Cooking With Gas (José & Diane)

Coming up next is the eleventh part to Diane Richardson’s “When I Met My Hubby.” But first, some food for thought.

Food is my love language. I bond with people by recommending restaurants. Often, a friend of mine will go on a trip and I'll recommend a restaurant that's there. I started giving tins of tea as presents during the pandemic, because that meant a lot to me during supply-chain disruptions. I'll cook for people I'm close to, and I'm even assembling a cookbook as a Christmas present.

Eating is an essential part of our survival, so I always appreciate stories where people show their love by cooking, saving food, or taking people to restaurants. Today's blog post has a double serving of food related love, from older buds José and Diane:

José Dominguez

05.13.2021

My Almost Frustrated Lunch Invitation

 

At the beginning of my law studies I immediately made some friends that later became an important part of my life; almost all of them were school teachers and very serious readers. Each one had a very different approach to life and our paths mingled naturally, nurtured by the school environment that gave us a common ground to share readings, discuss social issues, communicate accomplishments, publish gossips, tell jokes, etc. In the meanwhile, I was living in my aunt’s rented room paid by my parents. As you can imagine living in that way was a blessing because it gave me the opportunity to continue my studies and my life style; but in another way had its own limitations. Well life is not perfect, nothing is perfect except God, according to some believers. One imperfect thing was the scarce and elemental food that I ate. In the precise moment when the episode of this essay happened, I had been eating the same simple menu for 7 years since I was 12. My monthly allowance helped me to pay for my transportation, and virtually drinking coffee or refreshments were a luxury. Nevertheless, since my father used to work in the cinema business, I had a card that gave me and a guest green light to enter to any theater for free. Sometimes I made some extra pesos finding clients who wanted to see weekend movies paying half the entrance. The reality is that when I was invited to eat I was more than happy because it meant avoiding to have lunch or dinner as usual.
One of my friends was Alberto Saenz. We called him “Beto,” but since he was a classical music lover we ended calling him “Beethoven.” He was a super intense fellow. Nobody knew more than him about Mexican culture, Philosophy, music, art, etc. Always smiling, he lived in a world made of beautiful art images, musical notes and discussions with famous thinkers. Occasionally when I asked something to him, he didn’t clasp the question immediately and I had to repeat the interrogation since he was absent. Recognizing his lapse he begged for my pardon and asked me to excuse his tardiness to respond; it didn’t upset me. I knew he comes and goes from our world to his abstract and intense inner space. He was teaching Philosophy at the nearest high school and lived with his parents and two sisters. One day, don’t remember why, he told me: “Dominguitos (nickname meaning little Dominguez) come tomorrow to my house. I invite you to eat, can you be there at 1:00 pm?” My obvious response was: ”Of course, Beethoven count with me and my empty stomach.” Wow, for me it was a liberation to skip my routinary menu and eat something different.
The next day, I went to his house just in time. He received me joyfully as always and invited to his room. It was a big room illuminated poorly, the walls were filled with books and a lamp defined his bed with intense brightness; clearly he was previously smoking and listening music. He began to speak about the music that in that moment he was enjoying. Among other things he told me: “There’s no other like Tchaikovsky. Do you know, Dominguitos, that he is the most representative Russian composer and perhaps the most creative musical author?”
“I don’t know too much of music,” I responded, “But surely enjoy deeply a few of his creations…” He interrupted me and started explaining how the author managed to infuse the theme with the help of the orchestra. In that moment I decided it was my turn to interrupt; my mind was wandering. I had been there for one hour and there were no signs of my invitation to eat. I was worried because in a few minutes I will have to take a bus to school, so in the most friendly way that I was able to speak I asked him: “Sorry to interrupt but just want to remind you that you invited me to eat lunch at one and it’s going to be time to take the bus to school. What is in your mind?”
He incorporated himself with one jump and taking his right hand to his forehead said in a pleading manner: “Excuse me Dominguitos, I forgot about it! Oh you have to accept my excuses please! I feel very, very bad since I already ate!” Before I was able to respond anything he took by the arm and draw me in a hurry to the kitchen. “This has solution!” he said, with a mastery I didn’t know from Beto he lighted the stove, placing on it a big frying pan and oiled it. Later like a hurricane he took from the refrigerator lots of groceries and began to cut in pieces onions, tomatoes, jalapenos, ham, among other things.
“I’m going to surprise you with my favorite creation: famous ‘Beto’s egg omelette,’ just you wait!!” With the same frenzy of a director in front of an orchestra he moved his arms and body cutting, throwing, mixing, seasoning. Very soon the food aroma and my hunger expanded my gastronomical experience in such a way that those scents were more vivids that Verdi’s operas in the Scala de Milan. I devoured “Beto’s special plate” and immerse in my eating could see Beto’s face shining with satisfaction. At the end of the meal I told him: “Beto, my stomach and I are very pleased, thank you.” He saw me with a child like glance and smiling told me: “I’m glad you like it, in the future I will not forget any of my invitations … promise.”

 

We now return to our continuing story, “When I Met My Hubby” by Diane Richardson, Part 11:

Diane Richardson

05.17.2022

When I Met My Husband Part 11

So, getting back to when I first started getting to know my hubby. Thanksgiving was approaching and I didn’t have any plans. Remember I don’t work on weekends, holidays, Mondays, between Xmas and New Years and no summer months. Just when I wanted to, Pearlie Mae was having a big Thanksgiving dinner at her house. She invited me and my kids. My children declined the invitation as they are always flying around the world to concerts and hanging out on a beach at different islands. They will fly to anywhere in the world to see Beyonce in concert. One time they were in, I think Aruba on the beach and when they looked over and saw Smokey Robinson. They struck up a conversation and he told them he was going to be doing a show there at one of the hotels. They asked him could he let them have some tickets. He said if you can name three of my songs, I will get the tickets to you. Of course, they didn’t know any. They excused themselves for a restroom break and called me and asked me. I told them the title of three of his songs. They returned to him and named three songs and he left tickets at Will Call for them (four). So I declined Pearlie Mae’s invitation as I didn’t want to be around all those old people (those people were as old as I am now.) So I told Joe I would be home alone thinking about him. I asked if he wanted to come over, he said maybe for a short visit. I was disappointed, but oh well. At least I had the interest of one of Ebony Magazine’s ten most eligible bachelors in Philadelphia. I’ll continue to rope him in. So on Thanksgiving morning, he called me from his car. There were no cell phones back then. He had a phone in his Lincoln Town Car. He said come down and help me bring some things up. I wondered what it could be. I went down and saw he had several containers of food. He cooked us a complete Thanksgiving dinner. We had to make two trips up the stairs to bring in all the food he cooked for us. I was so surprised and happy. We had a very good day and night.

If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org. You can also share our older buds' adventures by donating to Best Day, subscribing to our newsletter, sending a note to our older buds, or following us on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. And if you or the older buds have any stories about students and teachers, then you or they can submit stories through our portal right here. We're especially interested to stories from Black older buds, but we're always looking for stories from older buds of color, older buds with disabilities, LGBTQIA+ older buds, older buds of any gender or sex, older buds of any religion, and older buds who just plain break the mold.

And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. If you can't be there in person, please call them, email them, or message them on social media. And if they're using teleconferencing or remote events for the first time, give them a call and help them set things up. Check in on them to see how well they're getting used to these programs. Buy them a computer or an internet package if they don't have one of their own. It's a human right, after all.

Curated by Caitlin Cieri

On Appreciating Teachers (José & Diane)

Coming up next is the tenth part to Diane Richardson's "When I Met My Hubby." But first, teachers.

A good teacher can mean the world to a person. They can inspire you to do better in life, they can literally save your life, or they can simply cheer you up after a bad day. But not all teachers are good, and not all students appreciate good teachers. Teaching is a job that involves handling rooms full of people for several hours at a time, and balancing that with the demands of their staff, school board, bosses, etc. Both of today's stories are about times when teachers don't have students like you'd see in "Dead Poet's Society."

José Dominguez

03.30.2021

About Discussing Seriously When Drinking

That summer of 1994 in the capital city of Chihuahua I was working for a GM factory. I was invited to reunite with my old law school classmates and some former professors. Several activities were organized like a visit to our old school building, a group photo, etc. all oriented to celebrate the opportunity to see us again together. After a fairly succulent dinner we move to a different room to continue our chattering; in the meanwhile, drinks were served at discretion. I was happily surprised to be among some of my dear schoolmates after so much time of absence. I was conversing with my friend José Manuel Aburto and with some others companions. I have to say that in the room there were four or five senior professors that I always remembered with respect. The theme I was discussing with José Manuel was about the purpose of education. It all started when my friend stated: “The idea in our Law studies is to know the law to serve the society.” I continue inquiring: “But most of us are not properly lawyers but businessmen, employees, bureaucrats, teachers and very few practitioners. So our studies habilitated us to be efficient interpreters and applicants of the law but not necessary seekers of justice, but highly skilled technicians willing to apply the law according to the customer interest.” José Manuel smiling told me: ”So, you are implicating that our law studies are not significantly related to our gains as professionals? Are you suggesting that our studies did not enable us to care for our society?” I answered: “I’m not the person to judge that so I can only speak for myself. I believe that I was a beneficiary of many social circumstances that gave me the advantage to study at a very high level. In that process my studies allowed me a very rich experience of life when I met all of you, my professors, etc. Yet, I have seen some higher educational systems that clearly define its purposes, for example the Tecnologico de Monterrey system is looking to educate future entrepreneurs. The Tecnologicos system are preparing vocational operators to serve mostly big corporations. But what I want to think hard is about how the future Law students can be inspired in a very different way.” José Manuel interrupted me asking: “Now that you are stating your preference for a different aim of education, please give your point, how the Law School education can improve its philosophical approach?” And I answered: “Well in general education has the aim of making the students more human. The law as Plato says has to make us better. Professors will help students by inspiring conscious actions guided by values, and moral scrupulous. But my experience is that I was trained to consume legal literature in order to apply it as a modus vivendi.” “That’s enough,” said José Manuel and grabbing me by the arm took me to the presence of professor Enrique Aguilar. He used to teach us the course of Obligations, a course oriented to infuse legal criteria to read and interpret the civil law and it’s very much related to motives and decision making that have legal consequences. It was one of the few courses that I found interesting. In those times he was very popular among students since he also lectured courses at the high school level and many of the law students took those courses with him. Those teachings were influenced by his Marxist orientation and he navigated as a leader and model for a new just society were work exploitation will be abolished. In addition, he was a very good-looking guy and an accomplished public speaker. Now Manuel confronted me with him and openly asked me: “Can you repeat to Mr. Aguilar what you just told me about education?” I had to organize my ideas since some colleagues surrounded us supposing something interesting was going to happen. I explained about my experience and how my opinion is that the curricula and the teacher approach had to be more oriented to human development and moral maturity; I ended with a plea for courses to facilitate students to be social leaders. Mr. Aguilar spoke with his pompous orator voice directly to me: “You are completely wrong, as far as leadership facilitation you have had the privilege to be student of some of the most accomplished leaders and professors of the state and I can add… from the country...” and he later mentioned a list of the academia. Regretting the inappropriate circumstances for such discussion as soon as I had a chance distanced from him and continued the chatting, avoiding getting into more trouble; who wants trouble in the middle of a drinking session? I remembered the saying “If you drink, don’t drive” and I applied to this case I would say: “If you drink, don’t start serious discussions.”

We now return to our continuing story, "When I Met My Hubby" by Diane Richardson Part 10:

Diane Richardson

05.03.2022

When I Met My Hubby Part 10

So, at this time I’m on assignment at the Occupational Medicine Department at the University of Penn Hospital. This department has contracts with several companies in case of an employee accident or injury. The employee that got injured on the job reports to our Dept. for treatment and or therapy. This day I have an employee of the Phila. School District, a male teacher who got assaulted by a male student at a high school. The student was angry at the teacher for giving a failing grade where he could no longer be on the football team. The large male student caught the teacher at the marble staircase, picked the teacher up and threw him down the stairs. The teacher was brought to the hospital at my department, Occupational Medicine. Where he was treated and released.
The student was arrested, After the incident the teacher was continuously threatened and harassed to not press charges and testify in court. His car often damaged and tires flattened by the students. He told me this when he came for therapy. He said according to his contract he could not transfer to another school until the contract was up and the trial was over, and there were no witnesses to anyone doing the damage to his vehicle, or threats to him and he had no names of the students who threatened him.
In other words, he just had to “Deal with It.” Finally, he was permitted to transfer to a different school. The student was found guilty and expelled from school.
To Be Continued…

If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org. You can also share our older buds' adventures by donating to Best Day, subscribing to our newsletter, sending a note to our older buds, or following us on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. And if you or the older buds have any stories about students and teachers, then you or they can submit stories through our portal right here. We're especially interested to stories from Black older buds, but we're always looking for stories from older buds of color, older buds with disabilities, LGBTQIA+ older buds, older buds of any gender or sex, older buds of any religion, and older buds who just plain break the mold.

And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. If you can't be there in person, please call them, email them, or message them on social media. And if they're using teleconferencing or remote events for the first time, give them a call and help them set things up. Check in on them to see how well they're getting used to these programs. Buy them a computer or an internet package if they don't have one of their own. It's a human right, after all.

 

Curated by Caitlin Cieri

Unspooling (José and Diane)

Coming up next is the ninth part to Diane Richardson’s “When I Met My Hubby.” But first, a little bit more than you expected.

When you start talking to people, you often find out their lives are more exciting than you ever expected...sometimes more than they ever expected. Sometimes these are unexpected feats of heroism or incredibly humorous moments, but other times it can be about hidden corruption or betrayal. Here's a few stories about what happens when you go beyond the expected story:

José Dominguez

05.03.2022

About Our Ancestors

Father was a respectful man and also a person of strong points of view but not a capricious fellow. For example, he had respect for our ancestors and spoke with a kind of solemnity about my grandparents, great-great grandparents, great-great-great grandparents, etc. He covered at least superficially, three generations. He spoke about their hardships suffered while traveling and living in inhospitable lands as the North of Mexico; how the natives were not so peaceful to let those settlers take their land or transit freely through their territories; how members of our family had to suffer in hands of those angry original habitants. It was very interesting to hear him speaking about those decided settlers and how they survived and endured penalties and limitations. From our family's first generation in México there were not so many traces. There's only the oral transmitted story that the first Dominguez came soon after the Conquest, maybe around 1540. He was an adventure soldier who happened to be a “porta estandarte” meaning a soldier in charge of the army flag. I was aware that sooner or later I was going to speak about that guy so I decided to ask dad to expand his information about that Spanish soldier hoping to hear interesting stories of battles, accomplishments, titles, honors, adventures, etc. So I was prepared to integrate into my imagination the image of an audacious soldier carrying to those lands and antique times the seeds of their civilization, culture, religion, and all the values that in those times in the Western organized world were 100% European. But instead of those splendid words of magnificent outcomes, my father said: “Not much to say of those guys. Most of them were a pure gang of spoilers. They were a mob of robbers that came to dispose of our native ancestors and at the same time they immersed them in a foreign culture, foreign language, foreign religion. Poor native guys, they were no match for such militarized adventures. They were an easy prey. Even when presenting a stiff and bloody resistance, they simply were no match to them. The glory of the colonization was written by the conquers, as Bernal Diaz del Castillo, but the real story of the defeated never was written. It was lost in the immensity of the history, in the immensity of the indifference of a new world focused, thanks to the conquest, on the acquisition and treasure of gold, silver, money, and power certified and rationalized by a religion that advocates pain and suffering as a condition to get in Heaven; beliefs empowered by a legion of deacons, bishops, archbishops, cardinals and the rest of the priesthood bureaucracy. Of course there existed the exceptional presence of some few humanitarians as the Dominican priest Bartolome de las Casas and later, 300 years later, by the Catholic priest that ignited the Independence war, Miguel Hidalgo.There is too much to say about this ‘conquest’ but for the purpose of your questioning…. if someone asks you, Pepe, about our first ancestors, don’t be timid or shy to say that they were a bunch of thieves.”
It was not what I wanted to hear and I thought to myself. “If I want to brag about the curriculum I have to integrate it with my own accomplishments”. I remembered a few days ago I heard a rabbi say, speaking about Judaic traditions and history: “History doesn't make us, we make history.”

We now return to our continuing story, "When I Met My Hubby" by Diane Richardson Part 9:

Diane Richardson

04.12.2022

When I Met My Hubby Part 9

I’d like to refresh your memory as to how this story got started as one may wonder how I worked at so many different places. After raising my children, I decided to go to school to be a Registered Medical Technician. I went to National School of Health Technology. I’ve always been interest in the medical field. Upon completion I decided to work for a medical staffing agency where I can decide where and when I wanted to would. I could accept or decline assignments at different medical facilities, clinics, and hospitals. The assignments could last anywhere from one day to twenty years.
Medical facilities use staffing services to save money, not having to provide employee benefits and pensions. My personal schedule would be no weekends, no holidays, no Mondays, no work between Xmas and New Years and no summer months. The times I chose not to work I would receive unemployment compensation. I never worked for the money but for doing what I enjoyed doing. There’s not many facilities I haven’t worked over the years. I take the place or fill in for the regular technician for however long needed. The employee might need a day off, or call out sick, go on vacation or be retiring. When an employee is retiring, I’m needed to fill the position until the department could hire someone, however long that might be.
I’m often asked if I would be interested in a permanent position, and I would always decline. Who wanted to be obligated to work every day? Not me. I only worked when I felt like it. Every time I was on assignment, I would strive to do the job better that the person I was filling in for. So every time an employee called out or put in for time off, I was requested. All the practice managers and especially the doctors loved me. They would be so happy to see me and treatment me very well. Even the patients would be glad to see me and often told me they wished I was there on a regular basis.
Us employees used to love the pharmaceutical representatives. They would shower the doctors and their staff with gifts in hopes the Doctors would prescribe the services and medications to their companies. They would send the Doctors and their families on trips and cruises; they would send and take the staff out to dinners to wherever we wanted to go. Us employees and whoever they wanted to invite. The Reps have a large expense account and can write this off on their taxes as a business expense. The Reps needed the doctors and nurse practitioners and physician assistants to prescribe medications from the companies in which they were employed. Pharmaceutical Sales is a multi-billion-dollar business as everyone knows.
For example, the Dr. prescribes an MRI for a patient. MRI stands for Magnetic Resonance Imaging. The service provider would order the MRI and us techs would make an appointment for them to send the patient wherever or whichever company we chose. We have a variety of companies we worked with. We made the appointment for them, and the Rep makes the transportation arrangements for them. The patient would be so glad to receive free transportation. Door to door service.
In return for our referrals, the Reps would take us and our guests to dinner at a restaurant of our choice. Even if I weren’t currently assigned to that particular clinic, I was always invited to the dinners. It would soon be on the news of pharmaceutical companies “bribing” medical professionals to prescribe medication and services to their companies. The medical professionals would receive expensive gifts and trips using their companies. So all of that became illegal and that was the end of that ride. We enjoyed it while it lasted.
To Be Continued…..

If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org. You can also share our older buds' adventures by donating to Best Day, subscribing to our newsletter, sending a note to our older buds, or following us on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. And if you or the older buds have any stories that escalate quickly, then you or they can submit stories through our portal right here. We're especially interested to stories from Black older buds, but we're always looking for stories from older buds of color, older buds with disabilities, LGBTQIA+ older buds, older buds of any gender or sex, older buds of any religion, and older buds who just plain break the mold.

And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. If you can't be there in person, please call them, email them, or message them on social media. And if they're using teleconferencing or remote events for the first time, give them a call and help them set things up. Check in on them to see how well they're getting used to these programs. Buy them a computer or an internet package if they don't have one of their own. It's a human right, after all.

Curated by Caitlin Cieri

A Little Break (Joan and Diane)

Coming up next is the eighth part to Diane Richardson's "When I Met My Hubby." But first, a little break.

The great thing about blogging websites is the ability to plan posts in advance; like this one. We're taking Best Day off this week, but we won't leave you without a few fun stories for your Thursday. Like this one from Joan about the best things she earned in her life:

Joan Bunting

04.11.2019

The Best Things I Learned In My Life

In my lifetime I’ve learned many things.
For instance I’ve learned to do unto others as I would like others to treat me. I’ve also learned to be respectful and considerate of others. I was taught how to carry myself as a lady, love my enemies even though it can be very, very hard to love someone who has hurt you.
I’ve also learned to share even if I only have a little or its my last. How to be a good listener, that’s how you learn. Also everyone is not your friend.
I’m still learning how to keep my mouth shut sometimes, because when I’m trying to tell someone a truth about something and they’re not able to accept the truth, I’m accused of being a little know it all.
Sometimes when I’m talking I have to explain every small detail. I’ve always been a talker around those I feel comfortable with.
But to make a long story short, I’ve learned to love --- my creator with all my heart, mind and soul.
One of my biggest lessons I’ve learned in this life is, to just at all times, to be myself.

We now return to our continuing story, "When I Met My Hubby" by Diane Richardson Part 8:

Diane Richardson,

04.05.2022

When I Met My Hubby Part 8

So, I’m on assignment at the Family Court at 34 S. 11th Street to collect specimens for D.N.A paternity tests of women and children on public assistance or welfare and the potential fathers. On occasion when a celebrity, executive, big businessman, athlete would be flown in for the test, they would be photographed, fingerprinted, and show their I.D. so as to not send someone in their place. We technicians would often get offers from the males to rig the test in their favor. As tempting as the offers were, I would refuse. I believe in Karma, what goes around comes around. Nothing good comes to you when you do bad, and I wouldn’t have any blessing in my life. I always believe in doing the right thing. We got all kind of offers to get the potential fathers out of eighteen years of child support.
The one that stands out to mind is a Phillies baseball player with his championship ring on. He offered us to rig the test in his favor and you know what he offered? Season tickets for two in box seats to all the games, to get out of eighteen years of child support. How dumb was he? One technician would look up the schedule to see when an athlete was scheduled to be tested, and assign herself to his case. She would contact him and let him know she could rig the test in his favor for ten thousand dollars. That would be music to their ears. Ten thousand would most likely less than they would pay in a month, not to mention over eighteen years. She’d make arrangements for the money transfer. This went on for a while.
One evening I was telling Joe about this. He said how terrible, illegal, and immoral this was. He said with my knowledge of this I was a contributor of this crime and I have to report it. I did and the technician was fired and all tests she did were retested. Joe said there’s no telling how many lives were affected by her. How many children’s lives could have been different with education and the opportunity they were entitled to.
To Be Continued...

If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org. You can also share our older buds' adventures by donating to Best Day, subscribing to our newsletter, sending a note to our older buds, or following us on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. And if you or the older buds have any break time stories, then you or they can submit stories through our portal right here. We're especially interested to stories from Black older buds, but we're always looking for stories from older buds of color, older buds with disabilities, LGBTQIA+ older buds, older buds of any gender or sex, older buds of any religion, and older buds who just plain break the mold.

And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. If you can't be there in person, please call them, email them, or message them on social media. And if they're using teleconferencing or remote events for the first time, give them a call and help them set things up. Check in on them to see how well they're getting used to these programs. Buy them a computer or an internet package if they don't have one of their own. It's a human right, after all.

Curated by Caitlin Cieri