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My Dear Old Dad

Pop

I've been trying to think of something to write to mark the 9th anniversary of my Pop's death...but I couldn't come up with anything profound, or inspiring.

All's I know is that I miss the man, profoundly. Everytime I hit the golf course with my friends...I can feel him there walking the links. We still expect to see him come round the corner, from the hall into the kitchen...even though we know he won't

He was a good man, or as one of his friends said to me in broken english...he was a straight man. In today's culture that means he isn't gay...but in latin cultures it means he was just, which is a damn fine thing to be.

Love you Pop!

FIGHT ON!

RUN AWAY!!!!

Ah well...all good things must come to an end...and so it did last night for, perhaps the greatest college football team to ever grace the gridiron, the USC Trojans.

The Rose Bowl was theirs to lose, and they did. In grand style. Their defense was as pourus as SpongeBob SquarePants is yellow. And their offense had five opportunities to put the Longhorns in the ol' corral but couldn't get the gate closed.

Oh yeah...and Vince Young for the Longhorns (as if that needed to be said) was beyond phenomenal.

One wishes the game could have gone differently for Matt Leinart, what with staying for his senior year for the expressed purpose of doing what no college football team has done before (win three consecutive national championships). He is a true sportsman and his future is secure.

Reggie Bush had a good game, but probably gave away the store on his fumble, and then later in the game when he flew through the air towards the endzone instead of taking the out of bounds and letting his teammates score. But, that's beside the point. He had a fantabulous year, doing things on the field that will one day be part of football lore.

Lendale White had a great game...one wonders how differently things might have gone if he'd been handed the ball more often.

Such is life. Congratulations to the Longhorns.

Parents Worst Nightmare

Crime Scene - corner of Whittier Blvd, and Boyle Ave., Los Angeles

The picture above is a scene from a horror show that looms in the back of every parents mind and fears.

A young man by the name of Chris Castellanos was mudered by a 22 year-old gang member named Aymar Joshua Torres. Police think the motive may have been robbery. Early reports have said that there may have been a second person involved.

I would like to personally thank the ghost of Tookie Williams and his ilk for their "contribution" to humanity. Though I know that this particular crime can't be lain on his stoop - street gangs in this part of LA have been in existence since before the day - its the larger issue of the value of life that these thugs and half-wits have drained of all meaning, which make scenes like this here in LA, and NYC, Chicago, and even in places like Kansas, commonplace. May you and yours rot in the lowest levels of Hell, Mr. Williams.

So why am I writing this? Because Chris was a friend of my son. Not a close friend, but a friend. They attended the same high school, a small Catholic one, in which the student body is no more than 400 in total. The school is in mourning for the life of this young man, who played sports, participated in student organizations and had a zest for life.

I drove by the spot where he was killed this morning. A makeshift altar has been placed on the corner. There are many candles and pictures of him, put there by his family and friends. I said a prayer for his family, for there is not much more I can do. Chris is gone and they have to live with the terror of their baby not being with them...until the day they die.

As a parent you pray, you teach, and you pray somemore, that your children will be safe and kept from harms way. Everyday is a battle and a worry. You worry when your child leaves the house and the battle comes in wanting to keep them with you forever, so that they are safe, but you can't...you have to let go. And then, in a moment, all that you feared has come to pass. All your hopes for the future are taken away by a damnable human, with no care for you, no care for the life you created and nurtured, no care for the gift you were given.

I'm sorry Mr. and Mrs. Castellanos, for the pain you are going through. As a parent I can only imagine the torture...as if dying a thousand deaths...but I fear the number is infinite. There are no words of consolation, none, that can relieve, if even for a moment, the pain. May the Mother of God, witness to His death, bring you comfort when you need it.

Rest in Peace, Chris.

Desert Island Classics

Here are the movies, books and music, without which, I would die.

Movies: (in no particular order)

Patton
The Longest Day
Chariots of Fire
The Godftaher I & II
Caddyshack
National Lampoon's Vacation
The Quiet Man
Citizen Kane
A Hard Day's Night
O Brother, Where Art Thou?
Wings of Desire

Books:

The Bible
On Being Catholic - Thomas Howard
Rain of Gold - Victor Villasenor
The Right Stuff - Tom Wolfe
Viper's Tangle - Francois Mauriac
The Great Divorce - CS Lewis
Witness to Hope - George Weigel
Don Quixote - Cervantes
Orthodoxy - GK Chesterton
Chronicles of Wasted Time - Malcolm Muggeridge
Autobiography of a Soul - Therese of Liseaux

Music:

The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway (Live) - Genesis
Passio - Arvo Part
Krupa vs. Rich - Gene Krupa and Buddy Rich
Meet the Beatles - The Beatles
Live at Folsom Prison - Johnny Cash
For Absent Lovers - King Crimson
East Side Story - The Squeeze
The Gift - The Jam
9th Symphony - Beethoven (Roger Norrington cond.)
The Party Never Ends - Robert Earl Keen
Kiko - Los Lobos
The Ride - Los Lobos
Peter Gabriel 1 - Peter Gabriel
Exile on Main Street - Rolling Stones

I guess if I had all these things on a deserted island...it'd be pretty crowded!

I love you guys!

At years end I start to reflect back on the things, places and people that warm the cockles of my heart. All are dear to me and I know that this pithy existence I live would be pithier without them. So I want to give a shout out to my long suffering wife, Sandra, for all her love and support...she grounds me like no other. My kids are the light of life regardless of how nerve racking they can be. Andrew, Samantha and Matthew give me hope for the future. My mom, Hilda, is a great woman, 'nuff said. My sisters and brother complete me. My nephews and nieces are a joy. My buds' Dennis, Greg and Jeff...over 25 years of friendship without which I would be a lost soul. Charles, who reminds me everyday that Life gives us roses to gather about us in joy. Thank you my brother.

For those no longer here...I still mourn everyday for the life that can no longer be touched, but rejoice for the reward you have received. Pop, I think of you everyday. I wish you were here to see your grandkids, though I know you see them better from where you are. And to have one more round on the links with you. Sally, we miss you terribly. Grandma and Tata you are my heart. Tata Pancho, you are my soul. And to all my tia's and tio's who have gone on, we'll meet again.

Merry Christmas...REJOICE!

Agog #2

Cecilia Bartoli

Again...my wife is numero uno! (keep repeating that...) But I have to say that I am absolutely smitten by Miss Cecilia here.

A number of years ago I attended my very first recital at a small venue in Pasadena. The mezzo-soprano performing that night was Cecilia.

What I knew of opera I learned from Bugs Bunny cartoons and Three Stooges shorts, which is to say, NOTHING!

So I lowered myself into my seat expecting a nice long nap.

Boy-o-boy was I wrong. She stepped out onto the stage and from the end of her first piece I was hooked.

A the end of Rossini's "Canzonetta Spagnuola 'En medio a mis colores'" I was floored.

I vowed then and there that I would bare the children of this fine woman...knowing of course that it could never happen - but the offer is still out there, if she'll have me.

I now have a mild thing for operatic pieces (get your minds out of the gutter...I mean music) and I can blame it all on the divine Miss Bartoli.

So while Salma (see below) is pretty darned good looking...Cecilia ROCKS!! (next to my wife of course! Hi sweetie! Luv ya...be home soon!)

Agog!

Salma Hayek.


Will someone explain to me how Salma is not the most gorgeous woman, ever? (next to my wife, of course!)

GIGANTOR!!

I remeber running home, as fast as I could, in order to catch the afternoon programing of our local public television station. Once stationed before the set, I turned it on and waited patiently for the tubes to warm up.

There he was Gigantor! Bigger than big, taller than tall, quicker than quick, stronger than strong, ready to fight for right, against wrong!

I can hear the theme song now...cool bongos and way out flute...ah...the droning chorus!

Where have you gone Jimmy Sparks and Dr. Bob Brilliant?

Tookie! We Hardly Knew Ye!

Actually, we knew quite a lot about you.

I'm sorry you ended up where you did.

I'm sorry that you decided to slay four innocent people...O, yes you did!

Slay them down wickedly.

And now that you stand before the Judge of us all, you can no longer deny it.

And no matter what those who support you say, you were not an innocent man.

Your redemption is between you and God on high...but from down here you sure didn't smell like a redeemed man. You smelled of something darker...and squishier.

You founded the Crips for gosh sakes! Do you know how many lives you helped to destroy?
Can you count the number of people you had an indirect hand in killing? Do you understand the magnitude of damage to whole communities you created through the nice little drug ring you founded?

Hopefully you see that now.

Because you sure didn't when you walked this green and pleasant land. You were an innocent!

You never renounced the children of the night that you produced. You never co-operated with authorities to bring down the terror you helped to create. You never once called for the destruction of the Crips, Bloods or other filthy rags you left behind.

Never...not once.

And you maintained to the end that you did not kill those four innocents you were charged with killing.

That's not redemption...that's denial.

But you wrote books, or actually, had someone write them for you, so that your redemption would appear complete.

But those four bodies remain. The store keeper, laying flat on his stomach, offering no resistance, with two blasts to his back. You weren't even man enough to shoot "the man" to his face, were you? And two elderly people with double blasts to their tiny bodies...and to their daughter, only one, which blew her once hopefilled face to smithereens.

What a man! Slaughterer of the elderly! Slayer of "the man"! Destroyer of the weak.

Some say you saved children from joining gangs. There lay your redemption!

But there is no way to verify that. No way! You can however look to your own son...sitting there in jail, for life, because of the life he led in your little fraternal organization. Too bad he couldn't be saved from that wretched life by one of your books.

You led a tragic life...but you received as you gave. Yeah, it took a little longer to get the needles in those well pumped guns of yours. That was (by accounts) 17 minutes longer than your victims had. You got to thank those who supported you in those 17 minutes. They didn't even have time to call out to God. Did you look at the victims relatives in those extra moments? Did you ask them for forgiveness?

Every report says you didn't.

The acts of a redeemed man.

To all the silly people who supported you...SHAME ON YOU!

But there is no shame for the foolish and stupid. None.

Good night and good riddance Tookie.

Defending the faith...

From time to time I'm asked to defend the Catholic Church.

The questions almost always cover the same old worn out issues...gays, priests marrying, abortion, contraception, yadda, yadda, yadda.

The questions almost always come from fallen away Catholics who are battling some authority...Mom and Dad, Pope, parish priest, nun, yadda, yadda, yadda.

And almost always the questions have been formed by the popular media. Or by the memories of childhood catechism classes and not with the rational (and by that I am not meaning to sound as if the questioner is therefore irrational) facilities of an adult.

This requires the seeking of answers by searching them out in Church literature (catechism, encyclicals, etc., etc.) and NOT by reading the editors of the NY and LA Times or the literature of those who dissent with the Church and who therefore DON'T clear up, or satisfactorily give an answer to honest questions.

So it is almost always, without exception and eye opener for the inquisitor when someone can at least give them something of an answer without seemingly being defensive or dismissive.

Today's question had to do with the dinosaur the Church had become and that it ought to enter the 21st century by sloughing off the detritus of the ages, or it will die.

Yeah, it sounds more like a statement than a question but I took it as a question and tried to give the inquisitor a starting off point for actually seeking out an answer from sources more reliable than myself...

So for this one I like to start off with the notion of the burden of the past. The Church, I normally state, moves ponderously because it has to poll the past not only to answer questions for the here and now, but to also better guide the future.

I point to the social writings of Leo XIII and Paul VI to give some examples of how the Church spoke to the culture, warning us about the headlong rush into some uncharted territory just for the sake of being progressive, without taking into account how the past, how previous cultures, or societies looked at the issues at stake.

I'm not looking to convince...just to open the door a bit to the idea that some of their ideas about the Church might be faulty.

Then I like to point out that Western culture doesn't have this sense of the past. I use an analogy from essayist Richard Rodriguez who was speaking specifically about American culture, but it also applies to the West.

Our culture, wrote Mr. Rodriguez, is a lot like the table at an all night diner. Families come and, for a time, live and play at the table. They laugh and love, make huge messes and then are gone.

Then the waitress comes along and wipes away all traces of those who just left, just in time for another group to come in and do it all over again.

Now often times this is where the inquisitor looks thoughtfully and says something along the lines of "hmmm..I hadn't quite seen it in that light before..."

Which is all I ask for.

Again, I'm not looking to convince, I'm hoping that they seek beyond me and find the truth.

On The Tuner...

Here are the platters making me swoon this month"

10 - Por Vida: A Tribute to the Songs of Alejandro Escovedo
9 - The Pye Anthology - The Searchers
8 - Warsawa - Porcupine Tree
7 - Beneath This Gruff Exterior - John Hiatt
6 - Farm Fresh Onions - Robert Earl Keen
5 - Greatest Hits -Sergio Mendes and Brasil '66
4 - Buddy and Sweets - Buddy Rich and Harry "Sweets" Edison
3 - Cancons Tradicionals Catalanes - Victoria de los Angeles
2 - Live at the Filmore - Los Lobos

and the #1 disc on the list...played over and over again...

1 - I Heard it on the X - Los Super Seven

Opening Day...

I managed to make it out to opening day at Dodger Stadium this year. What a glorious day it was! Dodgers won...and all was right with the world.

But what a lousy time I had.

Sitting in the bleachers has always been fun. Always.

Now, it's Raider Nation in blue.

The most obnoxious, vile displays of humanity were visible that afternoon in the right field box. It was enough to make me yearn for the comfortable, safe, confines of Folsom Prison.

I counted four fights in our section. Four.

One because two guys tried to slap at a beach ball at the same time and ended up hitting each other. One thing lead to another and security was called in.

A Dodgerarian felt it was neccesary to remind a Giant fan sitting in the seat next to him that the "GIANTS SUCK" over and over again, at teh top of his lungs, for a good three minutes. Having had enough he pushed Dodger Nation to the ground. Security was on the scene...bodies ejected.

Two Dodger Nationites couldn't agree as to who had who's seat. One of the two didn't like that the usher was telling him that his seat was in the next aisle so...security was called...Dodger fan took his seat.

Lastly, Dodger Nation 1 had a Dodger dog thrown at the back of his head by Dodger Nation 2 during the 7th inning stretch. Security pummeled said fans with thrown dodger dog.

And beach balls, oi, beach balls!

There oughta be a law against bringing them into a sporting event. But we need to start by going after the suppliers.

That would by the 99 Cent Stores. Every beach ball, save three, had emblazoned on them, "99 Cent Stores."

Two of the other three were shaped like tylenol capsules and had written on them "ROID'S" and "BALCO." Obvious references to Barry Bonds and the steroids issue plaguing baseball.

The last ball wasn't a ball.

It was an inflatable woman. Sigh...

And I swear if I ever hear someone say the phrase "____ SUCKS" again I just might pop someone in the kisser...and I will become a Giants fan. As I live and breathe...I will go over to the dark side.

And lastly...poor Michael Tucker, outfielder for the San Francisco nine, had to put up with taunts, curses and the ever imaginative, middle finger every time he came out to his position in right field. EVERY TIME.

These moronic Dodger Nation people (all men...all sporting tattoos, all wearing long shorts...all looking like extras from the movie "Colors") would stand, en masse, scream at the poor guy and flip him off, both hands, pumping away with boths arms, like pneumatic drills trying to tear a hole in the sky.

It was pathetic.

Luckily the real vermin were carefully cordoned off, deep in the bowels of the bleachers, unable to wreak their special brand of fanaticism on Dodger Nation. All fifteen of them...smoking their ciggies...

I tell you what...I would have given anything to have had those fifteen people sit near me, smoking away, than the 400 idiots that most of us had to endure that afternoon.

This I also will tell you...smoking isn't a crime. Being an asswipe in front of children is.

The fan behavior ruined an otherwise beautiful day at the ball park.

Blue skies, pigeons swooping down into the field, Stealth bomber majestically flying over the stadium...all lost because we have become a nation of rude, flatulent people.

God help us.

Experiencing the beauty of historical times...

I have almost always been able to feel the moment when a historical thing happens. Most are slam dunks of course. Moon landings, pope's dying, etc., etc. But also of the micro-historical, being in a place that 400 years ago people, so much like me, walked here, lived here, made love here, died here.

When I was traveling through my nihilist period I lost that sense, but, believe it or not, regained it at an Oktoberfest while dancing to a never-ending polka. That moment of dancing, with a fetching young woman, the release of energy, the swirling of the world, reminded me of the importance of beauty and the feeling that I was, in a very micro sense, living history, that 50 years hence, someone else will experience, what I just now felt and sensed. Everyday I was alive I was living history, making history and witnessing history. I needed to soak it all in in this tiny time I have on earth. Swear to God...it happened.

Anyway, for all it's ugliness, history is a very beautiful thing. It is to be re-minded of one's ancestors, to read of the exploits of Man, and to live it, is a thing of extreme and intense beauty.

And so it was this morning when the news of a new Pope came out over the radio.

As I was heading into the parking lot here at work the local news had switched to the CNN broadcast and the excited voice of Vatican correspondent John Allen announcing that the curtains to the balcony had opened. I quickly parked the car turned off the engine and listened.

I have read a couple of accounts on the formal announcement of a new Pope and have been thrilled trying to put myself there, in that place, but thanks to the old Marconi, I WAS there, in THAT place, NOW...and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end at the enormity of it. The voice calling out in four languages that a new pope was being introduced to the world shook me and at the ancient words "Habemus Papam" I wept.

To hear the crowd chant, "Benedict, Benedict" as the new pope spoke to them brought me to tears yet again.

This is beautiful history as it was meant to be experienced. I'm going home to share it with my wife and kids...and anyone else who may care to listen...

It has been a remarkable few weeks in the life of the Church. It has gone from mourning to daybreak. The Son is shining...better wear some shades.

Habemus Papam! Pope Benedict XVI

"Dear brothers and sisters, after the great Pope John Paul II, the cardinals have elected me - a simple, humble worker in the vineyard of the Lord," he said after being introduced by Chilean Cardinal Jorge Arturo Medina Estivez.

"The fact that the Lord can work and act even with insufficient means consoles me, and above all I entrust myself to your prayers," the new pope said. "I entrust myself to your prayers."

Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger holds a candle as he celebrates an Easter Vigil in St. Peter's Basilica... The crowd responded by chanting "Benedict! Benedict!"

And so the barque of Peter is handed to a man of sufficient means and skills no matter how simple and humble he describes himself.

Pope Benedict XVI is a man of incredible intelligence, wit and charm and I rejoice. For those who want to know the man go find his books, The Ratzinger Report, Milestones, Salt of the Earth, and God and the World.

The bells are ringing throughout Germany. The St. Peter's bell in the great cathedral of Cologne is tolling on it's own. Significant in that traditionally it does so only for the death of the Pope (as it did on April 2) or for the death of the Arch-bishop of Cologne.

Already, a web site dedicated to Pope Benedict is up and running ( http://www.PopeBenedictXVI.org ) and one that has been up for quite awhile www.ratzingerfanclub.com but it has been having overload problems since this morning.