Soledad en masa

I have been away from the internet since yesterday. Instead of writing a post two days before Friday, I’ve decided to just post Joe Bataan’s “Mestizo” for your pleasure. It’s Friday, enjoy it a little bit more. There are some who can’t enjoy the day, no matter how bright the sun shines.

Yesterday, I read an article in the San Antonio Express-News that the Today show asked Mariachi Campanas de America not to play the mariachi’s anthem, “El són de la negra.” Here’s a bit from the article:

That popular folk song, whose title translates to “The Song of the Black Woman,” was the renowned mariachis’ first choice for their performance Wednesday on the “Today” show. But the show’s producers asked Campanas de America not to sing it when “Today” broadcasts from the Arneson River Theater next week.

“It’s the mariachi national anthem,” said Belle Ortiz, manager of Campanas de America. “We always play ‘El Son de La Negra.’ Everybody plays it.”

The reason for rejecting it? “Because they didn’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings because of the name of the song,” Ortiz said.

A show spokeswoman said this was not a case of political correctness.

“The song ‘El Son de La Negra’ was by no means deemed too controversial for ‘Today,’” publicist Megan Kopf said via e-mail.

“We always consider several song choices for our musical performance segments on the ‘Today’ show. For this particular segment, we decided to go with a song selection that is both appropriate for our wide-ranging ‘Today’ show audience and that also keeps with mariachi tradition.”

This is clearly the Today show worrying too much about offending a group of people over a song that is not offensive at all. I don’t but the Today’s show explanation at all. If I were put in the position Campanas was put in, I would rather lose the work than not be allowed to play this song. “La negra” is an essential part of the mariachi repertoire and is universally recognized. It is synonymous with mariachis and México.

Another aspect of this situation is the actual meaning of “La negra.” The most commonly accepted meaning is that the song is about a woman, “La negra”, the black one. This analysis hinges on the lyrics “Negrita de mis pesares/ojos de papel volando” (“Black one of my sorrows/eyes of paper flying). Those verses don’t make any sense. The proper lyrics (which fell out of fashion, for some reason) are “Negrita de mis pesares/hojas de papel volando” (Black one of my sorrows/Sheets of paper flying).

A few weeks back, this very topic was discussed over at El Mariachi.com. There is no definite interpretation of “La negra” because the song is from the mid-to-late 1800s. The meaning that I prefer is that “la negra” refers to a train. The beginning of the song is that of a train picking up steam and the train is “la negrita de mis pesares,” which brings sorrow to the author because his love has not come on the train. As the train passes, the wind picks up sheets of paper.

Other parts of the songs don’t fit well into this intepretation, but that is probably because of the time that has passed since the song was first written. Everyone interprets the song differently, but interpreting the song as inappropriate because its “kind of saucy” is insincere, considering the airplay that other, more objectifying, songs receive from T.V. shows.

I have a lot of respect for musicians who record songs music from a different culture because of a genuine interest and love of the music. While sometimes the effort comes off as hokey, most of the time the final product is very well done and it’s an example of cross-cultural admiration. There are cases where this cross-cultural admiration is not done properly, goes to lawsuits, and the original composer is screwed over. “(I Did It) My Way” is translated from a French song and later was translated to the Spanish, maintaining its message and sounding great, whether it’s Chente with a mariachi or Sinatra with a band.

I can’t remember if the following is true or imagined, but years ago, I heard a Spanish-language version of “That’s Amore.” I think it was José Alfredo Jiménez with a mariachi. I’m still trying to find it, but I have not succeeded. I hope it’s not a figment of my imagination.

Earlier today, I came across a George Strait recording of José Alfredo’s “El Rey”. I love it. I am a fan of country music, especially recordings that don’t sound over-produced or glossy. I’m happy Strait arranged their version closely to the traditional arrangement. In an interview, Strait talks about his adoration for mariachi music:

I admire country music and its musicians because its true artists acknowledge the shared musical roots of the U.S.A. & México. It’s Anzaldúa’s cultural borderlands, the melding of different musical traditions. It’s not something that I have not seen a lot of in California’s musical history. I don’t understand why it was more prevalent in the Southwest and not in California. I have gone on for too long. There will be more on these topics at other times.

This is part II of yesterday’s post.

Word had spread that my uncle’s health had deteriorated and a stream of distant family members, friends, & acquaintances were visiting my uncle while my aunt (who used her visa to stay in the Bay Area with him), uncles, grandfather, & (sometimes) dad kept my uncle company. My dad last saw my uncle about a week-and-a-half before my uncle died. It was clear that he would die soon and everyone allowed my dad time alone with my uncle. My uncle was the child before my father, with only two years between them.

On March 2, around 10:30 am, my mom called my cell phone and left a message. I was in class with terrible cell phone reception. The missed call and message did not show up on my phone until around noon, before I had lunch. It was one of those winter days that I really like: cold, with no clouds, only a bright sun warming people. I had already developed a resistance to cold weather and enjoyed walking because the opposing sensations of warm sun & clothes and cold air felt great. Before I walked in to have lunch, I felt my phone vibrate and listened to my mom telling me my uncle had died that morning.

I wasn’t shocked by the news; I knew the day would arrive. We were prepared for this death, but I didn’t know what to feel about his death. My uncle and I were never close and I did not know how I should conduct myself. My family has always held that when someone close is near death or has died, no music should be played. That week, for the first time, I decided not to go to a mariachi performance. I felt that though I was unable to attend the memorial service with my family, not performing would be my way of honoring my uncle. The next time I am in the Bay Area, I want to visit his grave, as a goodbye.

A few days ago, I was looking through old photo albums, trying to find pictures to scan. I came across a series of photos taken a few weeks after my birth. In them, my now-deceased uncle is holding me, smiling.

This is my 200th post.

The title of this post comes from a scene from the film Macario. In the above clip, it starts at 2:21.

I’ve thought a lot about death in the past few weeks. I know this isn’t the kind of thing that I should publish or mention so publicly, but I’m not about to practice so much self-censorship.

I’ve never dealt with death directly in my life. No one in my immediate family has died in my lifetime. My paternal grandmother, maternal grandfather, & a maternal uncle died before I was born. I wish I had met them, if only to know how they were and how we would have interacted. My maternal grandfather, Jesús, died a few months after my month’s birth and my maternal uncle, Benjamín, died in the mid-1970s in San Leandro. My paternal grandmother died in 1986, a few months after my parents immigrated to the United States.

The only death in the close family in my lifetime was that of one of my paternal uncles, who died in March. I was not able to attend his funeral, as I was at Harvard and didn’t have the money to travel to San Francisco & back for a half-week. I was in the Bay Area last weekend, but we didn’t visit his grave. I wish we had because I was unable to be there for his burial. The last time I saw him was on New Year’s Day, when my dad & I visited the Bay Area and stayed with him for a number of hours. His health had deteriorated in the last decade, more so after a car accident in L.A. put him in a coma for a few days.

After we returned to L.A. and I was back at Harvard, it was hard for me to get my uncle’s health out of my head. Each day, it was more and more obvious that his candle neared extinguishment. My dad began to go to the Bay Area more often. In February, I think he was in the Bay Area every other weekend. My dad would leave Los Angeles Friday night by Greyhound, be picked up by one of uncles, go to the hospital to see my uncle, and be on a Greyhound bus back to L.A. Saturday night.

Part II tomorrow.

So much for the writing exercises. I’m taking a break from writing. Might be back next week, but definitely will be back in August.

This post was originally published in English on April 11, 2008, to observe the tenth anniversary of the death of Saúl Viera, “El gavilancillo.” Since then, it has become the most read post at Soledad en masa. I’ve received a number of comments in Spanish and I thought it was worthwhile to translate it to Spanish.

Este artículo fue originalmente publicado en inglés el once de abril del 2008 en observación del décimo aniversario de la muerte de Saúl Viera, «El gavilancillo». Desde aquel día, se ha convertido en el artículo más leído en Soledad en masa. He recibido un número de comentarios sobre el artículo en español y pienso que lo correcto es traducirlo al español.

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Hoy, once de abril de 2008, es el décimo aniversario de la muerte de uno de los cantantes más famosos de Los Ángeles, Saúl Viera. Fue asesinado en el estacionamiento de un restaurante Denny’s en Bellflower, CA, por un individuo desconocido. Su novia, que estaba al lado del Gavilancillo, no fue lastimada.

Chalino murió en 1992, Saúl en 1998… Ambos se convirtieron en «inmortales» de la Qué Buena, la radiodifusora que más toca sus canciones en L.A. Hoy día, uno todavía puede escuchar sus canciones en la Qué Buena. Ve a Huntington Park, South Gate, Bell, o cualquier otra ciudad en los alrededores y es seguro que escucharás por lo menos un automóvil tocando su música a alto volumen.

Antes de leer más, visita esta página de MySpace y escucha el corrido «Los 3 compitas de L.A.» mientras lees el resto del artículo. La canción debería ser titulada «Los 3 compitas de South Gate» ya que South Gate es la única ciudad nombrada en el corrido, pero solo digo eso porque soy de South Gate.

La música de Saúl Viera forma parte de la música de Los Ángeles al igual que la música de Toddy Tee y Los Lobos, música creada por individuos que no son parte de la cultura americana principal. Cuando lograron el éxito, la cultura principal (o mainstream) no les presto mucha atención. La cultura principal no notó que Chalino o Saúl llenaban el Parral o el Farallón o vendían cassettes en las pulgas como pan caliente. Para aquellos en los márgenes de la sociedad de Los Ángeles, eran los mejores, los más taquilleros, lo máximo. Read the rest of this entry »

Unfinished portion of Chavez Park, Phase II, taken Sep. 2008

For as long as I can remember, South Gate has had a bike path along Southern Ave. It begins near Alameda, passes South Gate Park and reaches the Los Angeles River bike path via an entrance at Tweedy & Burtis, at the edge of abandoned industrial lots. As you can tell by the pictures, the bike path runs under the DWP’s transmission towers and often intersects residential streets far from the corner, creating a hazard whenever bicyclist and driver fail to look for oncoming travelers. LACMTA classifies it as a Class I bike path [pdf] until it reaches South Gate Park, at which point there are bike lanes on both sides of Southern.

View Larger Map

That being said, I still cyclists riding on the sidewalk on the other side of the street or bicyclists on the street itself, though the bike path is just across the street. What gets into people’s heads to ride so unsafely when they have the option the ride safely, separate from cars, across the three-lane street? It’s bothered me every time I’ve seen it, both as a pedestrian and a driver. I’m not disturbed that asshole cyclists shut down the street (they don’t), it’s that riders do not take advantage of the opportunity to ride safely. Children’s races along the bike path are a welcome common sight, but I’d like to see more of the cyclists going in South Gate on the bike path. More (including images) after the jump. Read the rest of this entry »

With my return from Harvard, I decided that it was a good time for me to sell many of my books online. At the same time, my older brother came to the same conclusion, but found himself without the time to sell and ship books himself. I am our bookseller. Right now, we’re selling around sixty books and might put more on sale later, once I’ve read some of them or he decides to part ways with more books. Before returning, I sold some books to used bookstores in Cambridge and I was able to sell only three books for very measly prices. I checked the prices of those books on Amazon a few weeks back. I lost out on over forty dollars profit because I was shortsighted.

Selling books online has become my source of income in the past month. They’ve been on Amazon for two weeks and three books have already sold. I’ve had good luck with my deliveries. So far, no packages of mine have been lost or delayed by the USPS. I did some research and found that all my packages leave Los Angeles through the Los Angeles Bulk Mail Center (BMC) in Bell. Further research led to discovering the L.A. BMC’s bad reputation for delaying packages, sending packages the wrong direction, and losing them completely. I worry about lost packages because I don’t want to lose any single cent of the profit. Book selling is a minimal source of income right now and pretty fun. I enjoy the walks to and from the post office. It’s a very good and relaxing exercise.

With each order placed, I’ve checked out where the book is headed (It’s my own way to see if it’s going to be in good hands). The books have gone far in the U.S.: lower Louisiana, North Carolina, and my latest shipment is headed towards some office park in rural southern Ohio. The most recent book is Chicana Falsa. I was apprehensive about selling the books online because of the security risks involved with my accounts, but it was a risk I willingly took.

NOTE: As expected, my stats have increased since Monday. This is sweet. I’m now averaging fifty visits each day.

When I left Harvard a few months back, I cut off all communication with Harvard and most students. The day I arrived home, I deactivated my Facebook page, which may not seem like a lot, considering that I still used my email address and phone, but it allowed me to swiftly cut communication. Without this public display of information, I was able to completely control what others knew about me because others had to make an effort to answer an email or contact me keep contact.

I deactivated my page for two reasons:

1. I did not want to know what everyone back at college was doing until the end of the academic year. I felt more comfortable hearing from others once the academic year was over.
2. I did not want others to see the following kind of comment: “Where are you? I heard you had to leave. I hope everything is fine with you.” Those comments give the impression that something went wrong, which was not the case.

My disconnection stemmed from a desire to remain private. I don’t like people probing too much and I wanted to prevent that by disappearing for a period of time.

I kept my separation from college-related people until early April, when I lost the desire to remain private and reactivated my Facebook page. There was a minimal increase in contact with people from college, but I enjoyed talking with them again, albeit online. It took four months after leaving to finally let most people on my friend list to freely & publicly contact me. Most of them had my email address. It was up to them to email me if they wanted to contact me.

I don’t know when I’ll be willing to completely reconnect with people from college. The Internet and online connections are no replacement for personal contact. Since a sizable number of people I knew were from California or would travel to California to visit mutual friends, I anticipate there will someday be a reunion/party and I will be invited. I’ll attend only if I am willing to take that leap and completely reconnect.