In 1947 Tijuana, Mexico huge crowds gathered downtown, all eager to
witness jai alai, or "pelota vasca" (Basque ball). El Foro Antiguo
Palacio Jai Alai was constructed to quench the thirst of the masses who
couldn't get enough of one of the fastest-paced sports in the world.
I had the joy of viewing the games as a 6 year old boy in Tijuana while eating my "chocolate Turtle" candy.
I recall the fast pace of the game and the high walls they were bouncing the ball off to one another.
Men jumping and throwing the ball at super high velocity from a curved basket they had in their hands.
It wasn't until 1975,76 during the racket ball craze that I recalled the Jai Alai games of the late fifties similarity because of the ball against the wall.
I also got to see the horse races and the grey hound races at Aqua Caliente Race Track in Tijuana and the bull fights.
My father was an alcoholic who would just put me in his car and take me across the border where he drank while he gambled on the games and the races.
I was to young to realize how dysfunctional my dad was, all I knew was that i was with my dad who I never got to see very much and it was really fun.
He gave me some money to bet on a horse and told me that if it won i could have a new red Schwinn bike.
Don't know if the horse won but I do know that i did get a red bike.
As an adult my mom told me that she had made my dad get that bike for me.
I was to young for such a big bike so I had to stand up on the pedals to ride it, I couldn't sit on the seat bacause my legs were too short.
My parents divorced when I was 7.
I never really got to know my dad.
Back in those days he would be gone in the Navy for 13 months and come home for a few weeks and be gone for another 13 months or so.
But I do have those memories of him kidnapping me and taking me across the border to all of these great places when he did finally come home.
All I knew was that I was with my dad and to a young kid who couldn't have a dad for 13 months and then get to be with him for an entire day was so exciting.
After my parents divorce I didn't see much of my dad.
The last time i saw him I was 12 and he had a 3 year old boy with him who was his son.
The boy was standing and looking from behind my dads leg that he was holding onto while looking up at me shyly.
My dad called the boy "Winkie" I recall.
Never saw the boy or my dad again after that.
I was a "latch key kid" who raised himself as did my sisters.
Mom worked herself to the bone trying to keep a roof over our heads and food in our bellies.
She would take all of us to the beach in the summer on her day off from work.
We would load the car up with our beach stuff and food for the day and be excited as we endured the long drive to the ocean.
Mom used to clean a man's apartment with our help for extra income, afterward we got to swim in the apartment pool for the rest of the day.
And then we would go to a local Mexican restaurant for dinner before heading home.
I still eat Mexican food often.
My son does too as a result.
Life sure has gone by all too fast.
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