Category: Dad Stories

A walk a near mile in the Cold

And so I told them this morning…From near a top North Eastman Avenue to Belvedere Junior High down below is a mile long walk that I made each and every day no matter how cold the morning or how East LA hot the afternoon. I never ever once complained and I never made my parents late.

PS: The Administrative Team here at Casa Torres also serving as council to the mentioned patriarch cannot confirm the voracity of the claims the aforementioned is making. Mr. Torres has been hereby warned about his over seasoning of facts as it pertains to lecturing his offspring on cold mornings. We (the Administrative Team) apologize to any and all who may have been miffed by Mr. Torres

Stay Sweet and Not As Smelly

It saddens me a little sometimes when I do drop off and in the course of the morning circuit I have to return to the Elementary School after dropping off the older one at his campus just a few blocks away. 
Whenever I can quickly contrast the difference between the ages at each school I awe at how much these little people change in a short amount of time. The little dramas they concoct at the younger grades are more male belief than the concerns the bigger ones face that could have actual consequences. The tiny ones are still in awe of us so-called-adults whereas the pre-teens keep us at a safe distance. 
I sometimes wish they didn

Rebar to the Head

The drop of blood landed with a plop on my bathroom sink. I was in a hurry and in a careless swipe of my razor blade I nicked at an old-old scar that protrudes slightly from the lower part of my mandible on the left side of my face. I don’t usually think much of this imperfection and it has been years since I’ve touched it but in a moment of pause I rewound the clock to a warm day in Xochimilco, Mexico when I was a young boy. 
There on a plot of land I found myself not too far away from my parents playing on dirt as workers busied themselves around me, hauling bricks, making cement, drinking Coca-Colas and trying to stay away from my dad who was in no-nonsense managerial mode. Construction of our new family home was in full swing and the work crew were so motivated that they hardly noticed me wondering about the place on unsteady feet marveling at the speed and efficiency these men worked at. I tried to find a place to help. Sometimes I struggled to bring a man a shovel. Sometimes they would let me use a hammer. Mostly though I was asked to help entertain my baby sister who I resented for getting in the way of me having adventures. 
During a break in duty I saw some gravel being delivered and I wanted to play with the rocks. I stood and without reservation bolted to opposite side of the year while brushing off my moppy hair from my eyes. In my haste I failed to notice some bricks left on the ground and in a moment I was under gravity’s control. From the ground an incomplete column of bricks stood and from the corners standing straight up a reddish shoot of metal was waiting to greet me. The piece of rebar that speared me just below my mouth pierced my flesh at a sharp angle and easily moved its way into whatever cavities are designed into the human skull. Whatever shrieks I gave brought attention to me quickly and past that I do not remember much. 
Doctors called it a miracle. I call it luck. In either case, the morning’s drop of blood reminded me to stay steady on my feet and always look several yards forward as best you can.