No Regrets

Chapter 1: The San Francisco –Mexico Connection

I was born in San Francisco, California, but grew up in San Diego. I never knew why we moved there. Perhaps it was because the weather was balmier or the availability of jobs was better.

My father was an ilustrado, a product of the Liceo de Manila. He got into trouble in the Philippines with a few others for plotting to overthrow a certain despotic Capitan Blanco. Before my father was caught, his parents sent him to the United States to study until the trouble blew over.

My mother was from Mexico; she was in San Francisco vacationing with some relatives when she met my father. The only thing I knew about her was that she had one brother who, as a young boy, was taken away by the revolutionaries, and three sisters, one of which was in nearby Tijuana, Mexico. And that she was a widow.

My parents were married in San Francisco, and then I came along. My mother used to say that she bought me from the vegetable man, a Chinese, because my eyes were "slanted."

I don’t remember anything of my young life except that we would board the train often to go to another place which, looking back now, I think it was Mexico.

San Diego was a beautiful city. It has a naval base and you can always see sailors around. The landmarks that I remember are the Balboa Plaza facing the Union Hotel, Balboa Park where they had a huge organ and benches, and that there were concerts on Sunday afternoons. Of the famous beaches in California, I particularly liked Mission Beach which was about an hour’s drive from where we lived. I remember one time I went in too deep and there was my Mama yelling from the shore for me to come in. Coronado also had a bigger and better beach. An enclave of the rich was Point Loma, where beautiful homes were clustered, and sometimes we would ride out there just to gawk at the houses and gardens. One of the nicest things San Diego had was the zoo. It had nearly all the animals that existed then. It is still considered one of the biggest and the best. Beside it was a huge open-air auditorium that had an organ and benches for their Saturday and Sunday concerts. I loved going there for the day, which you would need to see the entire zoo.

My First Icon Of Glamour

I tried remembering back to my early years, but I can only go back to the time when I was nine. I knew that we were prosperous by our standards. We had a big house, I had pretty dresses and some Mary Jane patent leather shoes. At that time my hair was in a straight bob with bangs.

Other things I remember was that we had a piano and Mama had a poultry in the backyard. Once one of her hens had a cold so she stuffed its nose with Mentholatum and next day the hen was dead.

Among Mama’s friends, there was a lady named Enriqueta. To me she was the epitome of glamour. She was tall, wore beautiful clothes and smoked cigarettes. She lived around the corner, so once in a while I’d be allowed to go to her house. Then she would take me to her bedroom, which had a chaise lounge, and she would change into a dressing gown and lie down and smoke a cigarette with a long cigarette holder. I loved watching her and I would imitate her when I got home. So Enriqueta became my friend, too. One night she took me to the movies, we walked as the theater was quite near and on the way she opened a roll of candies and started eating one, she said she couldn’t give me any because it was medicine.

Well, after that she didn’t seem so glamorous anymore. I was going to Lincoln Elementary School at the time.

Years later we moved to a house on 17th Street. I remember there were a lot of kids in the neighborhood so I was quite happy. Until the day that I was hit by a car when I was crossing the street. When I came to, there were a ring of people staring down at me. I got up and ran all the way home, which was about a block and a half away with all the people chasing me. I got home and hid under the bed not knowing what had happened to me. Right after, there was knocking on the door. By this time I was crying bitterly, afraid of being jailed. Finally, the police explained to Mama that I was not at fault, they only wanted to check me in at the hospital to see how badly I was hurt. I wasn’t hurt at all but they insisted. So my elbow, which was scraped during the fall, was bandaged and then they sent us home.

My mother was a charming person who was always singing. She had many friends, among them was Lilian, a beautiful lady who used to come over often in her car. Once, when I was playing in front of our house, Lilian came to visit and so I called my friends to introduce her (I wanted to show them that this beautiful lady was very close to us). So I said, "I want you to meet my grandmother," not realizing the meaning of it. She laughed and said, "Not your grandmother but your auntie." I was satisfied with that.

Lilian gave my mother a beautiful amethyst ring which Mama in turn gave to me, and today my daughter Marylou uses it.

Scars From A Naughty Childhood

We finally moved to 27th Imperial Avenue. I couldn’t imagine then that it would be our last home in the States. It was a large comfortable home in a semi-Jewish neighborhood. The Jews, who lived next door, would call me on Saturday to turn on their lights in the synagogue where they worshipped, and would pay me 50 cents. The neighbor’s name was Schneider. The daughter Ruth was about my age but the apple of their eye was Julius, called Julie for short.

Julie was not allowed to go in the living room where there was a grand piano and where Mrs. Schneider practiced daily. But one day the devil got into Julie and he crapped all over the piano keys. I can still hear his screams until today. But Mama Schneider couldn’t stay mad at him for long, so she made his favorite bacon sandwich. Now, Jews are not supposed to eat pork, so when I ambled over there with the pretext of seeing Ruthie, Mama Schneider told me she was frying some chicken for Julie. Once in a while I would babysit for Julie. I would tease him about the time he crapped on the piano and he would start crying, then I would hug and kiss him and everything was all right again. Another time the devil got into me too, and I turned off the lights in the synagogue just for the fun of seeing all the Jews run out into the street fuming and yelling.

In that phase of my life, I was quite naughty. I still have the scars to show for it. One time I was bored and all alone in my yard where Mama made a bonfire to burn the trash so I was jumping over it back and forth, back and forth until my sock caught fire and it was sometime before I could get my shoe and sock off. The scar on the inside of my ankle is still discolored and has white spots on it. Another time I was jumping over a picket fence and my panty got caught in it. That’s one big scar that I can’t show you.

I was going to a Catholic school then, Our Lady of Angels. It was coed in the classroom, but we had separate playgrounds. One time I had a quarrel with a classmate named Marie and the entire day I kept on making signs at her with my fists. The poor girl was so intimidated that she went home immediately after school. Although we weren’t allowed to talk to the boys, we managed to communicate. I was attracted to a boy named Demetrio Sotomayor, a Spanish boy, but he liked another girl in class. A boy named Teddy Ryan, who wore glasses, liked me but I never did like boys who weren’t handsome. (To be continued)