Celebrating 59 Years – Congratulations Mom and Dad!

This year Memorial Day was celebrated on the last Monday in May.

Fifty-nine years ago, Memorial Day was on a Saturday.

My father was on leave from the military.

The date was May 30, 1953.

The day my parents were married.

The maid of honor was my mother’s best friend, Rae.

The best man was my father’s brother, my Uncle Lupe.

They made a lovely wedding party. 

Don’t you agree?

It’s time to CELEBRATE!

Happy 59th Anniversary!

Congratulations Mom and Dad!

With much love from “all of us.”

May 30, 2012

Memorial Day – the Family Member I Never Knew

When my husband, daughter and I lived in Northern California, we were able to visit the Vietnam Memorial Traveling Wall. 

It is a beautiful but sobering reminder of those who were lost.

We saw the name Peguero.  I  wondered out loud who was memorialized, as Peguero was my grandmother’s maiden name.

When I got home I called my mom.  I asked her if we had any family members who served in the Vietnam War. 

She said yes.

CPL RICHARD PEGUERO

“Richy,” was a cousin who lost his life in Vietnam on April 13, 1968.

Cousin, I never knew you.

I can see by the comments that were left on your dedication page

that you are loved and missed.

Now that I know you are forever on this wall

I hope that my simple page will help to share your story.

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Thank-you to all who have served our country.

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Because of copyright rules, I am not able to provide a link directly  to my cousin’s page.

From the main page on the

Vietnam Veteran’s Memorial Wall Page

  there is a search function where his name can be entered.

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Always remember.

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In addition to search information, the web page for Vietnam Veteran’s Memorial Wall Page contains numerous other links that I hope you will visit.

 

Summer – the Station Wagon

The theme for the Weekly Photo Challenge is Summer.

I don’t have a specific photo but I couldn’t resist passing along this memorable adventure.

Growing up in Southern California, summer often meant trips to the beach.

I loved being in the water and swimming in the ocean.

On one occasion my oldest brother, Louie, had my parents permission to drive the family station wagon to the beach.  My parents were not going with us.  We were on our own for the day!

The big, blue wagon, which had bench seating for six, was filled to capacity, including a few of us who piled in the back.

Joining him in the front seat was Terry, who eventually became my sister-in-law.

We had a great day, enjoying the sand, the ocean and the sun.  Then, when it was time to go home, there were car problems.  I don’t remember all the details, but my brother managed to get the car to a local gas station.  Fortunately there was nothing horribly wrong.  He also called home using the gas station’s pay phone.

Mind you, this was a day trip, so we were expecting to be home for dinner.  Our stomachs began to grumble, but we had already eaten the food that we brought.

My brother kept a cool head.  He asked us all to empty our pockets.  We did.  Allowances and spending money were pooled together.  My brother counted it and headed for the nearest drive-thru.  He did the math and told us what we would be able to buy.  We all agreed.

Louie pulled into the drive-thru.  The garbled voice asked for his order.  My brother said, “I’ll have eleven hamburgers and two cokes.” The garbled voice said, “Eleven hamburgers! You want eleven hamburgers, but only two cokes?” My brother, said, “Yeah…I have a big mouth!”

My brother pulled the wagon up to the window to pay.  The cashier packed our burgers, saw how many kids were in the car, then added a few more burgers into the bag.  My brother handed them out, then reminded everybody that we had to be reasonable about sharing the drinks.  If someone wanted a sip, they just had to ask Terry and she would pass them to us.

The rest of the way home was uneventful.  It was probably the first time my brother demonstrated that he could handle a situation where he needed to be responsible for his five siblings, and a few of their friends.

It was one of the more unique beach trips we experienced.  We still laugh and talk about it today.

As it turns out, my sister-in-law’s birthday is in June.  We often celebrated Terry’s birthday with a day or evening at the beach.  For us it signaled the start of summer.

Enjoying the California sun, swimming in the ocean, gathering seashells and looking for sand crabs; eating hot dogs, roasting marshmallows, and, riding in the big, blue station wagon.

These were our youthful summers.

Hands

The Weekly Photo Challenge topic is Hands!

This was a fun photo challenge.

The family photo gallery had an abundance of photos where hands are prominently featured.

It was difficult to sort through then all!

I decided to focus on a number of photos that showcase my brother, Louie, his wife, Terry, and their children, Jason, Jim and John.

I chose these pictures because I think they speak for themselves…and they’re all about hands!

Busy hands making tamales at the annual family gathering.

Hands receiving congratulations and a diploma!

Hands holding children.

Children holding hands.

Helping hands!

Finally,

I couldn’t resist cropping the photo of my brother’s high school graduating class.  This is the first row, where everyone is seated…and all hands are posed in a row!

Hands. 

Who would have realized it was such a great topic?!

Vehicle

This week Jakesprinter Weekly Sunday Post is Vehicle…what a great topic!

Here is my father, stationed in Germany during the Korean Conflict.  I’m glad that my father often had a camera with him.  I decided to leave the shot as is for a few reasons.  It was scanned into a computer border and all.  I like the effect of that.  The shadow of the unknown photographer can be seen in the lower left corner.  I wonder who he was!

I’m glad my dad felt so free to pose with this beauty of an automobile and have the moment captured.  Why not?

This is the oldest photo of a vehicle in the family photo gallery.  I also used this same photo in my post called Journey.  For a time during the 1920’s and 1930’s, my grandparents followed the harvest in order to support themselves.  They traveled to several states in the American Southwest.  Here is my grandfather, uncle and cousins in the vehicle known as “the air-conditioned car.”  Can you hear them saying, “Are we there yet?”

Teenage drivers and family gatherings! There was a time in my household when there was a car in the garage, another car parked right behind it in the yard, two cars in the driveway, one on the lawn and one or two parked on the street!   My dad used to get up early every morning so he could move out all the vehicles because his was the one in the garage. It was always musical vehicles at my house!

This topic brought back many other memories…

I thought about my uncle’s Cougar, the Mustang driven by my sister’s father-in-law, the family station wagons, trucks, campers, a blue 1967 VW bug and my brother’s metallic purple sting-ray bicycle!  I remembered climbing into the back seat of my grandfather’s large old Chevy. My feet barely reached to the end of the seat!

Moving to a new generation, here are a couple of alternative vehicles that brought a smile to my face!

My niece and nephews are ready for action on their scooters.  Always full of energy they stopped for a quick shot at my parents house.  I get a chuckle of how serious they look.  It’s as if they’re on patrol!

I’m sure there was a lot of noise and laughter once they all took off!

Last but not least here is my niece (the same young lady pictured above) on her favorite vehicle when she was a toddler.

She’s giving her dolly a ride.  Only the two of them knew the destination.

A lovely little lady on a lovely rocking horse…a vehicle that is limited only by the imagination!

Two Subjects – Two Sisters

When I realized the Weekly Photo Challenge theme was “Two Subjects” I knew I wanted to write about two of the most classy and  stylish people I’ve known: my Aunt Esther and my Aunt Sheila.

Over the years I’ve seen  pictures of my dad’s sisters…so stylish…so glamorous…so lovely.  I would see their photos and think about the confidence they projected.

Still, I see more than their beauty. They carried themselves with class. I can’t help but smile.

My Aunt Esther was a dedicated wife and home maker who raised three children.  She had air of sweetness about her, a cheerful smile and an easy-going disposition.

One of my favorite pictures in the family gallery is this photo of my Aunt Esther as a bridesmaid..  She is stunning. I am also touched by her poise and grace.

 

 

 

 

My Aunt Sheila,  also a dedicated wife and mother, worked most recently as an interpreter.   When I finally decided to blog, I took much of my inspiration from her. She has starred in a few videos where she’s told family stories on her own blog.

When email first became popular she would practice her computer skills by sending jokes to my sister’s young children. We dubbed her our e-Aunt.

This picture of my Aunt Sheila is very casual.  I can picture her relaxing on the porch while enjoying a conversation with friends, neighbors and family. It’s a reminder for me to pause every now and then and simply enjoy everyday moments.

 

 

 

The next picture is what my sisters and I call “the dress.”   My Aunt Sheila, my mom and my Aunt Esther all look stylish.  Aunt Sheila looks elegant and crisp.  My Mom looks pretty and put together…but admittedly,  my sisters and I always loved the dress my Aunt Esther is wearing.  With her beautiful long, dark, wavy hair she looks very exotic.

First and foremost they were sisters.  When my sweet Aunt Esther passed away a number of years ago my Aunt Sheila, who was so dedicated to her, spoke about how much she would miss their conversations, how much she would miss her.

I understand that.  I have two sisters.  We would to stay up late at night, talking and giggling in our room.  Our parents would repeatedly tell us to go to sleep.

I imagine they were no different, laughing and sharing each others secrets, desires and dreams.

Two sisters.

Journey

In my previous post I introduced you to my great-grandmother and how she had children with different last names.  One of them was my paternal grandfather, who was born in born in Guadalajara, Mexico in 1900.

Around 1916 my grandfathers and his (half) brothers decided to come to the United States.

At the immigration office they said they were brothers wanting to cross.

The immigration officer noticed all the last names were different on the paperwork.  He questioned them about it.  Didn’t they say they were all brothers?  Why were their names different?

Rather than complicating things with stories of their mother and all their fathers, the oldest one told them they would use his name, because, well, he was the oldest!

As a result, my grandfather changed his name.  This became my father’s last name, and my maiden name.

The brothers traveled to Kansas City, Kansas.  Some descendants still live there today.

The photo above happens to be taken in Kansas City, Missouri.  Interestingly, the date of this story is only three days from the anniversary of the photo.

When my grandfather was a young man a horrible misfortune struck.

At the time people commonly traveled by hopping aboard moving trains.  Once when he did this, he slipped and fell.  The train badly injured one of his legs.  He developed gangrene and the leg was removed.

My grandfather also journeyed to El Paso, Texas where he met my grandmother.

After they met he tried to get her attention by throwing pebbles at her window.

She didn’t know who was doing this, and she wasn’t really thrilled, so one night she decided to find out. 

She took a large rock and decided to throw it back!  She hit my father in his injured leg, which hadn’t fully healed.  My dad says she felt really bad and felt sorry for him!  Talk about a way to start a romance!

They eventually married.  My grandmother gave birth to my dad’s older brother in El Paso.

To have employment, they traveled to different states in time for the harvesting seasons.

For instance, this photo shows my grandparents and my uncle in Colorado sitting on a pile of sugar beets. My grandmother is also expecting my aunt.

Here, my grandfather, uncle and cousins are also in Colorado with ”the air conditioned car.”

They journeyed to New Mexico, where my dad and aunt were born. Eventually they came to California where more children were born.

The journeys didn’t end there.  At one point the family went to Mexico.  When World War II began, my uncle decided to enlist.

Some of the family stayed in Mexico with my grandmother, and some went with my grandfather and uncle to the U. S.

Eventually they re-united in California.

Some of my grandfather’s siblings returned to Mexico then changed their names back to their original names, even though my grandfather never did.  He did keep his original name as a middle name.

One things I find interesting is that both of my dad’s parents had a changed last name!  For the story behind my grandmother’s name, see my post called Unusual.

Prelude to Journey – The Legend of the Whip

I’m a tad late for the Weekly Photo Challenge Journey, but I just had to share a couple of stories for this topic!

I called my father to ask him for some details about my grandfather’s journeys.

We talked about how stories are handed down verbally and concluded when some stories are handed down there’s a fine line when a story becomes a legend.

Once my writing was in full swing I realized a portion of the story just had to stand on its own.

I remember a long time ago my dad pointed to a picture of my great-grandmother and said, “She was the one they called the Whip.”

This picture, dated 1900 it’s likely to be the oldest photo in the family archive.

Her first name is not known.  As far as her last name…well…maybe it was Ortiz, or Jimenez, or Guerrero, or Perez and not necessarily in that order.

You see, she had four or five marriages.  From what I understand, she even married one man twice!  The details aren’t clear if they were common-law or not.  My dad says one thing about her husbands but my aunt says another.

When my dad learned the story he was told she was “a bit off her rocker.”

I see her as a colorful character…and a strong-willed woman.

My dad and aunt do agree on her nickname, the Whip, which really strikes at the imagination – no pun intended!

The story is she chased one of her husbands off the family property with a bull-whip!   Apparently she meant business…and thus the nickname stuck!

The reason it’s a bit of legend is because no other details are really known about her except her marriages and this incident!

As a result of all her marriages she had six children with four different last names spread among them.

One of those children was my paternal grandfather who was born in Guadalajara, Mexico, in 1900.

Around 1916 the decision was made that he and his brothers were going to cross the border to come into the United States. The restrictions crossing the borders were much less restrictive than they are now.

This is where my grandfather’s journey, and my next post really begins.

Next Post: My Grandfather’s Journey.

Easter – Rejoice!

As I’ve previously written, there I’ve experienced many facets of  Easter.

  For me, Easter is a spiritual day to reflect on God’s great love for his people; a day that Christians around the world celebrate as their most sacred day, the day of Jesus’ resurrection.

My personal expression of Easter is best demonstrated in song.

Exultet, the Easter Proclamation is a centuries old prayer telling of God’s love throughout all of history, calling on all creation to give praise for the resurrection.

It’s sung only once a year, during the Easter Vigil Mass on Holy Saturday.

I’ve been privileged several times to sing Exultet.  The first time I was in my twenties.

I was going through some personal struggles.  I hadn’t been active in music ministry for a time.

I attended Palm Sunday mass and was last in line for Communion. When I turned to go to my seat I heard the priest call my name.  He asked me to come see him after mass. I said okay.

When we met he said he had a request.

“Cathy, it’s the week before Easter and we don’t have anyone to sing the Easter Proclamation.  Will you do it?”

I was astonished…and he must have seen this.  How would I do this in a week?  …was I even worthy?

“I know you can do this…your voice will fill this church…will you come to the Rectory?  I’ll walk you through it.”

The following week I was privileged to sing this prayer for the first time.  It gave me an important lesson during difficult times. You see, the first word of Exultet is REJOICE! 

This is what we are called to do.

The last time I sang Exultet I once again faced struggles.

My special needs daughter had a number of medical issues. I had other personal concerns, too. In all, it was a difficult, exhausting time.

I rehearsed but was very distracted. How would I focus?

I contemplated one of its many lines.

Let this place resound with joy, echoing the mighty song of all God’s people.

I thought of John, a wonderful young man who doesn’t speak.  He is vocal, however.  He sings in church with a groan that comes from deep within.  He inspired me.

Many people think special needs individuals like John and my daughter don’t have a voice.  This is so untrue. We often need to listen in a different way.

I thought, if every person everywhere sang like John we would hear the mighty song of all God’s people!

How would John sing this?  He would sing joyfully and allow the song to come forward freely.  I began to rehearse anew.

On the night of the Easter Vigil I voiced the ancient prayer that was being sung by cantors around the world.  A prayer that connects people through the ages.

Once again, I sang the word REJOICE!

Ever since then, during Lent I recall the Exultet. It comes naturally to me at this time of year.

I remember the call to rejoice!

Have a happy and blessed Easter!

Easter – The Day You Told Me You Had AIDS

The early 1990’s were a challenge.  At the end of 1990 and beginning of 1991 I was injured in two car accidents.  The first one wasn’t too bad, but I wasn’t fully recovered when the second, more severe accident happened.  Between those two accidents I was away from work for nine months.

It was Easter.  I was at my parent’s home.  After coming back from church my mom mentioned that she wanted to visit friends.  Honestly, I didn’t feel like visiting.  I often felt very tired.  Perhaps I was also feeling down because in the past I had been very active.  The injuries took that away from me. I was still adjusting.

We went to see our friends.  This was a family whose kids went to the same elementary school and church that we once attended.  Essentially we kids grew up together.

I hadn’t seen them in a few years.  Two of their three adult children, Jack and Diana, were there.

We spent time getting caught up.  Jack looked great.  He talked about taking care of himself.  When he said he’d been going to the gym I wasn’t surprised.  He looked fit.

We went outside on a beautiful spring day.

As we talked Jack told me very simply that he had AIDS.  He was focused on taking care of himself.  He was feeling alright but knew that could change at any time.   New drugs were being developed, but life expectancies at that time were only a few years after diagnosis.

When we said our good-byes we hugged each other tightly.  I kissed him on the cheek.

In 1993, Jack and I spoke before I moved to Northern California.  My body had reasonably recovered and I had a new job with my company.  We spoke very candidly.  When we said good-bye we both knew it was a real good-bye.  We were never going to see each other again in this life.

Jack was very talented. He had a great singing voice. He loved practical jokes and was quick-witted. In high school he helped me come out of my shell so that I had a part in a school play.  I couldn’t have done that without his encouragement.

In November of 1993 my mom called me to tell me Jack had died. Over the years I had sung at many funerals.  I sang for him, too, from the privacy of my apartment in Northern California.

Growing up, I saw Easter as a time to celebrate life and resurrection after the death brought by Good Friday. On that Easter Sunday, even though I had my own challenges, here was Jack living with a deadly disease.

It was probably the most unique Easter that I had ever experienced.  It was a profound time that still touches me to this day.

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This is my second post on the subject of Easter.  In case you didn’t see it, I also posted Easter Memories earlier today. I’ll finish this series tomorrow, on Easter Sunday.