Special to The Tribune
SAN JUAN, Texas - When I was 10 years old, my grandfather sold my bicycle with the promise that I would get a new one the following week. He got $15 for it, or at least that's what I was told. Who knows? A kid that age can only look forward to the next day. I did get a new bike, but not until about a year later. It was a neat, basic bike. No special features on it, like a night light or horn or streamers for the handlebars. I rode that damned bike everywhere, to school, Little League practice, the store, my friend's house and even downtown. I loved that bike, but, as with many, many things that came later in Life, I got over it.
My family likes to remind me that I do not have the "care" gene so prevalent in my siblings. They say I can take or leave family reunions, that I give no value to birthdays, anniversaries, graduations or marriages. I've not been to one marriage for any of my siblings or nieces and nephews. I used to think it all came from my days as a boy, when my two brothers would beat me to a pulp and leave me crying on the living room floor. My mother would storm in, scold them loudly and they'd run-off. She'd tell me to be tough, but I'd stay on the floor, crying, knowing I'd never be able to defend myself against them. Yet, it always has been easy for me to love, to romance a woman. Now, when they get to see me, my brothers will hug me and smile smiles the size of Montana. What a world, eh? Yes, my relationships mentor was my grandfather, a man who had his favorite watering hole, a grandfather who took his grandson along to learn the best of ropes. That may explain my fondness for waitresses of all sorts. For me, they are the most exotic of birds.
So, when I mosey into a bar and spot a young couple sitting together, sipping their alcohol, holding hands, looking into their eyes, I bring back my own memories of women who fell into my world. I write about this stuff in my new book - The Scorpion's Son. I write about my grandfather's silly, flirtatious ways. I write about a bar waitress he befriended and later loved. I write about how when he died my grandmother found this woman's photo in his wallet, and not one of her. I write about the reflection of coming home after many years abroad, and, for Valleyites, even Dallas is abroad. In a certain, sure way, this book allowed me the chance to unload a lot of my youth in novel form. Did I capture all of it? Nope.
It is a funny thing how looking backward, insisting on flashbacking to another time in clear imagery, helps the tired soul. The book is 300-plus pages, yet I feel as though much was left out of the story. Life is amazing. So much to be accounted for, to be explained, to be remembered, to be forgotten, to be regretted. Who were those people who ambled into my life? And why did they leave? Tell me, Lord, where are my women?
The photo above grabbed me for a variety of reasons, one being the simplicity of the moment these two are enjoying. She may or may not be his wife. She may or may not love this guy. He may be married to another woman, or he may simply have bopped-in and offered to buy her drink. They could be the chosen couple of the universe for this particular night, two lonely souls looking for something special inside a place that offers little other than refuge from the cultural storms. Where will they go after the bar closes?
I dunno, I dunno. My place is on the Moon, and I miss it. Perhaps I have been here too long, here being the Rio Grande Valley of Texas. Read my book...
- 30-
[EDITOR'S NOTE:..This story was posted here back in April. We are watching the World Cup today and cannot come out to play. Enjoy...]
29 comments:
Bro, sounds like you need some bruskis to drown your sorrows.
She looks the ladies that hang around 14th. street, and the guy looks like someone from a construction site. The place looks like the Movida Bar. Nothing else, nothing new, nothing else to look at. You writers look for things and form opinions. You are just a skirt chaser, that's it, you know it, your readers know it, and your editor, knows it. Of course he will put a spin on it, thats it, plain and simple.
Anon (1.) No, we need no brewskis. (2.) Well, well, well...So we are quick to form opinions, eh? What are you doing with that comment, Anon? We're never able to explain the weird interpretations to our posts from some of you. Read it twice if you have to before complaining. Perhaps we expect more from our readers... - Editor
Bingo, editor. i see the same sort of bs on El Rocinante all the time. these people cannot stand to see any good in anything. they bitch (oops) about everything. just ignore tem, editor.
Anon: We've had to REJECT six comments related to this posting, mainly because they refer to the writer and not anything else. It seems DP-M again has his usual detractors trolling for attention. Here, they will not get it. And we know it annoys the Hell out of them... - Editor
excuse me, i have a question, so your blog only publishes comments that agree with your philophy???
Yes or no will do.
Mr. Editor; the picture of the lovely couple, is this artistic contemporary art. Thats what el Roci promotes itself as "pure art expression, surely you don't agree with Annon 2, do you???
And who is D-PM??
Mr. Anon, I have different view of the picture, I don't know if that is his wife. But real man, don't take their wifes into cheap bars.
If this is his girlfriend as the article questions. I would say, He should be home feeding his family. I do agree with Anon, maybe we see things for what they are, and not how the staff of the tribune sees them in abstracts. We believe in reality not fiction or make believe stories.
ANON (1.): NO, you do not have to agree with us on any topic. But we want you to express yourself in a civil tone and, hopefully, contribute intelligent discourse. Attacking our writers with profanity will not get you heard. ANON (2.) The photos accompanying our stories are just that, photos. Our journey in no way, shape, or form compares with El Rocinante, a Blog that should be admired for what it is. NOTE (3.): When we started this Blog, it was our intention to bring something new. To that end, we also expected interested Valleyites to exhibit thoughtful commentary in a refined, educated manner... - Editor
DP-M is the writer of this particular story. He is somewhat known in Brownsville, at times admired by the Upstanding and at others times reviled by the Gutter Vermin. He enjoys the company of his local friends and endures the presence of the Proletariat... - Editor
Someone expressing their views of a photograph, is just that an expression of their views, whether you agree with them or not.
But isn't it your blog that is always promoting dp-m as a master of affection.
Like many people I don't know who this character is, and for the readers of your blog to call him out on his articles is simply fair game. Nothing personal, just constructive criticism, agree????
MOST RECENT ANON COMMENT: Sir, a photograph of two Human Beings is hardly an abstract. The story does not note whether the woman is this man's wife. I reel at how much readers misinterpret stuff on this Blog. You see everything as being Real or Fiction? Is that what you are trying to say? Sir, this particular posting has the writer (DP-M) reflecting on his youth as it relates to his new novel. Is that lost on you as a reader? We will never spoon-feed our readers; that is, post a story and then explain it to them... - Editor
Puuleeeaaassseee!!!!!!!!!!!, Mr. Editor, get a life, maybe mr.dp-m should leave the valley, we wouldn't want him sacrificing himself with the lower class, you guys are a joke.
Dear BEA: We note nothing about anyone calling DP-M out. He can handle himself nicely. We merely ask: Are you reading the material we are posting? Sometimes we wonder, because your comments are so skewed as to be unrecognizable. In the end, we tell ourselves local Blog trollers are merely used to slamming everybody and everything. Comment on the content, not the writer. And, Bea, we do not know how you define Joke, and not that we wish to find out...but perhaps you should stick to the Blogs you usually follow and comment-on. Obviously, we are not for you...- Editor
Good byeee, turn the lights when you leave the valley, take your master of affection with you.
Ah, Bea, instead of charming us with a good argument, you fold and bid adieu. We were hoping you'd break the mold, wishing you'd not do the Valley Thing and turn away when asked to offer up your best defense. Que lastima... - Editor
Changing the topic, somewhat, when I was a kid I use to shine shoes in the local cantinas in San Benito.
Most of the people that went to the bars were elderly people similiar to the authors comment about his grandfather.
Back then we would charge one nickel.
We start on Friday night, and again on Saturdays at around 3pm untill around 11pm.
I am not to familiar with Brownsville's night life or if there shine boys shine shoes in bars.
I did pretty good, for those days. (Well if you call $5.00 or $8.00 on good nights)
Anyway the story brought back good old memories.
Don Patricio, my good compadre, chigugua, que esta pasando?? oye did mr.martinez lived in harlingen, that place on the picture looks like a bar I use to clean when I was in high school.
The pay was $6.00 a day. Back then it was against the law to go into cantinas if you were not 18, but the owner was there while I was cleaning the joint. I use to work two days. Made a total of $12:00 for the week end. Gas was kind of cheap. I had an old 1955 chevy 2 doors, red and white.
Mostly middle age men and elderly folks went to the bar on week-ends.
The town was full of shoe shine kids, who charge a quarter for a shinola, as they use to call it.
Those were the good old days, things were lay back and all I cared about was having gas on my 55 and chase girls around or head to the beach. Fund memories that last forever.
Well have to get back to work.
DPM,
Most of the Valley (Browntown) have not been beyond Brownsville, and it is difficult to have an open mind.
I respect your blog, and keep up the Great Job.
One of el Roci readers
(now your loyal reade)
That man on that picture looks like Mr.Juan Montoya when he was young. i just saw a picture on his blog accompanied by Mr. Cesar Chaves, coincidence??? He sure resembles him. No offense to Mr. Montoya if it isn't him.
ANON: No, we do not believe the bar-hopper in the photo is Mssr. Montoya.... - Editor
Hey, this article is pretty good, is that what the book is about?? I read the rain in Spain.
Is that La Movida Bar???
ANON:...Some of this is in the book, although there is much more. It's a reflection of sorts, yes... - Editor
ANON: No, that is a bar called Los Bajos De Flores in Managua, Nicaragua. But it could be La Movida, if you get drunk enough... - Editor
Eliot, I plan to go by the book, about the Scorpion and it better be good, or I will sentence you to go live in Harlingen for a period of 21 days and you will be forced to read el roci during your stay in harlingen. (Just kidding)
They look like a married couple out for a bruskie on Saturday night. I mean everyone does that here in the Valley.
Good picture, hope they had a nice time.
Nombre, That Couple from the Top Picture Is no More nor Less Than My Drunken Compradres...
LA INDIA MARIA y EL INDIO QUELITE JACKSON and JACKSON !!!
Mssr. Maracas:...That's too funny. But you're wrong. Sorry. But we do appreciate the little bit of humor we get from time to time... - Editor
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