out of the box. I had not thought to bring any napkins or eating utensils, because when the Explorers went camping, someone else took of the little necesseties. However, the chicken was delicious! It had thawed completely and it was warm enough to taste good. Well, we finished all the chicken. And we finished all the other groceries we had bought earlier. And we were still hungry! Then my brother Danny reminded us that my father always had candy in the car. And sure enough! Hiidden away were some mutant Butterfingers!

When my father finally woke up, he managed to drive the rest of the way to the Tippecanoe River State Park. We arrived about 2:00 AM. Surprisingly, the park ranger at the gate was still awake. He assumed we had traveled from very far to be arriving so late. My father, being the show off that he is, said, “We’ve been driving all night to get here!” The ranger, genuinely impressed, asked, “Where did you drive from?” And my father said, boastfully, “Chicago!”

The ranger rolled his eyes. I was so embarassed because I knew that the drive was only one-and-a-half to two hours long. But my father felt so accomplished by his navigational feat. Of course, now that I look back, after having also worked the night shift, that is quite an accomplishment with so little sleep.

And I will never, ever forget that camping trip. No matter how hard I try!

caricature of author
DDR

Happy Mother’s Day!


My mother Carmen and I, Perth Amboy, New Jersey, 1956.

Happy Mother’s Day to every mothers everywhere! Yesterday and today!

Yesterday, no , today is Mother’s Day in the U.S., but yesterday was Mother’s Day in México because Mother’s Day is always celebrated on May 10th in México. I was born on May 9th, so my mother would usually tell me how she had hoped I would have been born on Mexican Mother’s Day, May 10th. When I was a boy, she usually told me this either on my birthday or on May 10th, or more often than not, on both days. She also told me how she was hoping for a girl during her entire pregnancy. I would have been Debbie, but I turned out to be a boy.

Unfortunately, my mother is no longer around for us to spend the day with her. She always wanted to have grandchildren from me, but my children weren’t born until long after she passed away. So my oldest son only knew his maternal grandmother until he was almost two years old because she, unfortunately, passed away from ovarian cancer, but he never met his paternal grandmother, my mother. And my twins never met either grandmother at all. I feel that my sons were deprived of some wonderful experiences by not having had grandmothers in their childhood.

The happiest days of my childhood were the days when my parents were still married and my grandmother and tía Matilde were living with us in Chicago. My mother was always so happy having her mother in the house. Everyone needs a mother. And to have a mother and grandmother in your life is to be doubly blessed!

Happy Mother’s Day!

DDR

Irma Serrano


Irma Serrano at the People’s Theater, Back of the Yards, Chicago, Illinois

I never understood why my mother went to Mexico when Irma Serrano came to Back of the Yards to perform at the People’s Theater. She absolutely loved Irma Serrano. My mother had all her records. My mother saw all her movies. Yet, my mother went to Mexico the summer of 1970 when Irma Serrano came to People’s Theater.

But my mother had a plan! While she was away in Mexico, I would go for my mother to see Irma Serrano in concert! I was only fourteen at the time, so I was a little nervous when my mother explained her plan to me. I would see Irma Serrano in concert and then tell my mother all about the concert when she returned from Mexico. My mother thought her idea was absolutely brilliant. I, on the other hand, had mixed feelings. Because of my mother, I, too, loved Irma Serrano as a singer and an actress. I just couldn’t let my friends know this dirty little secret about me. What if my friends saw me going to the People’s Theater when I went to see Irma Serrano? What would I tell them? What if they wanted to tag along? That was my dilemma of the summer of 1970.

My mother arranged everything. She bought another camera just for the concert because she always took her camera to take pictures in Mexico. I was to take pictures of Irma performing on stage. I was to take pictures of every outfit she wore. She changed a few times during her performance, so I made sure I took pictures of every outfit. I must admit that this was fun, especially since Irma seemed to welcome the additional attention of an adolescent male admirer. My mother also wrote a letter to Irma that I was supposed to hand deliver to Irma Serrano personally. Those were my mother’s orders! My mother wanted me to go backstage after the performance to talk to Irma and take more pictures of her.

Irma Serrano in the dressing room.

“But how am I supposed to go backstage?” I asked my mother. “Just tell them that you’re delivering a letter to Irma Serrano from Carmen Rodriguez! They’ll let you in then!” I was always painfully shy, but now I was truly afraid to follow through with my mother’s plan. She wanted me to meet someone who was really a successful star and really, really famous. I was scared to approach Irma after the show. But I was even more afraid of how my mother would punish me if I didn’t take pictures of Irma and deliver my mother’s letter backstage.

I must admit that I thoroughly enjoyed the concert! Of course, that was also because none of my friends saw me going to the People’s Theater that afternoon. Luckily, the concert was on a Sunday afternoon when most of my friends spent the day visiting relatives. I recognized every song Irma sang because my mother always played them at home on her 8-track player. The only time I didn’t like listening to my mother’s Mexican music was on Saturday mornings. She played her music starting at sunrise. If I told her to turn it down a little, she would yell at me for being lazy and staying in bed. I would put the pillow over my head and the music didn’t sound so loud that way.

Since I was at the Irma Serrano concert of my own free will, according to my mother (under duress, if you asked me), I attempted to enjoy myself as much as possible. The audience consisted of less than about a hundred people, but they were all really into Irma. Even me! It was a really good concert! And since the audience was so small, it was also very intimate.

After the concert, I was able to get backstage by mentioning my mother’s name. I seriously doubted that would work, but I was amazed that I got to meet Irma Serrano in person. I told her that Carmen Rodriguez had written her a letter and I then handed her the letter. She smiled as she took the letter and said, “So you’re Carmen’s son? She told me about you.” I don’t know if Irma really knew my mother, but she knew how to treat fans appreciatively.  I asked Irma if I could take more pictures of her, and she consented. I was thrilled to be backstage with Irma Serrano all by myself!

So that was my closest encounter with a very famous star!

DDR

Parque Marquette


Taste of México, Marquette Park, Chicago, Illinois

My oldest son found a frog at the forest preserves and decided to keep it. He bought an aquarium, but soon the house smelled of stagnant water. He really didn’t clean the aquarium regularly or properly. Then he got bored of having a frog. He thought of releasing the frog in our backyard, but I told him it would die there and that would be inhumane. I suggested he take the frog to the Marquette Park lagoon where it would at least stand a chance to survive. A week passed and the frog was still our roommate and the aquarium water was still polluting the air we breathed. Yesterday, we both were home at the same time, with free time at the same time–something that rarely happens with our busy schedules (even though I’m on summer vacation now!).

So, I said, “Let’s take the frog to Marquette Park now.” Amazingly, he agreed. However, he didn’t want to touch the frog because of the putrid smell. He brought the aquarium down from his bedroom and put it on the front porch. He almost threw as he set the tank down. So, I was the one who took the frog out of the smelly tank and put it into a five-gallon bucket to take to Marquette Park.

I’ve been going to Marquette Park since the 1960s. My parents always loved taking us to parks or beaches whenever possible. When my mother got her driver’s license, she ventured further away from our house. Once she took us to Brookfield Zoo! But first she had to build up her courage. So she took us to Marquette Park. She had heard that it was a nice park. She drove us there in her 1964 Chevy Impala convertible. I remember driving on Marquette Road to get to Marquette Park. My mother was amazed by the houses we saw there. When we drove back home on Marquette Road, my mother said, “Some day we will live on Marquette Road!”

Eventually, we did live at 2509 W. Marquette Road! Many Lithuanians lived in Marquette Park. There were very few Mexicans in the neighborhood back in the early 1970s. But that didn’t stop my mother from moving in. I missed my old friends at Back of the Yards, but Marquette Park was a much bigger and better park than Davis Square Park. Marquette Park had a lagoon for fishing, sailing, RC boats. There were plenty of activities at the field house where I eventually joined the Mar Par Chessmen. Years later, I joined the Marquette Park Track Club that was coached by Jack Bolton. There were soccer and baseball leagues. I went there for a wrestling match when I was in the eighth grade. I got to know Marquette Park very well. There were very few Mexicans at the park then.

So, imagine my surprise when I returned with my sons to Marquette Park to release the frog (I bet you thought I forgot all about the frog!).  Over the past few years the neighborhood has been changing. African-Americans started moving in. Now, Mexicans are moving in, too. Whenever I drive through the neighborhood, I see more store signs in Spanish. Since I don’t spend all that much time there, I wasn’t sure what to expect when I arrived at the park. Marquette Park was filled with mostly Mexicans. Several soccer–actually, fútbol–games were in progress. Unlike the 1970s, all the players were Mexican. Ditto when I drove past the concrete basketball courts. I was also surprised by the Mexican food vendor in the picture above. They sold the usual Mexican food items: elotes, tacos, gorditas, raspados. My son was hungry, so he bought a couple of tacos de carne asada and an elote in a cup. I didn’t even know you could buy elote in a cup! I always buy it on a stick! As Dios intended. But, I’ve also seen pizza in a cup. So why not elote in a cup? And I’m not even going bring up walking tacos here.

Anyway, we placed the frog (See! I still remember that this post was about the frog!) on the grassy shore of the lagoon and the frog immediately jumped into the water. Live long and prosper!

DDR

Happy Father’s Day!


4405 S. Wood Street, Chicago, Illinois

Happy Father’s Day!

I would especially like to thank my father Diego for being my father. He’s holding my baby brother Joey in the picture and I’m standing next to him. Seated are my brothers Danny, Rick, my sister Delia, and my brother Jerry. My mother isn’t in the picture because she was the photographer. She loved taking pictures of the family!

I can honestly say that the happiest days of my life were when I was a boy living with my family before my parents got divorced. Both my parents were always there for me, although we did have a few misunderstandings. My father taught me some carpentry and how to use tools. I would always help him fix his cars because he was a mechanic at the Curtis Candy factory. He was proud to be a mechanic. My father respected anyone who was a good carpenter or mechanic by calling them maestro. Thanks to my father, I’m now able to perform many fix-it projects around the house.

As a father myself, I often think of all the things my father did with us and I try to do some of the same things. Sometimes, just being with his children was enough satisfaction and joy for my father, especially after my parents divorced. Even if we’re not doing anything together, I’ll often sit in the same room with my sons just to be with them. Occasionally, we’ll start an unexpected entertaining conversation.

My father always asked me for suggestions for trips we could make, and no matter how crazy I thought the idea was, he would take us on the trip. He never made any excuses for not going. So, now I follow my sons’ suggestions. One time, my oldest son was writing a report on Mount Rushmore, and we all became interested in the report. My son suggested that we go to Mount Rushmore, and we went the following June. Every time I go on vacation with my sons, I always think of my father.

DDR