March Second

Today is my father's Birthday. He is the father I have not seen since I was 2 years old. But, little does he know, I wonder about him often. As a teenager, I rummaged through private documents my mother had hidden in boxes stowed in her closet, quite a few times. When finding any addresses for Los Angeles, Ca, I would write to my father, hoping that I would reconnect and he would change his mind about me. However, the letters came back, over and over, with a disturbing red stamp stating, "Return to Sender". Even with my mother's attempt to fly me to LA when I was a young adult, I lost the quest. We walked through old neighborhoods where my father's sisters or cousins lived at one time. A time that is no longer. Nonetheless, I still have those letters for him and I have something else. When my mother first told me about how she met my father, it went something like this.... (seriously)...

Well excuse me
But I think you've got my chair
No that one's not taken,
I don't mind
If you sit here
I'll be glad to share
Yeah it's usually
Packed here on Friday nights
Oh if you don't mind
could I talk you out of a light
Well, thank you
Could I drink you a buy
Oh listen to me
What I mean is
can I buy you a drink
Anything you please
Oh your welcome,
Don't think I caught your name
Are you waiting for someone to meet you here,
well That makes two of us,
glad you came
No I don't know the name of the band
But they're good
Aren't they?
Would you like to dance?
Well I like this song too
It reminds me of you and me
Baby, do you think there's a chance
That later
on I could drive you home
No I don't mind at all
Oh,I like you too
and to tell you the truth,
That wasn't my chair after all.
Oh, I like you too
and to tell you the truth,
That wasn't my chair after all.

-- George Strait (my favorite song)

Happy Birthday, Miguel Mendoza Bravo