Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Latino Heritage Month 2014

Another find, another thing to decide whether to keep or to toss.

In this case it a Lovely foam core sheet filled with the activities that took place during Latino Heritage Month in 1999 - right here in Pasadena.  It accompanied an informal guerrilla exhibit.  Up for an event and then away to be stored.  This accompanied the pix as they were a part of at least half of the events listed.

Fifteen years later I hope to share a lot of things going in Pasadena.  Here's hoping that there a lot more to list and for folks to explore.  

The squished text, in much better state than the stickers of Latino flag, reads as follows - 


Hidden Histories

In a sense these photo are a reality that haas been hidden from most of Pasadena.  We look at our city and see our present as a mirror of our past; memories based on what we see, not on what has happened or existed.  We look at the memorials that exist in Pasadena there is a false sense that Laitnos were not a part of our city's proud history.

There are hidden historical treasures which counter that false past. As you can see, there are pictures that exist within the community which acknowledge and give proof of the experiences of Latino individuals, families and organizations that are women into the history Pasadena.  Thaks to groups like the Pasadena Mexican American History Association, the stories, the photos, and the experiences will not be lost forever.  
Treasures sometimes exist in obscurity and sometimes lie before eyes, unrecognized and waiting to be seen.  
(A certain Pasadena Latina wrote this.)

Last thought - Latino Heritage Month is from September 15th to October 15th.  During this month Chile, Costa Rica, El Salvador, Guatemala, Honduras, Mexico, and Nicaragua celebrate and commemorate their independence.

If you know of activities that are taking place in town with this focus during LHM, please let me know so that I can share that info with others.

Sunday, September 14, 2014

Lecture is such a pedantic word

There are a couple of images that come to mind when I hear or read the word "lecture".
The first is the l o n g talk that talk place at college where there are 100 plus people in the room and the presenter is more focused on data or dates.  Neither is a bad thing, but the circle for whom this is fun is usually pretty darn small.

I'm planning that the lecture I give on October 1st will not fall into that category.  I've begun to think of what I present as a photo essay with a real time audio component.

Part of the work is my being sure that I interact with the folks attending, but the bulk of the work is done by the visuals that will be presented.  

Happy to share that many of the images come from the Elliott Collection which is archived at The Huntington Library.  Even happier to share that I had the good fortune to discover images that were uncatalogued, likely rarely seen, and not publicly shared for half a century.  
  

I presented a talk with the same title a couple of years ago on behalf of the Pasadena Museum of History at the Blacker House.  I've learned more about the Bandini family and the Elliott family - and I've found a few more pictures.  

Saturday, September 13, 2014

As if the usie was new

I don't remember the occasion, but here are Faye Murata, Peggy Thomas, and me. 


We are doing the 60s variation on goofing around and taking a group selfie.  

Thursday, September 4, 2014

Agatha and me

One of the good things about technology is the ability to scan or somehow preserve photos.  
I'm guessing that this is from 1968 or 1969.  You doubt me?  Take a gander at the guitar and the paper flowers.  I think this was also taken before I decoupaged the name Agatha on my guitar.  

I was feeling somewhat radical because I was wearing jeans.  Yes, way back then, in my world that was making a statement. 


Taken in our living room you can just see the wheels of the cart that held our TV that filled the other corner of the room.  I still have the small corner shelf; the rest is gone. 
 Oh, except for Agatha.  She is still around.



Sunday, August 31, 2014

For love of coffee

My love of coffee is somewhat legendary within my family.  It is the kickstart of my day.  I know that I am receiving a good bit of love when I wake up and the scent of the coffee brewing fills the air.  When we camp with our daughter and her family, I can be sure that the first cup of coffee that my son-in-law pours will be for me.  
That's love.

When I go to Berkeley and get to stay in the Scholar's Retreat I am happy because of: the cost, the views, and the fact that it is the room above some coffee producing machine.  
It truly is a joy to wake up and smell the coffee.

It is a long drive from Pasadena to Portland.  I've learned this in a visceral, nalga numbing way because I've driven the route many a time to visit our daughter and her family in the other Rose City.  In order to not get exhausted or grumpy I like to spread the driving over two days.

I couldn't tell you the number of miles it takes to get halfway between here and there.   But I know that I am nearing a midway point when I see the first Dutch Bros Coffee kiosk.  

http://article.wn.com/view/2014/03/05/Get_free_coffee_Friday_at_newest_Dutch_Bros/

Truth be told, where I stop that Day One driving has, on occasion, been decided by access to Dutch Bros for the start of Day Two driving. 

http://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurants-g51891-Grants_Pass_Oregon.html

Dutch Bros Coffee is always yummy, the prices are great, and their baristas are the best. There's usually a fine bit of conversation that is accompanied by a smile that seems about as genuine as can be.

http://beastandbean.wordpress.com

 There's yet to be a time when it felt like the order I placed was a bother.


Then there's the container.  Brought one home to share with you.


How could one not smile?




Friday, August 29, 2014

August 29, 1970

An event that has had long-lasting repercussions took place in Los Angeles some 44 years ago.  There was a march that had more than 20,000 marchers.  Some estimate the number to be closer to 30,000.  Like other parts of history this event has been forgotten by much of Southern California.

Photographer - Oscar Castillo

The Chicano Moratorium took place on August 29, 1970 in East LA.  The march began at Belvedere Park and ended at Laguna Park, a park where I used to go to play while my mom attended Girl Scout leader trainings.  As I recall there was more space than there were things to play on, but that it made it a great site for the end of a peaceful demonstration.  

The march and rally were the sorts of protests that were taking place across the U.S. as people were highlighting their communities' struggles with discrimination.  The moratorium was a protest to the disproportionate numbers of young Chicanos that were being drafted to fight in the Viet Nam War.  According to a study by Dr. Ralph Guzman, nearly 20% of casualties in Viet Nam (1961-1967) were of Chicanos from the Southwest despite representing 10% of the overall population.

My friends were among those who ran as teargas was shot at the unarmed crowd.  A woman who has doctorate in the field of Gerontology shared the following with me today - "[It was] a day I will never forget...1st time experiencing critical mass, social solidarity and later that afternoon ... tear gas, the thud of a baton on my head, absolute chaos, and the murder of Rubén ... memories of a 13 year-old Chicana".

Looking at the footage of that day, it's clear that the deputies were in command of the situation.  It's clear that what had started as a peaceful protest changed to a forceful response.  The sheriffs went through the crowd using batons and teargas and some of the protestors responded with rocks and sticks.  Hundreds were arrested;  Lynn Ward, Angel Diaz, and Los Angeles Times journalist Rubén Salazar were killed.  

Courtesy - Zinn Education Project

While all deaths are tragic, the loss of Ruben, as most folks remember him, was particularly painful.  Rubén was the first Chicano reporter for the Times.  He had been the voice that shared a viewpoint that up until his writing was not being heard or read by the greater population.

Following his initial coverage of the moratorium Rubén went to the Silver Dollar Bar for a beer.  While in the bar Ruben was killed by a nine inch tear gas projectile that was fired into the bar from the street.

Photographer - Raul Ruiz
Following an inquest the jury found that he had been killed at the hands of another, but the deputy who shot the projectile was never charged with manslaughter or murder.  In 1973 the Salazar family were paid $700,000 by Los Angeles County because the Los Angeles Sheriff's Department did not use "proper and lawful guidelines for the use of deadly force" in the killing of Rubén

In 2008 Rubén Salazar was one of five journalists recognized by the US Postal Service by issuing commemorative stamps with their images on them.  The other four were John Hersey, Martha Gellhorn, George Polk, and Eric Sevareid.

Thursday, August 28, 2014

Still moving on

This last weekend we tackled the shelves in the hallway.  We found albums of pictures I knew we had  "somewhere" in the house.  I added them to the piles of old pictures that are taking up the space I thought was clear.  

This being Throwback Thursday here are a couple of fun images.  

My mom and dad were older when they had me, so some parts of our lives were really middle class 1950s and others, not so.  Obviously Christmas was taken seriously.  When you have one child and you've been working as a skilled laborer and one of the partners is a bit of whiz with numbers you can get an elaborate holiday.

Mom had been collecting Christmas things for nearly 20 years.  A lot of her china closet has items she collected at post-WWII prices.  We lived in a 600 square foot home, but doggone if she didn't have a place for her china and her porcelain from Japan and a 6 foot Christmas tree with blown glass ornaments from Germany.

Classy.


On the other hand...

here I am in my coonskin hat with a bottle of booze.    

Do you wonder why?  I do, too.