CLASE DE 1969 CAGUAS GAUTIER BENITEZ HIGH 4 DECADAS MAS TARDE

 A CHARLIE APONTE 

EN EL GRAN COMBO

MIEMBRO DESTACADO

AYER, como indica el titulo, reaparecio una embajadora de aquella epoca, desde Ceiba, con el anuario de la clase, que nunca habia visto.

La junta directiva victoriosa estaba

formada por los siguientes personajes:

Domingo aka Freddie Casillas

Jose Esteras

Miguel aka Doroteo Figueroa

Aurelio aka Yeyo Rodriguez

Jose Merced

Carlos Colon
El moto de estos caballeros de las finanzas?
SOLO LOS COBARDES FRACASAN**

 El anuario, impreso en papel de quinta, en un formato tipo revista Bohemia o Billiken, no encuadernado, como dictamina la tradicion, (una porqueria si me preguntaran, algo es mejor que nada, diran quienes votaron por los mencionados), les fue entregado a unos cuantos afortunados de una una clase de 500 graduados que se enteraron del magno evento.

De acuerdo a los rumores de aquel momento (1969), no confirmados o negados por el afectado,  Freddie o Domingo, el presidente,  i sus asociados, se fueron de crucero con el dinero de la clase por lo que el anuario no aparecio sino dos decadas i un lustro luego de la graduacion. Esto evidentemente, podria ser un record mundial tipo Guinness.

Antes de entrar en materia, la impresion, sensaciones al observar detenidamente el pocoton de malas fotos, en blanco i negro fue un tanto amarga i agridulce. Ver los rostros de tantos/as cuyo recuerdo  yacia totalmente en el olvido...por ejemplo, Juan Cotto, si te cojo te escocoto con un machete boto, escribio con carbon vegetal en las paredes de un almacen frente a la elemental Jose de Diego, en la calle del Millon, uno llamado Luis Acevedo. Maria Conchita Fonseca y Felix Machin fueron algunos que desde la elemental hasta la superior me hicieron companhia. De los tres guardo buenos momentos.

Hay que darle algun merito al grupo llamado timon, 

quienes  autodenominandose tomaron la inicativa , dandose a la tarea de que el maldito anuario saliera a la luz.

Juan Mojica

Luis Casillas

Eda Garcia

Ruben aka Rocky Torres

Aurelio aka Yeyo Rodriguez

Ruth Marino Gonzalez

Respecto al asunto, este es resultado de ver grabado en papel ordinario, rostros, figuras gratas e ingratas. Entre otras, habria que comentar las de Maribell Rodriguez, Miss Anuario, o como fuese el titulo. Esta mujer en la intermedia, era una de la mas hermosas y tiernas. Ya en la superior, su belleza habia mermado marcadamente. Le acompanhaba su principe Domingo Casillas, el presidente de la clase ( quien nunca ha dicho ni pio, respecto al anuario i los dineros de la clase, o sus asociados de aquel momento.

Maribell recibio la diadema de su trono de la reina saliente, la legendaria criolla belleza un tanto nordica,  Meryn Montalvo i el principe consorte, un mulatico, Israel o como se llamase el notorio magnate de casa de empenho.

De todos los maestros/maestras que tuve en elemental, intermedia o superior solo dos, Pablo, de espanhol, espiritista i comunista en la jerga insular, merece ser mencionado, junto a Noemi Clar, de ingles. Respeto i gratos recuerdos por su pericia pedagogica, sus valores i cajones respecto a la burocratica jerarquia escolar inutil e incapaz del ayer i hoy.

Maestros mierda tuve a monton, no los menciono por no dejar fuera alguno, calculo que nueve de cada diez. En la elemental fueron cuatro, tal vez veinte en las restantes. Recuerde el lector que soy licenciado en pedagogia, no es asunto de que sea abrasivo, contundentes i por que no? Un tanto rencoroso.

Otras fotos que merecen mencionarse son los atletas, Moralito, Ramon Clemente, Aguilu (RIP), Miguel Lozada, Jose Francisco Cartagena, Juan Mojica y Jose Merced. Sin embargo lo mas alucinante es que nuestro obscuro pintor nacional Pablo Marcano que corria cuatrocientos lisos, no apareciera por ningun lado.

El anuario, como sospechaba antes de verlo, fue presentado no como lo haria un adulto, sino un adolescente. Esto es desconcertante pues el comite timon fue creado cuando sus miembros tenian cerca a los cuarenta de edad. La pregunta revienta como un globo de cumpleanhos? Por que entonces bajo cada fotito de cada quien escribir cosas semejantes a esto: 

Juan de Los Paslotes

Sr. Simpatia

Pancho Karaekeso

Buen Companhero

Hector Chupatuercas 

Buen Atleta

Como olvidar aquella humillante pesadilla del baile de graduacion en el Hotel San Juan. amenizado por mi favorita de entonces, Ray Barreto? Un espacio para 400 personas en el cual Freddie i asociados metieron el doble o triple. No creo que estuviera ni una hora dado el peligroso gentio. Para anhadir insulto a la injuria, el hotel apago los aires acondicionados convirtiendo aquello en un infierno igual a un sauna.

A los casi casi ganadores Carlos Santaliz, Raul Feliciano(Buen Atleta)* i Nilsa Montalvo un saludo desde Santurce. No tengo duda que hubiesen hecho un trabajo eficiente i dedicado, exento de aventuras navegables. Pero como se dice o escribe ahora, la gente/pueblo tienen los lideres que merecen. 

El legado de Domingo i Asociados esta claro. 

Como ellos mismos establecieron:

SOLO LOS COBARDES FRACASAN

dario apaga la luh!

* Raul Feliciano  bajo ningun concepto era atleta i menos aun, bueno. Hubiese sido mas honesto:

Mr. Se caga en tu madre a la menor
provocacion. 
Mr. Abrasivo i contundente

Freddie i Yeyo, i 
los chavos donde estan? 



A
CHARLIE APONTE 
HIJO DE BROOKLYN
Recuerdo aun los comienzos de este brillante cantante con Carli Soto i Sergio, el otro vocalista, con el eventual salto al Gran Combo, poco despues de graduarse.

  La ultima vez que pude saludarle fue en el finado BAR DE CHEO,  frente al Sola Morales, cuando SAVARONA aun era BORICUA.


Charlie pertenece al grupo ese de cantantes curiosos de bigote como  Paquito Guzman, Gilberto Monroig, con un timbre singular i afinacion consistente. Su sencillez, simpatia i humildad a mi me fue negada. 

Sin duda el que mas lejos de la clase de 1969 ha llegado, virtual o literalmente.
Suerte i exito. Un abrazo.

TAKE THY PRIDE AND SHOVE IT!

Recently, this ball player into some hall of fame, declared that all his heroics were done with his country in mind, this one.  I have plenty of reasons to be proud of myself, none have to do with a geographical accident. It is ridiculous.

With the arrival of the 'summer' as if Puerto Rico  this was some little spot below the Equator, an  ugly insurmountable, irreversible problem  opens its wings and fly. OVERPOPULATION.

There is so much people you can fit in a telephone cabin, the same goes for an island 100 X 35, or bigger, as some idiot bothered to prove, as if a couple of miles here or there made any difference in population density wise.

Of the 4 million living here, all but four or five, (including me) decide to go to the beach. North, south, west or east. The traffic jams, pollution and noise are impressive in the way in or out.  Impressive and stupid if you ask me.


Once they arrive to their sunny or shady spot, about five people per every ten feet, they eat and drink like there is no tomorrow. The amount of trash cans is not enough for its production.  It overfills them in a couple of hours, landing on the sand and salty waters of the Caribbean or Atlantic, in bags or without. Plastic, aluminum, paper, you name it.


Later, the next day, or weeks on end,  Civic Ladies and  associates, call and complain to government agencies, television, radio and newspapers about the NOISE, CROWDS and GARBAGE spilled over the sand or in the water. 

NO juan ever complains about the fecal matter in the ocean or sea, animals without leashes defecating and urinating, as a result, a couple of skin deceases will certainly keep you company after your outing by the beach.


How can people hang out in beaches without hygienic toilets? Or no toilets? How can anyjuan be proud about public toilets in public beaches in Puerto Rico? Not to get into those in public schools, an national shame.

I do not care about garbage. What is important about beaches is what you do not see, can not avoid, diseases in sand and water.


Only a buffoon, if you ask, will constantly complain about a problem that has nothing to do with civility and manners. The only way to solve it,  once in a while, is providing a waiter, valet like, garbage collecting service to the beach customers.  A tip would be advisable.


Other than that,  an overcrowded island can not solve a problem that is part of its essence and way of life, a snake in a circle grabbing its tail.  Being gregarious, with 'the happiness of boricua living' promoted in depuertorricopallmundo has its consequences.

that is that

GOOD BYE BORDERS HELLO NOTHINGNESS

JUST came back from my last trip to the bookstore.  It looks like a dump, empty shelves, no gardening magazines or books.  Sixty percent of everything gone.

One good reason not to be proud of being borne here is a culture of obtuse arrogant fools, flag flaunting for any stupid sport event or astronauts and no FUCKING LIBRARIES.

Borders was the only place I could go check what was going on, taking notes or a reference to widen my interests in different fields.

The music stunk, the crowds, particularly children and adolescents acting as in a public park, which is culturally acceptable even in university libraries when I was a student, and even today.

The native book sellers always whining about the competition, multinationals, a little bit of this, a little bit of that, will not take advantage of that sad, trapped consumer,  lacking them balls, imagination and capital.

One thing I will never missed were the pastiche books from 2uglas Kndelabro, the national horticultural jester par excellence.


Who is going to visit the rat holes in Rio Piedras without elbow room, a book repertoire mostly on sociology, literature, politics, history and so on as an offer.?


I guess I am doomed having to find an alternative for those times when I feel I have to leave the premises to feel some printed paper in my fingers. One of the most gratifying memories along me short tempered, irascible dad, the auto repairman, from my dusty childhood.

One thing I will never miss, are the tons of useless books on display from the horticultural jester 2uglas Kndelabro. 

   Borders. RIPSniff sniff.

that is thtat.

QUEBRADILLAS VS BAYAMON BASKETBALL MEMORIES FOR THE FUTURE

My short career in organized basketball started in Savarona, Caguas Basketball Mecca*, when I was 15. A little late, lacking dribbling skills which truncated my possibilities. However, I was fortunate to be coached by a gentleman and dentist, Dr. Hector Davila. A strict disciplinarian
imposing team spirit, respect to referees,  and playing as a group.

The experience is significant. Being a misanthropist since that early stage in me life, basketball is the ONLY thing I enjoy doing as a group, besides playing music.

To keep  it in perspective, in those years, thanks to Dr. Davila, Goldfinger and another gentleman accountant whose name escapes me memory they were able to create the Caguas Criollos basketball franchise

Ricky Calzada, Canciobello and others were important players int the beginning of that somewhat shitty team.

Bayamon with Ruben Rodriguez, Ruben Montanhez, Tito Ortiz, Billy Baum and and Alberto Zamot were some of the players I remember watching and hating with all me heart since every time they played against Caguas they whipped their asses with all the arrogance imaginable. Me cago en la madre que los pario.

Once I visited la Pepin Cestero, the Cowboys home court. Since the fans were violent savages, as in the west, it was like a chicken coop with cyclone fence all around it. It was a frightening experience, that night, among them savages famous for beating the crap out of the opposing team fans.  They won. I still remember.

Quebradillas with Richard Dalmau and Neftali Rivera on the other hand committed the same abuses, without so much arrogance. Perhaps for that reason, I did like them.. 

Richard Harris,  Phil Jackson  and  Eric Geldhart were managers here who later became well known in NBA quarters, years later...Calvin Pacheco was one of the best referees.


Jimmy Thordsen, Mickey Coll, with a short career, Hector Blondet, Teo Cruz and Bill Mcadney?, remarkable stars in their teams.  Some of the worst? Sammy Betancourt, our national coach, his brother and from San Lorenzo, Changui Diaz.  From my humble perspective.


Now that they are about to finish this league championship I found pertinent to share me basketball memories with fans and foes.


Bai di guay, the uniforms then, were not influenced by the ghetto and black street ball as nowadays. Today uniforms are  are more appropriate for pijamas...Not to get into the racing car driver uniforms similarity with tens of advertisements, or all those ugly stickers in the playing courts. Another thing, basketball players nowadays carry the ball constantly. The brute force is impressive, not as in the past. Almost forgot. The DIRTIEST player? JOE HATTON.


I feel sorry for Beato and the Confused Cuckold. Bayamon will not pass. Tonight is the Pirates Night.

that is that

* Savarona, since the 80's became another

Santurce, invaded in every cardinal point 

from the WEST island.