Where did I leave off?

To the dedicated few, I’m sorry.

So why now am I beginning to write being again after taking off the last 20 months off, give or take a few days?

It’s simple; I needed to do something constructive with my down time. I’ve been wasting a lot of it to be honest, so let’s be constructive.

I also need to get my writing creativity flowing again. I have bigger plans that I’m going to get started next year.

But before I run a marathon, I need to get in shape – I’m speaking from experience there. Hopefully I can write when I get inspiration which would be more often. And most of these might be sports related, but I got to write what I know.

With that in mind, here we go:

Today, my first love repaid my loyalty to them by winning. Now if you didn’t know by now, the first thing I ever loved other than family was the San Francisco 49ers. Football in general was my first love, but the 49ers were above and beyond my favorite thing to watch.

Of course it was easy to watch them growing up in Northern California during the 1980s, they won almost every week and won five Super Bowls – all in my lifetime and before my 17th birthday.

I took it all for granted. Before the last Super Bowl in 1995 win, I just figured it was a given. I, of course, ignored the franchise history of it never winning a title in its 32-year history prior to my birth.

After the first three Super Bowls I saw the 49ers win (’84, ’89 and ’90, I was under four when they won in ’82) I never thought it would be their last one.

That was until that last one.

I remember rejoicing the 49ers crush San Diego. My father wanted to change the channel during the game but I refused and even made him watch the post-game show. I remember telling him “You can’t change it. This might be the last time I see them win.” It was sadly prophetic. Well so far anyway.

After that loss, the 49ers still won and made the playoffs, but never got close to the Super Bowl. They have not even made the playoffs on a regular basis as they used to.

Division titles used to be a given. What happened on Sunday is something to celebrate; funny how it works after all this time.

I’ve only been a San Francisco Giants fan since 1989 as baseball was the last sport I got into. I’ve learned humility from being a Giants fan since the franchise had not won since 1954.

Baseball is a long season with 162 games and a team could out of contention after May which means you’ll have to wait another 10 month to see if your team can be a contender. And if your team makes the playoffs, it’s a lot more nerve wracking since you watched them for six months. Three bad games can end their playoff run and made you feel you’ve wasted all this time.

So when the Giants won the World Series in 2010, all the frustration I ever had about the team went away. If only you could do that with people you know.

At the same time, I appreciated this accomplishment more than any Super Bowl the 49ers, my beloved team, won.

The bigger lesson in all this is: Things and people are taken for granted all the time and you might not know until it is gone. Sometimes it’s easy to fix and sometimes you just move on.

I’m not saying give everyone you know a daily affirmation but I will say is be careful on how you leave things.

Sports teams get a chance next year to make it up to you while you may not.

I still love my 49ers; I’m loyal since they gave me so much growing up so I deserve to sit though all their bad years.

With time, however, I’ve learned that it’s just a game. There are more important things.

The end of starting over

The concept of picking up and starting over is one of those American notions like baseball and apple pie.

This is not one of those stories. By definition, I didn’t do that. When I moved to my apartment on Second Street near Redondo Avenue, I had no new job or started out alone in the world. I, especially, did not have to make a new set of friends.

My life was the same in almost every sense except I had to find a new center. Months after the only relationship I had been in ended, I had been able to get on with my life.

This apartment was the first step since it represented a new starting point for my day.

The only real truth about me living the American idea of starting over was that I had no real possessions with me except for a laptop, clothes and stuff. I had no furniture, hardly any type of kitchen ware and no television.

I was fortunate to have a roommate who had all this and was willing to share. I had a bed, dresser and a place to start again.

And it did just that. This white apartment building was a crutch to help me until I got my life in a new order.

So when I got the eviction notice, just after four years and a few weeks after I moved in, it was hard. This place was my shelter through many tough times.

Alas, I have to go. It’s the law after all.

I’ll never forget what this apartment gave me, however.

Goodbye, for the last time, from apartment #1.

Five Years

Five years ago today, I thought I had everything I ever wanted.

Five years ago I was happy and moving forward.

Five years ago I never knew the pain and heartache of losing someone close to you.

Five years ago I never knew what it was like to lose someone you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with.

Five years ago I never knew what it was like to say goodbye to a friend or member of your family.

Five years ago, I could have been called naive.

In those five years since, I've learned that when certain things change in the blink of an eye.

In five years, I've learned more definitions of the word finality that I would care to know.

What I failed to realize five years ago is that what started off as a trail to pain and heartache was a rebirth.

Five years ago I was given a new life at the end of an old one.

I am stronger now than I was five years ago.

Five years is not a long time, but enough time to change you for the better.

My family is all alike

We left for Puebla kind of late on Monday. Puebla is about an hour and a half away. Getting there you drive through a mountain range.

Driving through there reminded me of the Grapevine that separates Northern and Southern California on Interstate 5. The only real difference is you see nothing but lush greens in Mexico.

I feel asleep after that but woke up in Puebla, not far from my cousin Lupe’s house. She’s very friendly and very humorous. She reminded me of my sisters with the way she carried herself and the way she spoke; always going for a laugh.

She fed us then we went into the historical part of Puebla. It’s a city that was founded in the 16th century and has much of the architecture intact. The streets are cobblestone and are tight for more than one car. The streets are jam packed with cars at intersections.

Lupe was proud to show off her town, and why not? Puebla is the home of Cinco de Mayo. In the downtown area, there was plenty to look at and that included churches. The Cathedral of Puebla takes the appearance of a castle with a gate. On top of the gates were angels. Lupe told me the full name of Puebla is “La Puebla del Los Angeles.” Sound familiar? The cathedral, as you might have guessed, is spectacular inside. There was an altar and behind it was a tribute to the kings of Spain.

We walked to another church, Templo Conventual de San Miguel Archangel. The real beauty of the church was the chapel inside. It outshined the church with gold. The chapel had a functional purpose. If you didn’t have a rosary, you could walk around the church and at each angel, say a Hail Mary, just like the beads of a rosary. At the top of the altar were angels looking down. There were also angels in the back of the chapel where the music is played. Each angel held an instrument to appear as if they were playing along.

We left Puebla at about 7 p.m. Lupe, like all my relatives that I meet on the trip, said I was welcomed back anytime, with or without my dad.

I slept again on the drive back. I woke up on one of the bumpiest roads. Most of the roads in Mexico make potholes in the United States seem like simple cracks in the road. My cousin is a pretty aggressive driver, but he’s also very cautious. This time he was caught off guard and one of the bumps knocked off his rear view mirror.

When we got closer to his home, he called his son and told him to order some pizzas, then said that I requested it. They were thin crust pizzas and his son told me it was the preferred way.

The next morning, Tuesday, we went to my tia Amalia’s – Alejandro’s mother – house in northern Mexico City. My tia Chuy went with us as well.

From the moment I entered her house, my cousins Patti and Angelica made me feel like I was at home and with my sisters the way they talked to each other. They served us a late lunch and my dad talked with his sister Chuy and sister-in-law Amalia. When we left I was told that I was welcomed whenever I returned to Mexico City.

It was nice to see my Tia Chuy out again. She was so happy to be out with family she hardly sees because she’s always doing house work.

I started packing for home Tuesday night and finished on Wednesday after we got back from running errands with Alejandro. I bought some more Mexican candy, mostly Mazapan.

After a late breakfast, we headed out to the airport with a quick stop to see my tia Chuy one last time. She was sad to see us go as we were too. She told us she looked forward to us returning.

Alejandro, with his wife and daughter, took us to the airport and for the first time we didn’t have a surprise waiting for us by our airline.

On the flight home I had some thoughts about my 13 days in Mexico. I meet a lot of family and had the same prevailing thought, “If I only had more time here …” I wish I did have more time, I know my dad did.

He rushed a lot of family into 13 days in Mexico. The first couple of days were hard for me since I was waking up at 6 a.m. Pacific Daylight Time, 8 a.m. Guadalajara and Mexico City time. It’s about three and a half hours earlier than I would have liked. But there really wasn’t time to spare.

I was more at ease in Mexico City because I had been there before and knew everyone. Plus, I had adjusted to the time a little better by then. My hope is when I go back to Guadalajara I’ll be more at ease with everyone. Hopefully, my Spanish will get better too.

So when will I go back? That’s a question asked of me several times. I know if it was just my dad, he’d go back as often as he could. My siblings, however, think it is best to have one of us with him, so it kind of limits how often he goes back.

I know when I book a flight again I’ll make sure I look into the company’s recent economic performance to make sure they won’t go out of business midway through my trip. I will say the distractions with Mexicana Airlines didn’t really hamper the trip at all. They added new elements, but never once did it cripple us. The funny thing is I was going to originally book everything a few days earlier. Had I done that, Mexicana would have suspended operations the day we would have flown back to Los Angeles.

But getting back to the question; it’s hard to say for any degree of certainty when I would go back and for how long. There is so many and so much I want to see. But I have to be in two places too. That’s what makes it so hard, trying to find a balance. Maybe one year I’ll be bold enough to take more than two weeks off and see all that I can.

I’d also be willing to go on my own too; however, I think my dad would want to come along too.

What I can say for sure is I can’t wait to go back and see everyone again. I know no matter where I go I’ll be welcomed in their home, just like with my family here.