Mi Familia

It's Clouds Illusions I Recall

I love rivers, but I think I may love clouds even more....

These pictures from The Forks in Winnipeg show you where Joni Mitchell may have found the inspiration for these words from "Both Sides Now." Joni was born on the Canadian prairie in Saskatchewan and no doubt spent much of her youth observing passing clouds:

Rows and floes of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere
I've looked at clouds that way

But now they only block the sun
They rain and snow on evryone
So many things I would have done
But clouds got in my way

I've looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
It's cloud illusions I recall
I really don't know clouds at all

(By the way, I forgive you Joni for the fact that I had to sing this song in Grade 6 choir. It seemed so incredibly sappy back then. But it wasn't your fault. The 70s were a sappy time for all of us.)

Winnipeg, Manitoba

I was in Winnipeg for a couple of days. It's a really nice prairie city, located several hundred miles north of Minneapolis (here's a map for my American friends who aren't quite sure.) We had beautiful weather while we were there---nice and hot without any of the humidity we so often have in Toronto. The fabled Winnipeg mosquitoes ("...as big as bats!") were also nowhere to be found.

Living in Toronto, and before that Washington, D.C., it's easy to forget that a big city can still be both sophisticated and sweet. While Winnipeg certainly has its hard edges, it still has (to me) a small-town-like friendliness that is very welcoming. Housing is affordable, yards are big, and it would be great place to raise kids. It's also very diverse and has great activist and arts communities. These facts were pointed out to me more than once by the enthusiastic, self-deputized members of the Winnipeg Welcome Wagon I was hanging out with.

I'm not sure if I'm ready to make the leap to the prairies, and I think it would be even more difficult to convince Wendy of Winnipeg's wonders. But I can say that it felt like more than just a nice place to visit. Among cities, Winnipeg could even seen as a sign of hope.

We'll be back soon!

Alma's Soulfood will be shut down for a couple of days while I'm away on business. Check back later this week for more fun and games.

Meanwhile, amuse yourselves with Felix the Cat. This cat is possibly my first TV memory. I used to watch this cartoon all the time when I was a little kid in East LA.

You can see some cool cartoon clips and listen to the theme song of Felix the Wonderful Cat here:

http://www.everwonder.com/david/felixthecat/

That should keep you purrring.

L.A. Noir

I hesitate to say that I am fascinated with the "L.A. Noir" stuff from the 1940s and1950s. I hesitate because it's gruesome, sensationalized stuff, with the majority of victims being women and children who were attacked by their drunken husbands and fathers. It's even worse that it's true.

But the truth may be the part that I am fascinated most by. This was the Los Angeles all four of my grandparents lived in, and---so family rumour goes--there was at least one of them who lived this time on the wrong side of the law (I am still investigating this). But a lot of my time searching the websites on this topic is to look for names of my family. I haven't found anything yet, but hey, you never know.

On this unkept blog devoted soley to L.A. crime, murder, and mayhem in the year 1947, I did find out that a wild boar was stalked and shot just a block from the house where we would live in Whittier just 25 years later. Interesting, very interesting.

You can check it out here (see May 2005 for the boar story):

http://1947project.blogspot.com/

The blogsters researched crimes and other incidents from 1947, then went out and documented what the location looked like in the present day. Very interesting if you happen to know these neighbourhoods.

Very creepy too.

I'm too California cool for this photo.

Amado plays it cool for this shot with Uncle Harris and Aunt Pam. Cool and laid back, mon.

Goooooaaaaaaal

Amado and his Aunt Pam share a moment of jubilation as Mexico scores another World Cup goal over Iran.

Show Your Colours!

...it's World Cup time! Viva Mexico!!!

There was an article in the paper yesterday which called Toronto the city that can't lose the World Cup, since there are so many people here from so many different places around the globe. The World Cup starts today and you already see lots of cars driving around town displaying the flag of their team....I've seen a lot of supporters of Croatia, France, Greece, and Brazil. But, at least on this side of town, it's Portugal that gets the most votes by far.

I find it funny that Toronto is called the city that can't lose, though since Canada did not qualify for the World Cup in a sense the city has loss already. But folks don't think about it like that here.

Scores:
June 11: Mexico 3 - Iran 1
June 16: Mexico 0 - Angola 0 [this is wonderful for the Angolans, terrible for the Mexicans]
June 21: Mexico 1 - Portugal 2 [even though Mexico lost this one, they are headed into the 2nd round with a tenuous record of 1-1-1. Good enough for the group they were in, but they have to face Argentina next, who looks very strong.]
June 24, 2nd Round: Mexico 1 - Argentina 2 double overtime [Mexico out of the World Cup -- que triste!]

Reality TV, Part II

...of course, for every crying moment at bedtime, you get 100 moments like this.....
It's so worth it.

Reality TV

Like most little kids, Amadisto often has a melt down right before he goes to bed. I've been posting so many pictures of him during his sweet, angelic moments, that I thought I should post a couple from moments like these, just for some balance. When you put him down for the night (this is about 6:30 p.m.) he kicks and screams for a couple of minutes, but then after some rocking in the pram, he's out cold. Within a couple minutes of these pictures he was totally asleep.

Hilton Ruiz

Latin jazz pianist Hilton Ruiz has died in New Orleans. Ruiz was an amazing player of all kinds of music, but especially Afro-Cuban jazz. I once saw him with saxophonist David Sanchez at Blues Alley in Washington, D.C. and they both burned it up. What a loss for the world of music, but his recordings are still out there and I recommend checking them out.

Here's an obituary.

Dancing Tiger, Crouching Dove

You can see Amado wondering if this is supposed to be fun, or if he's supposed to be doing "something."

I don't think he quite gets the concept yet, but he will.

20 Recent Visitors*

1) June 6, 2006 8:07 pm: Vernon, British Columbia
2) June 6, 2006 6:10 pm: Toronto, Ontario
3) June 6, 2006 3:41 pm: Los Angeles, California
4) June 6, 2006 3:11 pm: Washington, Washington DC
5) June 6, 2006 2:51 pm: Washington, Washington DC
6) June 6, 2006 12:29 pm: Warsaw, Mazowieckie
7) June 6, 2006 7:18 am: Zurich, Zurich
8) June 6, 2006 6:48 am: Toronto, Ontario
9) June 5, 2006 8:19 pm: Reston, Virginia
10) June 5, 2006 7:32 pm: Santa Cruz, California
11) June 5, 2006 6:55 pm: Montreal, Quebec
12) June 5, 2006 6:40 pm: Toronto, Ontario
13) June 5, 2006 5:31 pm: Toronto, Ontario
14) June 5, 2006 1:15 pm: Chicago, Illinois
15) June 5, 2006 9:10 am: Toronto, Ontario
16) June 5, 2006 7:49 am: Brooklyn, New York
17) June 5, 2006 6:56 am: Washington, Washington DC
18) June 5, 2006 6:37 am: Badajoz, Extremadura
19) June 5, 2006 6:17 am: Toronto, Ontario
20) June 4, 2006 10:19 pm: Reston, Virginia

*Don't worry, this is all I know about you.

Above, a picture of Badajoz, Extremadura, Spain. (Strange, a friend and I were actually talking about this city just yesterday.)

Save 22 Oakmount!

When we first moved back here about a year ago I thought 22 Oakmount was the ugliest apartment building in a neighbourhood of ugly apartment buildings. It seemed to have come straight out of some Eastern Bloc country. This might make the majority of the people in our Polish / Ukrainian neighbourhood feel right at home, but I didn't like it one bit. Not to mention, if it weren't there our view of Lake Ontario would triple.

But the more I had to look at it the more I saw something different about it. It's certainly not another of the mass-produced condo towers that are popping up like mushrooms all over Toronto. 22 Oakmount still has a quirky feel that makes you wonder, "just what were they thinking when they built that thing?"

All of the properties surrounding 22 Oakmount are empty and boarded up. Obviously the developers are planning something big for the neighbourhood. 22 Oakmount may not be long for this world, but while it's here I'm going to enjoy it.

Click the pic to see in full size. It is so totally worth it.

My Morning Dove

This morning at 4:35 a.m. we were awakened to the precious sounds of our baby cooing his "O's" from his bedside pram. Amado was singing in the dawn, with a gentle, but persistent "Oooooo", "oooooo", "ooooo." "Ooooo", "ooooo", "ooooo." It was so sweet, he almost seemed like he was trying to sing quietly so that he would not wake us up.

I opened my eyes, but didn't move. As I laid there listening I could see Venus rising outside in the deep blue sky. "Ooooo", "Ooooo." Occasionally the "Ooooo's" were punctuated with a little kick on the end of the pram. The beginning of light outside reminded me of the mornings when I was a small child in East L.A. and I would lay in my bed look out at the pre-dawn sky and listen to the mourning doves coo. It was one of my favourite things to do.

By 5:00 a.m., I got up and took Amado into the other room because I didn't want him to wake up Wendy. We played together all morning. And now, at the end of day, I am exhausted and Amado is asleep again.

One morning many years ago I learned to whistle, watching the sunrise by myself and trying to imitate the mourning doves. That time seems so close to me now.

Speaking of Yoga

...here the Commander-in-Chief does the tree pose, or "Vrksasana," as they call it back in Texas. I did not know that President Bush followed the peaceful and ancient path of yogurt (again, as they call it back in Texas), but this can't be a bad thing. A centered, limber people are a strong people.

He's got to lose the flight suit though...yet the thought of him doing this same position in nothing but a sarong unnerves me.

To see more Bush yoga, go here and click on the tiny images along the top:

http://www.bushyoga.com/

Breath....

Baby Yoga: Upward Dog

Baby Eyes

Mammoth, Arizona 1940

Charles Cushman was an amateur photographer who took pictures in the United States, Mexico, and other countries between 1938 and 1969. He gave 14,500 Kodachrome color slides to Indiana University, which has posted the collection here:

http://webapp1.dlib.indiana.edu/cushman/index.jsp

There are some amazing photos here, like the one above. I love colour photos from pre-1966, which seems to me about the time that everyone got colour film.

These old-time desert pictures remind me of my family on my mom's side who have been making pilgrimages to the desert for generations. There are lots of great photos my grandmother Bam Bea took on desert trips in the 1960s, some with me as a little baby. My mom and Irene also just returned from a long road trip to New Mexico. Hopefully I'll post some of these pictures one day. But for now you will have to feast your eyes on the work of Mr. Cushman.

Here's another, my favourite, from Villa Acuna, Mexico, 1951.

The Shirt Factory

Passages like this are why I love the writing of Gabriel Garcia Marquez. In this scene, the 90-year-old journalist is searching for his lover:

Still entangled in the night's cobwebs, the next day I found the courage to go to the shirt factory where Rosa Cabarcas had once told me the girl worked, and I asked the owner to show us his plant as a model for a continent-wide project of the United Nations. He was an elephantine, taciturn Lebanese who opened the doors to his kingdom in the illusory hope of being an example to the world.

Three hundred girls in white blouses with Ash Wednesday crosses on their foreheads were sewing buttons in the vast, illuminated nave. When they saw us come in they sat up straight, like schoolgirls, and watched out of the corners of their eyes as the manager explained his contributions to the immemorial art of attaching buttons. I scrutinized each of their faces, terrified that I would discover Delgadina dressed and awake. But it was one of them who discovered me with a frightening look of pitiless admiration:

"Tell me, Senor, aren't you the man who writes love letters in the paper?"


from Memories of My Melancholy Whores, by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
(This novel isn't perhaps as scandalous as the title suggests, though it's certainly twisted in other ways. It actually won the LA Times top prize for fiction this year.)

Day Tripper

Amadisto's big trip to the doctor for his four-month check up. Summer weather requires summer styles and our little man is styling for the season.

Here are Dr. Harkamal Randhawa's findings:

Weight: 16 pounds, 8 ounces
Length: 68 centimeters (Okay, I know it's crazy to mix measurement systems, but that's how it is in Canada. This equals 26.7 inches.)
Head: 45.8 centimeters (18 inches)
Overall Assessment: "He's big all over."

She mentioned that the "flathead" syndrome on his right side he has from the trauma of birth was still "remarkable," though it's been improved by the work we've doing with Dinah, the physical therapist. We have to keep up on the exercises, which is really hard, since the child screams horribly during them, though he's not being hurt at all. He just doesn't like being forced to do anything. Hey, like who does?

It brings tears to our eyes.

The Promise

25 years ago, during Memorial Day weekend, I was baptized by the Holy Ghost. I realize that it's not cool to say this, and that many of you probably won't even know what I'm talking about, but that is what happened to me is called. I had a direct encounter with the spirit of Jesus that has affected me to this day. For me, there's no other way to put it.

I was praying by myself, at home in the afternoon. I remember asking for the Holy Spirit to come to me, as I had before. This time, without warning but gently, I had the sensation of liquid light being poured on my head and flowing slowly like honey down through my body. In those few moments everything changed. I saw a brilliant light in my mind coming from above and heard a voice that just said "Trust me." That voice has stayed with me to this day and I believe in my heart it is Jesus. I tried to respond with thanks, but all that came out of my mouth were odd syllables. I was speaking in "tongues," slowly at first, and then in a cascade of words the Bible calls the language of angels.

I was filled with a tremendous sense of joy. Amazing joy. I laughed for three days. It looked as if the whole world had been washed and everything looked so fresh and clean that I felt like I should be giving new names to common things that everyone sees everyday.

Pure spiritual experience and the complicated experience of living in this world usually don't mix too easily. But out of their creative, organic dance a new life emerges, something completely different from what was before. Not totally spiritual, but not totally material either. Life becomes something touched---still fully natural, but singed by a sacred dimension that now finds its most natural expression in the act of love.

Local News

1) There was a wildcat strike of the Toronto transit system today (unlike in the States, today was not a holiday). Literally millions of people were stranded without warning. I'm not sure of the issues involved, but the point was certainly made.

2) Today's temperature with the humidity in Toronto was 107F / 41C. Yes, 107F. Plus there was a smog alert of the highest level. All in all, a nice day for a walk...perhaps even a walk to work...and back.

3) Amado's talking! ...and his first word was "Ohhhhh." At least that's the sound he makes, imitating us when we coo over him. It's a start anyway.

4) Wendy has an issue with the pictures of Amadisto in the post below ("Four Months Old!"). She says he looks fat and bored. She reminds me the camera adds 10 pounds. She wonders why I don't post a cuter picture of him at four months old. Honey, I'm just posting 'em like I see 'em.

King and Queen of the Hippies

You people have got to see this....

Katie's mom thinks we look like a rock stars, but I don't know. Maybe I look like a coiffured rock star. They had those in the 80s right? I think I look more like the wanna-be cosmic mystic artist that I was back then. Katie looks great though, as always.

Go to Katie's blog (the May 29 entry) to see the full-size picture. It's worth it. One of my favourites of all-time! The year was likely 1988. (By the way, we are standing in front of one of my favourite paintings that I did in the 80s. And the photo itself was taken by my artistic Mom. Great job Mom!)

Here's the link:

http://ktzpage.blogspot.com/

Four Months Old!

...well, yesterday the 28th was the actual date. He has a nice new outfit here---real little boy clothes---but Amado was still in a serious mood all day. It was one of the first hot and humid days in Toronto, so that could have been part of it. Though probably it was because of the two big teeth he has coming in on his lower gum. They don't seem to be bothering him too much, but he is trying to put everything that comes close into his mouth and gnaw on it. Also, anything that goes into his hand he tries to put in his mouth, but his eye-hand coordination still isn't the greatest, so often things end up on his forehead or neck. Yesterday I saw him stick his index finger right in his eye up to the second knuckle! I yelled out, but it was over so quickly and it didn't seem to bother him at all. He is being super wiggly all night long though. He kept his poor mom up for hours. (Though I managed to sleep through it. Zzzzzzzz.)

Baby Fix

Miles

"Miles had many vices, but insincerity was not among them."

Yesterday would have been the 80th birthday of Miles Davis. A maker of some of the world's most beautiful music, yet one heck of a complicated man.

812 Riverside Ave.

This is the picture I wanted to post on Mother's Day. It was taken at our first house in Santa Cruz, but it still captures the feeling of my teenage years and the closeness our little family shared in the desert. During the 1970s, when we lived in Phelan, it was just us three for so many years (us four if you count the dog Babe). Much of that time felt hard and disjointed (does it ever feel different for a teenager?), but good because we all stuck together and had a sense of family I think.

By the time this picture was taken---it's dated July 1981 on the back--so much had changed. Sol had moved back to Phelan, Mom had moved in with Irene, and I had joined the Pentecostals. In many ways this picture is the last image of us as a threesome before we all grew up and went our separate ways. This is the natural course of life I suppose. But I don't think I will ever lose the nostalgia I have for those last gasps of childhood we shared as a family.

Heading East / Mexican Pictures

As far as blogs go, I'm just a kid splashing around in the shallow end, while this guy's swimming the deep blue sea.

Four things Raul Gutierrez reminded me of:

1) the life you find at the end of the road may be your own
2) if you seek beauty, it will find you
3) every day of life deserves a well-told story
4) I need a way better camera

Beautiful writing. Beautiful photography. Beautiful baby. From Brooklyn and way beyond. I've read it "cover to cover" and I urge you to do the same. This blog will change the way you see things.

Heading East (blog)
Mexican Pictures (photoblog)

Here are some of my favourite entries from among many good ones:

Rain

Grover Cleveland Service Plaza

Notes to Self 28 Years Later

Other Lives

The aptly named Stung Treng

Staten Island Ferry

The Undivided World

Ballon Man

Today

Optometrist: "You weren't the type of young person who liked to stare at the sun for long periods of time were you?

Me: Ummmm.

Calvin Earl Owens

Calvin was one of my best friends during the years I lived in Phelan (1973-1980). To this day I remember the first time I saw him walk into Mr. Hellman's 6th grade class. We were both new to the school, but he already had a following. All the kids called him "Okie." I'm not sure how he got this nickname but it definitely fit with Calvin's crazy buckwheat-colour hair and home-style clothes. Even in grade 6 he had lots of charisma. We grew very close through the years, almost like brothers really.

Every day was a new adventure with Calvin. With his guns, dogs, and hunting trips to the edge of the known world, Calvin led my brother and I to the precipice of death and disaster many times, but somehow we always just made it. So many of the life-defining experiences I had as a teenager were with Calvin.

I took these pictures on a visit back to Phelan in the mid-80s. I had spent the day alone, miles from nowhere, painting and shooting pictures way out in the desert. Just before sunset, I drove to Calvin's house for a visit with his family and new baby. I told him I had seen a Mojave Green rattlesnake in a hole while I was out in the desert. Calvin could not believe I just left the snake there. Even though it was probably 10 or more miles from any human habitation, he insisted we drive out there right away and kill the snake. It was a matter of public safety.

Calvin and I never really kept up with each other after I moved to Santa Cruz. We spoke by phone once about five years ago. He told me he was now a gospel singer living in Idaho.

Calvin, if you happen to read this, I still miss you bro.

PostSecret

PostSecret
This is an amazing site I can't stop thinking about.

Link:
http://postsecret.blogspot.com/

Phelan, Calif.

I took this picture at my brother's house on Thanksgiving 2002. It was the first day I got the camera I still use. 2.0 megapixals, baby, 2.0 megapixals.

Happy Birthday Ty!

This kid's not just another nice hat rack, but Ty's actually the rising star of the High Desert! Wendy and I wish our nephew Tyler a very HAPPY 12th BIRTHDAY. Man, you are the dude! We wish you the best day ever! These pictures are all a couple of years old, so you gotta send me a new one....until then...we send you all of our love!

Fish Locks

In Hamilton, Ontario there are "fish locks" built between the harbour, which is part of Lake Ontario, and Coots Paradise, a large shallow lake connected to the harbour by a man-made canal. As part of an effort to restore Coots Paradise to the lush wetlands it once was, each spring the fish returning from the Great Lakes to spawn there are trapped and run through narrow chutes to be sorted. Carp, like the one in the picture above, are tossed back to the harbour side. There's a sign at the locks explaining that carp, which can grow to more than 50 pounds, "graze like cows" on wetlands, devouring the reeds and other waterplants and devastating the natural environment. Pike, bass, and other native fish are allowed to pass into Coots Paradise to reproduce.

I took these pictures last May, just over a year ago. We had just returned to Canada from Alexandria, Virginia because of Wendy's troubles as an "illegal alien." I had left a great job and a great apartment and had no idea what I was returning to in Canada. I didn't have a job, so during the day I would go on long walks around Hamilton Harbour, wondering what the future would hold for Wendy and I. There was no way I could imagine the magnitude of change that was just around the corner. Without even knowing it, we had made it through the locks.

Victoria Queen of Great Britain and Empress of India

This is a holiday weekend in Canada, celebrating Queen Victoria. My American friends, you do not know what you are missing. We are going to get down right Victorian. Woo Whooo!!!

Do Not Return Crib to the Store

...it's too late.

Destined for Greatness

...now all he needs is a leather jacket and a couple of tattoos to go with his new outfit. Thanks Katie!

Orale Senor Carlos!

Santana. Hamburg, May 5, 2006

GLORY!

Many of you may not know this about me, but in the past few years I've become a boxing fan. I used to think it was the worst of sports. Brutal, demeaning, inhumane, and violent. Which, of course, it is.

But then I saw the 1996 Muhammad Ali movie, When We Were Kings, which told the story of the 1974's "Rumble in the Jungle" heavyweight championship fight of Ali vs. George Foreman in Zaire. This is an amazing documentary which taught me for the first time how Ali used intelligence and the "roper doper" defense to beat pure force of Foreman's superhuman brawn.

A few years later I happened to catch a rerun of the Oscar de la Hoya vs. Fernando Vargas (Sept. 14, 2002) super welterweight fight, where Oscar de la Hoya ("The Golden Boy," "The Pride of East LA"), an acknowledged goodie-two-shoes, knocked out the incredibly strong Vato Loco-type Vargas in the 11th round.

De la Hoya used the same strategy against Vargas that Ali had, dancing around the ring, taking and withstanding a barrage of powerful punches, until the stronger Vargas tired himself out. Then de la Hoya moved in for the kill and knocked the crap out of trash-talking Vargas (who most fans say deserved it). I was stunned by the amazing combination of violence, strategy, and heart that I saw when these two athletes stood up to each other in the ring. It hooked me on boxing for good (or perhaps for bad).

A couple of nights ago, I caught the replay of Oscar de la Hoya's fight against the Nicaraguan Ricardo Mayorga from a week earlier. Once again, de la Hoya was picking on a trash-talking, wild-swinging opponent who was bigger and stronger than him. And once again, after taking several hard shots, Oscar knocked the guy out---this time taking the bad guy to the mat in the 6th round.

Even now, days later, I am still thinking about the rare meeting of heart, strength, and brains I see in de la Hoya when he fights.

After the fight, Oscar was asked who his next fight will be against. I always hate this part. De la Hoya is good looking, smooth, tough, and appears intelligent until he opens his mouth. Then out pops the squeaky voice of a 12-year-old done wrong. "Mayorga deserved that beating because of the bad things he said about my wife." "He said some bad things about me and my family. That really motivated me." Petty stuff like that. Oscar may be "The Pride of East LA," but this East LA boy isn't as proud of him once he starts talking.

Oscar answered that he was going to check out the other fighters and would pick the one that "will give me the most glory to fight." I was intrigued by his answer because I don't think I've ever actually heard anyone say they were seeking more glory for themselves. I've always thought of "glory" as something you give to God, or perhaps something a sunrise or sunset has. It isn't something people would try to gather for themselves.

I guess I'm being naive. There are probably lots of gloryseekers like de la Hoya out there. But whenever I start thinking that maybe this is something I should consider...you know, becoming a gloryseeker, the only image that comes to mind is that of the pre-Columbian Mesoamerican ballplayers. The Aztecs, Maya, Zapotec, and many other people built these amazing ball courts and fielded teams to play this game that was like a cross between basketball and soccer. The goal was to use one's hips to knock a rubber ball through a hoop high up on the slanted wall. The twist, from our perspective, was that members of the winning team achieved their glory after the match by being sacrificed to the gods. What greater glory could anyone be hoping for?

With ideas like this, it's better to be humble.