jose cruz writes, Re. Spain can wait

Hi. Tom

It's late Friday afternoon in sunny Tucson. Rita and I are getting ready to leave the office and start packing. We leave in the morning for Houston. I hope it's nice there. We are staying at the Hyatt-Regency downtown. We are attending the bi-annual convention of Allied Home Mortgage Capital Corp. (now that's a mouthful.) She is the Branch manager in Tucson and she is being honored by the company for a successful 2003.

I don't know if I told you this before, but she was Honored by the Republican National Congressional Committee by being selected as Arizona Businesss Woman of the Year. Actually the award was Businessman of the year, but when she beat out all the competition(25 men), they had to change the award. Good things happen when you do the right thing.

She exemplifies the Good Woman the Bible speaks of. You will experience more bragging about her in future installments of My life, actually she comes in on the second phase, Life after Jesus.

I won't keep you in suspense, she is the reason for my turn-around.

Love,

Jose
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Evening Ramble

Jose -

Que bueno! a love story in the offing - We all like those.

Speaking of good women, Carolyn responded to CAFE CON JOSE with more praise: "He reminds me of you when you write your best: 'This is me, folks, no apologies,' and written from here (corazon) rather than here (cabeza)." And many more kind words, which I couldn't get her to write down - She's on her way to Saint Christophers' to prepare for our new priest's installation.

Then, there's Anita Rager's comment: "Good stories! Makes me want to go to Spain and live in the countryside."

Re. Rita's RNC Award, Larry told told me about that; thanks for the fuller story.

And speaking of Larry & of your comment on the school's trying to make "brown Anglos" out of Chicanos: Would the word "bolillos" fit here? Larry said a Bolillo is a sort of hispanic version of the black's term for a sell-out, "Oreo." Brown on the outside, white on the inside. One of my ESL students gave me to believe it meant something like White Trash means to me:

"It's the cheap bread," she said; "anybody can buy it."

As for my Spanish, I'm still trying to cheat my way through Ms. Cail's class. So help me out here.

Congratulations to Rita, enjoy Houston, & keep the cards & letters coming.

El Culero Viejo,

Tom
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jose cruz writes RE: Evening Ramble

Hi Tom -

Rita and I returned Saturday afternoon from Houston. The convention was everything I expected and more, but I am glad to be home. I briefly mentioned my forthcoming book to my wife's colleagues and their comments were similar to yours, they can't wait to receive a copy of it. The encouragement they gave me was tremendous. Their are a lot of good people out there. I have never been to a gathering with so many A type personalities.

This e-mail stuff is overwhelming. I'm one of those people that does not check e-mail, while on vacation or out of the office and my in Box was full. Lots of Junk mail but also some good stuff, like the e-mails from Larry and you. Larry is off base on the term "bolillo", your ESL student is closer.

The word "bolillo" is Spanish for white bread rolls. These rolls are similar to the French rolls, approximately 4 to 6 inches long with a brown crust and whie center. The term was used along the border by Mexican Americans in reference to Non indian Mexicans and Anglos. Anyone whose complexion was European was called a bolillo. This term was a lot nicer than the term "Gringo", which has a pejorative meaning and could not be used in public, but was used in anger or disgust.

It's amazing how we use language to harm each other. Words are the arrows that slay the soul. More children have been psychologically harmed by words than by actions. Some of us still carry those scars. Fortunately I found the One that removes those scars and gives you a renewed life and a new perspective, My Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Highly recommended for cleansing your soul.

Love, In His Name,

Jose Cruz
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Hablemos Texano Aqui?

Jose:

Your analysis of Mexican whitebread fits the context of the first use and subsequent discussion of "bolillo" in my ESL class. The young charro (no kidding, he had the whole rig from bit to saddle) said he had made "some bolillo friends." "Bet that's interesting," another student responded. In the following discussion it became clear he meant young anglos of the laboring class, with a taste for cerveza y la mota in large quantities.

Let's you & Larry talk some more. Here's another pair of our discussions:

Larry responded to my query concerining (phonetic) "iy-huela manana!" (sonofagun!), which I parsed as "Hijo d'ella-manana" ... "Son of her tomorrow"!? He suggested the derivation of the euphemism was "Son of school tomorrow" - "Hijo d'escuela manana." Feel free to insert your two bits worth.

Speaking of school: I asked Larry, Como se dice "I speak Playground Spanish." Larry says there's no naturally occuring word for Playground in Spanish, and Yanquifications like "Parque d'escuella" would only confuse. "Espanol dela calle" (Street Spanish) is the best equivalent.* Have at it.

With the purely selfish motive of continuing my career as failed-linguist-become-amateur-etymologist, I assign my ESL students an essay on this topic: "Tell me about a word of your language that is difficult to translate into English."

Here are some Spanish student responses:

1. The Spanish word "Chilango" is difficult to translate into English. A Chilango is a person who lives in Mexico City, but these people are vulgar and dirty, take advantage of others, and don't pay their debts.

2. In Spanish sometimes I write at the end of the letter "Con Carino" for my friend, if the letter is for a friend. But if I want to do the same in English, I can't find the phrase. I have heard the English phrase "My Darlin'," but it is different in meaning. (Her fellow Hispanic speakers & I arrived at "Affectionately" as the best English equivalent.)

3. The Venezuelan Spanish word "chimbo" (male) or "chimba" (female) has many applications, when our expectations are high and we get less.

Examples: That car is chimbo, because it is not working.

This soup is chimba because the flavor is bad.

The trip was chimbo because the water was awful. (Kennedy Seijas)

Here's another ESL student's response - to an assigned essay on Friendship:

"Sayings about friendship en Espanol de Columbia":

-"Los Buenos amigos son par Siempre." (The best friends are forever.)

-"La Amistad es como un tesoro: dificil de encontrar." (Friendship is like a treasure: hard to find.)

-"Los buenos amigos sehieren con la verdad, pero se pierdan con la mentira." (The best friends tell the truth, but you lose them when you lie.)

Que tesoro encuentramos nosotros aqui!

Did I get it right?

Tom.

*P. S.

Thanks to a very pretty lady from El Salvador, I can finally say something like "I speak playground Spanish."

Yo aprendi espanol en el parque de juegos, una tierra sacrada.

I love the idioma mestizo we grew up with - with its English borrowings: troque instead of cameon, tichar instead of ensenar - with semos instead of somos - with its fluid shifts de lingua: Dice ella, "What do you mean by that?"

But enough of that. +++

COFFEE WITH JOSE

Jose Zurita writes, Re. Life Before Jesus, 3: Spain Continued

 

Just as a good Spring rain cleanses the air, soaks the ground ,and brings beautiful flowers, my trip to Spain refreshed my body, invigorated my soul and caused me to blossom. The weekend trips were the tonic that I needed.

It is difficult for me to single out one person whose actions and words stand out from the others, everyone contributed towards my education. Even the children, who reminded me of my childhood. These children respected their parents and adored their grandparents. They did their chores without complaining and the older ones worked as hard as their parents. Many a time I observed teenagers carrying bundles of wood to their grandparents homes.

 

Port Isabel was once like this. I remember chopping wood with an axe for my grandmother's pot bellied Franklin. My brothers and my cousins brought shrmp and fish to cook. The best part was staying to enjoy the fruits of our labor. Grandmother's cooking was the best. Dona Alvina was a Mid-wife and for all practical purposes the towns only doctor until Dr. Hockaday arrived in the early forties. Her home was more like a maternity ward than a home.

If I had to single out one person to represent Spain, it would be Juan. Juan was one of those expatriates that returned to Spain shortly before Franco died. Franco died in 1975 and Juan returned in 1973. He lived in an apartment in Madrid, and he provided the transportation to the town of Navaluenga for me. We had many opportunities to speak during the one hour drive to the small village.

His parents lived there and we stayed with them from Friday night to Sunday noon. Out time together was cherished, not only for the insight into Spanish life, but also for his candid opinions of Americans in Europe. He was one of the few people that was confortable speaking with me about Spanish and European perceptions of America. Unfortunately his view was skewed by the many years of French indoctrination. He was also an avowed atheist and naturally a socialist. An idealist who would have supported George McGovern in his presidential campaign.

Juan was typical of the young men who left Spain from the small villages in order to escape the totalitarian regime of Franco and the lack of education and jobs that go with it. He was a shephard, tending his father's flocks from the age of 7 until he left for France in 1950 at the age of 17. Despite the fact that he had no formal education prior to leaving for Paris, he learned quickly and when I met him, he could read and write both languages. Just like many of the Mexican immigrants who crossed the Mexican border into the USA from 1945 to 1960. It's amazing what people can learn when given the opportunity and freedom to do so. He made me think about the thousands of children in the valley and other border towns who escaped to the U.S. for the same reason.

Juan's philosophy was antithesis to mine. He was a socialist and I was a capitalist. To Juan I was an American and represented everything evil, the French had told him about America. They forgot to tell him that we saved their ASS from Hitler, not once but twice. He questioned why after 28 years our armed forces were still in Europe. My answer to him was very simple and this was the standard government answer we were provided with 10 years earlier, while serving in Germany.

We are here, I told him, because the Soviet Union would move in if we pulled out of Western Europe. Whether he bought it or not, I don't know. He made me examine everything I had learned and valued as an American. In the process he made my Americanism show through and I was finally able to come to grasps with my own identity. I was an American without a hyphen and when I came through La Guardia Airport in New York, this made it official.

Renewed and Invigorated I pressed forward with my education.

I have to cut it short here, breakfast is ready and my boys have to get ready for school.

Adios, hasta manana,

love,

Jose cruz

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Jose Zurita writes, Re. Return from Spain

I came back to where I left off before I went to Spain. My job at General Motors was secured and my supervisor and most of my co-workers welcomed me back. Some of them were envious that I could get away for such a long period, but most of my co-workers and my supervisor were glad for me. That's always the way it is, no matter what you do, half of the people are happy for you the others resent it. That's why your aim in life should be to please God and at the same time yourself and not worry about what others think. As I told one of my critics,"I didn't ask you to pay for it."

The trip to Spain transformed me in many ways. I began to appreciate the freedom that we enjoy as Americans living in a free country to express our opinions on any subject without fear of prosecution. Notice, I said prosecution, not public embarrassment, loss of prestige, loss of job or ones occupation, which in many cases is far worse. In Spain, had I spoken in a critical manner about the Catholic Church or the Government of Generalissimo Francisco Franco my stay would have been longer. Don't ever take your freedoms for granted, there are many in this country that would take them away from you too. For now they only use intimidation and economic retaliation. You know who THEY are.

The most important transformation was the complete renewal of my spirit or soul. I had shed the baggage that I carried as a child and young adult. The feelings of inferiority that society lays on all Hispanics and from which most never recover. I had been to a Spanish speaking country, where every business, government entity and all other aspects of it's life were run by non-Anglos and the country was not falling apart. In fact, Spain was flourishing despite the fact that the rest of Europe still had a grudge against Spain and for years continued to bar Spain's entry into the European Common Market, which was controlled by Spain's Centuries old antagonist,
Britain. This conflict wouldn't bother me, if It didn't affect our relationship here in America. Much of the conflict in my early years and the continued divide between English Speaking People in American and Spanish Speaking people is directly related to this centuries old conflict. The victims are people like me who had nothing to do with the original conflct between those two countries.

Prior to leaving the States, I had been inching along with my education. I started in 1968 and by 1973 had completed a little more than half of my credits towards my bachelors degree. My credits from the University of Madrid put me within reach. When I started in the fall of 1974 at The University of Michigan, Flint Campus, I had 33 credit hours to go. Students were only permitted to take 12 hours per semester, which I took in the Fall of 74. Anxious to finish I applied for special permission to increase my class load, which was granted and I entrolled in 7 classes in the Spring of 1975. I graduated with honors in May of 1975.

The idea for my becoming an attorney came from a civil rights lawyer working with the Hispanic Community in Flint, Michigan. Michael Pelavin, a Jewish attorney, whose guidance and friendship I will always cherish, was the attorney for the Spanish Speaking Information Center, a Non-Profit Organization founded by me and a handful of Chicanos in 1968.

The Chicano Movement story begins at this point, so I'll sign of until Monday. Tom, this will be the hardest chapter of my book and I need to get it right.

Love in His Name,

Jose cruz, Tu Amigo
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