Category Archives: autobiography

Doña Margarita

Given name of Margarita Bernabé Ramona Guzman. Husband of José Odilón Ledesma. Mother of Faustino, Manuela, my mother Christina, Emily, Catherine, Melesio, and Eduardo.    She lived a generous portion of years. I am thankful that I have shared some … Continue reading

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The Old Place

I grew up in the Santa Clara Valley. My school years were in the 1950’s and 60’s.  Many years ago on a family outing to visit the relatives in Oxnard, my family took us to the Ventura County Courthouse. I … Continue reading

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The Boy Scout by Carlos Najera de Madrid

   While I was still in high school at Oxnard High, Class of 1927, I was a Boy Scout. Scouting was still a new thing at that time. It started in England and it took a few years to spread … Continue reading

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Doña Margarita

   Here’s a “Kodak moment” with me and my grandma back in 1948. Her name was Margarita Ledesma. All my life she looked the same. She never changed. I have a picture of her when she was a young lady, … Continue reading

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El Centro

   Here I am. In the background I can see the front of our house in El Centro, California, in the Imperial Valley. It is just a couple of miles from the Mexico/U.S. border.  It was a small town back … Continue reading

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The Game

 “Joe! Come and eat!”    The tile floor in the bathroom felt cold against his bare feet.    “I am coming!” He shouted back angrily. He was drying himself quickly in the steamy bathroom. Everything, even the towel was damp … Continue reading

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Uncle Joe Takes a Hike

I have been stuck at home ever since this madness began. I am a senior citizen now, and a type II diabetic. I broke a toe in January, and I was just starting to get over it when the pandemic … Continue reading

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At the Blue Onion

   Everyone was gone, just Cousin Boy and I were in the house.  He was baby sitting me again, although I was starting to think I was getting too old now to need a baby sitter.  I was eight years … Continue reading

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Sunset

Did you know? Did you really know? That the last time That you saw me was the last time you saw me?   Did you know that The last thing I saw was your tail lights glowing red through the … Continue reading

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Thinking About Judy

Judy was a match made in heaven. She was thirteen years old and I was twenty. I got a job in the summer of 1968 as a camp counselor for the City of San Jose. It was the first year … Continue reading

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