Now, We are Charlie

Murder is hardly something new here or anywhere and for all of human history. However, what we all witnessed in the death of Charlie Kirk was not only evil in our time, but it is actually the natural outgrowth of a vile obsession against traditional American values, most specifically, but not limited to - freedom of speech.

In December of 2021, I worked in a restaurant in Washington, D.C. and was serving a very high-profile individual in the Democratic Party with her team in a private dining room celebrating their holiday gathering. At one point later in the meal, she posed the question to them all - which initially seemed aspirational and positive, "what is your hope for 2022?" They went around the room with responses of personal growth and such until it came to one woman who spoke hesitantly, at first, but with sincere conviction, "I really hope... something terrible happens to Donald Trump."

That seems like so long ago, yet this "hope" has not only abided, but metastasized among those who, not only believe counter to words and policies of our current president but are more broadly pursuing anti-Americanism and a left-wing secular dismissal of the indispensable nature of Biblical values for us as a people.

Charlie Kirk devoted his professional life to open debate. He toured campuses and invited opposing points of view. He used facts, statistics, and rational thought to make his points and was gracious with so many who tried to challenge him. If you listen to Charlie in his speeches or at length at any of his college tours, it is obvious that he was: a devout and humble Christian, someone who loved America and our founding principles, fair in listening to and reasoning with opposing points of view, compassionate in his discourse with people who were struggling for truth, earnest in the elevation of people regardless of skin color, and well-prepared to argue points with evidence rather than ideology or talking points.

On September 10th, America lost that in the extinguishing of that man's Earthly life, and it was immediately obvious to those who knew him - even via watching him online - that he was assassinated out of hate with the goal of silencing and ending him. As evidence has come to light in this first week in the aftermath, the obvious has become more certain. I have been flabbergasted to learn it has become widespread by Charlie's detractors that the killer has conclusively been labeled (and argued) to be a product of and adherent to American right-wing political philosophy. No reasonable person who knows Charlie Kirk would honestly posit such ignorant nonsense; hence, there are clearly malevolent forces working diligently on the internet to paint him as the "fascist" - a word many pretend to comprehend while throwing about capriciously - they all should desire to excoriate.

Incidentally, those who seek to double-speak virtue signal on social media that "political violence is never acceptable, BUT..." are in effect giving permission/exception to that very violence. They are essentially saying that it shouldn't happen, but he deserved it. This is very telling.

A lot of us are typically quiet. And when I say "us," that could mean Christians, conservatives, or just reasonable good humans. A lot of us are quiet, because we know that many of our fellow countrymen hate people like Charlie. They hated him for believing all children deserve a loving and married mother and father in the home. They hated him for believing America has been and should be a great country. They hated him for seeking to protect children from those who would pervert their minds to believe they could/should change their sex. They hated him for calling BS on their race-baiting and promoting a merit-based society in which all Americans can achieve. They hated him for saying that we own this country and should enforce laws that outline a proper way of immigrating here. They hated him for seeking Christian values in his life and for not eschewing their fundamental importance to our founding. They hate and misunderstand concepts such as capitalism and fascism and routinely use them disingenuously. As of last week, we now know many of our fellow Americans would either gleefully or nonchalantly excuse or celebrate the murder of someone like Charlie with a list of quotes out of context that they found on social media. We now know they hate us too.

Yet, take note, God willing, we still will use our voices over violence and continue where Charlie left off. May he rest in peace, and may our country be delivered from the evil that seeks our division and destruction.

Now, we are Charlie.

Dear Padres and Padres Fans,

 

"Don't let the ball hit you. Catch it or get out of the way. And if you get out of the way, that's when you have to stop playing."  - Manny Machado

Surely, it takes a unique level of fortitude to be a Major League Baseball player, and there is a limited window of time in which any man can stand on that stage, no matter how talented or accomplished. One hundred sixty-two games in a regular season with little time off, traveling every week, always trying to show up to work and give your best... could we fans do it?

The San Diego Padres famously started this season with a bang, winning their first seven games and going nearly three weeks before fans at home saw a loss at Petco Park. We, the Friar Faithful, were ecstatic, yet guarded in our optimism. In years past I would boldly type in my friends' group text chat, "World Series Bound!" believing that one year I would be seen as prophetic. Yet, this year, I haven't dared, and at times, it seemed almost logical to believe we'd be playing well into October. By the trade deadline, we had acquired some talent in a move some thought was overly bold and short-sighted, but we certainly bulked up an already good team. Late August, we witnessed our Padres outscore our division rivals, Giants and Dodgers, 33-20 at home to win both series.

It is now September. We were supposed to have "the easiest remaining schedule in all of baseball," yet the Padres have been turning in one performance after another that can generously be described as lackluster. The fans are not happy.

Of course, the world of sports has no shortage of opinions from everyone from talking heads on television to random guys on the internet who haven't played since high school. We can speculate all we want, but we really don't know what the problem is. Teams are unique organisms, and championship teams need to have so much going right with all their parts to actually come out as the best in the end. As of writing this, the Padres do not look like a championship team. However, if you were to ask most of the 40,000-plus who show up to watch these guys play regularly at home, we're disappointed, but mostly because we know this team has the tools to re-engage like Maverick and win this whole damn thing.

Not to get too sportingly cliché, but this Padres fan believes that the only question is - does the team have the fortitude to live up to the hype they created in the first week of the season and be champions? Because it really doesn't matter what the rest of us think. Fans matter, but we don't decide. 

We need our stars to decide. And never look back.

Let's Go, Padres.

We Loved Lucy's

 

"Ese Perro!" 

"Ese mi doggie!" 

I would always shout out upon arrival for work, and my friend Pancho would mirror my salutation back in perfect Spanglish. 

Lucy's Restaurant in San Bernardino was my first job in the restaurant industry. In many ways, I could blame that place for a life spent forcing smiles and picking up after messy diners, but that would be like blaming a day at the beach for your sunburn.

In those days of the mid-1990s, Lucy Rodriguez' restaurant was already more than two decades old. Big Danny, her husband, was a no-nonsense cook and boss of few words, of whom I was rather scared - well, like most chefs in my life - especially after I dropped way more cups than I could safely carry right in front of him one day. He didn't have to say a word, actually; the look on his face was training enough.  

Uncle Frankie, one of Lucy's sons, was another head cook who kept us teens in check with his irascible nature. He softened with time. Or did we just grow out of our annoying teen years and haphazard ways? As fate would have it, Uncle Frankie and "Big" Grandpa Danny curbed our youthful errant proclivities at the exact right time and prepared us for a life of bosses and consequences.

I say "us," because my best friend at the time - Shaun Cunanan - and I got our busboy gigs because of our friend Manuel - Lucy's grandson. Manuel's sister Sandy was a host, although I think she mainly liked talking on the phone with her friends.

Lucy's son Danny, sister-in-law Patty, daughter-in-law Patty, and best friend Pat also worked there with us. Untold numbers of grandchildren and other family members would follow. It truly was a family business in every way imaginable. Even I felt like family... and still do.  

The aforementioned Pancho was an immigrant from Mexico, and we spent many a night after work unwinding in one of the booths listening on the restaurant sound system to Selena, mariachi bands, or whatever new CD I had purchased. We had some great conversations about anything that came to mind - from my college experience or my soccer teams to his former life in Mexico. I was lucky to have known him, and I miss popping back into the kitchen for years after working there to say hello until one day he was gone.

The regular guests were great, too, and made the work so much more interesting. We knew their food orders, their drinks, their kids' names... I knew the one girl would always reach up to steal chocolates when her grandmother was paying the bill at the cash register. Most people were rather pleasant, as I recall; they were happy with their neighborhood family restaurant that always met their expectations. Many we knew their names, and they had their regular tables. They knew their servers by name, because they had all been working there for years, if not decades.

While in college, I would go to Lucy's in the middle of the day to study. I made my freshman Public Speaking class persuasive speech in 1993 on eliminating smoking in restaurants because of my time at Lucy's, which obviously resulted in a worldwide movement. Before remodeling one year, Lucy allowed me to hang a few photographs of mine in the restaurant, and one even sold! When I wanted to introduce my (previous) girlfriend to my brother, we met at Lucy's. When I cared for my dad for a year, and he wanted Mexican food, we'd go to Lucy's. When I needed a venue for a campaign event, I made and served margaritas, and Lucy covered the bill for dinner at her restaurant.

Until recently, Lucy still was going in to the restaurant to make her famous rellenos in the morning. She was the restaurant's longest-serving worker. She loved taking care of people - her family and other families. Luckily, she taught me how to make those rellenos. So, at least that part of the restaurant can live on - and has as far away as eastern Turkey! But whom am I kidding? While no longer a North End San Bernardino fixture for ribeye carne asada, wine margaritas, and more lard than most people wanted to know about, the lives Lucy's touched are as unquantifiable as the smiles, good times, important moments and happy memories that were made possible. Most restaurants will never achieve such a feat in such a way. While California will never have a shortage of Mexican food, few will be family like Lucy's.