Sunday, November 22, 2009

Growing up Catholic


I tell folks that I am a practicing Catholic because it’s really Catholic-light. What other religion holds church functions where the main revenue maker is the beer stand? It seems the church promotes responsible drunkenness. I say Catholic-light half tongue in cheek and half with a growing sense of "Catholicness." In recent years I have taken my church and faith more seriously and therein is a dilemma for me.

Listen to this. I was born and raised Catholic, but learned in adult life that I am Jew, that’s what my momma said. We lived in the San Juan barrio in south central El Paso, on Dailey Street. I was Baptized, Confirmed, went to catechism, and did my First Holy Communion at San Juan Church located down the street from our home. That takes care of three of the seven Blessed Sacraments of Catholicism. I am in no hurry to get to number 7 – last rites. I will never get to Ordination. But, since I am married, I’ve got the basic sacraments covered.

Back then you were a good Catholic if you remembered to make the sign of the cross every time you walked in front of the church, or heard sirens, or before meals. All you had to do was to make the sign of the cross at the right time, forget that you didn’t go INTO the church regularly, or that you ate that steak on Friday. You could commit mortal sin as long as you confessed and were absolved. And you could have venial sin that did not completely separate you from God. We never learned the way to heaven other than not to commit sin, and if you did as long as you went to confession and took the Eucharist, all was right with the Lord. I never went to Confession and NOT get absolved. I could never remember my penance so I would pray Hail Mary and Our Father as many times as I could handle kneeling down.

In Catechism they taught us very basic things like how to say certain prayers, the Stations of the Cross, just the basics. I remember that to get to heaven we had to free of Mortal Sin, but with Venial Sin we could go to Purgatory and await redemption on Judgment Day. They stopped teaching purgatory somewhere along the way because my daughters, who started out a Catholic School, never learned about it. But they learned the Blessed Sacraments.

Over the years, as a youngster/teen, I would walk to church on Sundays, but not religiously. Eventually I asked Pat to marry me, we were both Catholic, but I was not in the “Catholic mode”, I knew no better. We lived together first, then set a wedding date, made arrangements.  They didn’t ask, and we didn’t offer, that we had been living in sin all this time, 6 months. Nor did we offer that we had committed that awful deed – premarital sex.

In 1969 my mom moved into a neighborhood where the closest Catholic church is St. Joseph’s. That became my church, I still go there today and now I feel that I am a part of the parish, more on that later. I got married at this church without confessing my premarital sex sins. With sex came two daughters who we baptized appropriately. By this time we had discussed our desire to send out daughters to Catholic school so they could get a proper Catholic indoctrination. They learned the right things like their Sacraments and stuff; however, paying for two kids in private school got too expensive so we moved them to public school. We continued their spiritual training by sending them to CCD classes for their Confirmation.

One requirement was that they go to church so we took them. It became a pleasant ritual, church and breakfast, a ritual that I looked forward to, and one that I missed during those weekends when I was away on my Army Reserve training. As I progressed in the ranks, the absent weekends increased in frequency and I missed by Sunday worship and breakfast.

Eventually, I retired from the Army Reserve and now there was no reason NOT to be at Mass EVERY Sunday. Well, being who I am, I started going every Sunday, but I had other visions. As long as I am here, I may as well get involved so I talked to Father Joe and asked if I could volunteer. Of course, he accepted. I started helping with the Sunday collection, then became the main helper, then the head usher. One Sunday, during my duties helping the head usher, or as I learned – Hospitality Minister, lead me to the front of the church standing before the altar in preparation for Communion. Father Joe had taken a liking to me and he motioned to me to come to him. He told me to hold up the Eucharist and say “the body of Christ” and administer the Eucharist, at that moment I got promoted to Eucharistic Minister.

I enjoy my lay ministry duties and my fellow parishioners now. They look forward to me. The viejitas, or senior ladies, are so friendly to me, they hug and kiss me, more accurately, they hold out their cheeks for my kiss. It is with great pride that I tell folks that I run the 10 o’clock service every Sunday. I take care of all the details, the collection baskets, the bulletins, the collection ushers, the host and wine, the offertory.

In keeping with that commitment I decided to take up another ritual, the annual pilgrimage up to Mt. Cristo Rey the last Sunday of October. It is an inspiring tradition watching the faithful throng climbing the mountain, tens of thousands of them. It is not uncommon to see some taking the 3 mile trek bare footed to demonstrate their faith, or request a favor of their favorite Saint. So this is my Catholic faith today. I take my commitment seriously, but every Labor Weekend, I must go the Annual St. Anthony’s Seminary Bazaar and drink too much beer – you know to show my support.

Now, about that Jewish business…it started when I was in Germany. Having been raised Catholic light, I was bowled over when I got a letter from my sister, Maria Estela. This was 1976, she sent a two-page letter, typed, single-spaced, do you know how odd that was when the average letter was one page handwritten? It did not say “Dear Jaime.” Oh noooo, it said “Praise the Lord.” It seems that my sisters and my mom had been saved and they were born again Christians. The letter came in a large yellow envelope with two paper back books, one was The Late Great Planet Earth by Hal Lindsey. Never read it, and I don’t remember the name of the other book but it was the same kind of book.

Life was about to take a turn, a good turn, but a sharp turn. My other sister was also in Germany at the time and I visited her a couple of times. One Sunday they were going to church, Southern Baptist, a good ole fashion gospel service, and being a good house guest, I tagged along. Well, the Pastor was preaching and he said “stand and bow your heads,” so we all did. He prayed, then he told the congregation “if any of you need prayer, just raise your head.” I was curious about who might need prayer and my curiosity got the best of me. I looked to the right, then to left and no one was looking up. I looked under my arm to the back and no one was lifting their head. I looked up and he got me, we made eye contact.

At the end of the service he called out to the congregation and said, “all those of you needing prayer come to front,” he looked directly at me, stretched out his arm and pointed at me. Everyone knew he was calling me out. Gotta be a good house guest and it is my sister’s church, so I started out when he calls for “Brother James,” my brother-in-law, to join us. Well, they prayed, we went through the Book of John and they asked me if I accepted Christ as my savior. Well, what could I say, no? Of course I accepted Christ as my savior. At that moment I was saved.

I went back to my old ways, you know, being a G I in a foreign country and all, and was discharged in June, 1977 whereupon I returned home and my comfortable Catholic ways. But my family members were all bible toting Christians and some how they got hooked up with a Rabbi named Sammy, a Messianic Jewish Rabbi. I know that is kind of an oxymoron, but that is what he was.

Once, I went with him to some factories, while doing research for a college paper and heard him pray for hundreds of workers on the factory floor. While driving around we talked, all morning we did this. I didn’t learn anything that changed my life, except that Rabbi Sammy was very much involved in the pro-life movement. I don’t know if that made a lasting impact, but today I am pro-life.

My brother and I were the two hold outs. I remember mom telling me about a dream of hers where she is overlooking a raging sea from a cliff top and her interpretation of the dream was that the sea was raging because me and Javy were not “right with the Lord.” Once, we all went to baptism at a church and saw mom and Stela get baptized.  Then another time, mom got baptized in a backyard swimming pool in water that had lots of leaves in it. That was a Messianic Jewish baptism.

One Friday night I came home kind of early, pretty much under the influence, and there was this party going on. All the men were wearing funny hats, some wearing colorful shawls. They were having a Hava Nagila party that made no sense to me, but it was a party so I stood in the corner of my living room taking in the scene. I learned later that it was a celebration and they were putting a mezuzah on our home.

From that point on, mom took her Jewishness very seriously. She read prolifically, most of the material was Jewish or Holocaust related. Her extensive VHS collection had many movies with those themes. She occasionally did this thing at holiday meals with bread and Manischewitz wine and said things in Hebrew.

One day she told me that she was Jewish and her rationale was based on the Spanish persecution of the Jews. She said that Jews, in an attempt to avoid persecution changed their names or changed the spelling of their names. Her mother’s maiden name was Perez and she said the some Jews whose names were Peres changed the “s” to a “z.” They later fled Spain and many settled in Mexico. Hence, she was Jew, and in accordance with Jewish custom, I am Jewish. That’s what my momma told me. Shalom and mosoltov!

Mom passed away last year. It was her wish that Eleazar Ben Joseph preside at her service. Instead of the customary cross on her casket, we put the Star of David. Eleazar was there and we DID NOT have a Catholic Rosary type of service. Ele spoke, as did all of her children and her oldest brother. Imagine this, Amazing Grace starts (thanks Paul) and every one starts crying. I call the thing to order and introduce Ele. He says some customary Hebrew things that none of us understood. Each of us siblings get a turn at the lectern. I am Catholic, I don’t know what faith Lucy in practicing these days, Carmen is Episcopalian, I think, Javy claims atheism, but he isn’t and my uncle is a dedicated Mormon. What a service that turned out to be. A Jew, a Catholic, and a Mormon walk into a funeral home…I know there is a good joke in there somewhere.

When we cleared out mom’s house, I took the Mezuzah, I put it on the door at my house, and took it with when I bought a new a couple of years ago.  A colleague of mine did some research and we did a little ritual and prayer on the front porch then celebrated.

Back to growing up Catholic…the church is pretty, how shall I say, traditional, old fashion, if I said antiquated, that would sound bad, but I don’t mean it to be bad, nothing wrong with standards and traditions. The older I get, the more a creature of habit I am. Many things I accept without giving them much thought. I am in a pickle right now because something personal is giving me pause, just pause, not reevaluation, but pause for introspection. I won’t elaborate on that, but this certainly gives my Catholicness greater weight and value, just because I pause to think about it, where as in the past I would have made the sign of the cross and been on my merry way. Catholic is not so light after all.

Sunday, November 8, 2009

The Morning News

My fellow Americans, I am still under the weather. I don’t know where that saying comes from but it really doesn’t apply to the Sun City, cause the weather here is beautiful, sunny, clear skies, no breeze and 70+ degrees. But I am under it. Yesterday, under the weather, I wrote about the news. However this morning’s newspaper really has an absence of news. It’s kinda like that song by Anne Murray “Sure Could Use a Little Good News Today.” Two articles gave me pause to think. First is that our Senator, Kay Bailey, has decided to remain in office until the great health debate is over. You see, she is also running for Governor of the Great State of Texas while she is serving in the U. S. Senate. If anyone working for me was looking for another job on company time, I would fire them. Not so in politics. Election season is gearing up in my community and things will get interesting soon. Public officials have started announcing their candidacy for other offices. They are not content with what they have, they want something more, better. Of course, their aspiration is always to better serve the community. They remain on the public payroll while they pursue other aspirations, and if they lose their bid for higher office, they still have their jobs. What a deal. I propose that any elected official who is seeking a different elected office be required to resign from their elected office upon announcing their candidacy for another office. I further propose that elected officials not be allowed to actively campaign for reelection to the office they hold. They have had plenty of time of make their case for reelection. I believe that if there were one thing that would change the mood for the better in this country it is eliminating career politicians. The other thing that caught my attention is local businesses shirking their civic duty to pay taxes. Two wealthy guys in town make hefty investments to improve our community and to make themselves wealthier. Fair enough, this is America after all. But then they ask for and receive property tax breaks. However, they aren’t content to walk away with a nice tax break. Nooo, they file suit against the property appraisal district to force the appraisal district to decrease the valuation of their property, thereby netting yet another property tax break. It’s endemic in this country, wealthy seeking to shirk their tax responsibility, just like all those guys that POTUS was nominating for plum jobs in his administration. At least one of those deadbeats, Tim Geithner, got the job. What happens when the wealthy do not pay their share of the tax burden. That burden is borne by me and the other tax payers in the community. It’s all legal in this country. In other countries we consider that kind of collusion between business and government to be corruption. In our country we simply make it legal and put it in the hands of judges who rely on campaign contributions of keep their judgeships. America, don’t you just love her?

Saturday, November 7, 2009

The Morning Paper

November 7, 2009: Well, I started sniffling yesterday, then I woke up this morning with a runny nose and sore sinuses so I should stay home, get lots of rest, and drink plenty of fluids, as opposed to the outdoor chores I had planned. This sounds like a great time to catch up on my blogging. Lucky you. One of my favorite things to do first thing in the morning is read the paper and drink coffee and I always get amused by the headlines so here goes, the headlines with my spin. FROM SECTION A: Of course, the main headline is the tragedy in Ft Hood. As a retired Lt Col, this story is particularly hard for me to grasp. The news outlets have already condemned the shooter and assuming everything is as they report, it will be hard to defend him. CNN described him as born to Palestinians parents. (The media continues to perpetrate the myth that there are actually Palestinians, when in fact, they are Arabs who made a claim to Palestine, but there hasn’t been a Palestine, hence no Palestinians. That’s how rumors get started, and if you repeat a lie enough times, it becomes reality.) Anyhow, an Arab officer with a checkered service record on a shooting rampage is hard to accept as anything other than a terrorist. His victims were soldiers engaged in the war on terrorism, was he an enemy combatant, a wolf in sheep’s clothing? Another personal note on this is the hero, Officer Kimberly Munley. She is a civilian federal law enforcement officer assigned to police duties on Ft Hood. That could have been my daughter, Clarissa, who is part of the same police force, but assigned to Ft Bliss. I am proud of my baby girl and I pray she is never in that situation. But, it’s time to go onto other news. A fourth teen is charged in the beating death of a 16 year-old boy in Chicago in a situation that is being repeated with too great a frequency in Chicago. Hey, wait a minute, I thought Chicago’s problems got fixed when community organizer extraordinaire, POTUS Obama cut his teeth there. I pray that he will fare better as President than he did as a community organizer cause it seems all the news coming out of Chicago is bad. Hell, Chicago can’t even get the Olympics when power houses like Michal Jordan, Oprah Winfrey and Michelle Obama are rooting for it. The house is to vote on health care overhaul today and Obama went to capitol hill to close the deal. I don’t know about the rest of you, but my own analysis of the proposed bill finds that it will not save any money. My taxes will not go down, my co pay and deductible payments will not go down, my insurance premiums will not go down. On the contrary, at a cost of $80 billion a year for the next ten years, my taxes will go up. Democrats say that part of the cost of the new health system will paid by fixing Medicaid and Medicare. Can’t government just clean them up regardless of the outcome of the pending reform bill? The USDA is considering settling claims with American Indian farmers. Let’s see if I got this correctly, American invaders stole land from native peoples, sent them to reservations, and just NOW they are CONSIDERING settling claims with them. How white of the USDA. I like this story, it’s really a non story, non news; why was it printed. The story says that someone in the White House told someone in the White House not to appear on the FOX network news shows. What a bunch of crap. What I have found is that there is usually an element of fact behind news stories, but please, don’t me the story without SOME of the facts. Viejas chismosas! FROM THE BUSINESS SECTION: Unemployment tops 10% for the first time since 1983 and consumer borrowing drops, no shit Sherlock. AIG made a profit for two consecutive quarters, wait a cotton picking minute, AIG is owned by us, as represented by the government. Why doesn’t the story say Americans made a profit? Well, because AIG gave IT’s profit to IT’s work force, so there! In your face carbon! King Midas, AKA Warren Buffet triples his profit to $3.2 billion in the midst of the Great Recession. Go back to my Mad as Hell blog where I told you that we are witnessing the greatest transfer of wealth in the history of mankind. Let me explain, Freddie Mac is a quasi government agency that was bailed out BEFORE the hastily drafted TARP legislation was signed. It lost another $6.3 billion last quarter. How can that be so? A quasi government agency loses so much money all the while AIG and Buffet make so much…follow the money. Remember Ross Perot’s famous sucking sound; it’s back, but this time it’s big government and big business sucking our money out of our wallets, back accounts, and retirement accounts. Now for my soap box… We have allowed our government to invest in ideas and systems and institutions rather than invest in people. Our country is literally crumbling. Roads, sewer systems, rail roads, storm water protection, etc., all around the country are in seriously dilapidated condition. Rather that invest in rebuilding our country, our government has invested in GM, AIG, and so forth. How many people did GM or AIG put to work? None! On the contrary, companies showing a profit are ones that lay off workers to save money and the government simply extends unemployment benefits. We need to put people to work rebuilding levees, roads, storm water systems, water and sewer systems, rail roads, the power grid, “greenifying” public and commercial facilities under government mandate. Put people to work, put money in their pockets, let them get health insurance, let them spend their money and let them decide which business they buy goods and services from, and that will decide what businesses survive. If GM wants to survive they need to make a better automobile. I have owned Ford, Chrysler and GM products and I hate to say it but the Nissan performance and reliability all around is much better. So, my advice to hard working Americans is to save money, do not borrow, do not use credit cards, strictly cash and carry. Your money soundly invested in your neighborhood credit union gives them money to lend IN YOUR COMMUNITY. It’s safe until you need to make that big purchase or send you kids to college. Screw VISA and screw Bank of America, lest they screw me. OK ladies, get ready to call me sexist… What if, just what if, during the Great Recession, moms decided to stay home and take care of the hearth. Home cooked meals. Less gasoline. Less dry cleaning. Healthier, happier kids. Dads decided to do their own chores and repairs. No plumbers. No gardeners. No happy hour. What if we saw a return to the nuclear family, would that be good or bad? Less money but less expenses and more family time and Sunday worship. I have heard that three characteristics of stable families are: 1) two parents, 2) meals together, and 3) worship together. What if we did more of that? In support of the war effort during WWII, women entered the workforce in great numbers. When service men returned, women continued to work, hence the women’s right movement. Is there any cause and effect relationship between women working and the degradation of the family unit? In today’s capitalist, commercialized society, families “need” two incomes to keep up with the Joneses, but at what cost to our greater social structure? The business section of the newspaper has grave implications for the future of the American Society. IN OUR LOCAL NEWS The appeals court ruled Melina Castro cannot recover the fees she paid the city. It would seem to me that after she left City Council in disgrace that she would quietly slip out of memory. But noooo, the desgraciada is still disgracing herself. Honey, just go away! What about Ms. Quintana? She wants a pre trial diversion program. Aren’t pretrial programs, by definition, alternatives for guilty people who are simply trying to skirt a guilty verdict? Again, the appeals court ruled that Quintana’s case is being handled appropriately. It doesn’t say that her preference for a pre trial diversion program is synonymous to a guilty plea. Enough already, resign and join Melina, have a beer to drown your misery and slip out of memory. Finally, a word on an editorial column – “Mideast Peace Survives.” Oh really, has peace broken out in the middle east and I’ve not been told. The middle east has been in turmoil since the birth of man. Many track the state of war to Abraham’s two sons, Isaac and Ishmael. Isaac being born to Abraham and his wife Sara, and Ishmael being Abraham’s first born with Sara’s servant, an Arab woman. Jews, descendants of Isaac and Arabs, descendants of Ishmael, continue to be mortal enemies and I don’t believe that Americans can bring about peace. It is rather arrogant of any American politician to declare that he will bring peace to the middle east. The absence of combat between Jordan and Israel does not peace make. For 20 years I have been saying that middle easterners are consenting adults and if they want to kill each other, then who are we to meddle? Only they can bring about peace and it is clear that the impasse will survive for another year. Yes, I enjoy the paper and my coffee. Electronic news papers just aren’t the same and I can’t take my desktop into the potty. So I read the paper and capture the news, but always with my own analysis. America, rest today! Tomorrow I will tell you what to think about today’s news. Well, its several hours since I started writing this blog and steadily I have felt worse. My nose keeps dripping, my eyes are watering. I’m sneezing. But I keep on downing those fluids.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Staycation Sucked

You know, I get pretty busy at work and getting away during the hectic summer months is tough. This year it was trickier because we had some facility repairs and my right hand was down for the count. Add to that the problem of coordinating time off with my wife, and my summer vacation turned into a staycation in October. What a sham that was. After we settled on the best time for us to get away, the summer joy of going somewhere was out of the question. October is just not a good time to go sightseeing. We decided we would stay in town, do a few chores, and play a lot, you know movies, restaurants, bars, that kind of stuff. As luck would have it two intervening factors crowded out my week. State monitors decided to do a desk review during my week off and my participation at an inbriefing and exit briefing was mandatory, on Monday and Friday respectively. And my lovely daughter, fresh into her new job as a federal law enforcement officer made plans to move out of the house that freaking week. On Monday I awoke early went to work then hurried home because it was moving day and I had to help. We worked til 7 PM helping her move and get partially situated. Tuesday I had to follow up on several things at the office via phone, then back to my daughter's new apartment to continue setting up her apartment. Wednesday I cleaned out my garage. Now that my kid was gone, and with her all of her clutter, I had the opportunity to reclaim my garage. Some of my stuff was under the back porch so I got to bring it into the garage. Thursday I got to clean up my back yard for the winter. One good thing about the week is that I started working out again. I made it to the gym 5 consecutive days for a 30 minute work out and a 30 minute session in the steam and sauna rooms. I love that, it's so relaxing. You see, last winter I was training for a 20K run over the mountain. That run was in March and I was in great shape, except for the pounding my feet took from the road work. After the race I started lifting weights and was going to gym for 60 minute sessions at least 4 times a week. I was in the zone until that inguinal hernia. I knew I would be out of action for awhile so I decided to tend to other small things that I had put off. I went to the doctor for a physical and referrals. My initial physical was fine. We planned the hernia repair surgery, a colonoscopy, and a ptyerigum removal. All outpatient procedures. It was my overhaul summer. All went as planned, only three days out of work. I began working out again in July and got into a groove, stretching, running and doing push ups, then on Labor Day I got that crud in the chest and throat. It took me out of commission until last week, my week off. So, getting back into a workout routine is great. On our week off we got to eat out a few times. We saw a movie, From Mexico with Love and we both liked it. We lost $200 at the casino. On Friday night we had a costume party with the neighbors and friends. I hadn't done that in years, so it was fun. I found it odd that all of the young women's costumes were sexy, in one case the thong was quite visible. We stayed out late. Saturday was a slow start but we went to PF Chang's for an early dinner, Pat really likes that and we don't go too often cause it is a bit pricey. Then we went to have a martini and margarita at a nice place, a beer at a college bar and a night cap at Starbucks. Wouldn't you know it, the slice of lemon pound cake made me sick. I hadn't thrown up like that in 30 years. The only thing I regurgitated was the coffee and cake. I was up late feeling sick, but I had to get up very early Sunday for the annual pilgrimage. Local Catholics ascend a mountain to visit a 40 foot statue of Christ. It's only once a year so I want to go, and I did. It's a 2 1/2 mile trek up, 5 miles round trip. But the week ended on a positive note. My wife and two sisters got together to celebrate birthdays and talk about important family business and laugh. Me and my brother in law and a couple of nephews joined the dinner party. There were some highlights, starting the empty nest phase in life, cleaning up neglected chores, getting back into the work out routine, communing with my Catholicness, and seeing the sisters laugh. All in all, it would have been better without the interruptions of the office and moving day. My week off was real and it was fun, it just wasn't real fun. Staycations suck.

Monday, October 26, 2009

I'm Mad as Hell and I'm Not Taking it Anymore

Well my dear friends, I've been gone for awhile because I found face book, but I am back. Hope you like this one. What, do you ask, am I mad about? We are in the midst of the greatest transfer of wealth in the history of mankind and Americans are too stupid to see it. If you look at recent history, Baby Bush doled out a $150 Billion stimulus package in the spring 2008. Then he rescued Freddie and Fannie and AIG and he lent $25 Billion to the auto industry to comply with federal regulations - all this BEFORE his TARP program that needed immediate approval to avert financial Armageddon. By the end of September 2008, he had given out nearly half a TRILLION dollars. TARP added an additional $700 Billion to the kitty, that’s $1.2 Trillion. Fast forward 6 months to Obama and his generosity of nearly $800 Billion in ARRA and we are at nearly $2 TRILLON. Assuming a population of 308 million, minus the 12 million unauthorized residents (that’s illegal aliens to you jerks) and this economic stimulation costs $6,757 for every American. I don’t know about you guys, but all I got was a lousy $600 last summer. Comes now the health care reform with an estimated price tag of $800 Billion over the next ten years and the price goes up to $2.8 TRILLION and we are up to $9,459 for every man, woman and child in this country. That is nearly ten grand per person and the money is going to bankers, investors, insurance titans, auto makers, health insurers, hospitals, pharmaceutical companies, etc. And all I got was a lousy $600 last summer. Over the past 30 years Presidents have championed the reduction of taxes and signed all manner of bills with much fanfare. Tell me, my fine Americans, how many of you have actually seen a reduction in taxes? Our taxes will go up. Our insurance premiums will go up. Our utility rates will go up. Worse yet, “their” bonuses will go up. This is what I call the greatest transfer of wealth ever, and it’s costing me and you. I am mad as hell and I vow to vote against my Congressman and my Senators and my President at the next election. It’s not just at the federal level, but that certainly pisses me off the most. At the state level our illustrious governor Rick Perry started the governor’s enterprise fund, not to be confused with a kickback fund. It had $200 million in it to “stimulate” a business climate. Two of the first three recipients of stimulation were Country Wide and Wachovia, both are belly up now. At the local level our city and county officials love to give tax breaks. Most recently some enterprising, not to be construed as blood sucking, business man, who is really a lawyer, bought a fixer upper in downtown El Paso. Then he pitched a plan to launch a fancy hotel IF he could get a tax break; he got it, then asked the city to let him off the hook and they did. Another transfer of wealth. It happens everywhere. Dallas and New York built monuments to decadence in the form of sports arenas mostly with tax payer money so that club owners and star athletes can make fortunes while fans pay exorbitant parking fees, ticket prices, and concession prices. Yet another transfer of wealth. I am mad as hell. Barceleau 4 President.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Joe el Pendejo (the jackass)

Well, there was Joe sixpack, then Joe the plumber, now comes Joe the pendejo, (that's Spanish for jackass) the racist from the great state of South Carolina, home to many a great man, like that governor who has a South American philly on the side. Republican Joe Wilson told President Obama "you lie" in response to a comment regarding health coverage for unauthorized residents. This being done during a presidential address to a Joint Session of Congress, live on national television. If there is one place where everyone should be on their best behavior, it should be in the revered halls of national government when business is in progress AND in church. Boy, if one of my staff did that to me at one of my staff meetings that would be her last day on my payroll. First, it was a total lack of decorum. Okay, okay, there have been other failures to maintain decorum, but two wrongs and all that, Rep Joe was out of order in a major way. He should be slapped for that. Second, he chose to step out of line when he figured he had found a supportable challenge, unauthorized residents. Sure, pick on them, everyone else does. All the hoople surrounding loud mouth Joe is about his conduct. Very little has been said about the content of his misconduct, suggesting that its okay to speak out against "illegals" just don't do it that way. Illegals are still fair game. Hell, let's make national heroes of those who shoot them in the ass.
  • You know, that did happen. Two border patrol agents shot an unarmed fleeing suspect in the ass, and then covered up their misdeed, and then bragged about it. They were successfully prosecuted. Congressmen across the land called them heroes because the suspect was an "illegal alien" who by the way cannot possibly be innocent until proven guilty. One of W's last act was to commute their sentence.
I have long advocated for term limits. We need new and different politicians running this country, leaders who do not know the ways of the underworld. Let's start with sweeping out dirt in South Carolina. I make this pledge...if you promise to vote against all of your incumbents, I will do like wise. In fact, there was a time that I voted in the republican primaries. Then I realized that if I voted in the democratic primaries that I could vote against more incumbents, you see, my fair City of El Paso, TX is a one party town, the democratic party. So, you see, I have a history of voting against incumbents. Guys, and girls, like Joe the Pendejo who have been in office way too long have to go!

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Health Insurace Stuff

So, I was reading this summary on House Resolution 3200, that's the health insurance reform bill that is being vilified throughout the country, and I must jump on the bandwagon. The link to the summary is provided below. Some good things - it opens up this thing called health insurance exchanges. That's a good thing because as the CEO of my small organization, finding a good health plan for my 100 employees is quite a task.

The exchange, as described, would make that chore easier. Today, I must rely on an insurance broker to find the best deal for us. However, the broker does not work FOR me and therefore his allegiance is not TO me. He is paid a commission and there is a possibility that his primary allegiance is to a bigger commission, not to be confused with a kickback. Individuals and companies can look to these exchanges when shopping for health insurance.

The plan allocates "credits" to individuals. These credits are designed to make insurance more affordable and they are phased out as individuals' incomes rise. Further, the plan limits out of pocket expenses to keep families from being drained by medical bills. Sounds fair enough - so far.

However, the plan proposes to develop a public insurance option, expand Medicaid, and to improve Medicare. This is where the plan falls apart. We don't need ANOTHER public plan, we have too many public plans already. Medicaid, Medicare, SCHIP and VA plans are public plans and they don't have a good track record. These plans need to be combined into one comprehensive health maintenance organization operated by local non profit or municipal organizations.

Some of these are operating in various communities, in my hometown there are two designed specifically for Medicaid. Mandatory participation in this new HMO for those on Medicare or with the VA will be phased in so that those currently receiving Medicare/VA benefits may continue with their current plan or they may opt into the new HMO plan. Those on Medicaid or SCHIP will be rolled over into the new public HMO.

The house resolution does not address the medical care delivery system to any significant degree. If you ascribe to the "follow-the-money" philosophy, as I do, then this plan will reform health insurance substantially, but it will NOT decrease medical care costs. Follow the money and you see that most of the medical money ends up with medical companies and more specifically in the portfolios of investors who invest in the medical industry.

HR 3200 mainly targets the insurance industry for reform. More insured patients will only lead to greater profits for the medical industry and its investors. More profits does not improve medical care, it does not make health insurance more affordable, it does nothing but enrich a select segment of the population at the expense of the masses. As always, I have a plan to cut medical costs.

HR 3200 proposes to expand the community health center system of providers and to create community based programs to deliver preventive and primary care. Both of these are good options provided that they remain within the non profit or public sectors as they are today. But, these two community health center programs need to be preferred providers in the public health maintenance organization's network of providers. Whenever and where ever possible subscribers in the public HMO will go to public and non profit medical providers, with the option of going to "out of network" providers if they agree to pay any additional expenses.

This is how to build competition for the for profit network of providers, competition that will BRING DOWN costs. Private for profit providers will scramble to increase the likelihood that public HMO patients can afford to go "out of network" by bringing down costs.

Today, we have best medical care on the planet. Look at all the medical care that Michael Jackson was able to buy on the open market. However, it is not the smartest delivery model. The solution is not to change the insurance industry, the solution must be to change the entire delivery model. Insurance companies are essentially "financiers" of medical care and they exact a sizable profit margin by increasing premiums and limiting coverage. Their "fall-back" excuse is that costs are going up. This is only partially true, costs are going up because insurance companies are paying with other people's money.

If we are a healthier population with longer life spans, shouldn't costs be going down? Seniors are living fuller, healthier, longer lives, aren't they? Read the summary for yourself, and shame on you if you don't come with a plan of your own. I await with baited breath to see what you come up with, post your own plan on this blog. Please.

http://energycommerce.house.gov/Press_111/20090714/hr3200_summary.pdf

Friday, August 7, 2009

Domestic Partners?

Dare I delve into this controversial mine field and risk incurring the wrath of the homosexual community? Sure, why not, this isn't about homosexuals or gender. You see, my city has just decided to extend benefits to domestic parnters, but they were very smart about their approach. Historically, a married employee has been allowed to include spouse and children in the employer's group health plan. Often, employees pay very little, sometimes nothing at all, for their health insurance. Some employers incur the expense of extending health benefits to the family, probably the biggest employer to do so is the US Armed Forces. However, few employers allow "domestic partners" to be included in the health plan, and they are less inclined to do when they are paying part of that insurance premium. Understand that the the term "domestic partner" usually means a homosexual relationship. Hence, my trepidation for "going there." In this case the city decided to include heterosexuals who are "shacking up" in their definition of domestic partners, providing they met some reasonable criteria. Sounds fair enough, until I consider that these heterosexuals couples have willling, knowingly, and deliberatly abdicated these benefits by not marrying. They have no reason not to marry. So, why extend to them a benefit they do not want and they have chosen not to pursue? Please, do tell, why? Since I can't think of a good reason, then I have to oppose this policy because, after all, my city taxes are paying for benefits that these couples have rejected by their insistance on not marrying. More troubling is the timing of this policy. The city just recently announced a multi million dollar deficit. They are proposing a tax rate hike. The city just experienced an embarrassing situation in which a gay couple was ejected from a restaurant for kissing. At a time when the city leaders do not want to appear homophobic, at a time when they are short of cash, they increase the budget by extending benefits to heterosexual couples who, by their own choices, rejected those benefits. Please, do tell, why? Once again we get "government speak" instead of the truth, just like their policy to raise taxes disguised as user fees. They raised the trash tax, we know it as the solid waste fee on the water bill and champion their fight to curb tax increases. They offer benefits to those who don't want the benefits to hide the benefits to the intended beneficiaries, a policy that, as we saw on the news, is highly controversial. Anyone for heaping spoon of pandering?

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Lessons from mom and dad

I learned many lessons from mom and dad, two strikingly different personalities. Dad, Jose, was a “ner-do-well” content with a meager existence. He worked most of his life for the city in an automotive garage, first with city buses and later in police department’s maintenance garage. I clearly remember visiting him at work in his later years. Here was a grown man, literally, playing grab ass with his co workers, no class!

 He left us when I was about 8 years old and he went to live with his relatives, in a small home, in an ugly neighborhood that we had left a few years prior. Back-slider. He eventually met another woman who had two boys of her own and lived with her extended family. They lived in an uglier neighborhood, but dad was content with that arrangement. He had no ambition or drive.

 Nonetheless, it seemed that he was well liked everywhere he went. One day he went to see me at school, in the third grade and my teacher Mrs. Jemente asked him about his French last name. “Do you speak French?” “Oui, Oui” he replied and they had a nice laugh together. That was part of his charm. Whenever I walked around with him, others joked with him and he with them. Always there was a very friendly exchange that gave me the clear impression that he was well liked. To this day folks will ask me if we are related and he is usually remembered fondly as a volunteer security guard at Sacred Heart Church.

 This has led to the mistaken belief that I was from “El Segundo Barrio.” No, no, I was a “San Juanero,” from the barrio of San Juan. Our relationship was strained, almost non existent. I would go visit him at work to seek out that bond, and of course, I would go on paydays to get some icing on my cake. But neither came to be. He did not reciprocate my outreach and rarely gave me a dime.

 I went to see him before I joined the Army, before going overseas, and upon returning from Germany. He just didn’t seem to be impressed or even to care about what I was doing. I was a grown man in 1980 when I called to wish him a Merry Christmas, “who is this?” he asked. “Your son,” was my reply. “Which one?” I was my father’s only son. I’m sure he could have said something more stupid, but it’s hard to imagine a more stupid question. How could he not recognize my voice? He had two step sons, but their English was horrible and their voice could not possibly be mistaken for mine. I was infuriated so I went to my favorite watering hole to ventilate. I graduated from college that year, but again, he was unimpressed.

With his new wife he fathered a daughter and adopted a boy. He took his family from the Segundo barrio shit hole to the projects and then to better projects. His last residence was a public housing project we called “El Diablo.” I took my new born daughter to meet him at that address, but by then his health had begun to decline and he died later that year, just as broke as the day he was born.

A couple of years before his death he, his wife, and their adopted son came to my apartment. I was working the night shift back then and in anticipation of his visit I made it point to pick up “pan dulce” Mexican sweet bread and to put on a fresh pot of coffee for the early morning visit. When he arrived I learned that the purpose of the visit was for his wife to confront me about a comment I made 10 years earlier. When their baby girl was born, they brought her by the house to introduce her. She was a cute baby, fair skinned with green eyes. I made a joke saying that the baby was too pretty to be his, inferring that he was an ugly old man. He was. That comment festered and 10 years later that woman wanted to know why I insinuated that the child was fathered by another man. Angered at the purpose of the visit, and being able to recall the comment, I asked them to leave.

I learned from him what not to do as a father and as a man. It was my mission to be a good husband and a good father for my family. I learned to aspire to have more, to be better. I learned to stand up for my kids above all else even if that meant opposing my ex-wife. The only thing he gave me was my name and I was determined to make my name respectable. I learned that it is important to have friends and to be liked.

 I know nothing about my dad’s history. There are no family stories, only rumors, about his parents and their origins. I will give my kids some roots. He died December 7, 1984, a day that will live in infamy, Pearl Harbor Day, and my ex-wife’s birthday. I went to the memorial service and didn’t know the people in attendance. Old relatives that I didn’t recognize. His wife’s family that I did not know. I was a stranger at my own father’s funeral. I wept because I was a stranger, not because he died. I wept because it hurt to have lived a life without a father, knowing that the son of a bitch was always just down the street. I share these deepest sentiments here, but I save the skeletons for another day.

Now at the ripe age of 61, I find myself searching the web for my roots. I learned that my grandfather was born in San Francisco in 1879. He died in El Paso in 1927. His listed occupation is a junk dealer. His name is a question mark, but I believe he was Chas Amaury Barceleau. There are references to Chas, to C. A. and to Carlos. It is possible that his first name was Charles. Grandmother was Luz Blanco Barceleau, born in Mexico in 1889 and died in El Paso in 1949, she was a house wife. Children included Elena, Victoria, Jesus, Carlos, Lorenza, Amaury, and Jose, these being my aunts and uncles.

In stark contrast is my mother, Josefina, born in El Paso, TX. Her family moved to Mexico, to an austere household with little promise of a future or a happy family life. Dissatisfied with perpetual struggle, at 15 years of age she ran away from home to return to El Paso. Her baggage was her two younger brothers, Chilo and Angel; she became a responsible adult rather early in life. A few nights on the streets, then they went to live with their uncle. I remember him, he lived across the street from us on Colfax St.  We knew him is our "tio Blas."

Apparently all my maternal uncles were rather enterprising youth. The boys started shining shoes and mom began a career in the food service industry where she earned shit for wages the rest of her life. My earliest memories were of mom working in a cafeteria in a garment manufacturing plant. Stories of mom working at a fast food diner six days a week from open to close are still vivid, but it’s only the stories I remember. Personal images of mom coming home from work, as I recall, she was wearing the required white dress and shoes and the hair net that was common for that era. She carried two things, her purse and a # 10 tin can with some sweet goodies in it.

I was about 5 years old when we left that neighborhood, trading up to a home with indoor toilets. We were in a brick house in a nice neighborhood when I began first grade, then another brick house just up the street. I only learned the reason for the move during long conversations with mom in her waning days. Dad had made some 'dope' deals and he got into trouble. No, he didn’t sell dope; he was a dope to make the deals. He had a bakery back then, but he wasn’t a smart business man and was unable to keep up payments on the home or business.

We lost that life of luxury and had to move back to the ghettos of south central El Paso. For reasons I won’t disclose here, mom and dad split up. I suppose in some way it was due to the fact that mom was a worker and dad was a wonderer. I never knew him to be a drunk or a wife beater or a philanderer, but he was a wonderer who didn’t manage to make it home with the bacon. Certainly, that did not further their relationship, especially with 5 children to feed and clothe.

Mom worked hard and tended to the family, keeping us in stitches, even making clothes by hand. We began a series of moves, from one rental unit to another and that was the situation for the next ten years or so until mom bought us a proper house in a proper neighborhood, in the summer of ’69. Always, mom worked. Off to work daily at O’dark-thirty, back at 5 PM and half day Saturdays, never missed a day unless she was laid up. I used to shine her white shoes with white Shine’ola shoe polish. The polish smelled bad by itself, worsened by the bad smell of the sweaty shoes, but I did it often because mom had to have clean shoes.

The oldest child was at the top of the pecking order, she ruled with impunity, and I didn’t mind it, not one little bit. Mom was the bread winner, and Stela was the supervisor. Mom's  greatest accomplishment was that house. Before that, in all our rentals, she would buy something really nice and store it for new house. There was a portable bar thing in a wooden barrel, I saw it in the box, but somehow, it never showed up at the new house. It became a running joke, “para la casa nueva.”

Often, mom would take me outside, shovel in hand and tell me dig a hole here and a trench there. Then she would plant this and that. Roses were her favorite. One day she turned holy on me. Soon there were a bunch of Jews having a party in my house, men in their funny caps. It was a “hava nagila” good time for all, except that I was confused by the strangeness of it all, and mom was tickled pink. She would later admonish me for not being “in the Lord.”

Twenty five years later, mom traded up, or so she thought. She and my sister, Stela, moved to another home with more amenities, but it wasn’t the same and she regretted that move; always blaming Stela for the bad decision. But that was to be her final home. Stela died in that home in ’96 and mom nearly died there in 2008, but we had to place her in a nursing home for her final days.

Mom and Stela taught me lessons that made me a better man, husband, and father. At 12 years old, Stela told me about sex and sperm and literally drew it out for me. I speak of Stela, but she was not alone in my upbringing, there were to older sisters, equally influential in my development.  Collectively they taught what real men do and what real men don't do.  They taught me how to be a man, father, and husband; they taught me values and morals.

As with mom, I have never been without work, out everyday to earn my bread, even when sick or injured. My kids never wanted for food, clothing, shelter, medicine or time. My ex-wife has a faithful husband who tended to his home and family, does chores, and I didn't stray. True to my word, it is important that others know I am reliable and forthright.

I learned that adversity can be an opportunity. Being the youngest of five, I learned that it is better to be the boss than to be bossed. Mom had a stroke in ’98 and recovered nicely, but was subsequently diagnosed with cirrhosis. I always feel compelled to qualify that statement by saying that she was not a drinker, she rarely drank alcoholic beverages. In the last few years we spoke often and she would recount childhood stories, seldom did she have fond memories. She shared family secrets, some that I have kept to myself to this very day.

Her final months were difficult for all of us. Mom died October 4, 2008 at the ripe old age of 83. Her parents Carmen and Sostenes lived mostly in Mexico, but died in El Paso. Carmen Perez Pina, April 18, 1904 to April 30, 1946; Sostenes Pina, November 10, 1881 to November 30, 1953. My aunts and uncles were Lupe, Angel, Chilo, Cata, Cruz, Carmen, and Sostenes. I knew the older ones, the eldest passing in January 2014.

So, generally speaking, from mom I learned the do’s and from dad I learned the don’t’s. I don’t know what to make of this, but I think dad was happy in his ignorance and was generally content with his life. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. Mom, while comfortable in her skin, was not so happy. She didn’t like being in the nursing home and had lots of regrets about her childhood and her parenting. During the last few years we had lots of conversations often with a recurring theme, “was I a good parent?” Well, mom, I learned from you how to be a good parent, just ask my kids. I miss mom, not dad. I keep in touch with my siblings, except for the one dad sired with the other woman, Elizabeth just isn’t part of my sibling group.

Thursday, July 9, 2009

For a public health insurance plan

All this hoopla about a government health plan as if it were something new, go figure. No, it’s not new. We have several public health plans already, and they cover millions of people, so why is there so much opposition to Obama’s proposed public health plan? We have public health plans that do not have annual deductible limits, office and prescription drug co payments, life time caps AND NO HEALTH INSURANCE PREMIUMS. So which Americans are covered by these plans? 1. Let’s start with the Concierge health plan, the one reserved for legislative, executive, and judicial branches of government. Yes, Congressmen pay for their health plan, but it is extremely affordable when compared to the general public and we don't know much about their co payments and deductible amounts, life time caps, or maximum out of pocket plans. Plus, they can go to Bethesda Naval Hospital and Walter Reed Army Medical Center and have appointments at their convenience. All this at the expense of the taxpayer. How can they gauge the status of health care and health insurance plans? 2. We also have the public health plan exclusive for our armed forces. When health care is not available through the military system, they can purchase services from civilian providers. We don’t begrudge them this health plan, they deserve the best, especially when injured in the line of duty. 3. Then we have the public health plan for military dependents and retirees. They can access military facilities when available, and when not available they get health care from civilian providers via TriCare, the health plan for retirees and military dependents. There are minimal costs for premiums or co pays, really minimal. Even military reserve forces personnel can buy into this plan and it is quite affordable for both medical and dental services. 4. Our veterans deserve the best so we set up a separate public health plan for them. I am a veteran, I am also retired from the Army Reserve and at age 60 I will be covered by TriCare. Ahhh, free drugs for life. Veterans can access the VA system, which is known for incompetence, or the VA can purchase services from civilian providers. The VA is for service connected health complications, but there are millions covered by this plan. The aforementioned plans are for government connected persons and their families. They cover millions upon millions of Americans at staggering costs. But they are deserving of the best care money can buy. 5. Most conservatives complain about Medicaid for low income Americans and those with disabilities, I guess because they are less deserving of good health and life saving treatment. Again, millions are covered by Medicaid, mostly low income children and people with disabilities. Medicaid's stepchild is SCHIP, children whose parents are sometimes referred to as the working poor. Medicaid's cousin is Medicare, for retired Americans. 6. Probably the costliest of the public health plans is Medicare, especially with the “graying of America” that means more Americans are reaching retirement age and living longer, often needing more health care than the average person. There are different parts to Medicare and there are some out of pocket expenses for most seniors. 6. Most recently we added SCHIP, the children’s health insurance plan that was to be funded mostly with money from the tobacco law suit settlements. There are variety of minimal out pocket expenses for SCHIP because it was designed to be affordable for the working poor. We also have millions of public employees of all stripes covered by a variety of health plans. States, cities, counties, school districts and a hodge podge of other public entities offer a broad spectrum of health plans to their employees. Costs are mostly paid with public monies, also known as taxes, just like all the other public health plans previously mentioned. But no one really considers these public health insurance plans. I have no clue how many Americans are covered by all of the health plans available to government workers and their families, but the number is staggering. Some of these plans are straight government plans, some are private companies hired by government entities. When I was a state worker, I had Blue Cross, paid for with state funds (taxes) and I most, but not all, of my family's insurance premium via payroll deduction. Either way, the tax payer is footing the bill. You see, I told you so, we already have several public health plans. Yes, of course, I have a proposal of my own. Combine Medicare and Medicaid into one plan and let Americans buy into it, this would be the public health plan proposed by Obama. Let’s call if G-Care for now (you know - government care). Allow small businesses and non profit employers, public entities included, to purchase coverage from G-Care. Competition for high valued workers will force employers to offer better coverage, but it is driven by competition, not by the government. Expand the public health system of providers, like public hospitals and clinics, and the non profit system of health centers. Public health plans must give priority to non profit and public health providers. This becomes the default health plan and network of providers for those covered in the aforementioned public plans. In most cases, it does not make sense to operate a government health system, like the VA, in direct competition with the civilian health care system. Veterans, military retirees and dependents can be issued an insurance card, just like the one I have from Blue Cross/Blue Shield. When non profit or public providers are available, they will be the provider of first choice. Public providers include public health clinics, federally qualified health centers, public hospitals, and public university medical centers, etc. These providers must conduct verifiable cost analysis and they will be reimbursed by the public health plan on a cost reimbursement basis, no profit margins allowed. Americans may elect private providers with the requirement that they will incur any added costs. A public health plan makes sense in that it can keep costs manageable. There is nothing wrong with reimbursing doctors fair pay for their talents, these are some of the hardest working Americans who have undergone grueling training to save lives. Hospitals and other providers should be reimbursed for all of the wonderful work they do for us; however, there is certainly something morally repugnant about including high profit margins to provide returns to shareholders just because someone had stroke. However, there must be built in regulations on billing standards. Recently, I had an outpatient procedure. I received bills a few weeks after the surgery and paid my bills promptly. But I was billed the same amounts a month later. Was it oversight or were they simply hoping that I wouldn't notice and pay the bills again? My daughter used an ambulance in 2001, when she was minor covered under my health plan; seven years later the ambulance company sent her a bill. My wife went for an office visit, they used an instrument to scrape a sample for testing, a simple thing covered in the cost of the office visit. They billed her for a surgical tray. These "little things" need some policing. Most Americans are covered by their private employers who purchase commercial insurance policies for their workforce. That can continue as it is, much to my chagrin. I don't know who made the employer responsible for America's health insurance, but I am not sure its the right thing to do. I am an employer, I would rather give my employees a raise equal to the cost of their insurance premium and let them buy their own insurance. I can't do that because the insurance companies would take them to the cleaners. Each year I go through a grueling process to select a one-size-fits-all plan to cover my work force and inevitably, some complain and all want more and better. This is doable, alas I fear that the profit interests will prevail and I will continue to pay high taxes, high insurance premiums, outrageous co payments and deductible expenses. Last year, I paid more than 13% of my total income to health care costs, plus 14% in federal tax payments that fund the public health plans described previously, another 3% in Medicare tax, plus state, city, county, hospital district, school district, and community college district taxes that fund health plans for public employees. That’s just too much. Barceleau 4 President

Monday, July 6, 2009

Growing up Poor

Growing up poor wasn’t bad. I didn’t know I was poor, why would I? All the other kids on the block were poor like me. Well, not like me because we tended to be the poorest of the poor. How poor were we? Go ahead, ask me. We were sooo poor, our cockroaches had to go next door to eat. Our mice wouldn’t eat the cockroaches cause our roaches were “empty calories,” they were "failure to thrive mice". Truly though, my first recollection of my boyhood home was a one room apartment in a one story tenement in south central El Paso.

I was born in El Paso, TX, a city situated on Texas/Mexico border, a mostly Mexican-American community that is representative of the broader Mexican-American population in America; and by that I mean that the local community was, and continues to be, mostly poor.  Such it was for me and my family.  I’m not sure exactly where in the city I was born, mom said I was born on Grama St and she has said I was born at 4,000 Bush St, in south central El Paso.  However, my earliest recollections from my pre-school days were on Dailey St and I tell folks that I grew up on that street.

It’s not exactly true that I grew up on Dailey St because we moved often in those days: I remember living on Dailey, in two houses on Mauer; on Colfax, two houses on Chelsea, and on El Paso Drive – all before I was in the sixth grade.  The common thread is that these homes were in south central, AKA poor, El Paso.  We were renters.  Nonetheless, I claim Dailey as the neighborhood where I grew up.

I’m not sure how old I was when we moved into that neighborhood on Dailey, but we moved out when I was about 5 years old.  The neighborhood had single family homes and a few single story apartments.  We lived in one of the apartment buildings.  Most of us were Mexican American, with one black family, the Waltons, in a yellow house in the middle of the block.  At one end of the block was San Juan Catholic Church with a small convenience store, Las Hormigitas, across the street.  At the other end of the block was a busy street and a grocery store called Leo’s.

I guess there was less than a dozen apartments in our building, immediately north of the apartment building was an alley and on the east side of the property was a large open space where residents parked their automobiles.  There were a couple of trees, no grass. 

The units did not have indoor toilets; there was a wooden outhouse by the alley that had a porcelain commode.  All residents used that toilet and everyone had to take their own paper.  This posed challenges in bad weather, during winter months, and at night.  For children, a dark, cold alley was not only uncomfortable, but it was chock full of imagined dangers such as “la India” our version of the boogey man.  My sister, the eldest, had polio and was easily frightened.  I remember her making me accompany her to the toilet to stand guard outside the privy.  This also caused another “condition” inside our home.  We had a bucket in the corner that doubled as a toilet for those times when going to the alley was ill-advised and the bucket was covered with a piece of wood to contain the emanating odor.

As long as I’m talking about plumbing, we had an indoor cold water faucet, no hot water at the sink.  There was no bathroom sink or tub in the apartment.  We had a gas pipe for the gas heater, but no gas for a water heater or a stove.  Cooking was on a kerosene stove and we had to walk to the corner store to buy the kerosene.  I remember carrying a glass jug to the store where they had a 55 gallon drum with a hand-cranked pump.  They would pump the kerosene into the glass jug for us. 
 
The kerosene stove was used for cooking and to heat the bath water.  Our baths were in a galvanized metal tub that also doubled as the washing machine.  When I first heard the expression “don’t throw the baby out with the bath water” I knew exactly what it meant.  I was the youngest of five children – the baby.  My bath always came last.  It was much too laborious to change the bath water for each individual bath so we shared.  I was always last and I remember the water being a white, gray, bluish tint when it was my turn to bathe; the water was NOT clear for my bath.
 
Our apartment was one long room.  In that one room was the sink, the stove, the heater, the front door and our meager furnishings.  Our parents’ bed was toward the rear of the room.  The room was partitioned with a large canvas curtain.  Mom and dad slept on a bed in “their room” and all the kids (5) slept on one bed in the front room.  I guess we looked like a plate of rolled tacos.

There were a couple of other apartment units on our block, but most were private residences and from what I can remember they all had indoor pipes for gas and water, and they had a private bathroom.

Yeah, we were the poorest of the poor, but make no mistake, the entire neighborhood was poor. We were a group of low income Mexican American families, mostly two parent households in which the men were unskilled laborers and the women were stay at home moms. Across the street were two families, the Lopez and the Torres clans. Ofelia Lopez had a crush on me and I remember the scandal when her older sister Pilar was found doing the deed with some unidentified male in a car in the alley.

At the corner was San Juan Catholic Church. True to our, Hispanic culture, it played a central role in the neighborhood. On Sundays afternoons we would go to the church grounds where parents were baptizing their babies. After baptisms the god parents would come out and throw candy or coins for the neighborhood children, pipiluya it was called.  The neighborhood children would rush to pick up some candy or coins and the baptism party would depart in a caravan of cars.  The church had a grotto thing where we had the Virgen de Guadalupe and there was a water fountain. We would scoop up holy water in our dirty hands to enjoy a cool drink, mindless of the how dirty our hands were.  That water tasted different, it was good, but it was different from our tap water.  On late afternoons, after school, there were catechism classes for those preparing for their First Holy Communion.

In the winter, during the Christmas season we had posadas which are an annual reenactment of Joseph and Mary’s search a place to stay where the baby Jesus could be born. We started at the church, a procession of parishioners carrying a life size statue of the baby Jesus, and we would go to certain houses for a chocolate type drink, champurrado, and some cookies, biscochos. We had the annual offering of flowers to the Virgen de Guadalupe every spring. I don’t know where the name comes from, but she’s really the Virgin Mary, the translation for Mary is Maria, but she is not the Virgen de Maria. In Mexico, the Virgin Mary appeared to a peasant, Juan Diego, just like she appeared in Portugal, the Lady of Fatima, and the Lady of Lourdes in Lourdes, France, in our culture she is known as the Virgen de Guadalupe.

This was my world from my first memories until I was about five years old. We had a black and white television and a phonograph. Mom and dad never married, but they lived together for about 13 years. Mom worked at a drive-in diner six days a week, Linda’s Jet Drive In, then she got a good job in the cafeteria of a pant manufacturing plant. Dad was an orderly in mental ward, then he got a job at the garage where they fixed the city buses. I remember waiting for them to come walking down the street after getting off work cause mom might have some sweet leftovers from the cafeteria or dad might have something leftover in his black lunch box.

We were five kids, I being the youngest, with three sisters and a brother. Since my brother was six years older, he was much too old for me to keep up with so I was condemned to life with three girls. They made a sissy out of me and I got picked on at school because of it. To make matters worse, boys started picking on me and then my sister Lucy would come to my defense. How humiliating, getting rescued by a GIRL! But what I remember - I remember fondly. I liked my brothers and sisters, still do. They are my favorite people in the world, next to my two daughters, of course.

We lived on beans, Spanish rice, fideo (vermicelli) and home made tortillas. My sister would form the assembly line and make tortillas. Being poor wasn’t all that bad. Mom and dad and siblings, lots of bigger people to look after me. After my siblings started going to school, I had to stay home with a maid. Back then it was not unusual to have a maid, they came from Juarez, wetbacks, and did domestic work. If it wasn’t for those maids, mom would not have been able to work and that would have made poverty a little more stinging. Life got worse after those days living on Dailey Street in El Paso, but the poverty got better. Go figure. Stay tuned for those details at a later time.

Monday, June 8, 2009

DEFINING MOMENTS

Some people have that one defining moment in life, that one moment that turns their life around.  The turning point in my life came on June 28, 1973, one month after I graduated from high school. What I remember most from my childhood, and I remember it fondly, is that I was poor; growing up a young Mexican boy in a single female, head-of-household family sucked.  Yes, I remember my childhood fondly, and yes, growing up poor sucked, but I was a happy child nonetheless.

It wasn’t so bad until adolescence when I came to realize that I was poor, with the first stark realization coming when I was in the sixth grade and I wanted to play basketball for my school.
Of course, poor students go to poor schools and ours could not afford uniforms in our school colors with names and numbers. We had mesh knit colored jerseys that we wore over our white t-shirts. I wasn’t much of an athlete, but it didn’t matter I was on the team, that was until our first game. The coach wouldn’t let me play because I didn’t have tennis shoes. You see, mom couldn’t afford to buy street shoes AND tennis shoes.  My team mates would not let me wear their tennis shoes so I that I could get on the floor, so I sat on the bench.

In conversations with my sisters, we didn't really remember being poor, or being hungry, when we were young children.  However, this experience came when I was 12 years old and was becoming aware of the world around me.  That experience, with that moment in my life, made me realize that I was poor, more poor than my classmates who all lived in the same low income neighborhood as I. Poverty kept me off the team because we could not afford tennis shoes needed to run up and down the wooden gym floor.

Such was life growing up, until that fateful day in June, 1973. During high school I worked on weekends, during summer months, and over the Christmas break, and I earned a few dollars, rarely enough to make a difference. However, I hooked up with a friend’s father, a carpenter, my junior year of high school, and stayed pretty faithful to him because he paid me cash at the end of the day, a dollar an hour. Plus, he got me some additional gigs with his friends in the building trades. I graduated from high school on Thursday, went to work on Friday, and have never been a day without a job since then. The day after my high school graduation I went to work with Victor, the carpenter, full time, so now I had spending money. Not enough to buy a car, but enough so that I could play with my chums on equal footing, uninhibited by the fact that previously, I had been the guy without a cent, relying on friends to chip in for me.

Few of them were working and making as much money as I was, but they had access to their parent’s car and usually some allowance money to get by. Well, on a fateful Sunday in June we planned a beer bust in the cool southwest desert, and we got drunk, this was my first beer party. The next day, when I awoke, I was still drunk and in no mood to work. Being quick on my feet, I called my boss to tell him that I had to go register for the draft – back then it was mandatory that young men register for the military draft after their 18th birthday.

I went back to sleep, until guilt overcame me. I got out of bed, dressed, and went to the recruiting station downtown to register for the draft. A few hours with the recruiter and I was hooked for four years. I got drunk that Sunday night, enlisted in the Army on Monday and shipped out to boot camp in Fort Ord, CA on Friday, June 28, 1973.

Never again was I to be poor. I kissed away poverty forever, it was not in the cards for me. After four years in the Army, armed with my G.I. Bill, I enrolled in college. While in college I washed dishes at Chef Ed’s, I enlisted in the Army Reserve, I landed a full time job earning minimum wage and finished my college degree after only 3 years and one semester. I kept that job until a better one came along and I haven’t looked back.

Soon after graduating from college in 1977, with the country in a serious economic recession, I faced bleak job prospects with only my bachelor’s degree. I had started a family, so quitting work was not an option. Not to worry, I still had some G. I. Bill benefits available because I whisked through undergraduate studies with lightning speed so I entered graduate school paid mostly by my trusty G. I. Bill. Two years later I had a master’s degree and bright future, sans poverty.

That defining moment in my life was when I took the oath of enlistment in the Army. I had a love/hate relationship with the military, but I stayed with it. While in college I entered the ROTC program and earned a commission in the Army Reserve at the same time that I earned a college degree. With these two credentials under my belt, or rather in my wallet, I nurtured two careers, a civilian career as a social worker and a military career as an officer in the Army Reserve. The latter came to halt in December 2004 after 31 ½ years, the former is still a work in progress. The fruits of my labor are sweet.  At age 60 I began receiving my military retirement benefit, a modest pension and Tricare Health Insurance.  I will be eligible for early social security at age 62, or I can wait for full social security benefits at age 66.

One thing is certain, I ain’t poor no more because I joined the Army. Everyone needs to have a defining moment, I suppose many folks have more than one defining moment, but there should be a least one point when life takes a turn.

Thursday, May 14, 2009

FREE ENTERPRISE RUN AMUCK

Certain economic principles have driven our country since its early beginnings. Free enterprise, entrepreneurialism, capitalism, free markets, and such have been the rallying cry of businessmen. They advocate for less regulation and restriction with the adage that “the market” will regulate business practices. In my fair city, businessmen advocate for the liberty to engage in free enterprise and enlist local officials in their causes. Over the years, countless businessmen have gone before city fathers to request tax relief with the argument that their business creates jobs and expands the tax base. City fathers, and more increasingly, city mothers, fall prey to that tired argument. This has been going on for years. It’s what I call subsidized enterprise. Free enterprise basically means business governed by the laws of supply and demand, not restrained by government interference, regulation or subsidy. However, when business continues to rely on tax welfare then the enterprise is no longer free. Let me explain, government’s basic role is to provide for the common good, whatever that means. It provides goods and services for the common good and establishes a framework within which the society can live and work. It should not be in the habit of investing in business. Businessmen contend that if government waives fees and/or taxes that creates a business-friendly environment so that business can create jobs and improve the economy and therefore contribute to the public good. Government continues to fall for that trap. Business relies on investors to engage in commerce with the promise that the successful business will give investors a return on their investment. Here is where it falls apart because government has invested, but it does not get a direct return on investment. In fact, it continues to lose money on that investment. Over the years, government welfare programs have proliferated because people’s basic needs are not evenly met by the improved economy that business has created. This means that government invests money in business, via favorable tax treatment, and pays more money to feed the poor, clothe the naked, shelter the homeless, treat the sick, corral the criminal, and so on. Businesses succeed with a combination of increased revenue and decreased expenses. They have two cost cutting measures in their sights, cut taxes and cut payroll. The first expense they cut is payroll, creating an underclass. These two measures constitute a double jeopardy for government because they increase government expenses and decrease government revenue. Even worse, the jobs that are created tend to be low paying retail and unskilled labor jobs that don’t come with job security, health insurance or retirement benefits. It is the working class that subsidizes both the enterprise and the under class. It is time for government to promote AND tax free enterprise. Everyone pays something for the common good, everyone. I don’t often quote the Gospel, but a couple of thoughts come to mind, to whom much is given, much is expected, and give to Cesar what is Cesar’s. In my enterpretation of these concepts, businessmen and those with wealth have a duty to pay their fair share. Do not equate fair share to equal share. Recent news stories have asked the question, is America broke? The answer is a resounding NO. All we have to do is to transfer the wealth back from the business and wealthy class to the government, thereby lessening the tax burden on the working class. America is not broke, it is immensely wealthy but everyone does not share in that wealth because free enterprise has run amuck. It has raided the wallets, bank accounts, and retirement portfolios of the working class and therefore not free enterprise at all, it is subsidized enterprise.

Thursday, April 30, 2009

GET MAD AND GET EVEN!

We just don’t care anymore. So many things going awry in the world around us, and we just don’t care. Remember the 1976 movie, Network? In the popular clip where the lead character utters the now famous phrase “I’m as mad as hell, and I’m not going to take this anymore” is urging television viewers to get out of their chairs and scream out the window “I’m as mad as hell, and I’m not going to take this anymore!” Well America, are you mad? I am. I’m doing something. I’m trying stir your passions into action. I am mad at the theft of half of my 201K retirement portfolio at age 54, this is a major loss. Folks who perpetrated this disaster continue to work in the business and elected leaders who watched this happen are still in office. We don’t care that our futures are being stolen. I am mad that my President hired lobbyists and Washington insiders and that he wanted to hire folks who owe taxes. The “change we can believe in” has been mostly elusive. The one true change is that we have a popular President. That is indisputable for everyone, including those ninnies on the Fox News Channel. We don’t care that its business as usual in the White House and Congress. I am mad that we have lost 8,700 lives in this war on terrorism, that 40,000 people were injured when we combine the initial attack on the World Trade Center and the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. We have spent well over $1 trillion on this war. And still we can’t find the son of bitch who hatched this evil. We don’t care that Americans continue to lose their lives and we can’t catch Osama. I am mad that we talk about our young men and women in uniform. As an Army Reserve Officer for more than 27 years I saw first hand the large number of grandmothers and grandfathers who served. When I was called to active duty for the Operation Iraqi Freedom I commanded old ladies and old men who answered the call, saluted the flag, and bid their children and grandchildren adieu. I always thought politicians and generals who honored America’s young men and women were ignorant of the whole truth. We don’t care that grandmothers who should be passing on their culture to the next generations are instead being sent off to war. We don’t care that young mothers are leaving their infants behind and we defend the children’s right to be orphaned. We just don’t care. I am mad that we love to hate Mexico and Mexicans. We send our money to Mexico in the form of “remittances.” We send more money to Mexico in the form of illegal drug retail sales. We send arms to Mexico so that they can keep the smuggling trade alive and well. We hate that smugglers bring in people and drugs. We hate it so much that we give them billions of dollars and assault style weapons and explosives to keep the trade routes open. Its reminiscent of the arms for hostages scandal, only its arms for drugs and arms for illegals. We just don’t care that we contribute to drug abuse, illegal labor practices, and the proliferation of weapons of less destruction. Fuck it! We’re Americans and we don’t have to care ‘cause God is on our side. America, get mad and get even. Reject your politicians, replace them all. Buy your goods and services from locally owned small businesses. Boycott Exxon; if they fold, your world won’t change. Burn your credit cards. Drive you car one more year. Fix up your house, don’t buy a new one. Save your money in a locally chartered credit union. Don’t go to the movies to perpetuate the multi million dollar careers of mindless actors. Get mad and do something constructive, exercise, stay away from fast food. Do something, anything. Get mad and get even! http://blog.broadcastengineering.com/brad/wp-content/uploads/2009/02/howardbealegj5.jpg

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

THE OBAMA EFFECT

I was in a plane going to Denver and seated next to me was a gentleman from Italy who lives in Germany and works in the auto parts industry. I asked about the state of the European economy and he reported the same kind of economic malaise we are experiencing in America. But he made a curious comment, he was hopeful the "Obama Effect" would have positive impact on the the world economy. Imagine that, the Obama Effect, that's what he called it, the Obama Effect. I see it everywhere and I just don't get it. What is it about this man that inspires such devotion? What has he done in his short live, and much shorter tenure in the Oval Office, that makes him so popular? He hasn't discovered a cure for cancer. He hasn't built a bridge. He has not really accomplished anything, beyond being a black man who won the Presidency with false promises. Change we can believe in was his mantra. However, it appears to be business as usual on Capital Hill and in the White House. Tax cheats and lobbyists run amok, in charge of my country. Look at the financial system for a moment. The big companies got the government money. They kept the so-called toxic assets. And they get to recognize capital losses on their tax returns. The toxic assets are homes that one day will recover their value. Yet Obama and Geithner keep giving corporate titans money, with almost no restraint. Conveniently, they can rail on corporate compensation - AFTER THE FACT. Well, my fellow Americans, the only Obama Effect that I see is that my 401K has lost half its value. I am putting more money into it to make up for what Wall Street has stolen. The Obama Effect is that I will have to work more years before retiring and I have less disposable income today than I did before Obama.

Monday, March 16, 2009

A New World

It's a new world for Americans. Years ago I promulgated a theory that summed up America's ills as consumerism, commercialism, and capitalism. It seems I was not far off. I now propose that Americans combat these evils by hording money. Capitalism is the idea that people engage in the production of goods and services for money and for centuries it has been one of the guiding principles of this country. But it evolved into the idea that it is ok to make money, legally, "at all costs." I came to this conclusion of the evolution of capitalism as a destructive force in the 1980s when I noticed that tobacco companies "earned" billions in federal subsidies to produce poison. Commercialism is capitalism's bastard step child. Basically, capitalism reduces everthing into a profit-generating enterprise. For example, some of the Super Bowl's best commercials are about beer and Bud is King. How many commercials do we need to tell us to drink beer when most of the viewers are drinking beer. Bud is advertising to Bud drinkers, talk about preaching to the choir. How stupid is that? An advertiser telling football fans to drink beer? We all know that sports fans are beer drinkers. However, the commercials make it ok to get drunk. Consumerism is nothing more than "keeping up the the Joneses." For the last 15 years or so, Americans bought up SUVs. Vehicles originally designed for heavy duty use, like the Jeep and the Suburban, became all the rage. Suddenly Americans wanted SUVs to drive the little ones to church, what an under-use of capacity, like bringing a machine gun to a fist fight. If ever there was a frivolous purchase, it is the gas guzzling SUV. True to my predictions, the walls came tumbling down. Now there is fear and panic. How do we survive this economy? For now I suggest Americans horde savings. Look at it this way, you are giving your bank liquidity. Save money in the bank and the bank has money to lend, and the economy prospers. That is a true patriotic American. Save, save, save. Let me qualify that statement, save in a locally owned bank or your neighborhood credit union. Stay the hell away from the large national bank crooks who are stealing your children's future. My big brother once told me that he did not fear petty criminals. He could defend himself against muggers or he could run away from them. However, he feared the son of a bitch wearing a coat and tie cause that guy was going to take him to cleaners, legally, and laugh all the way to bank. He was right. AIG, Bear Stearns, Indy Mac, Merrill Lynch, and so on, collectively have taken my retirement. They literally stole it from me and they are getting bonuses for being so clever about it. Wouldn't you know it, the government is in cahoots. Revolution anyone?

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

It's Tax Time Again

Well, its that time of the year when we have to do our taxes. Over the past several years I have used Turbo Tax and Tax Cut. Both seem to be easy enough to use, unless you make an entry error and that happened to me. The result was that I underpaid taxes. I went to a CPA who quickly found my error and told me to pay up. Since then, I continue to use this software (which ever is cheaper), but I print out the tax return and take it to the CPA before I file it. So, I pay for the software AND a nominal fee for the CPA review. In total, I spend about $100 doing my taxes and spend many hours. My wife does her part by doing a spread sheet with medical bills. I do the rest of the stuff. I also do my youngest daughter's tax return. Man it's a chore, and procrastination is so easy. So, what's wrong with this picture? The tax code is too cumbersome. I have made one mistake on my tax return, the IRS caught it the following year and let me know it, in no uncertain terms. One year, the IRS sent me a nasty gram, but the error was not on my part. Nonetheless, they found the alleged error quickly and again let me know. What's wrong with this picture? They didn't seem to catch Timothy Geithner or Tom Daschle quite so quickly. And from the news reports, it seems these two guys earned the compassion of Senators who dismissed their oversight rather quickly. A totally different reaction from the one I got from my run-in with the fed over tax errors! What's the fix? I vote for a graduated flat tax. Everybody pays something, starting at tax rate of 1% for the lowest income tax payers and increasing to much higher income tax payers. It is not unreasonable to tax billionaires at a 50% tax rate, or higher. He who has more, pays more. Eliminate all tax credits, deductions, exemptions, rebates, and loopholes, save one. Allow tax credits for donations paid to non profit organizations and organized churches. The same tax code would be applicable to businesses. Tax is deducted from pay roll and it's that simple. An annual reconciliation to verify annual income is completed and the tax bill is settled. Jackson Hewitt finds another line of work, as do most of the IRS auditors. We need to define ordinary income that is taxed at the new rates. Ordinary income is any money received by the tax payer regardless of the source, capital gains, inheritance, etc. Tax time should not be this difficult. It is necessary, but it should be simple and fair. Don't you agree?

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Pesky Mexicans

For those who don't know, I am American born and bred, of Mexican-American descent. I grew up on the US/Mexico border and have watched the immigration debate with great interest. I submit to you that we will not have immigration reform until we answer the question..."what do we do with those pesky 12 million immigrants in this country illegally." Yes, the preponderance of them are Mexican. We can't simply ship them all home. Hell, we can't even find them, much less send them home. A large bus can handle up to 40 passengers, it would take 300,000 buses, are there that many road-worthy buses in the country? I certainly don't want to keep the criminal element in this country. Child molesters need to go, so too murderers and rapists and thieves. Did you know that American employers travel abroad to recruit foreign nationals to come here for good jobs. The Dallas Independent School District goes to Monterrey Mexico to recruit bi-lingual teachers, and a school district in my home town got in trouble for offering bribes in exchange for recruiting teachers in the Philippines. Its not really about immigrants taking jobs cause we have legal mechanisms in place to give away good jobs. Its about filling vacant jobs for which there are no American applicants. The point is that there are SOME immigrants who are here illegally that we might want to keep for "convenience." Some absolutely must go back, some we might want to keep, kind of like fishing. There is much ado about amnesty, but the definition of amnesty is to forgive transgressions. I have not seen one legislative proposal that offers amnesty. Some proposals, like the McCain/Kennedy bill requires fines and penalties. That is not amnesty. Please don't call it amnesty cause that just demonstrates an inability to communicate properly. I don't support a blanket "amnesty" for all undocumented immigrants, but I don't support mass deportation either. Humans, throughout history, have followed food sources for their very survival. I believe that humans have a right to migrate with the food source, both animal and vegetable. However, that does not translate into an obligation for sovereign nations to accept migrant populations. The dilemma is trying to decide which ones are keepers and which ones to throw back. Sometimes the keepers serve more altruistic ideals, like family unity. Sometimes not. But until we resolve this dilemma, it will persist and we will not have comprehensive immigration reform.