Walking To My Mother's

I lived at the Morningstar Ranch during a time frame I am uncertain of (normal for that time period), probably somewhere between 1967-1968. While at Morningstar, I decided to go to visit my stepmother and half-brother who lived in Santa Paula, California. I do not remember ever telling anybody that I was leaving. The trip was going to take a couple of days, so I put on my grey, wool blanket cape with a patch (which was also my sleeping bag, the patch was from scrape during the quilting bee at Morningstar), my Red Ball boots, corduroy pants, and belt made by Mia. I then walked or got a ride out to the highway. Hitching was very easy to do at that time.

When I finally got to the freeway (say what you will), I walked up the ramp, stopped, turned, and immediately caught a ride to San Francisco. Rides were never a problem in those days.

I spent that night under a viaduct somewhere near Santa Maria, CA. I made my bed. I was over halfway to my stepmother's home, and it was good sleeping. The next morning, I arose and dusted myself and blanket off. I checked my Red Balls for insects. Done with my morning chores, I headed down the dusty bank to the freeway below. As I stepped onto the concrete, I noticed a police cruiser coming down the on ramp. I had nowhere to run and nowhere to hide, so I turned my back to him and started walking.

I heard a swirl of sound, and then silence. I turned and stopped. The cop came over to me and stated that it was against the law to hitchhike on the freeway. I told him that I was walking to my mother's house. He said that if I was going to walk to my mother's house, then I should use the state highways. I told him that this was the straightest way to go and also the fastest since it was straight. I said that they should build sidewalks on the freeway. He said, "Get into the back seat. We're going to see the judge." On the way to the courthouse, he made light conversation about not hitchhiking on the freeway (yeah, free). I said that if they wanted me off the freeway then they should build sidewalks, they build roads don't they? He smiled and said, "Yeah." When we got to police station/courthouse, he put me into a room and said, "I'll be back shortly."

The game begins. I am blank, lost in the beauty of the moment. Nothing to worry about. Time passes, the walls are nice.

****

(Now's the time to go do what you wanted to do earlier.)

****

He came back a couple of hours later and said, "Come with me." We walked into an empty courtroom. The cop told me where to stand, and he sat at the table. We waited a while until the judge entered the courtroom. It was still morning. I guess my case was the first thing on that day's agenda. The judge looked at me. He looked at the police officer. He looked back at me. He then asked the police officer what the problem was. The officer said that I was hitchhiking on the freeway. The judge looked at me again and asked if this was true. The judge wanted only the truth, nothing but the truth. I said that I was walking to my mother's house. The judge said that if I wanted to walk to my mother's house, then I should use the state highways. I told him that the freeways were the quickest and straightest way to go, and that if they did not want me to walk on the freeway, then they should build sidewalks along the edge of the freeways. The judge stopped and stared at me as if I belonged in an insane asylum. I remained standing. He motioned for the officer to come into his chambers. The officer immediately complied. I am blank, lost in the beauty of the moment. In my mind I see bicycle paths and sidewalks across America's Garden of Eden. Green, lush landscapes with bicycle paths and sidewalks. Friends meeting, men bowing to ladies. People laughing, looking over our cliffs of beauty to the sea. Wandering the lush paths of Kentucky and Hawaii. Watching the sun rising on the shores of Lake Michigan. Walking the path next to the amber waves of grain. Riding your bike from sea to shining sea. Land, roads, sidewalks, and paths as they should be.

Ten or fifteen minutes later, they both came back into the room. The officer motioned for me to follow him. I did. We walked through the police station courthouse rooms. We walked outside. He then motioned for me to get into the back seat of his cruiser, and I complied. We then drove off. On the road, we make small talk and drove. After about 10 minutes, he stopped the cruiser and said, "This is as far I can go." Were we at the county line? He let me out, and I thank him for the ride. We wave goodbye. Pity the next longhair who tries to catch a ride in Santa Maria, CA. The rest of the trip was uneventful until I got to my stepmother's house. When I arrived at the block that I thought they live on, I looked for clues (I had only been here once before). I walked up the street, dug out a piece of paper with the house number, and walked to it. I went up the concrete walkway, up onto the stoop. I rang the doorbell, and I waited. Nothing happened, I turned and walked to the side of the house, all the while thinking that maybe they are out back. Nothing. As I walked back to the stoop, I noticed a window curtain falling back into place. I stood at the door and knocked on the knocker,

lightly. Nothing.

I heard, "God damn!!" "God damn, Dennis, is that you?" coming from the side of the house. It was Tony, my stepmother's latest husband. He muttered "Jesus Christ” as he walked around me. Grey wool blanket cape (with red patch), church-colored corduroys, Red Ball boots, and belt made by Mia.

I smiled, glad to see him. He was our landlord when I was growing up. He motioned for me to come around to the back of the house. Out back, he said, "Wait a minute." He walked into the house and I heard him say, "Maggie, its Dennis." Maggie was forever neat and tidy, with doilies everywhere, a child of the Forties. I heard several “¡Dios míos!” (My God), and then she showed herself. Tony said that Gil (my half-brother) should be home soon from grammar school. Maggie said that I was not coming into the house like that (like what?). Tony said, "Maggie!" They looked at each other (I see family in their eyes). She reluctantly waved me into the house. Tony promptly ushered me into the bathroom, and pointed to the shower. Somehow I got clean clothes, a home haircut, but I didn't part with the cape or the Red Balls. Gil arrived home from school and we acted like the kids that we were. Maggie started cooking while Tony smoked his pipe in his chair. We had a wonderful reunion and supper. After dinner, Maggie washed the dishes, and then baked them in the oven. I swear that this is a true story.

+

I never realized that I had scared the crap out of Maggie, so what did she do? She sent her husband Tony out to investigate the creature at her door.

I never realized that people would have terrifying dreams about their children being in a commune like Morningstar. After thirty years I am sure that people still have terrifying dreams that their children will turn up at one of these communes like Morningstar.

Morningstar had no voice in what we thought or did, our minds were free to roam the universe. There was no person or idea being pounded into our minds. The youth there, they were free to be. I can see some concern. Morningstar was more like your parents saying, “I’ll be gone for a month, you and your friends do what you like." type of commune. Whatever was done was done because someone wanted to do

it. Nothing could control the minds of the people of Morningstar. Their minds and bodies were not confined by the boundaries of the ranch.

****

I guess by baking the dishes she cleansed her home from disease. I never realized at the time what she was doing. I knew that she was clean, very clean, so this came as no surprise.

Daily Being

 Because of the space we are at we are our note to society. Each of us has a tool we work with and as a whole we do as we do and that is a history of who we are. Whatever we do or write, our history is placed in our space. We are logging our footsteps. We are sometimes colorful and sometimes bland but the tools we use every day is our stamp of who we are.

Yes is it amazing and profound and yes it beyond our comprehension or understanding and yet it is happening. Our lives and what we place in our stepping stones is logged into the world of data.

How Close to Peace am I?

 I have lived on this planet for 84 years.

***
24/7
In our small town in our peaceful small community, I can turn on the news on my flat screen and watch the mad men on the planet Earth blow up and leave towns and tunnels in ruin. Or I can sit in my small space and live in peace.
Our small community has a view on our small screen of violence on planet Earth.
I have a small vote in what happens, but it is very minimal. A vast distance can become very close with the proper trajectory and coordinates.
Which madmen do you follow or listen to? Do you have a small bowl of popcorn or dip nearby.
***
How close to peace am I?

Pablo Said Do Good

 My Father, I think did something bad and his father (Pablo Diaz) said he needed to do something good.

My father while at work after the WWII met a woman where he worked, who was German. German men were having a terrible time finding work. My grandfather told his son to do good or go to hell. So, when my father met this woman, they talked and he knew he could help her. He met her husband and they all decided that their family could do better if he married her. She and her husband divorced and my father with his Mexican surname took over the job of raising that family.

The children did not need to suffer because of the war.

I had one clue as to what happened. Their father picked up my sister and I after this photo (Gene and I) to go live with them.

Me at your left, Gene Cardenaz at right. My dad's Father Pablo Diaz at the Mission San Gabriel in doorway. This photo of Pablo was at the Mission San Gabriel History room.

Green Planet and Being

 

Johnny Appleseed and Casanova are similar beings. Our world is full of Latin Lovers. Seeds are laid into the planet Earth and I am no exception. Known or unknown we thrive and we grow. Green or tan we flower and bloom.

Self Portrait

 

Rumors On Fathers Day

 My stepsister Diane told me that my father told my stepmother that she could be buried under a tree, and no one would ever know it. My stepmother divorced my father, and she remarried and lived a long, good life.

My father told a family member in Berea, Kentucky that you could bury a person under a tree and know one would ever know.  It was not a serious talk it was just a conversation.

A family member living near or in San Gabriel, California told me that there was a rumor that a woman was buried under a tree in San Gabriel, California.

I do not think my father was not capable of doing anything like that, rage and murder yes, but hiding a body under a tree that would not be found, no.

My grandfather Pablo yes, he was capable of something like that and as a responsible father and leader of a large family, he rode with Francisco "Pancho" Villa then moved to San Gabriel and got a job working for Henry E. Huntington at his home in San Marino, California. Now known as the Huntington Library  and Gardens. My Grandfather was an excellent gardener.

I wrote the Huntington Library and asked them if they knew of my grandfather and one man wrote me back and they said my grandfather had a type A personality and they let him do as he pleased in the gardens.

My grandfather sometimes worked at night planting trees at the Huntington Library Gardens, and he hired his crews which was sometimes his sons.

My grandfather also worked at the Mission San Gabriel as a gardener.

Both Gardens are beautiful.

 

 

 

Guardian Angels

 

I do not know why it happens but some people at 16 years old become Guardian Angels. The world never knows why it happens and those human beings never know why it happens. Yes they make it happen and what happens becomes fact and know one knows why or ever remembers what happened.

What happens is whatever happens in front of a Guardian Angel they go back one day in time and whatever happened the next day does not happen and know one ever knows the change.

Not everyone on the planet is a Guardian Angel and I really do not know why that is so. I just know that it happens that way in life.

The Guardian Angels are not here to say what they did or remember what they did, they just go back and life changes for the good the next day.

We are not here to understand as to why that is so?

Muse by Tomas

Thomas Jesus Diaz Married Rebecca Arellanes Then Lied

Rebecca Marriage 7 Nov 1940 • Yuma, Arizona, USA Thomas Jesus Diaz 1919–1997 1 source Explore 1941Age19 Birth of son Thomas Dennis Diaz (1941–) 24 AUG 1941 • Los Angeles, California 1941Age19 Select fact Residence 1941 • Pasadena; San Marino, California, USA 1 source 1942Age20 Birth of daughter Margo Sandra Diaz (1942–1943) 22 Jun 1942 • California 1943Age21 Death of daughter Margo Sandra Diaz (1942–1943) 15 May 1943 • Los Angeles, California 1944Age22 Birth of daughter Margo Sandra Diaz (1944–) 24 SEP 1944 • Los Angeles, CA

Source citation for U.S. World War II Army Enlistment Records, 1938-1946 Ancestry recordCitation detailsAssociated factsMedia U.S. World War II Army Enlistment Records, 1938-1946 View record Listen and explore Record details Name Thomas Diaz Race White Marital Status Divorced, without dependents (Divorced) Rank Private Birth Year 1919 Nativity State or Country Mexico Citizenship Not Yet a Citizen Residence Los Angeles, California Education 4 years of high school Civil Occupation Semiskilled chauffeurs and drivers, bus, taxi, truck, and tractor Enlistment Date 5 Mar 1943 Enlistment Place Los Angeles, California Service Number 39287125 Branch No branch assignment Component Selectees (Enlisted Men) Source Civil Life Height 88 Weight 079

 

 In July 1945, My mother brought my sister and I  to the Aurelia Arellanes home, her parents home.

She said she was going to look at furniture at a store in San Gabriel, she then disappeared and never came back.
Rafael Arellanes hired a detective to look for her, but there was no trace.
Dennis Diaz was almost 4 years old and Sandy Diaz was less than 1 year old.
Per Betty and Daniel Arellanes. Dianiel was my mother's brother.

**

All the time my dad was in the military, Rebecca got no help from my dad.

Todays Diploymacy

I will bomb you to get peace is Donald Trump’s Diploymacy.

Putin’s Diplomacy plan is similar, “I will continue to bomb you until you (Ukraine) give in.”

Iran’s Diplomacy is that we will derail your trains in the United States and bomb your oil tanks with our underground soldiers.

**

Israel is fighting Iran's underground Armies and not giving up because of political pressure. The propaganda is shaping the minds of America's youth.

Changing Your Mind at 84 Years Old

 The society we live in is fast paced. So I have found it necessary to change my mind from time to time. When does this happen? Well I move right to the bathroom. In the lower left hand drawer is where my extra minds are stored.

When I worked at the Dams, my mind was filled with water tables, rainfalls, three day predictions, "Yes sir, can we help you?", and other factors that let the river flow free.
My home mind, cleans up around the house, talks to cats, pleases or not pleases Laurel, watches the latest ball games, etc.
My space mind wanders around the house looking at fish tanks, doorknobs, empty bowls, sunrises and sunsets. This last mind is by far the most pleasurable, since pleasure finds its way to the most discreet areas of my body just by laughing and thinking good thoughts.

Golden Comfort

 What Happened to Quality?

What Happened to Quality?
We bought this T- shirt in the Paducah Kentucky Sears store in the 1970's. I outgrew it and put it away.
I wore 5 of these T-shirts for ten years and as I said I outgrew them. Sears quit selling them because they never wore out. They are no holes in them but they are faded a light gray. The labels are almost washed away.
I think their brand name was "Golden Comfort".

Here is a photo of me wearing one of the T-Shirts at Lock and Dam #50 on the Ohio River.

Motor Mouth

 

For 21 years I rarely talked at all and now at 84 I talk too much and they laugh. My brain is corrupt and I should just keep quiet but how?

What should I do with all this nonsense coming out of my mouth?

**

So sad my mother left and I was a constant reminder of my mother and my father beat me and his dad laughed. My brain is gone it is full of my life on planet earth. I am at a space. I take up space. The world is around me. I see in color, I feel the pleasure and pain. I used to work but my body says no more work just listen and watch. I talk a lot but the world wants me to be quiet but I cannot stop without effort. Maybe I should go back to where I was at 21.

**

Most children are hugged by their mother. My memory of my mother was her giving me a bath in a double deep sink behind a home in San Gabriel. I called my aunt and told her about my memory of my mother and she said it was her giving me a bath and not my mother. So there is no memory of my mother, no hug or love from my mother.

So sad.

And now they want me to be quiet. Out of sight out of mind.

**

I do love coffee, honey and cream

 

Annoying Program

 Something I learned about some online programs that automatically load and annoy you as they dominate your computer. As long as you have the Internet these programs just load when your computer comes on. What do I do about their abusive dominate behavior? I thought about how do you remove these programs as there is no way to do so?

My solution was to remove the online plug into the computer. I started my computer and my windows opened up and the program could not load (no Internet). So I knew what the program was and I uninstalled it and made sure that every portion of the program was removed.

I plugged the Internet plug back into my computer and restarted my computer.  No more dominate program, just a normal window with Internet if I wanted to go there.

Where to go

 I stopped moving around the planet. I sit and see, you know like the old man on the bench. I have seen enough to know that work is no longer an issue and the young know nothing but the touch screen.

I was thinking that I have a lot of thoughts on disks. Just repeating the language, I learned as a child. As I grew older more thought were placed before these eyes and ears.

I see on TV this fat blonde fart steal our money and no one cares. People believe his lies as he waves the flag he does not believe in. He is the ultimate preacher that shines his gold in his lair of sprinkling stars.

Heaven Help Us

 If I can wait the money can come my way and put a shine on my clear clean bath.

I ask my body to repair what you can. I sit and rest and my body does what it can. I have faith in the Almighty God and the blessings of my knowledge.

In Iran the old men ask the mothers of the young to give up their son for a place in heaven and the young virgins waiting for them there. So, the mothers give up their sons and send them to battle and sacrifice.

The old men are proud of what they do but are not in harm’s way.

If they can wait the money can come their way and put a shine on their clear clean bath.

If I can wait the money can come my way and put a shine on my clear clean bath.

Whos Who

 

Russia is attacking Europe via Ukraine. Iran is attacking the United States, Israel and the oil countries tied to the United States. Russia is helping Iran attack the United States.

Propaganda is saying that Israel and the United States are wrong. Irans military is under Lebanon.

The United States

 Today we have fascism in the United States. Donald Trump is a Fascist. It is his way or no way. Vote against him and you are out. Putin has a different way, vote against him and you are dead.

 In 1930 Italy was a totalitarian, ultra-nationalist political Fascist movement founded by Benito Mussolini in 1919. Rooted in the desire to revive the glory of the Roman Empire.

in Southern California

 In the 1948-52 world I grew up in smudges on walls and signs of wax in the corners were not allowed. Stainless steel was stainless and wood on furniture was polished and dustless, beds were made as you got up. Your clothes were ironed and creased. Dust was not allowed. Windows were polished and the dry cleaners delivered clean work clothing every day as fresh milk and bread were walked to your doorway. The green grass was razer cut between the cement and the lawn.

At the Mission San Gabriel it was the same.

At work it was the same.

Our Military was the same.

And there was smog because the machines were running full blast and the mountains did not allow the smog to go away.

Bombs are Falling

 Today the young adults are crying for peace.

The young adults are crying for help. Their Godly leaders are telling them to kill Christians and Jews promising them a place in heaven if they do as their leader says.

Where did the world go wrong. Where are the children with flowers in their hair.

Why are the leaders of the elderly asking for their money to fund the bombing of the planet.

Where in the world did go wrong?

Nobody listened to my plea for peace. As a child I cried because the world was wrong. I found the peace of mind and the others never listened.

Today the Young adults are crying for peace.