Category: 75th Birthday

To My Parents

I was fortunate to find a job in San Diego after my stint in the navy.

San Diego is a city I love. A love affair formed from childhood memories of summer trips to the ocean. I live blocks from the old icehouse. It was always our first stop in San Diego to refill the ice chests after crossing the desert. The icehouse was just very recently demolished and hadn’t been used in some time. When my kids were growing up I would take them camping at the same beaches we used to go to, San Elijo, Cardiff and Silver Strand. When we go for drives in the county we often stop at the same Frosty Burger in Pine Valley; the very same Frosty Burger we would sometimes stop at before dropping back into the desert for the trip home. I’m sure you remember it, it is across the street from the county park in Pine Valley, where we would unpack ourselves from the cramped car and stretch our legs.

San Diego is changing. Like I say, the icehouse is now gone, Pine Valley is nearly a city in itself, the beaches are nearly impossible to get into but my memories are forever.

Thanks mom & dad
Love you,
James

To My Parents

I arrived in August of a particularly steamy summer. I was the fifth child born to a young Manny and Josie Herrera. Two girls and two boys had previously made their appearances into the rapidly growing family.

As an infant, I had a rather unique mode of transportation. I would scoot around on my bottom because I decided crawling was simply far too difficult on the knees. And, because I moved so infrequently, mom would often resort to pulling me in a wheelbarrow. I have a distinct memory of watching her hang the clothes out to dry while I sat in my trusty wheelbarrow eating an orange.

I also remember spending the better part of my days sitting quietly in my crib waiting for someone to help me out of it. I was so fascinated when my younger sister (who was four years younger than I) began to maneuver over the bars of her crib, while I remained seated in mine. I suppose that is why I have such a compulsion to keep myself moving now; I stayed still long enough.

When our family was finally completed, there were four girls in one bedroom, three boys in the second bedroom, and mom and dad in the last bedroom. Somehow, the arrangement didn’t seem fair to me. So, I took it upon myself to even things up. Three to a bedroom sounded like a better deal, so every now and then I would slip into bed with mom and dad. Now that I think about it… it was probably the same year they started locking their bedroom door. I wonder if there’s any connection.

I think my favorite of all family traditions growing up was when we would pile into the car and go to the mountains for a month at a time. Mom would make us clean the house from top to bottom and dad would set off a bug bomb before we left – that was a routine procedure. Then, we would head for the White Mountains where it was cool and beautiful. Talk about family bonding … nine of us compiled snugly in the white station wagon. Mom and Dad in the front seat, Marty, Manny, and David in the middle, and the little ones (Yoli, Beka, Sheila, and James) in the back.

Dad learned how to drive with a trailer quite proficiently and we all learned a new vocabulary by the end of that first summer. Mom, however, said that we were never allowed to use those newly acquired words.

I remember singing “500 miles” all the way up and I thought someone was going to go insane before the trip was over. No names are necessary. I think we can all guess who it was.

When we would finally get to the mountains, the first thing we would do is stretch, and then, we would “police” the area and clean our new home. We would pick up litter left by previous campers, and move every rock in the area to make way for our tent. After sleeping on the tent floor a few days, we understood why it was so important for every rock to be moved.

For a month, we would be surrounded by nothing but nature; it was beautiful. Fishing, playing in the creek, hiking, pine cone fights, playing cards on rainy days, board games, and telling stories around the campfire at night… that was scary because, after the stories, we would have to make our last venture to the outhouse in the dark. We only had one flashlight – between us and had to walk very closely together to monitor the behaviors of any wild animals that might be roaming around us.

Mom would make us bathe once a week – the nerve – so we could go into Show Low and find a church on Sundays. She wasn’t raising heathens, you know.

Luther Standing Bear once said, “Out of the Indian approach to life there came a great freedom–an intense and absorbing love for nature; a respect for life; enriching faith in a Supreme Power; and principles of truth, honesty, generosity, equity, and brotherhood as a guide to mundane relations.”

I thank my parents for teaching me to value each of these things… And, for much, much more.

I love you both eternally,
Beki (your favorite daughter) 

To My Parents

My name is David Anthony and I have a son with the same name.

I was born with blonde hair, hazel eyes, and a very long lazy tongue. I was put in speech therapy in the early years to learn to speak like everybody else in the household. My parents spent a lot of money on therapy and I know they sacrificed in order to make this happen.

I also was born with a foot problem. I was once called “Wandering Foot”, 1 would wander from any campsite at any given moment to explore what nature had to offer.

My brother Manny and I were self-sufficient young entrepreneurs. Once while in Oxnard, California on a family vacation spending time with our “California cousins”, we were exploring the neighborhood when we were accosted by the bullies of that area. I ran back to our uncle’s house, I grabbed a knife to protect my brother and was stopped by Uncle Noni when he saw what I was doing. By the time we had arrived my brother had taken a very horrible beating. At the time of this incident, my father had been trying to back up the trailer in a very small place and had to physically push the trailer by hand by himself and threw his back out. He could not move the rest of the trip. I saw my brother and father both in pain that hurt me tremendously. Manny and I became very close brothers that day.

Soon after that, it was time to go to war. I went to Vietnam and flew many missions as a co-pilot in order to keep any more brothers from being infected by the disease of this “police action”. I served so the others wouldn’t have to.

While in Vietnam I learned to make jewelry just like my grandfather. When I got out of the service 1 was employed by the Postal Service just like my dad. Later I fulfilled a childhood dream and became a Police Officer.

I regret not getting to know our younger siblings better, however, I take pride in knowing that all the Herrera men served their country.

I thank you mom and dad for always being there for me.

David

To My Parents

I have sung the song, The Six Little Ducks, to my grandchildren and quite often added a seventh duck to remind me of my childhood. Seven little ducks that I once knew, off to the river they did go, the first little duck said…

I am the firstborn of the seven Herrera children. The first one is usually the “wave-breaker”. Yes, I remember quite vividly the responsibilities that come with being the first-born. I do remember being somewhat of a “challenger” and somewhat manipulative in my high school years. All of those experiences have made me the person I am today. The memories I have throughout my childhood and teen years have provided me the strength to be a daughter, sister, friend, mother, grandmother, and a partner in a long marriage.

I thank you Mother and Father for the example of partnership. I celebrate your birth, and your marriage today and each day for as long as the Lord gives us. Both of you have shown each one of us, endurance, patience, respect, and love. Thank you for those gifts.

I remember so well the evening I talked back while I was washing dishes. Mom and I had been “discussing” why I should be allowed to do more things now that I was getting older. She spotted a fork that I had just washed and it had a missed spot and threw it back in the sink, I picked it up and washed it and said, “there ! is that better!”. Mom said, “just for that, you will wash all the glasses in the cabinet”, dummy me, talked back again …. so I had to wash all the collector’s glasses up on the highest shelves. I must have washed glasses and dishes for 3 hours. Respect was the lesson, but secretly I just know Mom needed all those dust collector plates and glasses washed.

Thank you for the vacations. The month-long trips of exploring and discovery. With seven children, I realize now, what a sacrifice that was for you both. Some of my favorite memories are the summer weeks on the beach. Camping out in Doheny Beach, Carpenteria Beach, and others. I was a young teen and the “Beach Movies” had become very popular. I fantasized about meeting Frankie Avalon. Meeting other teens and coming back to share with my friends who hadn’t been to the beach. I felt so “lucky” to walk in the sand, to visit the Missions, to be in California.

I thank you for planting the seed of respecting nature and the beauty of the mountains. For teaching me how to fish, use a gun and bow, to sew, to camp. Also, the trips to the desert after a rain, just to smell the desert.

You, Dad, never hesitated to seek out new opportunities for us. With your 3 jobs to keep us in private school, you realized we probably would not be traveling by plane anytime soon. You managed to get us on a “free” flight on the Lufthansa Airliner when they were training here in Tucson. I remember, the pilot telling us we were flying over the Grand Canyon and when we crossed into New Mexico.

You, Mom, encouraged our imagination. Allowing us to put on plays in the backyard, to sing like Peter, Paul, and Mary, and making us “Davy Crockett” hats. Saving old white sheets, so we could make and paint our flags.

What child would not want the opportunity to conquer a mountain? You both provided each one of us that opportunity. While on the camping trips, we would hike up mountains and plant our “Herrera” flag at the top. I have been able to conquer many ‘”mountains” in my life because of lessons – learned from these camping trips.

I remember disappointments also. When I made the PomPom Squad and was not allowed to participate. It is hard to “let go” of the first child. I was angry for a long time, never really understanding until much later. Disappointments are also a lesson of character.

To my Parents

Parents of strength build relationships to keep the souls of their children in shape. Parents of strength give the best of themselves to each one of their children. Parents of strength realize life’s mistakes can also be unexpected blessings and capitalize on them with their children. Parents of strength show courage in the midst of their fears. Parents of strength have faith that it is in the journey that their children will become strong.

All my love, Marty