We Will Never Forget!

God Bless America.....

......and it's Heroes, we haven't forgotten you!

Heading to New Mexico

Jeri and I are headed for New Mexico. Tomorrow we will stop at Phoenix, Arizona and then it's on to Las Cruces, New Mexico where we will be visiting with our cousins, Louie and Rocky Burke and their mother Elba.

We'll also visit my cousin Tony Garcia of Silver City. The Hatch Chile Festival is also taking place on Saturday and Sunday, so I will definitely be getting my green chile fix this weekend. Another scheduled stop is the De La O Saloon and Visitors Center in nearby Dona Ana.

 I will also meet the other Randy James De La O, who lives in Las Cruces, and who, by the eeriest coincidence also shares the same birthday, May 8th, with me, and last but certainly not least, after communicating for several years via email, cousin Juanita De La O Gordon and I will finally meet.

New Mexico has always been near and dear to my heart and I'm really looking forward to this trip!

Andrew De La O

My son Andrew,bringing down the house, somewhere in Seattle

Trevor's Birthday Party

My grandson Trevor's 8th birthday party at Golfland Camelot in Anaheim, California, July 24, 2011

Happy Fourth of July - 2011

God Bless America

Memorial Day 2011

Andrew De La O: 30 Years.....

Andrew Salazar De La O

My Parents: Boyle Heights 1947

In the blink of an eye, that;s how fast the last 30 years have flown by. Today, May 7, 2011, marks the 30th anniversary of our father's death. He's been on all our minds lately. My mother and I were talking the other day and she remarked that the years that she spent with my father were the best years of her life. That makes me glad that she remembers him that way. Same with my brother Dennis, he remembers the 1970's as the time when we were all together, still a complete family. My mother was 52 when our father passed, my sister Evelyn was 31. My brother was only 16. My father passed the day before my 27th birthday.

Tomorrow I'll be 57, the same age my father was when he died. That's significant to me. A part of me thought I would never make it. Soon I'll be older than my father was. So in one sense, yes, it has been in a blink of an eye, in another sense, it was a lifetime ago. We'll be together again someday.

Today, before heading up to the high desert to celebrate Mother's Day with my wife and mother, we'll stop at my father's grave site to pay our respect and to remember.

Maddie's 7th Birthday Party at Penn Park

Photos from My granddaughter Maddie's 7th birthday party at Penn Park, March 12, 2011. Her actual birthday is March 2nd.

De La O Saloon Token

De La O Saloon Token "Good for one drink"
DE LA O & DE LA O PROP.
Dona Ana, New Mexico (Dona Ana County), U.S.A.

Courtesy of Tokencatalog.com

De La O Saloon

The De La O Saloon, Village of Dona Ana, New Mexico 1907

De La O Visitor Center in Dona Ana, New Mexico Opens

Article and Photos Courtesy of Explore! New Mexico Blog

Doña Ana Poised For Future as Tourist Destination

The wagons churned along the Rio Grande over El Camino Real, advancing only a dozen miles or so each day. Travelers stopped at camps or parajes between Mexico City and Santa Fe. Most of those camps are distant memories, lost in the shifting sands of the desert and the changing course of the river. One of the camps has persisted into the 21st century. We know it as the village of Doña Ana.

On January 15, State Senator Mary Jane Garcia hosted the grand opening of the De La O Visitors Center in Doña Ana, culminating many years’ work of the many descendants who claim the name De La O and creating a focal point for community activities and tourists.

During the festivities, Sen. Garcia asked a show of hands of those who have come from the original De La O family. The senator is cousin to many of the village’s residents. She pointed to one man and asked if he was De La O, to which he concurred. Said the senator, “I’ve known you 20 years and didn’t know you were De La O. Hello, cousin!”

Those attending the grand opening included Las Cruces Mayor Ken Miyagishima, several Las Cruces City Councillors,representatives of Doña Ana County government, and other dignitaries. Unlike most other similar events, this one had the festive appeal of a family reunion.

Doña Ana dates to the late 17th century. The village, if it could have been called that at the time, was abandoned throughout most of the 18th century. According to Robert Julyan in his book, “The Place Names of New Mexico,” the governor of Chihuahua created the Doña Ana Bend Colony Grant to alleviate crowding in El Paso. But it was not settled until 1843 when Bernabé Montoya led thirty-three settlers to the site. They named their settlement after the semi-legendary Doña Ana, who may have been Ana Robledo who had fled south during the Pueblo Revolt, or Doña Ana María de Córdoba, whose ranch was nearby.

Whoever the name honored, settlers were determined to remain in their village, to farm and to thrive. El Camino Real ran through the heart of the village. It brought not only travelers and trade but also bandidos. It was also prey to marauding bands of Apache. But it persisted.

Between 1845 and 1850, a decade before the village of Las Cruces was laid out, villagers built a church. It was about a hundred feet long and twenty feet wide. Its adobe walls were three feet thick and its windows high to prevent Indians and bandits from shooting at people sequestered there. Candles in chandeliers and sconces between the Stations of the Cross dimly lit the church. A single clerestory window above the nave close to the apse let in the early morning light to illuminate the altar during Mass.

During the Civil War, De La O opened a saloon about a hundred yards south of the church. Just north of the saloon, Werthheim opened a general store, and north of that was the residence of the Cavello family.

Those buildings have persisted into the present time, but barely. In the late 1970s, the church was about to be condemned and demolished. The adobe buildings down the street had faired better, perhaps because of their boxy single-story construction. The structures seemed destined to melt into history just as old adobe returns to the earth.

But the community, led by Sen. Garcia, had other plans. Over a decade, Doña Anans, including some at-risk youth, rebuilt the church. They made more than 17,000 adobe bricks to reconstruct one wall which had collapsed and to shore up other parts of the building. Using a design of local artist Jeannie De Lo O Carbajal, who designed the art adorning the I-25 underpass at Highway 320, artisans in Mexico built a new altar patterned on the original which had deteriorated too far to reclaim. They retained the church’s original vigas and corbels and conserved the original French paintings of the fourteen Stations of the Cross. The church today is used for special occasions, including baptisms and marriages.

Then restoration work shifted down Camino Real, which for nearly two decades has been called Cristo Rey, to the old saloon and adjacent buildings.

The L-shaped De La O saloon has been restored with two meeting rooms and the mirror-backed bar, just as it might have looked 150 years ago. Its adobe has been painted white and its walls hung with historical scenes of the village of two centuries ago. Behind the building is a brick placita with fountain, stone planters, and shade trees. The community now has a facility for activities, celebrations, and fiestas.

As funds permit, the Werthheim building will be restored as a mercantile museum and the Cavello house will become the site of a farmers’ market.

For those who think Camino Real is nothing more than two ruts in the desert, come to the village of Doña Ana and see what family can do.

If you’d like to see the restored historic buildings and walk along part of the original royal highway, take Exit 9 off I-25 and turn south on Thorpe Road (NM-320). At the modern Catholic church, Our Lady of Purification, turn left onto Dusty Lane, which bends around the church and becomes Cristo Ray Street.

Happy Birthday Andrew!

Happy Birthday to our son Andrew on his 29th birthday.

At the Huntington Beach Pier

Andrew with his sisters Savannah and Meranda

Meranda, Andrew and Savannah - Solvang, California 1989

Happy Birthday Nathan

Nathan Joseph Guardian

Today would have been our grandson Nathan's 10th birthday. Jeri and I spent the day with Meranda and the girls at the gravesite at Rose Hills. It turned out to be a beautiful day and we had a small picnic and remembered.

His life was so short and it saddens me that I have nothing new to add except to say that we all still miss him. He was a gift from God.

Savannah, Jeri and Maddie

Mariah, Meranda and Maddie

I'm not so sure letting balloons go was ecologically correct but what the heck.
Happy Birthday Grandson!

The above photo is from a play last Sunday night, entitled Emmanuel: God is with us, at the House of Grace in Uptown Whittier. My youngest daughter Savannah played Mary.  I thought the photo captured the moment.

From my family to yours, to family and friends across the country, God Bless you and Merry Christmas.

Great Tamales I have Known……..

Juanito's Tamales

Jeri and I went to pick up our tamales today at Juanito’s in East L.A. It was chaotic and crowded and busy and I’m sure it will be even worse tomorrow. We had to wait an extra hour for the cheese and green chile tamales. We ordered a Champurrado, a hot thick drink made from masa and Mexican chocolate, and Bunelos, a flat crispy tortilla like desert topped with sugar and cinnamon. Both are very delicious and traditional. While we were waiting some guy came in to pick up his order, several dozen. The manager told him “I’m sorry but we gave your order away”, the guy seemed irritated but he agreed to come back later in the day, after being assured by the manager or owner that his order would be ready. Of course he said okay, the tamales are that good. The confusion is understandable because there was a constant flow of customers and they all wanted their tamales. It was better to humble yourself, bite your tongue and wait, rather than lose out on the tamales. We were there a few weeks earlier on the recommendation of Frank Baltazar Sr. and had already tried the tamales so we knew they were worth waiting for.

On the way home Jeri and I got to talking about all the great tamales we’ve had over the years from places that have either disappeared or changed hands. For years we have gone to Mary’s Mexican Deli on Whittier Blvd in Whittier for menudo and tamales, in fact I went there with my father when I was a young boy. A few years back the owner retired and someone else took over and it is no longer the same. They were at one time on par with Juanito’s but no more.

Another place was Yaqui’s in Santa Fe Springs, great tamales, in fact all their food was good and they made some really good salsa, hot just the way I like it. They too are a thing of the past.

La Pinata’s in Montebello is still in business and I still enjoy their food, especially the tamales. They fall just under Juanito’s and that’s no insult considering how good Juanito’s tamales are. Of course that’s subject to opinion. Their menudo is outstanding as well.

In 2003 Jeri and I were walking out of the market and heading for the truck when some guy standing next to a van said something to me in Spanish. I don’t speak Spanish so I looked at Jeri and she said “He selling tamales” “I’m not buying tamales from some guy in a van, let’s go” I said. He said something else to me and Jeri tells me “you can sample a few for free”. “Free?” says I. I looked at the van, a newer model, it was clean, and had the name of the business painted on the side. I looked at the guy, he seemed business like so I said “Free huh?” As it turns out I bought about four dozen tamales from him, red with pork, red with beef, green chile and cheese and whatever else he had. I prayed there wasn’t a Chihuahua in the bunch. These were tamales from Heaven. The corn husk was fresh and not dried. They were different than any tamale I have ever tasted. We got their card. The great thing about it was that they delivered. Couldn’t beat that.

Later that year, when we gave my son Andrew a going away party when he was leaving for the Coast Guard, I ordered a couple of hundred for the party. One day we called and the number was no longer in service. I don’t think I ever got over it. That as they say, was that.

About 1996, Jeri and I and the kids decided we were going to try to make our own tamales, with red chile with pork. We did a respectable job considering it was our first time. We gave some to our neighbors and they swore they were the best tamales they had ever tasted. I don’t know if they were being kind or if they were telling the truth but we thought they were good.

The worst tamales that I have ever had? I used to say to anyone and everyone that ”I never met a tamale I didn’t like”. I can’t say that anymore.

In 2003, Ed Hernandez and I were at work, finishing up our lunch, when some guy that I had never seen before walks up to us and says “Do you guys like tamales?” “Do we like tamales? Do birds fly?” Well“, he says “my son is a professional chef and he makes tamales. I’m taking orders”. He sounded so proud of his son. He gave us a list of the types of tamales his son made. He made them sound so good. I ordered four dozen at 60 bucks. Ed ordered three dozen, one for him and one each for his sons.

They came just before Christmas. I took them home and Jeri steamed them and put them on the plate. There are no words to describe just how horrible these tamales were. I’m still gagging. We threw them all in the trash. There are some things that a professional chef should never touch; a good burger, good fried chicken, burritos of any type and last but not least, tamales! I called Ed to see how his tamales were. He hadn’t tried his yet. I told him about mine. He didn’t sound too happy about it. When I talked to him later, he said he just tossed his tamales after we talked. A few months later the guy came around to see how we liked the tamales. Again, he was so proud of his son, I just didn’t have the heart to tell him. So I lied.

Juanito's Tamales
4214 E. Floral Dr
Los Angeles, California
Tel: 323-268-2365
Fax: 323-263-8830

My Favorite Childhood Christmas Memory….

My father and I - Christmas 1962

It’s important to me that I write down this memory. My mother and my sister have long since forgotten about it and my brother was yet to be born, and the Rio Hondo Hospital no longer exists. It’s part of my father’s history and a part of our family genealogy and history as well. Certain moments in a persons life should not be forgotten. With that in mind, I would like to share this memory.

We moved into our new home in Pico Rivera in November, 1962, a day before Thanksgiving. Christmas came quickly for us that year, adjusting to a new home, making new friends and getting to know our new neighbors and trying hard to return to a normal pattern. Christmas that year was a blur. It came and went without much ado.

The next year was a busy one for my parents, especially the second half, as they prepared to open a women’s clothing store, “Ann’s Dress Shop” at the old Hickory Hop Center in Pico Rivera. The store opened sometime in late fall or early winter of that year. I can’t quite recall exactly.

In the early part of December, 1963, my father was sick with the flu. I think he was worn out from the last year, between moving into the new house, working at his job and opening the store. His birthday on the 16th came and went, he turned forty that year. Not too many days after that I was awakened by my mother, it was very late at night. She told me that she had taken my father to the hospital and that he was sick with pneumonia. She seemed pretty shaken up.

It was just my Mother, sister Evelyn and me, my brother Dennis would be born the following December.. The house was lonely and quiet without my father. He was really sick and for a time we weren’t 100% sure that he was going to make it. We all prayed privately for my father. We continued to prepare for Christmas to keep busy, my mother did the Christmas shopping and my sister and her wrapped all the gifts and we waited.


A day came when I was able to go to the hospital to see him. It was the Rio Hondo Hospital in Downey. I wasn’t allowed to go to the room with my mother and sister, I think it was my age, I was nine. As I was sitting in the waiting room my mother called out to me and when I looked up, my father was standing at the doorway. I wasn’t allowed to go to him but we did talk for a minute before he went back to his room.

Christmas came and I made a decision that none of us would open our presents until my father came home from the hospital. It wasn’t negotiable. It was just another day of either moping around and waiting or keeping busy and waiting.

It was a few days after Christmas, December 28th, when my mother brought my father home. He was home. I couldn’t run out of the house to greet him fast enough. He was still in his pajamas and robe. I wasn’t used to seeing my father like this but I was just glad to have him home. By the time I reached my father I was in tears. We hugged and I just couldn’t let go of him, neither could my sister. I still remember his exact words “This is the best Christmas present I ever had”. We were all together again. December 28th was Christmas day for us that year. The following December, 1964 ,on the 26th, my brother Dennis would be born and twenty-four years later on the 28th, to the exact day, my youngest daughter Savannah was born.

When it comes to Christmas songs I’m old school. I still like the traditional songs I grew up with. I don’t care much for the newer stuff. It’s a generational thing. Below is a play list of some of the Christmas songs that our family enjoys.

Andrew and Anita De La O - Circa 1948

My parents Andrew and Anita De La O, Circa 1948. The sign in the photo says the Long Beach Saloon but it could be anywhere in Los Angeles.

Today December 16, is my father's birthday. He would have been 87 this year. Happy Birthday Dad!

Freedom Isn't Free - Veterans Day 2010

The C-17 Globemaster III and the Fourth of July

On our way to Tom and Lori's to celebrate the 4th, Jeri and I made a short detour and stopped at the Angels Stadium in Anaheim to watch the C-17 Globemaster III do a fly by over the stadium. It was sight to behold.  I see planes take off every day from the Long Beach Airport but I an still in awe every time I see a C-17 fly by. I know I take it for granted because I work on them and see them every day but watching the C-17 fly over the Angels Stadium yesterday reminded me of how proud I am to be a small part of the program.

C-17 Fly Over at the Angels Stadium

Tom & Lori's BBQ

You can see all the photos here: Fourth of July Photo Slideshow

Happy Fourth of July

Here's a couple of videos to get your patriotic blood stirring. When you're enjoying your BBQ and fireworks today and chasing it down with a few cold ones, don't forget to give thanks to God for being born in the greatest country in the world. If you weren't born here then give thanks that you made it here and If you don't like it here then don't let the door hit you on the way out!

Happy Fourth of July!

Real Life Adventures by Wise and Aldrich

For my kids. Remember?

De La O Genealogy

(An introduction of sorts)

Randy has invited me to post about various aspects of the De La O universe, and one of these strings will be dedicated to genealogy.

A small core of researchers in the extended De La O family has been working on the compiling of family trees and the determination of family origins and movement in the Americas. While most of the discussions have been taking place by private email, a few things have been posted here in Cafe De La O. By bringing together the various topics here into the blog-space, hopefully the range of interest will be expanded and contributions from others can be solicited in one place.

The one common ancestor of all the current researchers is our multiple-great grandfather, Pascual De La O (variants: Pascal, Pasqual, Pasquale), a fifth-generation ancestor for many of us, and his wife, Nicolasa Fernandes (variants: Nicolosa Fernandez, Nicolosa Hernandez).

Randy De La O is connected with the line of their son, Rafael De La O, while my line is through Rafael's brother, Buenaventura De La O.

We have evidence of ten children for Pascual and Nicolasa, and their descendants are much scattered. Slowly, we are piecing together the various family groups and tying together the lines, moving both forwards and backwards.

There are several interesting, orally preserved stories about various De La O relations, and because the historical remains are very scanty from Mexico and what was then Nueva Vizcaya (the area of the Southwestern United States), we are trying to collect these tales and also attempting to track down evidence. Future posts will touch on various aspects of these searches.

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La Genealogía de la Familia De La O

Randy me invitó a que escriba sobre los varios aspectos de la familia De La O, y uno de temas será dedicado a la genealogía. Un pequeño grupo de investigadores en la familia De La O ha estado trabajando en los árboles genealógicos de la familia y los orígenes de la familia y de su movimiento en las Américas.

Mientras que la mayor parte de las discusiones han estado a través de email privado, algunas cosas se han publicado aquí en Cafe De La O. Reuniendo los varios asuntos aquí en el blog, esperanzadamente la gama de interés será ampliada y las contribuciones de otras se pueden solicitar en un lugar.

Un progenitor común de todos los investigadores es el abuelo de todos nuestros abuelos, Pascual De La O (variantes: Pascal, Pasqual, Pascuale), un progenitor de la quinto generación para muchos de nosotros, y su esposa, Nicolasa Fernandes (variantes: Nicolosa Fernández, Nicolosa Hernández).

Randy De La O está conectado con la línea de su hijo, Rafael De La O, mientras que mi línea está con el hermano de Rafael, Buenaventura De La O.

Tenemos evidencia de diez niños para Pascual y Nicolasa, y dispersan a sus descendientes mucho. Lentamente, estamos ensamblando a los varios grupos de la familia y atar juntas las líneas. Hay varias historias sobre la familia De La O, y porque los restos históricos son muy escasos de México y cuál era entonces Nueva Vizcaya (el área de los Estados Unidos al sudoeste), nosotros interesantes, oral preservados está intentando recoger estos cuentos y también está intentando rastrear evidencia. Los artículos futuros tocarán en varios aspectos de estas búsquedas.

(Apologías por la traducción española muy pobre.)

Buenaventura De La O

The following article on Buenaventura was originally published in the October, 1963 issue of New Mexico Magazine by Maria Abeyta Vasquez. . It's an interesting article and a valuable piece of family history. This article has been sent to me by several family members, most recently Joseph Valles, Buenaventura's great grandson. Both Mary De La O Kersey, Buenaventura's great granddaughter and Juanita De La O Gordon have also sent me this article.

Click on the images for a larger, more readable, version, click on it again for an extra large view

Henry Huizar

Henry Huizar

I mentioned my father in law, Jeri's dad,  Henry Huizar in my last post. I thought I would post a photo of him. He was a part of that old school mentality. Henry was born in Coleman, Texas, July 26, 1907 and died March  24, 1991 in Ontario, California..

He would always pronounced my name Rendy, and for years he would continually ask me "Are you still fighting". He loved his cowboy boots and was a Tejano (Texan) through and through. He stood 6" 2' and was solid. .He loved talking about the old days in Texas and I loved listening. He was a good man, a man's man. I still miss him.

Men Like Our Fathers

My Father and I at Kern River 1979
Originally uploaded by randyman

Father’s Day

I love Father’s Day. It’s a time set aside for us dads to just sit back, enjoy a good meal with the family  and reap the rewards for all our hard work. Makes me feel special. I’m lucky too because I have great kids. No, they’re not perfect and I don’t expect them to be but they’re good kids and they wake up everyday giving it their best shot. They work and take care of their own business.  They make it easy for me to be a good father. My wife and I are proud of all of them, and of our grandkids too.

For some fathers it can be a bittersweet day. When I read the cards from a father’s perspective I can get emotional. As I read the words of the cards, or more importantly, the words that my kids write, I can’t help but think of my own father. We are both sons and fathers. We love our kids and we miss our dads. I might not always say anything but they know me well enough. So today I will celebrate Father’s Day with my kids and I will remember my father, Andrew De La O.

My father (second from the right) with some friends and coworkers at Baumann Bros. in Los Angeles, in the late 1950's

Men Like our Fathers

Tom Brokaw called the people of my father’s generation the “Greatest Generation”. I agree with him. The men and woman that grew up during the depression and then went on to fight WWII were a hardy and tough bunch. I didn’t know anything about that when I was growing up but looking back I can see how growing up during the depression and WWII era affected my father’s life and in turn, mine.

The men of his generation were old school and while it wasn’t their generation that birthed America, it was their generation that rebuilt it. They did it with hard work. Politicians and big business get the lion’s share of glory but it was men like my father, and yours, that put this country back on track. Getting up everyday, going to work, paying their bills, buying a home and car and creating more jobs in the process and raising their kids. They weren’t afraid to dispense out punishment if you screwed up.

I understand now why my father would keep me at the table till bedtime and make me finish what was on my plate. Or why when I left a room he would say “Turn off the light”. It wasn’t negotiable. My father was frugal and always had several $100.00 bills in his wallet. Just in case. They knew how to save. When something was wrong or broken at home he would find a way to fix it. It wasn’t always pretty but  he always gave it his best shot. When there  was something that he wanted to buy, he saved for it. He didn’t pile up the debt by using a credit card. That was for emergencies. The whole generation was that way.

With the exception of a few weeks in December of 1963, when he was hospitalized with pneumonia and was near death, my father never missed a day at work. It wouldn’t have occurred to him or men like him to wake up and say “Nice day today, I think I’ll call in sick and go to the beach”.  You never heard one of them say “I’m stressing out” or “I have to find myself” They wouldn’t understand it. It would be a foreign concept to them.

My father could be hard  man at times, it was his way, and he wasn’t perfect either but he was a man. He lived like a man. He had his rules and principles that he lived by and when he was right, and as far as he was concerned he was always right, he would stand his ground.  He had his gentle side too. He wasn’t afraid to show his love to all of us; my mother, my sister and brother or to me.

My father’s word was his bond. He taught my brother and I how to shake  a man’s hand. A firm grip and look’em straight in the eye. Let them know you mean business.  These men were heroes to me and I’m not ashamed to say it. These are men worth emulating. Who is worthier of imitation than our own fathers?

My father in law, Henry Huizar, was cut from the same cloth. He was older than my father but like my father he was a man’s man. Right or wrong neither one of them took any crap from anyone. When a man make’s his own way in life, why should he? Cross them and you were likely to find a hand on your throat or a fist in your face or worse.


I read this once though I can’t remember where. It has stayed with me and always will. The words describe how I feel.

“If I could be half the man my father was, I would be twice the man that I am.”

My father in the Maravilla Projects in East Los Angeles during the 1940's

Lessons learned From a Father

My father spent his life teaching his kids how to live and  how to survive. Sometimes we learned by listening to what he had to say, sometimes just by watching him. Often times it was the smallest things.

Some time around the mid 1960’s I went with my father to a friend of his, a mechanic,  somewhere in Los Angeles to have some work done on his car. They were going to work on it together. Presumably, to save my father a few bucks. It was going to be an all day job so I decided to take a walk around the neighborhood. I found this house that had a huge pigeon coop, a large tower really, you couldn’t miss it. The owner of the house had just brought his lawnmower out to his front yard.  I walked up to him and said “Hey, mister, would it be alright if I looked at your pigeons?”  He took me to the back and I went inside the coop. It was huge. It was filled with Fantails, Tumblers and other show birds.

Suddenly I had an idea. “Hey, mister, I’ll cut your lawn for a pigeon.” “One pigeon?” he asked. “Sure”. So I cut his front lawn, emptied all the grass and cleaned and swept the sidewalk. “I’m done” I said “Can I have my pigeon?” Done? You’re not done yet you still have to cut the backyard. The backyard?” I said, almost choking on the words. “I was only going to cut the front lawn!” “well, you didn’t say, so if you want the pigeon you’ll have to cut the backyard too or forget about the pigeon”.

I went to the back and for the first time I realized just how big a yard it was. I was sorry I had said anything but a deal was a deal. To this day I don’t think I have ever mowed a lawn that big. I hope I never have to. When I was done he walked up to me and handed me a pigeon. “Here you go” he said. The bird was what we called a “commie”, short for common. It’s the pigeon you see under a freeway or an over pass. A rat with wings. “This isn’t the one I wanted”  I said “I thought I could pick one myself”.  He wasn’t going to budge. “You never said anything about that, take it and get out of here!”

I was gone a long time and I was sure my father was going to be pissed. I walked up to the garage where my father was and sure enough he was mad. “Where have you been? He asked. He looked at me and I was a mess, covered with, dirt, dust and sweat, with a pigeon in my hand. “What the hell were you doing? What‘s that?” I told him what had happened.  I don’t know that I ever saw my father angrier. When he was done with the car he said to me “Show me the house!” I didn’t want to say anything but I wasn’t about to tell him no.

The man was still in the front yard when we pulled up. He was watering his lawn. He had a look of smug satisfaction on his face and I think that really ticked my father off. The man saw us and he recognized me but he continued to water his lawn. “Wait here!“ my father said to me. He got out of the car and pigeon in hand,  made a beeline to the man. My father had a certain way of walking when he was mad. There was no mistaking his anger. The man saw this, dropped the hose and started backing up. My father let him have it. He stopped short of hitting him. My father let go of the bird and I saw the man pull out his wallet and give my father something. My father got back into the car and handed me the ten dollars the man had given him. “Here’s your pay” He said. “”Next time use your head a little”. Lesson learned.

In 1973,  when gas was about 35 cents a gallon and a guy could fill up his tank with a few bucks I pulled into the 76 gas station on the corner of Rosemead and Washington Blvds, in Pico Rivera. I only had a few bucks on me. The gas station attendant, a young kid, came up to the window and asked me  ”How much?” This was before all the self service gas stations popped up.  I said” Two bucks” he put the gas in and came back and said “That’ll be three bucks”. “Three bucks“, I said “I only asked for two!”  “Oh, I thought you said three”. He seemed more embarrassed than anything else. “I’m only paying two bucks, that’s all I asked for”

When I got home I saw my father and said “Hey, I got an extra buck’s worth of gas right now” I told him what had happened. I was feeling so good about scoring some extra gas but the look on my father’s face told me that maybe it wasn’t so good. I should have kept my mouth shut. “You stiffed him?” he asked me. “They‘re going to take it out of his pay!” he said. “Well, I only asked for two bucks”.

I went to my room for a while and when I came out later I asked my mom “Hey Mom, where’s dad? “He went to the gas station to pay for the gas that you should have paid for!” She said. Her tone of voice said it all. He’s paying for my gas? I only asked for two bucks worth!” I kept insisting. I was feeling lousier by the second. She just shook her head and walked away. I felt myself shrinking away in shame. My father never said a word to me about it and I never brought it up. Lesson learned.

My  father was an upholsterer at Landmark Fine Furniture in Los Angeles. He was one of the best in the trade. When things were slow at work he would find customers and  do some upholstery work in the garage. He was always working. Once, he was doing a job for some woman in Palm Springs. It was  a big job, a sectional,  and it turned out to be a lot of work and to top it off my father had misquoted her on the price. He was going to break even and nothing more. My mother kept after him, as any wife would, to call her up and tell her he made a mistake. He wouldn’t hear of it. He had given his word and that was that. He completed the job and the woman was happy with her furniture. My father didn’t skimp on the job. He still gave her his best. Lesson learned.

Sometimes we inadvertently learn a lesson from our fathers. Case in point. It was about 1967 or so and we were on vacation. I can’t remember if we were in Palm Springs or Arizona. We were at a motel. My mother and my brother Dennis and I went to the pool. My mother didn’t swim so she was lying on a chaise lounge soaking up the sun. My brother was three, maybe four years old, so I took him to the kids pool. My father stayed in the room and as always he was either listening to the L.A. Dodgers on the radio or watching them on the TV. There was no pulling him away from a ballgame.

At some point my father came out of the room to get some ice. As he was getting the ice, some woman in a skimpy white bikini came to get some ice too. My father couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Who could blame him? My mother was watching him from the other side of the pool.  My father got his ice but never took his eyes off this woman. He walked straight ahead, all the time just watching her.

We saw it coming but it happened so fast there was no stopping it. My father fully clothed and wearing a hat walked straight into the kids pool. From the other side off the pool you could hear my mother laughing with pure joy. The whole place was laughing including the girl in the white bikini. My father shot straight up out of the water in complete shock, holding an ice bucket filled with water and then he just burst out laughing. He was a sight. He was a good sport about it. Several lessons learned here.

Nothing pleases a father more than knowing you were listening to him, paying attention  to what he was trying to teach., even the most trivial and mundane things. When I was growing up it was my job to pull the weeds and take care of the yard. My father’s pet peeve was the dirt being left on the roots of the weeds.  By the time the trash can was filled it would weigh a ton. He wanted the roots shaken so the dirt would fall off. I rarely shook them.

Years later, in 1978, when Jeri and I moved into our first home in Uptown Whittier on Newlin Avenue, I was working in the yard, pulling weeds of all things. My father stopped by for a visit. We were talking while I was working. I was pulling the weeds, shaking the dirt off and then tossing them into the trash can.  “So you were paying attention” He said. I looked up at him and he was smiling. We locked eyes for a few seconds. I smiled back and then continued to pull the weeds. The moment was not lost on me. I learned a hell of a lot more than just the proper way to pull weeds from my father over the years but that moment is locked in my mind. It was symbolic, perhaps, of a son who had learned a few things from his dad.

Happy Father’s Day to my brother, son in laws, uncles, cousins and friends and to all you guys out there taking care of business. Enjoy your day .

“Eulogy” Remarks for Frances (nee Roggero) Ludwig De La O (by Larry Ludwig)

The following is the eulogy given by Frances De La O's son Larry Ludwig and reprinted here with his expressed permission.

By Larry Ludwig

Good Morning. On behalf of the family we would like to thank you for coming to our Mother’s funeral today and also those of you having Mass said for Frances. We would like to acknowledge the presence today of her last surviving sibling, her sister, our Aunt Josie Roggero.

When I learned of Frances‘ passing last week, I was at a loss of words. What does one say when one loses a mother? What does a mother mean to her children. Finally thoughts came forth. A mother is she who gives us life, who births us, who nurtures & raises us, is our role model, gives us our education and the tools to survive and make a good living, gives us our moral compass, who gives us her unconditional love, who is always there for us. This was Frances.

A sympathy card from cousin Sandi Lehnhard notes a mother is remembered for her laugh, her smile, her voice, her style, her strength, her poise, her gifts, her joys, her words, her grace, her eyes, her face. Frances was all these and yet more.

She was our good friend, and a friend to all our friends, regardless of stature, rank, class, race, religion, ethnicity, be it school classmates, neighbors, roommates, co-workers, visiting dignitaries, they were always welcome, always made to feel “at home”, as part of the family.

She always was encouraging and appreciative of our efforts, but could also exercise “tough love” to teach us a moral lesson, or practical survival living skills.

She gave us a life-long home, both physically and spiritually. No matter where on the earth we may have been, be it throughout California, the United States, Europe, Africa, Asia, we always had a home, our foundation, our home base to return to, a refuge, a place of “loving warmth and welcome. Every year without fail, a Christmas “care package” was shipped replete with holiday cookies and seasonal goodies.

She was a great role model in the morals department…always honest, always a woman of her word, her word WAS her bond. Her personal behavior always above board, exemplary.

And if she ever was suffering be it physically or mentally, she never let on, never burdened us with her aches and ills…putting forth a constant aura of optimism and good hope.

She may have been small in physical stature, but small was no indication of weakness. As her husband Larry De La O would say, she was a “tough old broad”….from doing heavy-duty farming chores and herding cows on horseback in the San Pedro hills as a child; to driving solo her three children (Leslie, Lynne, Larry) twice across the United States during the 1950’s (before automatic transmission and air conditioning); to driving those children (once again solo) along with nephews Howard and Robert through the then very macho “bandolero-pistolero” Mexico of the early 1960’s from Mexico City through mountains, jungle and desert to the Arizona border; to single-handily planning the logistics and carrying out the business dinners and parties of her husband Harvey Ludwig several times a year.

On a more personal note, she was a superb cook, preparing Grandmother Ludwig’s German dumplings and Christmas Kuchen pies, Grandmother Roggero’s raviolis, and her own tamale casserole, stuffed bell peppers, pineapple upside-down cake, caramel popcorn balls..and always happy to share her recipes with whomever expressed an interest.

She loved gardening, especially raising flowers, succulents, herbs, vegetables and fruit trees, her homes’ yards always garden oases for all to enjoy.

She loved dancing, thriving in exhibition ballroom dancing with husband Larry, and music, especially Italian songs and opera arias. Her favorites are being played today: “Torno a Surriento”, “O Sole Mio”, “O Mio Babbino Caro” from Puccini’s Gianni Schicchi, the Intermezzo from Mascagni’s Cavalleria Rusticana, and Glenn Miller’s “In the Mood”

In closing I would like to share a few comments, in addition to those cited from cousin Meredith Binsacca and family friend Maria Feeney in the “obituary”:

From the Roggero family, cousin Sharon: “In her heart ‘Aunt Francie’ was clear love and grace, with humor plus beauty. She was a large positive influence in my youth and life. She was always there for me.

From the Ludwig family, cousin Robert: “Three things immediately come to mind when I think of Frances: her love for others, her love of life, and her wonderful sense of humor and inner peace. Frances always made me feel welcome, loved and showed how to enjoy life to the fullest. She was always the optimistic, caring adult with the perpetual, upbeat attitude and hugs. She was the nicest and most loving person I have had the great fortune to meet and interact. I remember her fondly and treasure those wonderful memories. To be included in her personal circle was truly magical”

And from my friends and former co-workers, Griselle and Gilberto Apodaca, Griselle writes “Our memories of our mothers never fade. They truly remain present in our lives. My memories creep up on me at the most unexpected moments. Just listen…and you will hear Frances whispering in your heart”






[ Funeral Services were held for Frances at Calvary Catholic Cemetery in Los Angeles, on June 9. Frances passed at her residence in Calabassas, California, on June 1, of natural causes, at age 93.]



Guest Book for Mary Frances De La O

Frances De La O

Frances De La O with my parents, Andrew and Anita De La O and younger brother Dennis. Circa 1970

More bad news to report. My aunt Frances "Panchita" De La O (nee Roggero), the wife of Larry De La O, has passed away. Aunt Frances died on June 1. She was 93.


There will be a service and burial at Calvary Catholic
Cemetery on Wednesday, June 9, 2010, at ll:00 a.m. Their
address is:

4201 Whittier Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90023
(323)261-3106

It's been many years since I have seen my aunt Frances but if you knew my uncle Larry, you know that Frances was the only one that could keep up with him. They were quite a pair. Both Larry and "Panchita" were ace dancers and performed many times over the years at city and private functions. I have fond memories of her and remember her as a sweet and caring woman with lots of patience. Our condolences to the Roggero family.

Cesar Chavez Day

Cesar Chavez 1927 - 1993

Today is Cesar Chavez Day, it is also his birthday. Cesar Chavez was an ordinary man that took a stand against injustice. He dedicated his life to improving the working conditions of the migrant farmworker. He remained a humble and hard working man all of his life. He died an extraordinary man. Viva Chavez!

Anita Salazar De La O

The above photo is of my aunt Anita Salazar De La O (Ann D. Alley)and is a follow up to an earlier post on this site. Annie graduated from Roosevelt High School in East Los Angeles in 1947 (I'm not 100% sure of the date).

And Later....

... Meranda's "Piece de Risistance" Spaghetti with meat sauce, a salad and some good garlic bread.

Before and After

Meranda and the girls are staying with her grandmother this weekend in Spring Valley Lake. She sent me this photo via her cell phone of the breakfast she made this morning. Over easy eggs, chorizo con papas and homemade beans and tortillas. It doesn't get any better than this. She said I would be sorry I missed it. She was right.

Before.....

.....and after

A Chip off the Ol' Block.........

Andrew sent us these photos of the meal he cooked for Anaphon on Valentines Day. Seafood with linguine, ceviche and some good wine.

Following in the tradition of the men in our family, Andrew has learned his way around the kitchen and then some. As far as I'm concerned every man should know how to fend for himself when it comes to cooking,  Nothing says independence like a man that can rustle up his own meal.

El Tepeyac Mexican Restaurant-Boyle Heights

El Tepeyac, small, informal and always busy. (That's Jeri at the extreme left).

Last Saturday Jeri and I drove over to El Tepeyac, an east L.A. institution,otherwise known as Manuels. It's on Evergreen Street just north of Chavez Ave (formerly Brooklyn Ave), in Boyle Heights. There is always a line in front, especially at peak hours but the wait is worth it. East Los Angeles has changed over the years but it's still old East L.A. at Tepeyac. The owner, Manuel Rojas is a big part of the restaurant's success. He's a small man with a big personality. He opened the restaurant in the mid 50's. The place is known for it's burritos. The king of burritos here and anywhere else for that matter, is the Manuel's special. You will need pallbearers to carry it to the table and a pitchfork and shovel to eat it. The "smaller" burrito, the Hollenbeck, is still bigger than most other places. This is what I had on Saturday. Jeri had the chicken enchiladas.

El Tepeyac is very communal and informal and you will find yourself talking with someone sitting in next table. You will also find all kinds of people here, people from outside of east L.A, and sometime from out of state. El Tepeyac has been featured on several television shows, especially those showcasing large portions.

I started eating at El Tepeyac back in the early70’s when I was in high school. My buddies and I would go there after partying on the weekend. I don’t remember what the hours were or what time they closed but it seemed they were always opened, no matter what time we went. I once ate one and a half Manuel's Special. I was seventeen and in my eating prime. I found out later that Manuel started paying $500.00 to anyone that could finish a Manuel's Special. I never tried it again and I wouldn’t do it now. Another item that was on the menu but I’m not sure they still serve, was a Torta de Guacamole. It was called a Torta but it was pretty much a burrito stuffed with guacamole. It’s been so many years that I can’t remember what else was in it. I’m going to look for it next time I go. Speaking of guacamole, El Tepeyac does a great job with theirs.

The Hollenbeck Burrito (with chile verde). The "little burrito". 
That large object protruding from the bottom of the photo is my stomach.


Address, phone number and map


Review on El Tepeyac at Laist.com:

El Tepeyac Cafe: Pull Up a Seat at Manuel's Place