My father would have welcomed his 82nd year today.  Sadly, he left this world on September 15, 2016. 

Before he separated from his earthly bonds, I had told my Dad of plans to write a book about his life.  His thoughts?

"That's gonna be a short book."

Would that he had time to see this work, borne of enduring love and affection, before he had passed.  Life has a nasty habit of getting in the way - even when someone is dying.

I submit this humble tribute in his memory.

Alfred Nuñez, Jr.
June 2, 2017

“Shorty.”

It was what his father called him, and it was my favorite of his monikers.  That was an appellation my Dad certainly did not liked, but one he readily accepted from the father he so loved. 

Al was my father.  Unless one is afforded honors, a man will typically underestimate the impact he has in this world.  In the Mexican culture, however, a father is central to the family constellation – both the immediate and extended family.  The values of a Mexican patriarch set the tenor for a family and its place in the greater community.   My Dad lived his life in a manner that established his family's respectability, opened doors, and paved the way for his children to lead the lives of their choosing.  More importantly, however, he lived the life he wanted to live.   

Named Alfredo at birth, my Dad would formally live by the name Alfred.  In his lifetime, he would answer to a number of nicknames and designations.  "Fonse," "Uncle Al," "Grandpa," and "Mr. Nuñez," to recite a few, but to most he was simply “Al.”

Besides adopting appellations of his own, Dad was also fond creating monikers for those he loved.  My mother went by so many nicknames it was hard to keep track.  “Foo-foo” was one of the most recent of her names, but she answered to them all.  Nicknames given to his siblings and children were sometimes temporary, changing as one's character developed with age, while others were continued our whole lives.  He only gave nicknames to those with him he was closer.  If he gave you a nickname, you could be certain that he liked you.  Often, it meant that he loved you.

Dad was the consummate teaser.  No one would be outside his reach.  When we used to watch TV in San Pedro, he would often blow kisses at attractive actresses while making silly faces at my mother when she would blow him kisses back. He enlisted one of his granddaughters in a game wherein he openly admired beautiful women by saying, "there's a peach!" to which she was obliged to inform him, "no, grandpa, that's a prune!"  He would also enjoy hearty banter with friends.  He loved to make you squirm, and did so frequently in jest.  If he found a way to pique your dander, Dad was more than happy to exploit that every time - all in good humor, of course.

Dogs were regularly a part of Dad's life.  He was very fond of his dogs.  As a young adult, he preferred larger dogs such as German Shepherds, though he would also tolerate Miniature Schnauzers.  In later years, he leaned towards smaller Yorkies. His two favorites Yorkies were Toby and Abby.  Abby would be his last canine companion. He delighted in spoiling her with boiled chicken treats.  Though he was not too keen on cats, he grew more tolerant during his last years in Anaheim when he owned a Siamese kitten. 

While his ethnic heritage was something Dad embraced, he was not one to be so narrowly defined by it. Machismo wasn’t his thing.  He did whatever he felt right. Not to say that he didn't have pride, he just had no problem undertaking basic household chores such as washing the clothes, doing dishes, and vacuuming.  Dad didn't allow ethnic traditions to define his children either.  Church attendance, though important in his upbringing, would not be required for his offspring.  My mother only got us to church by bribing us with the promise of donuts after mass.  Another tradition that Dad didn't indulge was that of the quinceañera. Practically minded, he disdained the expense the rite incurred,  money that could be better used for his family's other needs.  Dad also did not require his children to speak Spanish, even though he grew up bilingual.  Similarly, we were not raised to speak Portuguese - my mom's native tongue - either.  We were American, and our father was proud of that.  Dad worked hard to create a better life for his family.  By taking things up a level, Dad ensured his children would be raised in a much better environment than that he had faced in his youth.   As a result, we had access to opportunities that he once had to work hard to create for himself. 

Dad also liked to entertain.  He enjoyed being a host and often had co-workers and neighbors over for cocktails.  He had a pool installed at his San Pedro home where he could entertain, even sneaking in a cabana-style bar on a terrace that was legitimized with the help of a conspiring building inspector.  At his Anaheim home, Dad cleared out a bedroom and created a fully-equipped bar where he and guests could retire for a drink and conversation.  At times, though, he was an unconventional as host.  To this day our family enjoys telling of the time Dad abandoned his guests during a dinner party.  After dining with guests in their Anaheim home, Dad excused himself without explanation - then went to bed early.  If his guests were surprised, imagine my mother's struggle to attend their guests for the rest of the evening.

Arcadio and Josephine Nuñez, and elder sister Delia (born 1933) welcomed the family’s second child in a home birth on June 2, 1935 at 12:15 PM. 

At the time, the young immigrants made their family’s home in a modest abode at 1013 Third Street in Calexico, California.  Once a mere camp on the desert, Calexico had grown, but the home was still at the edge of town and a mere two blocks from the U.S.-Mexico border.  Being born to immigrant parents, in the desert, and during the Great Depression made for humble and challenging beginnings, but Al was never deterred.

Being immigrants, Al’s parents could have changed their values to reflect those of their new homeland. Instead, they chose to maintain values that reflected the significance of their Mexican culture. As his parents’ first son, Al enjoyed a distinguished stature. The significance of this position was never lost on him.  He would spend his life in pursuits that brought honor to the consequence of his birth.  

In the Mexican culture, the presentation of a child for baptism stems from a strong desire by parents to seek divine protection for their newborn.  It was surely with great pride, therefore, that Al was presented for his baptism at Our Lady of Guadalupe Church in Calexico on Sunday, November 17, 1935.

Al’s family lived in various homes throughout California’s Imperial Valley during his early years.  There was a brief stay in a house owned by his Uncle, Evaristo, at 1014 Fourth St. in Calexico.  It was at this home where the family welcomed its third child, Hector, in 1936.  Thereafter, sometime in 1937, the family made its way to a home at 359 W. Brighton in El Centro. 

The family left the house on Brighton in October 1940 to take up residence at 464 W. Commercial Ave. in El Centro.  They they stayed at this home until February 1943.  It was while living in this house that Al began his formal education.  In 1940 he began attending William McKinley Elementary school. In 1941 the family welcomed its fourth child and third son, Carlos. 

In February 1943 Al's family moved again.  This time in a brief detour to East Los Angeles.  Their stay was for a very short time, a few weeks at best, before settling at 1027 N. Logan Ave in Santa Ana where the family would stay for one year.  Al would continue his education at Logan Elementary School.

February 1944 saw the Nuñez family from Santa Ana to the city of San Diego.  The owner of a car dealership had brought Al’s father to the city for work.  The family would finally settle there, buying a home at 3330 Highland Ave., in the neighborhood then-known as East San Diego.  This would be the family’s home until Arcadio’s death in 1987.  From this home, Al attended Alexander Hamilton Elementary between February 1944 and June 1946. 

On his father’s birthday (January 12) in 1946, a fifth child was born to the Nuñez family.  Al and family welcomed its fourth son, Ernesto Arcadio (Ernie).  Sadly, less than one year later on January 4, 1947, Ernie passed away.  The sorrow of that occasion stayed with Al the rest of his life.  “Poor Ernie”  he would say whenever his infant brother's memory was evoked.

Interim to Ernie’s passing, on May 26, 1946, Al - along with his brother, Hector - received the Catholic rite of First Holy Communion.  For Mexicans, the Catholic First Communion is a very important celebration of one’s children.  It recognizes that a child has achieved the age of reason, has made his first confession, and received the sacrament of penance.  For this occasion, boys are regularly dressed in suits and present with perfectly combed hair.  It was thus that Al and his brother were presented at Our Lady of the Sacred Heart Church on Marlborough and Orange Avenues in San Diego. His parents would preserve their moment of pride with a photograph of the occasion.

In September 1946 Al furthered his education at Woodrow Wilson Jr. High School where he attended classes until June 1949.  At the age of twelve, Al got his first job – he helped his father by prepping cars for painting.  Certainly a profitable occupation, Al did not allow the compensation from setting his sights higher.  His interest in learning and achieving was not diminished.  He enjoyed learning all his life.  A special memory for  Al was to recall watching his very first nature documentary – the subject being lions – at San Diego’s Egyptian theater in 1949.

Herbert Hoover High School was where Al completed his mandated education.  He attended the school from September 1949 through June 1952.  During these teen-aged years, Al’s constant companion was his brother, Hector. At age fifteen and a half, Al’s father bought him his first car; a 1935 Ford 4-door sedan with white-wall tires.  The car did not last too long, though its fate is uncertain.  His next car was a 1950 Mercury to which he added white-wall tires and hood louvers.

Stories abound about the child and young man that Al was as he grew up.  The stories might attest to a you man who was strong-willed and colorful, but he always refused to confirm them.  These stories were passed down by Al's brothers, Hector to Frank to me.  Given that Al was not inclined to own up to the tales, there's a definite possibility that the anecdotes may have been considerably embellished in the re-telling.  Given that he was not fond of discussing his own youth, I share those stories with that caveat.

One story related how Al was given to stealing oranges from someone’s backyard, until he got caught in the act.  The owner chased him off and warned Al never to return.  In an act of defiance and vengeance, Al returned one night and cut the tree down.

Another account told of Al finding himself in conflict with a teacher.  The teacher told Al that “this room is not big enough for the both of us.”  Apparently Al concurred, and countered with a creative response.  He pushed the teacher’s desk out of the classroom and into the hallway.

If these tales offer us any insights, it is into the beginning of an attitude that Al would refine over the course of years ahead.  Don't take "no" for an answer, just find your way around it.  And make sure they know it.  The approach would offer a strong incentive and support beyond those formative years as he made a career and life for himself.