adventures

ADVENTURES Memories Daniel Padilla Ramos ADVENTURES Memories ISBN: 978-­‐0-­‐692-­‐50131-­‐3 U.S. Copyright number: TXU001949231 / 2014-­‐08-­‐19 Public Registry of copyright in Mexico: 03-­‐2014-­‐061913510700-­‐01 www.andanzas.mx With all my love and respect, to my wife Carmen Cecilia and my six children: Andrea, Dora Luz, Daniel, Diana Maria, Jose Ramon and Jorge Mario. They are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me, the reason for my existence. To my twin brother Andres, an exemplary kinsman, my best friend. To all those who assisted me to complement my text. I find it impossible to name you all, but you know how grateful I am. THANK YOU I am grateful to rhetoric wise man, Dr. Ernesto Camou Healy, for having reluctantly fixed my messy writing. I conclude my book without even knowing him personally. That has been the magic! My deep and sincere appreciation to my dear compadre, Francisco Javier Ruiz Quirrín, for his invaluable contribution that gave direction to these memories. To Ambassador Jeffrey Davidow, a preeminent American diplomat, who, notwithstanding his importance, supported me with his vast experience in this arduous task. Daniel Padilla Ramos Hermosillo, Sonora, Mexico December 2013 INDEX I.
PROLOGUE PRESENTATION INTRODUCTION PREAMBLE OF MY MEMORIES II.
III.
IV.
V.
BEGINNINGS OF MY LIFE •
•
•
VI.
My birth. My grandparents My parents MY CHILDHOOD AND ADOLESCENCE •
•
VII.
•
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My neighborhood Colegio Larrea CHICAGO Autumn 1987 25 years later VIII. LAW SCHOOL IX. MAZON GROUP •
Mazón brothers •
Servillantas X.
LEGAL OFFICE •
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
XI.
My beginnings My first secretary Mr. Kubick The San Carlos towers International Hotel Telemax BMW Cananea miners September 11 Juan Gabriel NITO •
•
•
•
•
•
•
Background The Taca-­‐tacas My Jetta car Lemon soda Jealousy The tooth The house workers of the Pitic neighborhood XII.
THE TROPICONGA XIII. THE CHACON ENCOUNTER XIV. LORENA XV. KIDNAPPING XVI. MIGRATION XVII. THE ANDA GROUP •
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
XVIII.
Beginnings Anda staff Anda Cellular Anda Financial Services Tequila Don Abraham La Casa del Habano ANDA Financial ANDA Pharmacies ANDA Laundry Culmination of the Anda Group UNCLE RAMIRO XIX. POLITICS •
•
XX.
Paraphrase The Green Party THE OFFICE AT THE PITIC NEIGHBORHOOD XXI. MUSIC AND ART XXII. BIRJAN •
The treasure of the mares •
•
•
The safe box Strokes of luck Las Vegas XXIII. GERMANY AND POLAND XXIV. ITALY XXV. RESIDENCE IN THE USA • Mexico and the United States •
Pros and cons. XXVI. SECOND MARRIAGE •
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The proposal The wedding XXVII.
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CARMEN CECILIA Family •
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Incomparable wife Enlightened love XXVIII. CONCLUSION XXIX. RECENT PHOTO GALLERY PROLOGUE Exactly six months and one week ago, on August 11, 2013 to be exact, I received an email that read, on its main part, as follows: I commentate to you that I'm venturing into writing a book, a kind of Memoirs-­‐Anecdotes, history tinged too, and I would like to ask you for your support in its development, if possible. The text was signed by an unknown person to me, but with two fully identifiable surnames: Padilla Ramos, Daniel, the first name. I was left with no doubt: the brother of my friends Miriam and Rachel, of a well-­‐known family, "lifelong known" as my grandmother would say. The proposal intrigued me, since for some time, I had thought that the writing of personal memoirs in which the author becomes critical about his own biography and develops a narration that allows to realize his own evolution in a defined and family context, should be promoted. The idea has drawn me because I think it may be a way to accomplish that remembrances, episodes, anecdotes and mostly, daily history and central aspects of regional culture are preserved; that they are at the same time individual memories and a kind of collection and accumulation of collective memory expressed in the narrative of individual lives. It should be possible, I have reasoned, to form groups or workshops for memoirs writing, composed of men and women of a certain age, with the inquisitiveness and the desire to remember and talk about their experiences, and understand them to think about themselves, in the context of their biography, immersed in their neighborhood, town or city. It would be an occupation suitable for people of the so-­‐called third age (senior citizens), often retirees, without too many family commitments, willing to spend a few months of their life to remember, sort, analyze, put in context their experiences and write them in a clear, orderly, proper way and why not, to do so in good Spanish and in the most attractive manner possible. This would imply, thought, to make these persons to relearn the art of writing, to get rid of and correct flaws and faults on grammar and composition, and establish a permanent dialogue on their texts , preferentially in group work, and, of course, about their lives and stories. It wouldn't be difficult either to suggest what to seek, or to get their children or grandchildren to register chests and cupboards, to arm themselves with visual material that would illustrate their experiences and, at the same time, rescue from oblivion so many photographs forgotten in house and office corners that can be an invaluable material to learn regional history and culture. If several workshops of this kind could be organized, in which small groups were gathered to receive training, to share findings, discuss ways and means of gathering information, do interviews, take notes and classify material then go with patience and good composition, writing the story of their life, their neighborhood or village, and their family, we should obtain, I mused, after one or two years, several published texts that would be a satisfaction to the authors, a legacy for your family and friends, and a priceless contribution to the history, culture and identity of towns and regions touched on the texts. You could consider not very burdensome formats that allow the publication of the texts and their dissemination at least at the local level. With that, we would achieve, in addition to the invaluable historical materials collection, the personal satisfaction of having realized it by themselves, having written a personal book, and leave their story for the coming generations. All this came to memory when I received the message from Daniel Padilla Ramos, and thought it was an opportunity to try to put into practice that idea that had long hovered in my head. I could do an essay, a kind of experiment, accompanying a hermosillense in the drafting of a composition in which he would give account of his existence and himself, his environment and his escapades until accomplishing to set the story of his life in black and white... I thought about it a bit and told him that I was interested in the project. That I could help him, except that his responsibility was to write everything and present it as a computer text, so I will review it, correct misprints, typos, errors of wording and make observations relevant to the passage. I would return it and wait for a new corrected and improved version. Daniel immediately took my word and sent me one or two chapters of what he called his memoirs... The first surprise is that our author, Daniel, at the time just 44 years: wasn't neither of the third age, nor had lived a long existence which could give an account in writing. For all purposes, he was a young adult, almost a kid. Spirited, of course, in the next few weeks I started receiving chapters and more chapters in which he chronicled his life, told anecdotes and interesting episodes, talked serious events and personal predicaments, some with a picaresque tone that made reading an easy and pleasant task. Didn't know with whom I ran into when I accepted the assignment: I would suddenly receive long texts in my email to correct, generally well and properly written; to those I reviewed, I suggested changes and returned them, to get back the original work corrected, and new ones before I had time to recover, along with a friendly and compelling message putting himself at my disposal and urging me to return new chapters to work with them and move forward. In a very short time he literally flooded my computer with its texts, generally well crafted, even fun, allowing him to build a volume of memoirs covering a life not so long yet, but interesting and with content enough to make valid the effort of writing, and the consequent effort of reading it... Daniel proved to be a regular, fast, even somewhat obsessive worker: by mid-­‐
December 2013 he had finished a full draft of the text, corrected and returned to be rewritten, and he would urge me to give the go-­‐ahead to the volume as a whole. By then he had already selected the photos included in the book, and asked me, kindly, for an introduction. And now Daniel presents a volume that recounts his memories and life, in the last third of the ‘’hermosillense’’ twentieth century and the tight start of the 21st century. It is a personal narrative, more focused on family and friends than in the vicissitudes of the society and politics of the Sonora which he has lived; but he doesn't cease to continuously mention the usages and customs of what we call a middle class of the Northwest of the Republic, their concerns and their work and aspirations in a time and a time that, from the perspective of the economy and society, has been in permanent crisis: he was only six years old when José López Portillo came to power and the most pronounced inflationary crisis in the last hundred years. Daniel's generation, has lived in an environment and a reality in which the opportunities and facilities to work, to entrepreneur and prosper have been generally less frequent and more complicated than those of the generations that preceded them in the immediate past. It was also the transition from a medium-­‐
sized Hermosillo during his childhood, to a city that is coming to be relatively large, in his adult life. Daniel, however, faces a problem and a challenge: in about 40 years, say around the year 2050, should begin to write the second part of her memoirs. Somehow, what he presents today is just the first half of his biography. The problem is that by then there will be many friends and many descendants who will hurry him to continue what he started in that 2013, then distant and a little exotic. The challenge is also interesting: when he writes with good memory and discretion that second installment that many will be waiting for, he will have to inevitably come back to the text we are presenting today, review it and reflect on those vital events that told in this volume, write about them again, from the perspective of a fulfilled life, and deliver us into meditative manner , his feeling and thinking from a broad vital horizon, which has allowed him to decant his experiences, and transmit without compromise nor mistrust the fruit of his introspection and work. Thus, for what we have today, for what is to come in the future that will be very different, but not too far, we must celebrate that Daniel dedicated himself to write and share with us these his memoirs... Ernesto Camou Healy San Pedro el Saucito February 2014 BY WAY OF INTRODUCTION TO THE BOOK "ADVENTURES" I will begin by admitting that I accepted to write these words, because it is a splendid opportunity to make a public acknowledgement of Daniel Padilla Ramos. It is that I know many people with a young life span who have written books on various topics, but how difficult it is to see a young man to be "turned on" by writing his memoirs and in doing so, to have a very personal revelation that he could write, and even write well. Those of us who have as a trade to write informational notes or political columns on a daily basis, are faced with the problem occasionally, that those who read us, do not understand with sufficient clarity what we wanted to say. We often write and our writings are very clear to our understanding, but that sometimes doesn't happen to many readers who sometimes wonder, what did this journalist want to say? Therefore, the recommendation from the journalistic practice classics, is that there must always be someone else to read what we write. Only then we will know if the message we wanted to convey, was captured. Daniel Padilla Ramos, in writing his experiences since being a child, going through his experiences as a lawyer and the contact that he held with personalities -­‐ including those in public office and the business and artistic world, did so convinced that their stories were conversations with members of his family, with friends and customers. Daniel's spirited dart to write, was a consequence of his temperament. His bravery and boldness are part of his personality. Just a bit more than forty years and he has much essence to offer those that surround him, and those who do not surround him, too. In June of 2001, "cananeense" journalist Enguerrando Tapia Quijada passing had arrived to the 20 year mark. For this reason, it occurred to me to search for those who had been his personal friends from the adolescence of this missed man, who taught us, dozens of reporters that "journalism is done by men, not machines". The purpose was to develop an article and publish it in our weekly magazine, “Primera Plana”. Doctor Mario Padilla Chacon, a psychiatrist, had been one of those dear friends of Enguerrando and even -­‐together with Dr. Guillermo Ocaña García-­‐, had remained at his side since he was diagnosed with pancreatic disease, until the time of his death in the city of Tucson, Arizona, on that day June 7, 1981, when he was only 46 years old. -­‐So you want to commemorate Enguerrando? -­‐Yes, doctor. -­‐"Well, I see you Thursday at seven in the afternoon at the La Tropiconga cantina." Every week I meet there to spend some time with my kids and some friends. All the memories will come back", replied the doctor. I arrived at the place and time of the appointment and there was a table with at least eight people. I previously knew some of them, but the doctor was kind enough to introduce me to his sons Mario, Diego and Daniel, who mingled there. I had knowledge Of Mario and Diego (the latter unfortunately died recently in December 2013) because of their career in public service. I met Daniel there, who after letting me talk to his dad, invited me to continue to hang out with that group and at the first opportunity to speak about other topics, because he defined himself as lawyer specialized in taxes, who likes public relations and also relating with the influencers of the region, and beyond. He was beginning, he said, to make his way into the business world. Didn't take me long to realize that I was in front of a guy of fearlessness, skills and good fortune, elements that made him a leader with his friends and his family. Graduated from the University of Sonora, with previous studies in Chicago, in the United States, Daniel is one of those youngsters that had the great opportunity to leave Sonora to study abroad, and thus the opening of a mental maturity to be able to make comparisons between various cultures. But most important, is that this type of experiences not only opens the minds of young people, but that the world becomes smaller and they come to think that everything is within the reach of one's self. By his own conversations then, I understood why this young lawyer did not think it twice in deciding to go to New York and into the courts of the United States, representing relatives of the victims of the Twin Towers attack in that metropolis. Also at the time, he sought and got an appointment at Distrito Federal with Manlio Fabio Beltrones, in his eagerness to succeed in his efforts as the legal representative of hundreds of miners in Cananea, lured by its leader Napoleón Gómez Urrutia, for not receiving the part which corresponded to them of the compensation paid by Germán Larrea, when he acquired the largest copper-­‐
producing company of Sonora and Mexico. Personal boldness and the courage to assume a professional commitment, were shown by Daniel by agreeing to work for the Government of Sonora during the six year term of Armando Lopez Nogales, rescuing the State television station, Telemax, from a tremendous fiscal hole. It's not easy just for anybody accept a commitment to the State Governor, knowing that the problem would be resolved at the huge offices of the high buildings of the Ministry of Finance and Public Credit, in the capital of the Republic. It was also "inconceivable" (thus in quotes), that with the powerful contacts of a State Chief Executive, a matter related to communication media controlled entirely by the State administration could not be solved in a more "political" way. The truth is that the Governor needed someone who legally sustained the case. Daniel Padilla was recommended and agreed to "go into it". It was the most wise decision of his professional life back then, which marked him a before and an after to try to fly higher in the times to come. Not just anybody seeks and gets a nice conversation with the Plenipotentiary Ambassador of the United States, Jeffrey Davidow, and more importantly, commits him to support him in his project to publish his personal writings. One day in 2013, Daniel told me: -­‐"I started to write my memoirs. I know that it is not yet time and at the same time it is. I have much to tell my family, my children, my friends." I was convinced that he spoke seriously, once when that I looked for him insistently for some matter, without success. He had locked himself and had turned off his phone. -­‐"I'm writing like crazy and I am so excited that I can’t stop”, he justified himself when he called back. I also found out, Daniel Padilla Ramos was very firm on the subject of family values. He sometimes admitted that his fingers wrote something that came out of his mind and which included some resentment or grievance. In the end, the human condition. However, his great love for his father, Dr. Mario Padilla Chacon, his brothers, his sisters, his great defense of decisions about his private life, his marriage, his children, led to a balance of that mind and those fingers in his writings, seeking to leave a legacy of arguments that shared with all of his people, contributed to the whole of the affection and not to its abatement nor severance in the current and future generations. Daniel was also convinced that at the end of the day, what always remains, is family. That's for sure, he strongly charges against when those that having been committed with him fail him or are disloyal, despite having deposited all his trust on them. Daniel has become known as a professional and a businessman who honors his word, and as some men of public power -­‐ for example -­‐ have failed him by deceiving, he doesn't stop from pointing them out. Neither do disloyal employees go out of his companies without his finger-­‐pointing. Finally, there is one detail that I would like to highlight to the writings of this daring young man in his memoirs. Several of the chapters in this volume, contain true journalistic dishes. If based on that theoretical definition of what news is, more than the fact, the significance of the fact, it is worth noting at least two cases that come to my mind, as acts of true political-­‐historical significance at the time of writing these lines. By rescuing Telemax of that fiscal hole, Daniel Padilla Ramos accomplished that the Governors of Sonora could continue keeping a television channel for the defense of their governments. If he hadn't succeeded, that channel long ago would have belonged to a national network, perhaps MVS, owned by Joaquín Vargas. Also, in the case of his experience as the lawyer of singer Juan Gabriel, he reveals some things about the meaning of his songs, and he provides an anecdote regarding a request by don Luis Fernández Colosio, for the song "Eternal love" (a melody of Juanga that has certainly exceeded the barrier of time), dedicated it to his late son Luis Donaldo, the deceased magdalenense presidential candidate. The response of the famous Mexican singer to don Luis, is simple and simply, compelling and convincing. Also, in the chapter that tells about the "express" kidnapping that he was victim of at Distrito Federal, he puts the reader in those terrible moments of suffering, pain and despair. There is journalistic "meat "also in these memories of young Mr. Padilla, because it involves public figures not only his family and his friends. He has the great advantage that his written works on those figures public, politicians and businessmen, are based on personal experiences that nobody can complain about, because they are just that, personal experiences. The above is only part of the big package that I invite you to read and to enjoy these memories of a young professional Sonora, bold, brave and with very good fortune. In addition and this is of enormous importance, Daniel also becomes an example to all of us who know him. José Antonio Primo de Rivera, the leader of the Spanish Falange, used to say that "life is not worth living, if there isn’t something big on where to burn it", and if we are in this world it is because God has set a special mission for each of us. Then, we all have something to tell and there should be an effort on the part of all, to try to leave it as a legacy to our children, our grandchildren and our great-­‐
grandchildren. Maybe even beyond. Francisco Javier Ruiz Quirrin Hermosillo, Sonora, Mexico February 2014. INTRODUCTION: In deciding to write my memoirs, a flash of confusion clouded my mind: What should I write about? Am I at the age to do so? in general, who ventures into this endeavor, writes stories and achievements reached during his life and gives a very positive approach to his legacy, so that those who read his words, are left “apantallados” 1 because of everything expressed. However my initiated reader, I believe that all people, well, almost everyone, have “prietitos en el arroz” 2 in their lives that they do not want to disclose, but which remains in our consciences for life, and in the know of some others. Likewise, to write one's memoirs is to many, synonymous with old age, but I don't see it like that; there simply comes a time in your life when it comes from the heart to write them, and the time has come to mine, without even thinking that I am just a "pair of fours"3 old. I have to admit that the terminal illness that my brother Diego suffers has also prompted me to write passages of my existence, faced with the established belief that the life we have is lent, it can be snatched at the least expected moment. The content of these memoirs is completely open and honest, I shall plainly deal with the events that -­‐ to my mind -­‐ have marked my first 44 years of life, such as my divorce, lawsuits against me, economic deprivation, business crisis, family issues, etc., but I think it's fair too, to talk about the positive things that have happened to me, which are the most, and they are the counterweight to the not so fortunate that I will narrate here. I will try in these memoirs not be critical or insinuating, even less flattering, mostly when, quoting any personal reference; this is not an instrument to send 1
Open -­‐ mouthed A fly in the ointment 3
44 years old 2
some subliminal or encrypted message, on the other hand, I will write with total objectivity and self-­‐criticism. “Me pondré cómo palo de gallinero”4. I clarify, that if for any reason any person referred to in this text feels aforementioned, I can assure you that at no time it would have been my intention to make you feel so. Here I speak of mistakes that I have made, but also of slander and betrayals which I have been object of, I believe that they should be written so that they are not forgotten; moreover, I repeat that they are not any criticism or suggestion, they are a reality, they happened to me and therefore are part of what I have lived. I can assure you my new reader, that everything that contains these memoirs is completely true. Keep an eye with this my gullible reader! Being these my memories, it is supposed that I should write only about myself, however, I have not lived alone on an island to do so, many people have gravitated around me since I was born, starting with my family, and I therefore must quote all those people who have been a fundamental part in my life. My father used to tell that Mr. José Alberto Healy Noriega -­‐ aka Cochibeto -­‐, owner of the then objective newspaper "El Imparcial", once commented to him that carefulness should be exercised with what is written, because later, although the note can be corrected and many things are said it is not the same; as the saying goes: "palo dado ni Dios lo quita"5. I say "then objective", because when El Imparcial had competition in Sonora from “El Sonorense” and “El Informador’’ newspapers, it was more truthful, today it is notoriously sold to the Government in turn, they have been operating like this for years, I understand that they have to eat and that this brings fear to them que les cierren la llave6, but as kids say nowadays "que malicien"7. 4
I’ll dump it on myself What is done, it’s done 6
That the faucet may be turned off 7
Don’t be too obvious 5
Politicians in particular are given to writing their memoirs, and they highlight the achievements reached in their public career (with resources that are not theirs). They portray themselves as victims when the circumstances do not favor them (when they lose their political position), while there are certainly more dark things than the clear ones which distinguished their public performance, but however, they illustrate only the best they could do in their political work. Who does the guy with the pen pretend to deceive by writing only good things, to his wife, his children, to society, to himself? Let's tell the truth as it is! Today, the Internet, social media, cell phones (now called "smart-­‐phones"), video games and so much technology that Albert Einstein once warned us would turn us into idiots, have reduced the number of people who like to read a good book. Unfortunately, books have seen their privileged position of being forced material inquiry or cultural enrichment, with that spontaneous taste for knowledge -­‐ through reading -­‐ has been reduced, although fortunately it has not been replaced by the Internet as a whole, given the taste of many readers who prefer reading a sheet of paper than doing it on a screen. And although the network offers all kind of reading, existing and yet to come, the user hardly enters into it as he should. I leave this legacy in a book, and hope be reason of interest from at least one reader to read it and a former reader to resume its reading, is for the sake of being motivated to continue reading books in the future; This book is my bit to bring the fight to rescue the wisdom that books have been given to humanity, and that little by little again, we have been forgetting them. I do not say that in all my time I have always brought a book in my hand, but I perfectly remember how in my elementary and junior high education, we had to read at least one book, understand it and explain it. The first book I read, was "Los de abajo", by Mariano Azuela, which tells a story of the time of the Revolution, where the main character, Demetrio Macías, was attacked unfairly by the Mexican army, then stood up against them. Years later I read "Othello", by William Shakespeare, a storyline in which Othello felt an unhealthy jealousy of Yago, for his beloved Desdemona. So, I could learn even a little bit of literature, something that the “chamacos” 8 today should also do, alternating the use of their lap-­‐tops, iPads, iPods, etc. with a good book, which would further facilitate their understanding. To read then... 8
Kids PREAMBLE: I start this humble legacy with total sincerity, truthfulness and dedication, in the month of July of the year 2013, to try to finish it completely at the end of this year, and although blessed be God I have enough work and multiple duties to attend, I don't waste my free time and I can devote it to writing the many things that I want to leave engraved. I do not intend to confine myself to write, as the great composer George Händel did during three full weeks without interruption, in a mystic trance to conclude the greatest work of his life: "The Messiah" (Hallelujah!, Hallelujah!), work that left him on the brink of madness and jaundice -­‐ for those excesses he subject himself to-­‐, and which subsequently led him to his death, but that without a doubt they were worth it, for that great legacy he left to humanity. This month, my twin brothers Javier and Diego reached the age of 47, the first one confined since 35 years ago at a Special Institute for Patients with Mental Deficiency in the city of Guadalajara, Jalisco, and the second, struggling for more than two years against an aggressive pleural cancer that ruthlessly attacked him. The current President of México, Enrique Peña Nieto, hasn't even reached his first year as President, and I feel that things have gradually changed for good in our beat up country. I say beat up, by that the scourge of organized crime -­‐ especially drug trafficking — which continues to claim thousands of lives each year, in a fight without quarter that began some years ago and continues unceasingly, which in addition, contaminated thousands of young people souls who see their future truncated by betting on this illicit activity, often against their own will. And although violence has not given respite since two six year terms back, now very important and necessary reforms in our country, are being prepared to eventually surrender substantial fruits for all Mexicans. These reforms are in the fields of: energy, politics, education, elections, finance and communications, among other not less important. Hopefully our "levanta dedos" 9 Representatives and Senators , will approve them for the good of México, which has been left behind before other developing nations; above all, for lawmakers to earn the insulting income they perceive and which is a true mockery for all Mexicans. Economies as ours are elegantly called "emerging economies", I would call it "submerged economy", or in plain words: "una ruina de la chingada’’10. What's most worrying about the current situation of our country, is that half of the population lives in extreme poverty, which is very sad and regrettable. Paradoxically, according to the prestigious FORBES and FORTUNE magazines, Carlos Slim Helú, the richest man of the world, lives in México. Inconsistencies of our dear México! In my home state, Sonora current Governor Guillermo Padrés Elías faces a series of adversities that have affected the image of his Government, and that of himself. The federal highway which passes through Sonora is blocked since two months ago by the Yaqui tribe, due to a problem in the theft of water from the El Novillo dam, through an aqueduct that reaches my town, Hermosillo, water which the Yaquis claim is theirs; matter that the Governor has failed to explain or respond with wisdom and fortitude, giving rise to a regrettable and unnecessary confrontation against an important business sector in the south of the state, and the Yaqui tribe, to the detriment of the economy -­‐ and the prestige-­‐ of Sonora. With sadness and concern, I hear many people's grievances and accusations of corruption against this administration in Sonora. It is vox populi. 9
Finger-­‐lifting The worst economic ruin 10
I also make these accusations for injustices suffered in this greedy and corrupt administration, which I'll speak about later. The writer of this text, is the founder of the ANDA group. I currently tend my own companies in various lines of business, such as: ANDA Staff, La Casa del Habano, ANDA Pharmacies, ANDA Financial, ANDA Laundry and ANDA Distributor, among other related to the above. I will tell you later how and when the circumstances occurred in my life to form these businesses, what the specific activity of each one is and where does the name ANDA come from. The current situation is difficult, not to say chaotic. Recently my wife and I were able to fully pay the house that since two years ago we happily inhabit. Businesses go slow in this retracted economy, payroll is the Achilles heel every month, customers do not pay as one would like, and providers put pressure to collect, even legally. In short, nothing that a businessman of our country does not live in his own flesh these days. I currently live in a comfortable four bedroom house, in the company of my beloved wife Carmen Cecilia Borbón Rubio and her three adorable children, which I already consider as mine: Andrea, José Ramon, and Jorge Mario. We also enjoyed the cheerful company of other three creatures that are a fundamental part of our family, our beloved "Chihuahua" dogs: El Chato, Niña and Telesa. Our house is located in a gated enclave with a common area with pool, in which happily my children have fun with their friends, and where we also occasionally organize some gatherings with friends and family. Very often we are visited my three biological children, my beloved Dora Luz, Daniel and Diana Maria, who live with their mother in a centric neighborhood of this city, and who maintain an excellent relationship of brotherhood and love with my 'new' three children, what turns us into a large and united family which, I makes me immensely happy. My venerated complete family: Seated: Daniel, Me, my wife Carmen Cecilia and Dora Luz. Back: Jorge Mario, Andrea, José Ramon and Diana Maria. Dogs from left to right: Telesa, Chato, and Niña . My eldest daughter, Dora Luz, is awaiting her first baby, which very soon will make me a young grandfather of 44 years old, I'm anxious! My youngest daughter, Diana Maria, is about leave in the coming days for Canada, in a study trip to learn the English language for a year, in the city of Saskatoon. We also have had for several years, a modest but comfortable house in the city of Tucson, Arizona, where we spend long periods resting since it also has a common area with swimming pool, which makes it more enjoyable. The city of Tucson is located 360 km from Hermosillo, and is very common for hermosillenses to have a house or business in this city of the United States, even several of my neighbors in Tucson are Sonoran, moreover, a neighbor of us in Hermosillo is also my neighbor in Tucson; twist of fate! (We share Mexican and American sugar) This Tucson, Arizona house, is located in a very quiet neighborhood, where the average neighbor age must oscillate at 100 years of age (or more), which makes us the few young people with children, who wake up the stillness of this beautiful place. We really enjoy that house a lot. It is family tradition in Tucson, to go to casinos that are there and which are managed by the tribes of the area, such as the Yaqui and the Papago. It is also a delight to enjoy the Haute Cuisine offered by many restaurants in the city, although my children prefer me to take them to Oregano´s, Cheesecake Factory, Pinnacle Peak, Hooters and Fuddruckers, among many others that are not Haute Cuisine, but tasty and very traditional. Personally, I go for breakfast to magnificent Tucson restaurants, as Beyond Bread, Jerry Boobs and Hungry Fox. As good fan I am of Major League Baseball, every time that I can, I go to the Arizona Diamondbacks stadium, in Phoenix, to enjoy a live game, this is, two or three times a year. In fact my baseball fan reader, the year of 1998 in which the stadium was inaugurated, I went to a baseball game with my friend Eduardo Charles and Don Enrique Ruibal Corella “El Gachupín”, where we marveled in the presence of so much modernity not seen before in a baseball field. In the the Arizona Diamondbacks stadium in 1998, accompanied by my compadre Eduardo Charles and my great friend Enrique Ruibal Corella. W e partied like rowdy Yaquis! I have gone several times to the stadium with my brother Diego, especially when he resided in the city of Phoenix, Arizona; I equally go with friends and other family members, and certainly with my now wife Carmen Cecilia I have also attended to enjoy a good baseball game. In an entertaining D-­‐backs game, my brother Diego, me and my beautiful wife Carm en Cecilia. The Chase Field Stadium in Phoenix, is considered by connoisseurs of baseball as the most comfortable stadium in Major League Baseball and although I do not know all of the stadiums, yes I dare to confirm that it is the most comfortable that I have had the opportunity to visit. EEn
At the Arizona Diamondbacks stadium , along with M iguel Angel M oreno, Tomás Luzanilla, Rafael Tirado Ram os, Rigoberto Fragoso, my brother Andrés and my beloved Carm en. Unforgettable in my mind is that seventh game of the 2001 World Series of 2001 witnessed by Aaron Monreal Loustaunau, my brother Diego and me, on November 04, 2001 in this stadium, disputed between the always powerful and hated New York Yankees and the Arizona Diamondbacks, obtaining the latter the crown with a producing hit to left fielder, the Cuban Luis González, to the almost unbeatable reliever star throws of the Yankees, Mariano Rivera. The Phoenix Stadium was overtaken by excitement and joy. This World Series were not an October Classic, as we often call this event, but a November Classic, since in September of that year the biggest and most tragic terrorist attacks in the history of the United States took place, which forced the baseball season to be suspended for a few weeks. Ticket for the seventh game of the World Series for 2001, between the Arizona Diamondbacks and the New York Yankees . In the peanut gallery but we were there. My favorite team is the Angeles Dodgers. Also sometimes in recent years I have attended the very same Dodgers stadium. Since the great Sonoran pitcher Fernando Valenzuela dazzled all and sundry with his screwball, a pitch also known as the "corkscrew", in the 80´s, my heart bowed for this Los Angeles team. "Toro" Valenzuela, as they called him, has a record in Major League Baseball which I think is very difficult to surpass: winning the first eight games in his season as a rookie, as well as having thrown them completely. The city of Los Angeles, California, is the second city with more Mexicans in the world after the City of México, which is why I see in the Dodgers almost as a team from México. In June of last year, my father and my brothers Mario, Héctor, Diego and me went to a game to the "Dodgers Stadium" in Los Angeles, California, since my brother Diego (who, again has an aggressive cancer), longed to attend and we gladly took him. The "Padillas" at the Dodgers Stadium , in June of 2012. From left to right: Héctor, my father, Diego, me and Mario. A pleasant gathering. My brother Diego greatly enjoyed this journey. That trip was very pleasant, since we gathered closely together in family, strolled through the center of the city of Los Angeles, we went to the Mexican quarter -­‐ better known as "East L.A." -­‐, Hollywood, Malibu, Beverly Hills, where we had an ice cream at the famous "Rodeo Drive" Street and famous Hotel Wilshire, where the renowned actors of the United States, Julia Roberts and Richard Gere, filmed the movie "Pretty Woman" in 1990 and which was nominated for an Oscar award. This trip left us indelible memories, so we agreed to repeat it this year, but for any given reason it hasn't been done. In my school, work trips or wanderings, I had the opportunity to go to baseball games in various stages of the Major Leagues, such as the California Angels, Los Angeles Dodgers, San Diego Padrés, Arizona Diamondbacks, Chicago Cubs, Chicago White Sox, Houston Astros, Atlanta Braves, Boston Red Sox and of course , the Cathedral of baseball, the Yankee Stadium. My son Daniel in the Yankee Stadium, in 2004. With my son Daniel at the Dodgers Stadium, in 2009. Some uncomfortable anxiety and panic attacks have returned to my life which I believed I had already left behind, which limited my ability for development in various aspects of my life. Again, I went to see Dr. Joel Arturo de la Vega, who had controlled them years ago, so I restarted a medical treatment to restore the usage of serotonin in the brain. I pray to God to soon overcome this arduous and uncomfortable stage of my existence. I am fully confident that notorious Dr. de la Vega, a well-­‐known psychiatrist with an ample experience in these cases. I am very pleased with this dear physician. These brain disorders, started in July 2007, I mean, exactly six years ago, when I was on holiday in Italy in the company of my daughter Diana Maria, my brother Andrew and his daughter -­‐ my goddaughter-­‐Violeta; I was hit by the first "chiripiolca" 11 exactly in the beautiful and historic hotel Westin Excelsior, where we were staying in Rome. That morning when I was shaving, I had the violent need for fresh air, I felt the world closing on me without knowing what was happening to me, a strong dizziness and fear got hold of me without me being able to contain them, until I managed to calm down little by little. Hence from there on panic and anxiety attacks became increasingly recurrent in my life, to the extent that I couldn't get on a plane or a simple elevator; If I went to a restaurant, I sought to find a table close to the exit door and always avoided tumults, I thus lasted several years struggling with impotence against this neurological condition, which I've learned, affects millions of people around the world. I've read enough about these human brain disorders, and those who know say that behind these attacks there is a deep depression, often obvious and known, sometimes hidden, but present at the end. I totally agree with this thesis. 11
Seizure In my case my crazy reader, I'm sure that the kidnapping of which I was a victim and which I will later narrate, detonated this condition on myself and manifested itself years later. Also the loss of my mother and my rough divorce could have influenced it. Who knows! I clarify without the need to do it, I have never never taken drugs of any kind, nothing at all, nor as a youngster nor when older, only alcohol, which some consider as a drug. I use it "socially", as they say now. My friends tell me -­‐ jokingly of course-­‐ that they knew that I stopped drinking for six months, meaning that I had drunk every other day. Simple jokes and without sustenance, of course. In my home, I've had a treadmill for several years, where I walk four or five times a week for 40 minutes, that keeps me in weight and with a clear mind, exercise is almost indispensable for one to work well. It makes me feel better health, blessed be God. Twice a year I get lab tests on everything. Usually I have done well at all levels, except with cholesterol which I had between 230-­‐250, until I was able to finally lower to the level of 200 in the last analysis that I practiced, in June of 2013. My dad says that in his time, those levels were normal, but nowadays doctors and hospitals have become very “centaveros”, 12 they want to scare the patient so he submits himself to medical treatment. It is the famous "white-­‐coat mafia", as doctors are commonly called today, except for a few exceptions, of course. 12
Greedy I am Roman Apostolic Catholic -­‐ also Guadalupano-­‐, very devout and respectful of God, a green "Immaculate Heart of Mary" scapular always accompanies me in my wallet given to me by my mother many years ago. I pray with it every morning when I wake up and every night at bedtime; I am not a big churchgoer, too little I would say, let's say that of 52 Sundays in the year, I go to mass one or two Sundays, although my wife Carmen Cecilia does attend mass every Sunday at 12, ever-­‐present, she is my representative. I know that you think my devotee reader that I am a fucking atheist, but I'm not, though in practice I may seem it. Once a week -­‐ since several years ago, a group of friends gather to play cubilete13, for which, each of us offers his home and as hosts we provide something for dinner, but each one must bring whatever they're drinking, with or without alcohol. These friends, invariably are: Gustavo González Tirado, Jorge Cortés Santiago, Juan Carlos Trelles Monge, Ernesto Ramos Arvizu, Sergio Encinas Velarde, Jesús Eduardo Charles Pesqueira, Rigoberto Fragoso Montes, Tomás Luzanilla Morales, Sabas Borbón Rubio, Francisco Javier Ruiz Quirrín, Edgardo Urías García, Juan Bautista Córdova Salcido, Sergio Tirado Berrelleza and Víctor Cervantes Velázquez. 13
A table game played with dice and cup The cubilete group , seated left to right: Eduardo Charles, "Tita" Córdova, Jorge Cortés, Edgardo Urías, Juan Carlos Trelles, Víctor Cervantes. Standing: Tomás Luzanilla, yo, Ruiz Quirrín, Sergio Tirado, Ricardo Ramos, Rigo Fragoso and Sergio Encinas. Everybody is a thug!, Everybody cheats, but me. Sometimes at our table other daring onlookers appear who risk themselves into playing, among those I count my brother Mario, Alejandro Sandoval Velderrain, Félix Cañez Sendino, Francisco Escobell, José Abraham Luzanilla, Ricardo Ramos Arvizu and Miguel Angel Moreno Borbón. Each year we name the "El lépero del año"14, an acknowledgment we award based on the person we think has cheated the most in the game, a clean and democratic vote. It goes without saying that in the year 2010, we appointed as the most Indecent, the illustrious Gustavo González; in 2011 it was Juan Carlos Trelles Monge; 2012 was Jorge Cortés Santiago, and for the 2013, there are already two nominees, but I omit their names because plural voting is to decide. The undersigned has not been nominated yet, thanks to my neatness in the game. Hopefully, my colleagues think the same thing, which I doubt. 14
The most indecent during the year Very pleasant soiree where nobody speaks about their problems, work or their marriage. We just play, we tease hard (today it's called "bullying"), talked a bit of current politics, trending topics, etc.; It is for all of us as an escape valve that serves us for charging batteries and discarding the mental junk one accumulates with the everyday routine. Although we have never come to a physical confrontation in the "Cubileteada" -­‐ as we call it-­‐, it is common for one or more companions to get angry because of some misunderstanding, or plainly due to clear cheating in the play (which by the way already have become very common), even causing them to distance themselves one or two weeks from the group, but in the end they return and we remain all together, I, of course am among those ones that sometimes gets enchilado15. There have been not been a few times that when it's time to be host, residents raise their complaints because of the noise that cubilete generates at the table, above all when we extend playing until dawn, in addition to them getting bothered because of the many vehicles parked outside their homes. I think they got accustomed to it and I trust that they ended up accepting it, additionally, what other choice do they have! For their admirable tolerance, I dedicate this preamble to Gaby Mazón and Iker, Idali and Sergio del Bosque, Eva and Gastón Pavlovich, and Marco and Connie Paz Pellat, always polite and tactful neighbors. In August of last year, i.e. 2012, my wife Carmen and I went to the recital offered by the young and brilliant Sonoran tenor Arturo Chacón, at the Civic Auditorium of the State in this city. 15
Very angry We were invited by my old comrade Juan Carlos Trelles and his gentile wife, Margot Molina Elías, and in this event I greeted my good friend the Lic. Héctor Rubén "Buby" Mazón Lizárraga -­‐father of my neighbor Gaby-­‐ who me told me in that gritonson16 tone that characterizes him: "I already know that they play cubilete in your home." "They already went to you with gossip," I told him. "No gossip", he said, further raising the tone of voice, "I heard you myself when I went to visit my daughter Gaby" he abounded. "Join in when you go" I quickly answered. "Well, I feel like it, because much laughter could be heard" he concluded. We embraced with a warm hug and said goodbye. Oh what a fame because of cubilete! This brief account roughly illustrates my current life. Nothing out of the ordinary, perhaps uninteresting, even trivial. However my attentive reader, I urge that you are also encouraged to write your memoirs, because we all, without exception, have our own story to tell in life. I title these memoirs as ANDANZAS 17 , first, because I tell them completely attached to my adventures in life, and secondly, because if I were to choose to have been born in another time, in another place or with another family, I would choose without hesitation the same I have lived, that is, my same adventures. And if were asked what I would change in my life if I could do it, I would not change absolutely nothing, I would like to live it as is, because every moment, every circumstance, every challenge, every unpleasant moment, every failure, 16
Loud -­‐ mouthed ADVENTURES 17
every achievement and every detail that I have lived, are the ingredients that have made me the person that I am, and so with these "andanzas" I am satisfied and pleased. • See recent photo gallery. BEGINNINGS OF MY LIFE: My hometown, Hermosillo, Sonora, Mexico My birth: It was the month of April, 1969, the United States of America were preparing to take the first man to the Moon, as a showing of superiority to its arch-­‐rival: the now dissolved Soviet Union; the President of the United States was Richard Nixon and that of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics was Leonid Brezhnev. The President of Mexico in 1969 was Gustavo Díaz Ordaz, and the Governor of my beloved state of Sonora, was Don Faustino Félix Serna, a personal friend of my father. While this happened, on day 9 of that month we arrived to this world, a pair of twins, to whom our parents called Andrés and Daniel, the first named for the Apostle and the second by the Prophet. And more or less, we are. ¡Me cae!18 My mother used to tell that she already knew she would have twins, but she thought that we would be girls (ultrasound and that stuff didn't exist then), consequently the first to be born would be named Sara and the second one 18
I agree with that! Esther, since I was the second one to be born, I would be Esther. Perhaps Elba Esther19. Umm! Andy and I were baptized by Lic. Noé Palomares Navarro and his wife Dora Hilton de Palomares, as well as by my dear uncles, the eminent Dr. Ernesto Ramos Bours and his wife Teresita Ramos Arvizu, respectively. Our baptism at the Hermosillo Cathedral. My mother, Dora Hilton de Palomares, my aunt and godmother Teresita Arvizu of Ramos, my uncle and godfather Dr. Ernesto Ramos Bours, my dad and Lic. Noé Palomares Navarro. To the center, the Archbishop Carlos Quintero Arce . Below on the left, an intruding kid. Of the four godparents, only my aunt Teresita Arvizu of Ramos survives, I have a deep affection for her, which I am sure is mutual; she is a woman of very docile character and with a giant heart, always supporting those that most need it. Additionally, she is occupied in steadily taking care of my brother Diego in his difficult battle against cancer. A great woman without a doubt. 19
A disgraced Mexican teachers union leader noted for corruption Every Christmas during my childhood, I had my Santa's presents at my aunt and uncle Teresita and Ernesto Ramos house, that was the best, it's a shame that one grows and thus these illusions and surprises resulting from a happy childhood fade away. Although I do not see why now as a grown up, they cannot give their godson a car or a Rolex watch. Note: In several photos that you will be able to see in the content of the present memoirs, you will notice that Andrew and I we don't look alike as twins, but it's OK, it was registered in our birth certificate like that, and therefore, we are so. M y birth certificate. It clearly says that I am a "twin". W itnesses of luxury: M y uncle Aurelio Ram os Bours (R.IP.) and Ing. Virgilio Ríos Aguilera. We were the last to be born in a family of nine siblings, Mario the eldest was born on October 7, 1959; followed by Héctor, who was born on December 20, 1960; then that little angel, Guillermo, was born on June 25, 1962, and who due to a genetic disease called cystic fibrosis (cystic fibrosis of the pancreas), died that same year on October 30; then Miriam, who came into this world on January 6, 1964; After that, the first couple of twins, Diego and Javier, who arrived on July 24, 1966; then came Raquel, who was born on September 19, 1967 and finally, on April 09, 1969, we, the youngest members of the household arrived: Andrew and the author of this: Daniel. All were all born in Hermosillo, Sonora, with the exception of Mario, the eldest of the brothers, who was born in Mexico, D.F., he is, thus, a "Chilango”20. Little Daniel and Andrés Padilla Ramos at one year of age . I already seemed as the most beautiful one. 20
Someone from México City My grandparents: My paternal grandfather or "panino”21, as we lovingly called him, Don Carlos Padilla Verduzco -­‐ who I barely remember-­‐, was born in Higuera de Zaragoza, Sinaloa, in the year of 1896, he was always a strong -­‐ minded, a man to be reckoned with, tough and determined, very energetic, but also very affectionate with all the grandchildren who had to the luck to know him. Since very young he moved to Baja California in search of new horizons, and he was on the peninsula where he met my grandmother, they got married there and they brought all their offspring into the world. Always dedicated to farm work, he successfully planted large extensions of alfalfa and cotton in the Mexicali Valley, an acknowledgement that lie in the annals of Baja California's history. I've heard countless stories of courage and bravery about my panino, he was compadre of people who at that time jalaban el gatillo22, as Don Genaro Garzón Lizárraga, Rodolfo Valdez "El Gitano" and Arcadio Osuna Barron “El Gallito”, among other illustrious daring men of his native Sinaloa. 21
Grandfather Pull the trigger. They used to carry a gun. 22
My panino, Carlos Padilla Verduzco. He didn't beat around the bush. My panino was one of the founders La Costa de Hermosillo23, where he arrived from Mexicali, Baja California in 1942, to establish his agricultural field "La Floresta", which he turned, at one time into the biggest alfalfa plantation of Mexico, neither more nor less, my sower friend. 23
The Coast of Hermosillo A little alfalfa at my panino's "La Floresta". In the photo, with my manina and her daughters Esthela and Norma. It is registered that my panino, was the first farmer in the Costa de Hermosillo in installing a 10 inches pump in the agricultural area, it was a Pomona, brand with a use of 2 thousand gallons per minute. This brand Pomona surely was named, in allusion to the Roman goddess for fruit and gardens of the same name. Some years ago, a "batch" of Italians had arrived to set their camps on the coast of Hermosillo – an area then just beginning to be cultivated -­‐ among them the surnames Ciscomani, Giotonini, Forni, Cecco, Baranzini, Clerici, among other many Italians. Tractor drivers working at my panino's field "La Floresta". A fertile and productive field. In the year of 1939, while my panino Carlos Padilla was in Palaco, Baja California -­‐ where he lived with his family before moving to Sonora-­‐, he contacted his old friend, Governor Rodolfo Sánchez Taboada, who he told he was aware that President Lázaro Cárdenas would take a work tour to Tijuana, Baja California, and he wanted to make a request in person, so asked him to submit it and to open a space for him in his agenda. Much his chagrin, the Governor accepted, but conditioned my panino to use moderate language and to not come armed as usual; he also made him see that he could only briefly address him when the President left by the back door of the hotel where he had a scheduled event. When my panino faced President Lázaro Cárdenas, he asked on behalf of his ejidal peers, that the same way he had expropriated the oil and petrochemical industries, he also expropriated the farmland in Palaco, Baja California, where he and other Mexican farmers planted for several years, but had to pay rent to Americans, which was unbelievable. My panino proposed in particular that those lands were sold to the the same settlers who plowed them, and they would pay for them with small payments to the Federal Government, when -­‐ to his surprise-­‐ at the same time, President Lázaro Cárdenas interrupts him and gives precise instructions to Governor Sánchez Taboada to immediately prepare the expropriation of such lands, resulting in my panino reaching his goal. "Ya chingaste Padilla”24, was told my panino by his friend the Governor. My panino used to say, that the presence of Lázaro Cárdenas imposed fear and respect, just on seeing that strong figure, large and furrowed face, but that -­‐ since they ranged in the same age -­‐ he felt him like a father when he supports his son. Palaco was founded in 1908 and is short for "Pacific Land Company", so named for the "gringos" pioneers who settled there. Today, it has changed its name to poblado Jesús González Ortega, and with the growth of Mexicali, Baja California urban area, it is already becoming one more neighborhood in that city. As a funny anecdote, my panino used to tell that in the late fifties, an American pilot fumigator arrived to "La Floresta", and he used to do his job of piloting and spraying crops very well with total precision on the land sowed there. When this "gringo" had finished spraying, my panino congratulated him and told him that he admired how well he piloted the sprayer aircraft, to which the "güero’’25 replied that he had acquired much experience when he was in WW I, under the command of Douglas MacArthur in the Philippines, and that he had even been in the invasion of the island of Leyte that had been taken by the Japanese. 24
You’ve got it, Padilla Blonde 25
"That MacArthur was a chingón” 26 said my panino, "Don't believe that, Don Carlos" replied the gringo with an accented Spanish, "What MacArthur did upon landing was to send 10 thousand men, they would get killed and then he sent another 10 thousand, they also killed them and then he sent other 10 thousand, until he was able to penetrate; even myself could do it like that" said the American pilot. Gringo hocicón27! Thought my panino. My panino died on May 19, 1975, in his missed field farm "La Floresta", victim of a myocardial infarction. Some years ago, we asked the City Council through a letter signed by several grandchildren of my panino, for a street of Poblado Miguel Aleman, of the municipality of Hermosillo, Sonora, to be named after Carlos E. Padilla, our panino, without having reached our goal. I have attached a letter that we signed and presented to the City Council: 26
Great Loud mouth 27
Request we made to the city of Hermosillo, to nam e a street of the Costa de Hermosillo after our panino. They ignored us, and he does deserve it. The city of Hermosillo ignored us, but what about M aricopa, Arizona, Uh?, Carlos Padilla and John W ayne, two pistol branding guys, the first a real one, the second one in film. My paternal grandmother, Doña Candelaria Chacón Altamirano, was originally from the village of Ojos Negros, in Real del Castillo, Baja California, a fully-­‐fledged woman who had to deal with the strong character of my panino. It was certainly an example of love and grandeur, even until 16 October 2001 when she passed away. She lived the last years of her life at my parents’ house. Upon the death of my panino in the year of 1976, my manina28 continued residing for some years in his dwelling located on Calle Juárez, in the Colonia Centro of this city. Later she went to live with my aunt Norma Padilla de Oquita, and ended up living in my parents’ home, where we, all her grandchildren enjoyed her greatly. 28
Grandmother My manina Candelaria Chacón Altamirano. Exemplary lady, full of virtues. My "manina", as lovingly we called her, had the gift of certain mental powers, she could open drawers with the force of his mind; only by seeing a pregnant woman she would tell her if she would have a girl or a boy, even if they were twins. I'm speaking seriously my skeptical reader! During her youth, her father Don Eligio Chacón-­‐ that is my great-­‐grandfather arrived to his home accompanied by a man who wanted to make a query to my manina, but before asking the question she said NO, no what?, asked the man, and my manina replied: "That's my answer to the question that you are going to make," the surprised man asked her another question: Why not?, "Because of your money" replied my manina, and then the man departed, with a dislocated face. Turns out that this man wanted to run for an important popular election post, in Baja California where he resided, but the "vox populi" and the local press labelled him a chieftain, exploiter and a massive landowner, accusations that ultimately led to electoral defeat. It was at that time was when my manina Candelaria began to show the special gift of mental powers, which led her to earn the respect and admiration of all who knew her. And certainly many nosy people approached her to try to find out through her, about "this" or "that" topic. On one occasion, a woman went to ask my manina for the name of the person who had killed her husband and under what circumstances, to what she replied: "You already know". Served her right!! My young manina. "Because of your money" she replied to the chieftain Among other displays of the mental powers of my manina: one spring afternoon she was in his native Baja California, she drew the maps for three treasures, one which was located in the Sierra de Juárez in the same state and which was found by my uncle grandfather Francisco “Chito” Chacón, a brother of hers; another one which could not be found in the same peninsula, and a last map that referred to the municipality of Ures, in the state of Sonora, despite the fact that she had never been in Sonora. We have gone to search for this treasure several times without success, later I'll narrate these funny adventures in search of easy fortune. My maternal grandfather, Don Aurelio Ramos Almada, born in Chínipas, Chihuahua, was a nice man, his honesty gave him an important place in the Hermosillo of the time. Although I did not know him, I only hear noble things about him. He was a liquidator of the extinct Bank of Sonora, Manager of the Cervecería of Sonora, Member of the founding board of the University of Sonora, hotelier and bold and conservative businessman. My grandfather Don Aurelio founded the historic Hotel Ramos in 1929, in the city of Hermosillo, which due to an apparent arson, had to close its doors in 1948. My grandfather's "Hotel Ramos" located at Dr. Paliza y Londres, Colonia Centenario. This hotel was the best in those years, and was even the favorite place for meetings for the Governors of the State of that time: Don Anselmo Macías Valenzuela, Ramón Ramos, Román Yocupicio and Don Abelardo L. Rodríguez. It also provided lodging to personalities such as Don Plutarco Elías Calles, Agustín Lara and the renowned actor Clark Gable, when he came hunting to these lands. Look what things are my expropriated reader, but my grandfather Don Aurelio Ramos also met in person President "Tata" Lázaro Cárdenas, in 1939, same year in which my panino Carlos Padilla addressed him, only that in another town and under other circumstances, and certainly with my two grandparents still not knowing each other. Fate... fate. M y grandfather Aurelio. A. Ram os (indark suit), next to President Lázaro Cárdenas, in 1939. On the back, an open book hairstyle. My grandfather died on 06 January 1966, i.e. three years before I came into this world; I was not born yet, but I already was in the thoughts of the creator. The Hotel Ramos at the back, two floors; next to it La Casona , which was grandparents' home. Photo taken from the Cathedral of Hermosillo in the 30´s, the street upfront is Dr. Paliza; the right side of my grandparents house belongs to the González family and the one that can be seen opposite is the the Camou chalet . There was almost nothing in the Centenario neighborhood, should have stayed like that, it became filled with "lawyers". Hotel Ramos was located at the corner of the Dr. Paliza y Londres streets in Colonia Centenario, where some time later, my uncle Celso Campoy Mendoza (married to my aunt Lupita, daughter of my grandfather Don Aurelio) installed an industrial radiators workshop that operated for nearly 20 years. Upon the death of my two grandfathers, the buildings that housed the Hotel Ramos and the house to the side were they used to live, were sold at a loss to the State Government, which atrociously demolished them to donate the grounds to the Federal Judiciary, where federal courts were built. It was really a very high-­‐profile case in hermosillense society, especially in the lineage of yesteryear, who publicly expressed their complaints for having demolished such historical buildings. My grandfather Aurelio A. Ramos, was acknowledged by the Hermosillo City Council with a street carrying his name, congratulations! A street in the western part of this city of Hermosillo, Sonora, deservedly named after my maternal grandfather. Now lets just hope that some Mayor takes up our request, and gives my panino's name to a street of the coast of Hermosillo. If you could also put my name to another street, then lets do it at once. My maternal grandmother, Doña Angelita Robinson Bours Monteverde, a native of Álamos, Sonora was always a remarkable woman from well-­‐known families at that time (until today), because of its economic power combined with the gift of people skills. She was always very supportive with her children, and extremely tender with all her grandchildren. My maternal grandparents, Angelita Robinson Bours Monteverde and Aurelio Ramos Almada. A model couple! The lineage my grandma came from, was nothing less, nothing more than the wealthiest families of the state of Sonora, and until today they remain so. His father (my great-­‐grandfather), Don Tomás Robinson Bours Goyeneche, was a great visionary and entrepreneur, since then he had begun the poultry business, which, together with his brothers, years later became a great empire in all of Mexico and part of South America, not to mention other businesses in the financial, agricultural and commercial industry he founded. Although I must clarify my heir reader, that this economic power remained in the hands of my grandma's brothers in Ciudad Obregón, Sonora; then it was passed into the hands of the children of these, and then the children of the children of these, by what the kinship is increasingly farther... and the money, while my grandmother, children and grandchildren, stay just "milando cómo el chinito”29. Seated: M y aunt and uncles Alma de Bours y Don Javier Bours Almada, Alfonso Ram os Bours. 29
Staring, as Chinese person would do with slotty eyes Standing: M y aunt Teresita Ram os Bours de Tirado, me and my brother Andrés. They wanted to borrow from us! We, the ruinos30, of Hermosillo, our grandmother Angelita left us a better legacy: the legacy of being straight in this life, principles that she always carried with herself to the dot, and that my mother also knew how to convey and teach us. José Eduardo Bours Castelo (I ignore why they suppressed the Robinson surname) is my second cousin and wherever he encounters me, he calls me "pariente’’31, he was Governor of Sonora from the year 2003 to 2009. I would like to at least have gotten some taxi plates from his administration, and although I not asked for them, he simply didn't help anyone form over "here", but quite the opposite. So are things sometimes between relatives. It was a custom of my mom to take us to visit my grandmother several times a week to her house, it was known by the family as "La Casona", located, again I repeat, next to what used to be the Hotel Ramos, on Dr. Paliza street in Colonia Centenario. My mom always made an almost obligatory stop on the defunct Santa Teresita pharmacy, owned by Don Filomeno Suárez, located on the corner of Dr. Paliza street with Rosales, and where she would buy us some marshmallow lollies called "paletones", which to date, are sold everywhere. In La Casona we ran and played down its indoor and outdoor large halls, we also liked to cut tangerines in the huge garden that my grandma there had. We always did so in the company of my cousins Ricardo and Carlos Fernando Ramos Arvizu, Aurelio, Lola, Ismael and Gerardo Ramos Johnson, Alfonso, Marielos, Edith and Juan Carlos Campoy Ramos, Benjamin and Alba Ramos Cruz, as well as Enrique Elías and Coyito Ramos Noriega, we were all more or less about the same age. 30
The poor ones Relative 31
The "Casona" of my grandparents Angelita Robinson Bours and Aurelio Ramos Almada. An immense residence. My dear grandmother Angelita died on May 3 of 1981, when I was just 12 years old age. I remember it very well. I'm not bragging my proud reader, but my two grandmothers had close relationships with the wives of the revolutionary Presidents of Mexico, Don Plutarco Elías Calles and Álvaro Obregón Salido. Don Plutarco first marriage was with Natalia Chacón Amarillas, a second cousin of my paternal grandmother. For his part, Don Álvaro got married for on his second marriage with María Tapia Monteverde, a cousin of my maternal grandmother. ¡Échese ese trompo a la uña32, my “apantallado” 33 reader! 32
Now, what do you think of that? Open-­‐mouthed 33
My parents: My parents, Mario Padilla Chacón and María Ramos de Padilla. Newly married and in their 25th anniversary. My father, Dr. Mario Padilla Chacón, a prestigious physician and university teacher, was born in Mexicali, Baja California on December 16, 1932. He held various positions in the public administration of the state of Sonora. He was Director for many years of the Mental Rehabilitation Center of the state of Sonora (mental asylum), and later Director of the Social Rehabilitation Centers of the state of Sonora (prisons), in addition to being a teacher of the extinct Military University and the high school of the University of Sonora, for several years. My father enjoys -­‐ I'm certain -­‐ of many adepts who admire and respect him, which I'm certainly greatly proud about. My dear father. A renowned psychiatrist, a cultured and eminent, man of fixed ideas. Currently, my dad is 80 years old and is still ticking as a clock in his medical-­‐
psychiatric clinic, where he performs electroencephalograms in the mornings and attends consultations in the afternoon. Last year we celebrated his 80 years with a great family fiesta in a country place on the outskirts of Hermosillo. My brother Andy and I prepared him a video with a photo gallery of all his life, which he liked a lot, but especially enjoyed watching it in the company of all his children, grandchildren and guests. His old friends Guillermo Ocaña García y Virgilio Ríos Aguilera attended this so moving celebration, as well as relatives and friends, but mostly I repeat, his children, grandchildren, daughters-­‐in-­‐law and son-­‐in-­‐law. In the celebration of the 80 years of my father. My dad, me and my three children: Daniel, Dora Luz and Diana María. My dear father is strong as oak, "girito" 34 thanks God. My parents contracted marriage on December 27, 1958, and, what do you know, my ineffable reader?, their wedding was the first one that took place in the Continental Lounge of the Hotel Gandara of this city of Hermosillo; they were the first ones... My mother, Carmen María Ramos Robinson Bours, (R.IP.), was a woman of unblemished principles and strong religiosity, she came into this world on July 1, 1932, in this warm city of Hermosillo, Sonora. 34
Very sturdy My dear mother. My "Doña", the most beautiful and wonderful of all mothers. I miss her! She was always an outpouring of affection and tenderness with all of her children, she was the best shelter that we could find in fateful moments; inevitable my mom went to 12 PM mass in Santa Eduwiges parish every Sunday, and on many occasions to the 6:30 AM mass, officiated earlier in that same parish. My mom wrote many beautiful verses and poems. Here are some beautiful lines that she wrote with all her love to her children: Beautiful verses that our exemplary mother dedicated to us. Sweet and inspired! It is curious, but the verses were a common denominator in my house, my parents wrote plenty of beautiful verses, as well as my grandfather Don Aurelio Ramos and almost all of his children. I'll share some of these verses in these memoirs. My dad, I repeat, didn't stay behind when it came to inspiration, and he has under his belt beautiful lines dedicated to his own. For our part, my brother Andrew turned out to be a good poet, and I even wrote a few verses to my today beloved wife. We have some inspiration in our blood. My mom was not only worried about the neatness of the house, but also hers and that of her children, with Franciscan patience she bought us clothes and school supplies for all the chamaquero35 she had. My parents lived together a long marriage of 49 years, my father always instilled in us studying before all things, I think that he based himself on the fact that as his family's youngest sibling, he was the only one who had been able to conclude his university studies, hence the importance that he gave to all his children obtaining a professional degree. The loss of my brother Guillermo, as well as the illness of my other brother Javier, showed the fortitude and love that the marriage of my parents was made of. Together they knew how to deal with wisdom and strength these upsetting experiences, and were able to convey to all of her children that determination, both to learn to love them and respect them, as well as how to understand, care for and love our sick brother Javier. 35
Lots of children My parents' wedding on December 27 of the year of 1958. The wedding of the century in Hermosillo! When my dad noticed that any of his children did not want to study, he would threatened us to put us to work in his brother Carlos' machine shop, who by the way, passed away on December 27 of the year 2006, same day as the date of the my parents' weeding, (R.IP.) My mother was always very selfless and devoted to her children, without any condition, she loved all of us equally and she served us without distinction, she was very tender and sympathetic, she called all of her dynasty by a cute nickname, that would make us feel more loved what we already were. She is already in heaven in a privileged place that God had reserved for her, where he rests since June 28, 2007, date in which after withstand the terrible Alzheimer's disease for several years, she ended giving up. Invaluable samples of affection for the death of my mother. They are thanked forever. May God have you in his glory my beloved "Doña", as we lovingly called her. My family: Andrés, Miriam, my mom, my dad, Raquel and me. Standing: Mario, Diego and Héctor. Javier is missing. When Andy and I were newly born, we moved to live to the Valentín Gómez Farías, a gated development in the Periodista neighborhood, which was initially called colonia Funcionarios or Isssteson, given that it was practically inhabited at that time by government officials, who saw us grow as kids. Among these officials, I count my father, Dr. Rene Navarro Coronado, Dr. Víctor Galindo Sánchez (R.IP.), Lic. Enrique Palafox Reyna (R.IP.), Lic. Sergio Valdez González, Lic. Anastasio Zamudio Fraga (R.IP.), C.P. Héctor Gómez Escobar (R.IP.), Lic. Angel López Gutiérrez (R.IP.). Also Lic. Marco Antonio Gutiérrez Domínguez, Ing. Rolando García Urrea (R.IP.), Ing. Gustavo Tapia Grijalva (R.IP.), Ing. Jorge Valencia Jullierat, Arch. Enrique Flores López and Lic. Alfredo Flores Pérez, to mention some; who by the way just like my father, many of them continue until under today's Sun inhabiting those memorable streets. If you visit Hermosillo and do not eat at Xochimilco, think of it as if you didn't come at all. Note: This is free advertising, no one paid me, I only put our renowned carne asada 36 right out there. 36
Grilled beef steaks MY CHILDHOOD AND ADOLESCENCE My neighborhood: Andrés and me in diapers, when were taking our first little steps. Very beautiful twins, no doubt! As I told you my familiar reader, Andrés and me were the last ones of the family to come to this world, in addition to being the only ones born in the house where my dad currently lives, which he acquired earlier that same year of 1969. Andrés and me at 3 years of age. We were already crashing in the social section of the 37
"Parcial ". In 1974, at the age of five, I began my preschool studies at the "Hada Campanita" kindergarten, located on Jaime Nuno Street -­‐ two streets behind my house-­‐, in which its Director, Lady Teresa Moreno, had great appreciation for Andrés and me. We used to call her "La Direc" out of affection, sometimes she even gave us a "lift" in her light blue Ford LTD station wagon, I think she still has it... and it still runs. 37
Play on the word “Imparcial”. The newspaper is famous for being the opposite With my colleagues in the kindergarten "Fairy Tinkerbell", I appear seated center with chequered pants. Andrés, my twin with the same pants as me two places from me to the right. Behind wearing a black dress, “La Direc” My brother Diego and my neighbor Lilian Galindo Cruz, became king and queen of that kindergarten, which filled Diego with shame, due to my older brothers' taunting, in allusion to a supposed love that from this reign had been born towards Lilian; my brother used to show a photo of both to friends and strangers, even when older. Lilian, in contrast roared with laughter at my brothers' occurrences. Already by the time I concluded preschool, I came out with strengthened friendly relations with many of my neighbors who attended their studies there. A brotherhood was nearly born there with Víctor, Lilian, Guillermo, Iván and Ricardo Galindo Cruz, with Hector, Martín and Ariel Gómez Vázquez, René (R.I.P.), Germán and Armando Navarro Burruel. Kindergarten graduation. My brother Andrés, Germán Navarro Burruel and me. Also with Enrique and Ernesto Palafox Paz (r.i.p.), Leopoldo, Gaby and Nohemi Martinez Díaz, Francisco and Patty Vázquez, with Marco Antonio and Silvia Gutiérrez Landavazo, with Sergio, Martha, Beatriz and Lourdes Valdez Acuña (r.i.p.) and even with the Zamudio Reyes brothers, who despite being older, used to get together with us to play bote robado, policías y ladrones, los quemones38 and also baseball and soccer. 38
Stolen can, cops and robbers, tag These Zamudio brothers were a lot and had a dog named "Cakelicuatagüega", in allusion to the first syllable of their names out of affection: Ca-­‐Capi Ke-­‐Keko, Li-­‐
Licha, Cua-­‐Cuatas, Ta-­‐Tachis, Gue-­‐Guero, Ga-­‐Gaby. ¡Ah, raza39! Andrés and me on our sixth birthday. Cracked with our plastic cars. On the street where I grew up, Don Rolando Valenzuela Casanova resided at a corner and on the other, Don Carlos Baranzini Coronado, both in stately residences, the best in our street, and although they were more reserved with the other neighbors, from time to time we got together with their children also, or better said, they got together with us. 39
C’mon, people! My much missed neighbors Lourdes Valdez Acuña, Carlos Hurtado Baranzini, René Navarro Burruel and Ernesto Palafox Paz, were called by God first, they got ahead of me on the way, R.I.P. My neighbors René and Germán Navarro Burruel, were born deprived of sight and that made them smarter, we enjoyed very much playing with them. Both graduated with professional degrees, got married and had offspring, which speaks of their fortitude and desire to succeed. Their Mom, my aunt (out of affection) Armida, who by the way still lives next to my father's, always gave on Christmas a green sock full of sweets to Lilian Galindo and me, which aroused envy among my brothers and each or other neighbor. Frankly, I never knew why she gave me a sock full of sweets every Christmas, since I was always taunting her younger children. We also used to shoot at her house antenna with a BB gun, since her husband, my uncle (out of affection) René Navarro, operated a CB radio that affected our TV signal, given that on every TV show that we enjoyed as family, we could listen to the disruption: "Nacori Chico here, go ahead Aguajito", due to the interference of his communication radios. At a children's neighbors party. From left to right: René Navarro Burruel (r.i.p.), Enrique Palafox Paz, me, Martín Gómez Vásquez, Armando Navarro Burruel, Ernesto Palafox Paz (r.i.p.), Sergio Valdez Acuña and Germán Navarro Burruel. Eternal comrades! Our street was impassable for a stranger, since we had two huge dogs: Lobo and Yaqui, the latter was very fierce; the Galindo family had another dog no less fierce, called Lassie. The Palafox had a dog which, although quite clumsy, it imposed because of its size, it was called Blacky; the Martinez had two extremely obnoxious dogs, Laica and Celestina, well, it was a real trap passing down our street, we were pretty well protected by all these dogs. When Andrés and me were born, there were two housekeepers working in my parents’ house, we used to call them the Lupitas: Lupita Domínguez and Lupita Córdova, the latter still doing the domestic chores at my father's, more nor less than 44 big years, my enduring friend. They inhabited a room built in the backyard of the house, where they invited all the chamaquero of the neighborhood to play loteria. It was very fun, we formed a true but very close family. There was so much trust and affection with Lupita Córdova, that my parents used to give her permission so she would take Andrés and me on her shopping on Saturdays to Hermosillo's downtown, and as a reward, Lupita used to buy us a decorative patch, one of those which are sewn on clothes and she would apply it to our clothes. Andrés and me were always dressed the same and with this patch that we each one selected, we tried to establish a difference. This close coexistence in our neighborhood existed to a point, I repeat, that it also involved to the housekeepers of our homes who not only took care of us but also played with us all. I remember Tere among them-­‐ very good looking -­‐indeed, with long and black hair (as the shampoo ads), who worked with the Gutiérrez Landavazo family; Fina and Irma, who worked with the Galindo Cruz neighbors; Nora, who was big, was the housekeeper of the Navarro Coronado neighbors; to the two Lupitas of my house, and Mary, of the Palafox Paz neighbors; the latter with a very tough tempered, strongminded and haughty woman, but still she loved all the "plebero 40 ". He had a son named Juan Carlos, who also played with us, I remember he used to be very good at playing marbles. 40
Lots of kids Me with my neighbors Guillermo, Iván and Ricardo Galindo Cruz. Horns for Ricardo for not cutting the pie. Our housekeeper Lupita Córdova did not miss the ranchero dances, especially when the norteño41 singer Ramón Ayala came to Hermosillo to sing, either at the Posada Varela or at Real Pesqueira, two popular dance halls that were very famous in those times. It was a custom in my parents’ house, for as long as I can remember until I left it in 1991 -­‐ when I got married-­‐, that every Saturday "without exception", we ate dry noodle soup and toast ground beef with fresh cheese, cabbage and homemade tin salsa tostadas, so I grew up with this habit, which nowadays makes 41
Genre of Mexican music related to polka and corridos. it difficult for me to eat tostadas with shredded meat and lettuce as now people commonly prepare them. My beloved wife pampers me and prepares them the same way my beloved Doña used to do, with ground beef and cabbage, though without that homemade tin salsa, since she doesn’t like it, nor me nor my children. Almost every Saturday night, my dad bought us hot dogs at the Niños Héroes plaza, with the popular hotdoguero "el Güero"; one hot dog cost one peso and twenty cents, they had double sausage, at that time they didn't put so much of what hotdogueros offer today, like bacon sausage, avocado, mushrooms, chorizo and potatoes; I think that it was one of the first carts that arrived to Hermosillo. From accompanying us so much to the hot dogs, our housekeeper Lupita Córdova ended up falling in love for the owner of the cart and they had two small children. Thus the things with them, although the relationship served us because sometimes we got the dogs for free. On Sundays we were pampered at breakfast with the cereal known as Choco Krispies, but only on that day, the remaining days were for the more modest cereal called Corn Flakes; a curious habit that took hold in the Padilla Ramos family. My parents have also established the cliché of every Sundays eating out, mostly to their favorite place, the Hermosillo de Casino, which my father was partner of and had access with the family to a tasty Sunday buffet, which was enliven by a guitar player called Thomas and nicknamed "El Guaymitas", a legendary troubadour of Hermosillo. Today, the Hermosillo de Casino has departed from this concept of social and sports club, there is even a conflict in dispute for the control between its shareholders, a very regrettable situation for much of the hermosillense society, who enjoyed so much its facilities. In that casino, my mom enrolled us Andrés and me in swimming lessons, and although I never learned to swim, I loved to go. Perhaps of the many limonadas (dips) that my older brothers applied to me in the well at the agricultural field of my panino, I was traumatized with the bottom of the water. There were countless weddings I attended at the Blue and Circular saloons of the Casino de Hermosillo, most of them without an invitation of course, as good high schoolers getting into the wave of dance and first drams. I clarify that I neither learned to dance well, I'm bad in that of gastar suela 42but I was always very daring. Back to the weekly meals, we also used to go to eat to traditional restaurants of that era and that nowadays have disappeared, such as "El Molinito" of Don Tino Davila, “Cazadores Steaks” belonging to Ventura Sierra, "La Huerta" of the Baron family, "Jardin Corona" of the Campillo family, "El Palomino" of César Pavlovich, “Pizzería los 20´s” of Javier Mejía, among many others that my dad was a distinguished client of and also personal friend of the owners. As brothers we held healthy competition in everything, although on occasions, my older brothers and their friends put box gloves on us so that we engaged in punches. They had fun watching us, while we punched our faces, they would even put gloves on my sisters and neighbors, they were some real bullies, but well, the law of the strongest was imposed. Among these friends of my brethren -­‐ that I also consider my friends -­‐ I count Luis Fernando Save Fimbres, "Güero" Valencia, "Tilico" Rogel, Rogelio "Rojo" Molina-­‐
Freaner, the "Jamoncillos" Trujillo and Gustavo González Tirado, the latter is in fact, one of my best friends today. 42
Wearing out shoe soles Andrés, Raquel and me in the courtyard of our house in 1981. "Canillas and bean bellies" On one occasion, my brother Mario invited me for a ride on a motorcycle that he had a assembled, it was one of those called "moto-­‐bike", the fact is that right at the corner of the house, I fell from the bike and I ended up with bloody face because of the hit I took against the pavement, that ultimately left me a scar on the chin which reminds me of said accident whenever I shave myself. On another occasion, I my sister Raquel's racing bike on which I could barely reach the pedals and I got a big knock on the street, so I again finished with my entire face and body full of scratches, which was the reason my older brothers and their friends -­‐ in derision -­‐ nicknamed me "Zapopan”, alluding to Angel "Zapopan" Romero (1932-­‐2007), the best cyclist that has arisen from Mexico. We also played baseball, and among all the residents of the neighborhood there was one that was always outstanding in this sport: Iván Galindo Cruz, aka "El Chino". Even in his times, Colegio Larrea baseball field was baptized as "Iván", in his honor. My colleague and neighbor was an excellent catcher. We frequently played baseball on our street, with a plastic ball, we called it beisbolito, but we had to be very careful that the ball didn't go to the Zepeda neighbors house, because they would simply not return it. The "quita-­‐pelotas43" we used to call them. The Zepedas were one older couple who lived next to our house, they lived alone and never went out. That house was a mystery, always silent. It was known as "The haunted house". Once, while playing "beisbolito" in the garage of my parents’ house, I hung unto pitching and the batter was Enrique Palafox Paz -­‐ then a pretty robust teen -­‐ and without any compassion, he connected a tremendous direct bat to the little finger of my left hand, so I ended up in the Chávez Hospital with plastered hand. I have a slightly deviated finger until today. My brothers and neighbors told me that my finger looked as the ear of Yaqui, the bitch in the house that had a half broken ear. Until today we are still great friends. Kiki Palafox and me. My parents took us on plenty of trips, they very much liked visiting the city of Mexico and we enjoyed immensely this immense metropolis, we stayed every time de gorra in my cousins' house, the Ramos Arena, where we installed ourselves at their three story house at Ciudad Satélite, in the State of Mexico. 43
Ball keepers We used to go down a giant waterslide, from where we would throw ourselves in sacks of ixtle. They also used to take us to a newly opened shopping mall called Plaza Satélite and a very nice sports club that my cousins were members of. Those trips were really very funny -­‐ and memorable. These dear cousins are José María, Agnes, Cecilia, Pancho, Angeles, Carmen and Beto, everyone's last name Ramos Arena and I think of them as my brothers and sisters. Seated: My dad, my cousins Pancho and Angeles Ramos Arena. Standing: Me (on the phone), my cousin Alejandro Peralta Johnson “Pachín” and my sister Miriam. My very dear cousins! The Ramos Arena are children of José María Ramos Salido and Cecilia Ramos Arena, the first was a second cousin of my dear mother, my beloved uncle just passed away two years ago, he was an industrialist in the business of lime, same business his grandparents started two centuries ago in a small village in the South of Sonora, called Navomora near Navojoa. My sister Miriam, my aunt Cecilia Arena de Ramos, me with my uncle José María Ramos Salido and my sister Raquel, my wife Carmen, me and my cousin Pancho and my cousin Alberto Ramos Arena. Not many years ago in the city of Mexico, D.F., I had the chance to speak in a nightclub with Javier Alatorre, a well-­‐known journalist and host of TV Azteca news and who is a native of Navojoa, Sonora. When I asked him if he knew Navomora, Sonora, he didn't know and he promised to investigate the matter, I don't know if good Javier did it. We also frequently traveled to Guadalajara, Jalisco, to visit my brother Javier, who as I told you, since 35 years ago is interned in a special school for children and young people with neurological deficit, and who we always took for a ride in the car, which all the family enjoyed, but he did the most. Javier and my mom. In the year 1979. On those trips, we stayed in cheap motels called La Calma and Motel Rose, located only a few steps from the my brother's college . In the Motel Rose in Guadalajara, Jalisco. My parents, my aunt Dolores Ramos Bours, my siblings Mario, Miriam, Diego, Andrés and me (twins). I carry my Superman lunchbox in my hand. In the year of 1984, the school where my brother Javier was interned caught fire, an accident which caused the tragic death of the majority of the sick children who were interned there, although my brother Javier was able to save himself. With an instinct for survival, he broke a window and jumped from a second floor, a jump that fortunately only caused him slight injuries. That was a very painful tragedy that forced to relocate the College to the place where today it's located in the Los Gavilanes neighborhood, in Tlajomulco de Zuñiga, on the outskirts of Guadalajara; This property was acquired in an emergency action and even desperate, by all the parents of sick children who survived the fire, an acquisition that was finally formalized by means of a trust signed in July of the year of 1989. Each year we visited my dear brother and took him for a walk. He still loves bananas, juice, and muffins. He is simply cute and adorable brother my "Chavis" as he was affectionately called by my mom. We used to take it to the wide fields and gardens of the ITESO of Guadalajara University to run and play, and we have even taken him to Chapala and Amatitan, cradle of the tequila Don Abraham, proudly sold at Grupo ANDA and of which I will tell you about later. Recent years photos with my brother Javier. Every year I visit to my innocent and loving brother. We also use to frequently go to Tucson, Arizona, to Disneyland, to Bahía de Kino, and also to the San Fermin ranch belonging to Dr. Guillermo Ocaña García, that as an additional comment, I consider my father's closest friend. How could one forget those many times that my dad took us to have breakfast to a place next to Ures, Sonora, called Puerta del Sol, where the eggs and machaca 44 with "sobaquera 45" tortillas, as well as the cafecito of talega 46were a delight. It was inevitable going to the agricultural field "La Floresta", owned by my panino Carlos Padilla Verduzco, where we would pursue hares, swum in the well pile and happily played with all the cousins at a outrigger that my panino had, with wheels in the center, acting as a sube y baja when we all the cousins ran from one side and then to the other, a very fun game, we were all very happy. This, while our parents and uncles cooled with a few frosted beers of the XXX brand, singing songs of yesteryear with the accompaniment of the voice and guitar of an employee of my panino, called Enrique Cota. All of them were also very happy on those weekend country outings. When they ran out of cheve at "La Floresta", they would send to buy more at the Super "Moraga" which was located a few kilometers from my panino's field, where they bought us also many goodies to keep us entertained. We trips we made to Tucson, we frequently made them in the company of a very close friend of my father, Don Enguerrando Tapia Quijada, who drove his own vehicle with his family; I remember that in the Customs controls along the back -­‐ which by the way were many-­‐, Enguerrando would just take out a presidential corcholata that he carried, and both his car as my dad's were exempt from revision. This guy had influence, he was then general Director of the newspaper “El Sonorense”, in Hermosillo. Both my dad and Enguerrando Tapia, were driving then brand new Ford LTD cars. Maybe my dad's little more late outdated, but it still looked imperial. 44
Traditionally dried meat which has been rehydrated and used in the popular local cuisine of Northern Mexico and Southwestern United States 45
Big flour tortillas. 46
Sock filtered coffee Enguerrando Tapia Quijada died in Tucson, Arizona on June 07, 1981, coincidentally the day of Freedom of Expression. My father remained at his side until the last minute of his existence. I was still a kid and didn't understand what was happening, I understood it only in the following trips to Tucson when the Customs officials -­‐ certainly now, yes -­‐ , would backhand my dad. So are things! I thought. With the passing of the years, my father described to me his close relationship with Enguerrando Tapia Quijada, he explained to me about the skill he had with pen and explained to me his warmth and simplicity. He also told me that Enguerrando was simply an exceptional man in every way and one of his most intimate friends. Personally, I would have loved my infant reader, to get to know and treat that renowned journalist friend of my father, who passed away at just 46 years of age, only two years more than I currently am. Rest in peace Don Enguerrando, brother of Tulita, César and Olverio, also of close affects to my father. On those trips to Tucson we invariably stayed in a hotel Holiday Inn of the chain, which was located at the corner of Freeway 19 and the 22nd Boulevard, where they knew my dad to perfection; this hotel had very tasty menu in their restaurant and a large pool in which on every trip we swam. Today, this hotel is managed by the well-­‐known hotel chain "Howard Johnson", although it remains just the same, I see it and fills it me with nostalgia whenever I go pass there. Andrés and me with my parents in the Holiday Inn of Freeway I-­‐19 and 22nd, in Tucson, Arizona. These trips to Tucson were so recurring for my family, that my uncle Tomás, brother of my mother and a lover of poetry, wrote the following verses: "If on each trip to Tucson, you'd learn a word, you would already know, English to perfection" My beloved uncle Tomás was very witty, R.I.P. Concerning Customs, my dad told a funny anecdote about these characters famous for being corrupt: When my dad was a university teacher, he had a student whose father was of one the heads of Customs in Nogales, so my dad asked her on one occasion as a favor if she could tell her father to make things easy to go past Customs, since he would go shopping with my mom and needed some things for the house. The next day, the student told my dad that she had already spoken with her father and that he would wait for him at Customs to assist him. My dad says that upon arrival and presenting himself with this Customs official -­‐ that certainly had the face of a "vaquetón47"-­‐, asked him to open the trunk, to see what he had brought -­‐ that by the way was only clothes and grocery-­‐, said with an expression of awe: "wow!, but what is this?" My daughter didn´t tell me that you would be passing so many things. This is too much" he added, playing as a posers... It was then at that moment, that the Customs official put his hand in his pants pocket to take out a hundred dollar bill, gave it to my dad and told him: -­‐Look Professor, you are carrying too many things and these Customs boys have to be given something. Give them these one hundred dollars and then you give them back to my daughter over there. A true fox this old and biting rat! thought with disgust my dad, who could not do otherwise but proceed in that way. My dad also told another no less funny experience with Customs. Turns out that once was my dad went to Nogales, Arizona, and his mother-­‐in-­‐law Angelita (my grandma) asked him to bring her a lot of candies, since Christmas was nearing and she used to prepare many bags of sweets to give to all her grandchildren, a request that my dad accepted gladly, so my grandma gave him money for that errand. 47
Shameless Once at Customs, and upon opening the trunk for the official, this guy acting as a papelero48 pretended to be surprised because of the so many candies that my dad was carrying, even though he explained to him that it was an errand for his mother-­‐in-­‐law, since she would be making bags of sweets for all her grandchildren. The head of the Customs Office asked him to accompany him to his office, and once alone told my dad: "Look sir, you are bringing too many candies, for which I ask you to put on my desk the amount of money that you think is fair". My dad pulled out a five peso bill and put it on the desk. That public servant took it with force, returned it to my dad and snapped: "Take it and leave, you're more screwed than me". This bribonada49 of this agent gave my dad much laughter. Ah these Customs so leperos50!, ended up saying my dad. My dad had a driver-­‐helper named Jesús Muñoz, who he once asked to take mom, my aunt Teresita Ramos Arvizu and my aunt Norma Padilla de Oquita to Tucson, to go and come back on the same day, so you he gave three very precise instructions to this Mr Muñoz: First, "you smoke heavily and I do not want that you to smoke in the car, because none of the three ladies smoke." Second, continued my dad, "when you arrive at a restaurant you sit in a separate table, I don't want you to be overfamiliar eating with them". And third, he ended up saying: "The three ladies don't give a damn about your biography, so don't go telling them your life story as you are used to". 48
Acting false, untrue Rascally trick 50
Uncouth 49
Coming back to our neighborhood my close reader, we used to go to the nearby abarrotes51 for sodas52, as they were commonly called. Nearby was the "Vilucho" abarrote, who later emerged as a leader in defense of consumers. His name is Francisco Navarro Bracamontes. We also frequently went to Don Alfredo's abarrote, a very quick-­‐tempered old guy with a prominent nose, although we learned to get his better side. One street above was Doña María's abarrote, in front of the home of my friends "Maiko" and Gerardo Valencia; and a bit farther was "Güero" abarrote, which is the only one that remains to this day. This last abarrote I did not like going to, because "Güero" was very upset with my older brothers, since he claimed they had performed a pisa y corre 53on him with their friends in a "combi" van that my father had, which was surely true. In these grocery we liked to buy bottled soda pop, because in their tabs came the faces of the players of Mexico's national soccer team, which we were collecting at that time. I had the Leonardo Cuéllar, Hugo Sánchez, “Gonini” Vázquez Ayala, Víctor Rangel, Pilar Reyes ones, etc., the "ratoncitos verdes54" of the 70s, just as chafones as they are nowadays. It's unforgettable the time that my parents were on a trip, and it occurred to me and my brother Andrés to extract oil from a barrel that my dad had in the courtyard, which was used for lighting charcoal in the carnes asadas that he frequently had, only that in doing so, we did it with a hose that we drained through the mouth. 51
Mom and pop store Soda pop 53
Hit and run 54
Derogatory name for Mexico’s national soccer team 52
Because I was the first to try it, I sucked more oil than I was supposed to and I swallowed it, consequently suffering a tremendous intoxication which was immediately attended by a friend of my older brothers who at that time was arriving to my parents’ house: Espiridión Fimbres, aka "El Piri", who gave me a glass of milk with salt that helped nothing, then our neighbors Marco Antonio Gutiérrez Domínguez and René Navarro Coronado, took me to the Hospital Ignacio Chávez so that they pumped my stomach. It was a terrible experience, I remember that I constantly asked them if I was going to die, and very heartless they told me: "maybe, maybe". This time I felt it close. My dad burning trash in the courtyard of his house. In the background, the maldito barrel of oil. On June 17, 1977, eight years of age, Andrés and I had our first communion, which we receive from the hands of the priest Arturo Torres in the Santa Eduwiges Chapel, in Hermosillo. Previously we religiously attended our catechism classes in the same Chapel, in some classrooms in its back and which housed the Julia Navarrete College. Happy with our first communion cake, pity that our godparents did not give us a gift. Our brand new godfathers (pa-­‐ruinos 55 ) were my older brothers Mario and Hector, who didn't give us a gift by the way. To receive my first Holy Communion from the hands of priest Arturo Torres. To bear witness my godfather and brother Mario, as well as my dear Uncle Tomás Ramos Bours, who observed attentively from his bench. By the same friendship and closeness linking us with the priest Arturo Torres, years later he preached mass on my marriage and baptized also my three children. Rest in peace Padre Torres, as we lovingly called him. 55
Combination of godfather and ruino (someone who has no money) Our first communion. W ith our godparents: my brothers M ario and Hector. In those years, my mom took Andrés and myself a chaleco 56 to mass at twelve every Sunday at Santa Eduwiges and to make matters worse, my mom used to pray about half an hour more once mass had ended. My mom had so much appreciation for Padre Torres, that on his birthday him a beautiful acrostic which I share here: 56
Against out will My dear mom surely used to write beautifully. Father Torres must have been excited. While my mom prayed and talked with father Torres at the end of mass, Andrés and me had fun playing outside in the gardens of the parish, or enjoying an icy popsicle that my mom bought us with the legendary paletero "El Comadina", who was all around Hermosillo with his popsicle cart. On one of those occasions when Andrés and me were playing after mass, a dog came out of nowhere and bit me strongly on a leg, which caused me considerable bleeding. Unable to secure the aggressive dog, and ignoring therefore whether or not it was rabid, I had to be injected 14 consecutive days around the navel, in the missing Health Center of the State, by calle Matamoros; injections that made me to cry, although those tears yielded a further fruit, when my mom gave me a “Superman" lunchbox with a thermos for having endured all those injections. A cousin of my Galindo neighbors named Isabel Sánchez, used to come to our house to cut Andrés' hair and mine. She was called "The Bullfighter" because she frequently cut ears, she had a shaky hand. Today Isabel Sánchez serves as general manager of the prestigious Club de Golf Los Lagos, in the city of Hermosillo. My mom used to take Andrés and me to the "La Colonial" hairdresser, Don José Alvídrez Ceballos, located by Guerrero Street so they would sacaran punta 57since she liked having us very peloncitos58 and with a pompadour. Years later, when my older brothers began to drive, they would leave us at the Colonial hairdresser but would forget to pick us up back, so we had to wait for the owner to close the business to give us a raite59 to our house. These elder brothers had no remedy! 57
Get a haircut With little hair 59
Common way of expressing ride in Spanglish 58
In those years, my young reader, a very beautiful and friendly American arrived to our neighborhood, her name: Elizabeth Guidry; she lived with our Gutiérrez Landavazo neighbors, with whom she has close kinship. My elder brothers and their friends were crazy for her, they flying with her. Liz -­‐ as we called her-­‐, is my sister Miriam's age, i.e. about 6 or 7 years older than me. She always saw Andrés and me tenderly, while she looked at my older brothers with dread, since they were like vultures around her. Liz came and went to San Francisco, California -­‐ where she is originally from -­‐ but it can be said that she was also part of our neighborhood, because of the long periods spent there playing with all of us, just as one neighbor more. My sister Miriam and Elizabeth Guidry in 1978. Those were the times! Today Liz is my client, since I took up a legal matter of a civil nature and she certainly continues to be friend of my family. Pity that then I was very morrito60 and now, she is somewhat veterana61. She laughs a lot at our insinuations. She knows us! At the end of the 70's and the beginning of the 80's, my mom took us very often to visit our grandmother Angelita, visits that we used to take advantage of and take our skates and go to skate to Plaza Zaragoza, which was a tradition at the time, a site where hundreds of skaters would go at night to play on the wide mosaic walkways of this square which was only two blocks away from the "casona62", residence of my grandma. The bad thing was, that Andrés and me used skates with iron wheels -­‐ which by that time were outdated-­‐, generating a chisperio 63 with the wheels that we seemed to be welding machines. I remember my cousin Alfonso Campoy Ramos skating skills; he would jump, dance and do anything with his skates my dear cousin "Poncho". In the summer of 1982, at the age of 14, my brother Andrés and me made our debut as big entrepreneurs, when we installed a booth to sell slushes at the Plaza Niños Héroes – the same for the hot dogs-­‐, located only one block from our house, a booth provided by our neighbor, Dr. Víctor Galindo Sánchez, who had recently premiered as an elected Local Deputy and who had used these booths as citizen service modules during his campaign. The idea of selling slushes arose, when we used to frequently go to my Ramos Johnson cousins house to spend the day and saw how my cousin Ismael Ramos "el 60
Very young Somewhat old 62
The big house 63
Lots of sparks 61
Tocho" sold slushes outside his house, with artificial flavors which he himself prepared, as well as some natural flavors that my beautiful aunt Dolores Johnson de Ramos lovingly prepared for him. In a well-­‐known pharmacy close to our house we bought the scents and dyes, to prepare with them the slushes of different artificial flavors. My mom prepared us chocolate flavor syrup and my aunt (from affection), and neighbor, Amanda Galindo, prepared us natural plum syrup; of course my mom and my aunt Amanda did this because of tenderness. I think we caused them pity, nos hacían el paro64, as kids now say. My mom and my neighboring aunts, Armida de Navarro and Amanda Galindo. Great friends! The business was very successful, given the high temperatures that occurred during summer, although we did not have the permits by the Secretary of Health 64
Do a favor nor the local Town Hall, not because we wanted to break the law, but because we didn't know that such permits were needed. Later, as a lawyer, I learned that the fact of ignoring the law does not exempt you from complying with it. The law is a privilege that the State gives to you, period. On one occasion, working al pie del cañón 65 at our slushes business, by an oversight we didn´t realize that the vanilla flavor syrup had spoiled when a large family with many children arrived to buy slushes from us. It must've been eight in a small vehicle and to make matters worse, everybody asked for a vanilla flavored slush, so after scraping the ice we serve them and we put enough “La Lechera" milk on them, so, that's what we thought, we could hide the rotten taste of the vanilla. -­‐"Eww"! said the children; These slushes are bad!, snapped the father. The man took "La Lechera" tin and emptied it in its entirety in all the slushes for his family. I complained because it was the most expensive product we used, but the angry father ignored me. At the end, he grudgingly paid us and they boarded the car to leave, but not before shouting to us -­‐ the complete family-­‐ in unison: "Sour slushes!" This attitude bothered us for the time being because other customers were arriving, but later it caused us much laughter. Then, the Health Department and City Hall, fell on us, so we opted to better abort that business. It was my first tira y tira 66with government inspectors. 65
In spite of everything. Ready and waiting Give and take 66
My brother Mario had a good friend who owned a very large drug distributor called "Medical", with branches throughout the Republic; in Hermosillo they had their warehouse at the corner of Juarez and Fronteras streets, next to the city police command center. This friend is Alfonso Munguía Estévez, and he gave me the opportunity to work in his company during school holidays. So it was that for two years, in the summers of 1985 and 1986, despite a heavy schedule from 4 to 10 in the morning, I started working in Medical. I was very happy because I earned my own money, which I used to go with my coworkers and my friends from high school to drink our first beers. We often went to play pool at an establishment called "Circus", owned by the Cayeros family, which was located on Revolución Street, near the corner with Rodriguez Boulevard, next to the Araque gas station. I also bought my dollars when my parents took us to Tucson, which as I already said, was very often. In 1985, my mother had to be surgically intervened in Arizona to remove a half lung, which years ago had been affected by a strong pneumonia she suffered, an operation that required long rest, so she had to spend a few weeks in the city of Tucson, hosted and under the care of my aunt and uncle -­‐ out of affection-­‐ Clemen and Manuel Maldonado both already dwelling with San Peter, in the heaven. My mother evolved favorably from this delicate operation, thank God. Also in that year of 1985, on 10 August, my brother Mario married his girlfriend Roxana Tirado Villapudua. My first brother married. One mouth less, said my father, but I think it was one mouth more. My older brothers, Mario and Hector, already had their own vehicle. Each one had a Datsun sedan model 1975. My brother Mario's was light blue, my brother Hector's, yellow. Both had a very good sound system, since then is was customary to install to the car a good stereo with equalizer, amplifier and powerful speakers; the only one of the two who lent us his car was Mario. We learned to drive in it, since he was very generous to lend us his car. On the other side, Hector, took care of his car as it was gold and lent it to no one; he plainly thought of us as careless driving brothers at the steering wheel that could crash his Lamborghini. One Saturday morning when my brother Hector went to the sports fields at Colegio Larrea to practice basketball, I took his yellow Datsun without permission and went picked up my friend Bardomiano -­‐ nowadays a compadre -­‐ to take a spin. We loaded some cassettes (there were no CDs back then) by Vicente Fernández and went to padrotear 67 with the stereo blaring, But a street in the Pitic neighborhood I didn't make a stop and strongly crashed a taxi which was passing through that crossroads, giving rise to a problem of huge proportions in the family, first because my dad held a heated argument with the taxi driver who not only wanted his car to be repaired , but that he also demanded pay for the days he wouldn't work without his vehicle; and second, because my brother Hector almost killed me out of anger. My elder brothers would get angry because my mom used to refer to their cars as "charanguitas", although I think, she wasn't wrong. I believe that my brother Hector was right to think he had some rustic driving brothers. Years later, my father bought a green Datsun brand vehicle, model 1982, so Miriam, Diego, Raquel, Andrés and me could drive it, which caused serious fights 67
To go pimping between all brothers and sisters, since as was to be expected, everyone wanted to use it at the same time. This Datsun we painted cherry and it ended up being white. I think we drove it hundreds of thousands of miles among all siblings, I still dream that Datsun! Speaking about Vicente Fernández my young reader, there was no “Expo-­‐
Ganadera” at the Hermosillo palenque68, where my friends and me didn't go to see him; It was a good show and we got excited when he separated from the microphone to release his whole throat; I had almost all of his albums and my brothers used to tease me that I was in love with "Chente". Mocking bastards! We also went to see Juan Gabriel every time he came to the palenque. He made us laugh very much with his mariconadas 69 that he always made in his presentations, very common in his shows and that entertain the public so much. By no means would I imagine, that two decades later I would become Juan Gabriel's attorney, an experience that I will tell in the coming pages. This is how my childhood and adolescence went, scudding and fast, indelible moments that won’t come back. Sour slushes! • See recent photo gallery. 68
An organized event for cockfights Sissy expressions 69