Brooklyn: A Love Story

By Herm Valenzuela

The winter solstice came the last few days of 2010 then the day after Christmas a blizzard of snowstorm swept like a tsunami from the northwest that engulf the city transformed like a winter wonderland blanketing the sidewalks with dunes of ice and the city stood still. The last blizzard of this magnitude was my first winter in New York when John Lindsay was mayor. He mismanaged the clearing of the roads and the garbage piled-up in the streets for days. He lost his reelection the next November. The skies cleared this morning and the sun came out of the azure skies with it's radiant and warm glow and the buses and trains started moving. Three days after we were "holed-in" the house and embedded with my wife I had "cabin fever." I decided to go out. Besides, I wanted to test my cardio-vascular function, like the Canadians do, and walk in the cold. If I could reach the train station without "croaking" then I don't need a tripple coronary artery bypass graft- the doctors call CABG. I made sure that I didn't have a lowbat in my cell.

At a busy train station on Flashbush at it's junction with Nostrand Ave. a young couple meandered thru the sidewalk throng like they were walking on a garden path. They look like the were out of place with the people out to rejoin the rat race after two days of idleness and ennui. But several pedestrian admired them for it was a sight. The last time that I remember a young man out of place in Brooklyn was when a black kid somehow got lost in Crown Height's white neighborhood and beaten to death. The blacks went on a rampage and rioted. Mayor David Dinkins on vacation in the Bahamas did not return to N.Y.C. pronto until the daily newspapers clamored after three days of melee for him to take charge. He lost his reelection bid that year. Rudy Guillani, who was previously effective as D.A. cleaning the Fulton Market Fish Market off mob connections and various payola. He also closed the porno shops on Times Square, became mayor.

Brooklyn, a borough of N.Y.C. is the fourth largest "little city" in the world and has the most Churches per square mile than any other Christian city in Europe. Nobody is out-of-place on it's street unless you're wearing a kafiyeh and riding a camel! The bare-buttocks pants-on-the-ground teenager's style was fashioned in Brooklyn. Nobody bats an eye when they sashays on the streets with the nationally recognized swagger of the arms and hands which are also adept in texting. But this ordinary looking young couple is somewhat different as they traisped into the train station for the number 5 train. I usually find some interesting facets in people's faces in so many places so I followed them for I sensed a silver lining beacons after the snowstorm. Their air of look and bearing portends that it's going to be a beautiful day!

She was a young Pilipina neatly dressed in a faux woolen robe wearing a turtle-necked ecru colored sweater with a lei garland that looked like Sampaguitas still fresh like a fallen snow with angle-lips pinkish pistle (She reminded me of my first date in H.S. with a meztisa in a white lace prom like-gown with an orchid corsage on her right shoulder). Never mind that her snow boots were out-of-fashion and worn-out with her simple attire, she wore these determined to walk thru the icy puddles. This lady's morena complexion gave a glowing aura in the morning light- she's from Hawaii for her natural countenance of skin belie the patina of tanning salons of New York. Her simple hand gestures speak of grace and her bearing apart from the bevy of Brooklynites in a hurry for the late-coming train. She appeared to be in her young 18years and didn't need any "chaperone" to where they are going. I sensed that they where going to a place to be in one union.

He was a Puerto-Yorker looked fresh from high school (I've become a semi-expert in racial profiling that I should get back to work as a TSOfficer) resplendent and proud in his U.S. Marine uniform dress blues, sans sabers, with shinning brass tacks & buttons; his pants single pleated with the red lining that signifies the blood-letting emblem of the brotherhood. His shoes were still spit-shined inspite of the sleet and slush of the sidewalk. He was newly promoted to Cpl- I can tell because of the Purple Heart medal, the DSM (Distinguished Service Medal) and a badge of a Marksman (all marines are riflemen) he wore and he's just returned to active duty perhaps after the holliday leave. He is going away again and he has an important personal business to deal with before going back to war and nobody in New York would mess with a soldier in uniform specially with his lady in his arm.

The train was jammed-packed even the homeless "beggars" didn't dare board in for fear that their pockets will be picked by their compadres. But several riders offered the couple seats and a few mariachis-in-parkas happily greeted them with felicidades. Some strap-hangers beyond that noticed the scene even clapped their hands. They held hands and cooed during the din and cling-clang clamor of the tracks. She was wearing a simple engagement ring and her right hand held a single red rose bud that start to bloom even before spring. She appeared shy and demure during the train ride but not even wishing they were in a limo instead. Came the Borrough Hall station stop and they passed me by as they come out of the car and I greeted him with Semper Fi, Marine with a "V" sign. He smiled knowing I was an officer and nodded acknowlegement (a soldier in uniform does not salute while inside a covered structure). I greeted her with a "thumbs-up" and an Aloha greeting. She responded respectedly with "Salamat po!" I was right- she was a binibini and they're going upstairs to wed.

Now, Borough Hall in Brooklyn is a subterrenean train station where the Municipal Building is. There is a photographer at it's steps and an entepreneur who sells plastic flowers because lovers get married in a chapel upstairs presided by a judge- the fee was $60.00 when I applied for a registration seven years ago- like this young marine I was financially challenged. A few years ago, Mayor Bloomberg refubrished and remodeled the J.P's office in Manhattan's municipal building (I believe with his own money) and now has become a show-piece where even tourist get married- hundreds a month!.

I let them be for their day in Court and walked to the Cadman Plaza library towards the Brooklyn Bridge reminded of Anthony DeBennetto's oldie (he grew up in Queens, N.Y.). Why Tony left his heart in San Francisco only a few knew!

"From a candy store on the corner, To the chapel on the hill.
Two young lovers are strolling to go there. And they dreamt someday they will.
They dream someday they will... they dream someday they will.
Walk hand in hand from a candy store..to the chapel on the hill.
Both their hearts are in tune with a love song.
All the promises they made they will.
For true lovers that treasure their troubles;
When you're only seventeen.
At seventeen it's a thrill,
To dream someday you will
Walk hand in hand from a candy store
To the chapel on the hill"

I hummed the tune as I walked wishing that the couple would stroll hand-in-hand and be able to cross their bridge over troubled waters and the best is yet to come.

Post Script: I can't help but be reminded of Dorothy Parker's short stories about New York- from the folks at Washington Square (@N.Y.U) and the lovers in Central Park and this theme was her genre- simple folks of New York. This inspired me to write this vignette tho' it doesn't as nearly approached her style. I preferred Damon Runyon's with his Guys & Dolls characterizations with plenty of wits and humor. I wished I had taken Journalism class in H.S. but my Magde friends beat me to it and I ended taking the car repair shop class. I thought It was a smart move for I intended to work part-time vulcanizing retread tires to supplement my college funds. Turned out that it did not complemented my young life.

Hermes
December 2010
Brooklyn, N.Y. 11234

My Favorite Turkey Recipe

We had a family gathering at our house day after Christmas; even our son Carl and his wife Suzy who are living in Brazil were able to ‘join’ us virtually via Skype video. Too bad they weren’t able to join us for a fine turkey dinner.

As I have done many times, I roasted a turkey on a charcoal grill, and it turned out delicious! It was a 12-pounder on a rotisserie, roasting for three hours. It rained on Christmas day, but the weather was perfect for grilling outdoors this time.

Here’s the recipe for my rotisserie turkey:
Equipment: Charcoal Grill, Charbroil CB940 or equivalent, with rotisserie Smoker Box

Ingredients:
10 to 12 pounds turkey, thawed
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 teaspoons salt
2 teaspoons pepper
2 teaspoons rubbed sage leaves
1 teaspoon thyme leaves
white wine
chunks of mesquite, hickory or alder (pick one to suite your flavor) for smoker

Thaw turkey per instructions on the package. Wash turkey and pat dry with paper towels. Season cavity with salt and olive oil. Prepare grill placing coals to two sides; heat until coals are ash white. Make aluminum foil drip pan. Brush turkey with olive oil, sprinkle with salt and pepper, sage leaves and thyme. Fasten wing over breast; tie with strings to hold wings securely. Tie drumsticks securely to tail. Insert spit rod through center from breast to tail. Secure breast and tail areas with holding forks. Adjust counterweights to obtain optimum balance.

Place the charcoals on one side of the grill so that they are mounded parallel, but away from the spit. Make sure the coals are well lit and the grill is preheated before the spit (with the turkey) is mounted to the rotisserie unit.

A drip pan should be placed directly under the location of the spit. Because the drip pan will help to prevent flare ups, it is important that the drip pan be at least as large as the turkey.

Pour ½-inch to 1-inch of water into the drip pan to create steam, which will rise and help to prevent moisture loss in the meat.

Cook turkey on rotisserie about 3 hours or until legs move easily. Keep grill top closed as much as possible. Add charcoal as necessary to

(Tina Basting The Bird)

maintain the grill temperature between 300 and 350 deg F. Brush with wine every 15 minutes during the last hour. Put smoker over coals during last ½ hour. Add coals as necessary to maintain even heat. Meat thermometer should register 180 deg in thigh or 170 deg in breast.

For a 12-pound bird, I have found 3 hour cooking time to be just right.

Book Review of Pinoy Stewards

Book Review of "Pinoy Stewards In The U.S. Sea Services" BY ALLEN GABORRO (FilAm Star, December 10, 2010)by Allen Gaborro Writer's Page on Monday, December 20, 2010 at 9:49pm

TITLE: Pinoy Stewards In The U.S. Sea Services: Seizing Marginal Opportunity
AUTHOR: Ray L. Burdeos
PUBLISHER: AuthorHouse
211 pages
nonfiction
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Former US Navy and Coast Guard steward and now-author Ray L. Burdeos is so calculatedly detailed and prolific in his portrayals and reminiscences of his days in the service that he appears to find it easier to describe the faraway past rather than bring attention to the contiguous present. Even in those relatively few times when the present leaps out in Burdeos’s thoughts, the past invariably creeps in as subjective footnotes and as applicative historical material.

Burdeos’s newest addendum of his time as a steward in the US Navy during the 1950’s and 60’s, titled “Pinoy Stewards In The U.S. Sea Services: Seizing Marginal Opportunity,” invokes the memories of those Filipino seamen, including himself, who emigrated to a new world, a world that perhaps they had emigrated to without fully realizing what was in store for them as foreigners in an intolerant atmosphere.
The history of the Filipino stewards in the US Navy and Coast Guard is not exactly well-known to people. Burdeos, whose authority on this subject is very personal and reinforced by his impressive memory, addresses how Filipinos came to enter the US Navy and Coast Guard in the first place. He writes how the departure of African Americans from the US Navy’s and Coast Guard’s staff of stewards from the 1950’s up to the 1990’s made positions available for Filipinos in the two services.

Burdeos preserves the history of the Filipino stewards by boiling down his text into a register of personal narratives that are ascribed to individual stewards. Burdeos engrossingly records his memory of these fellow Filipinos who were friends and colleagues of his. In joining the US Navy and Coast Guard, these Filipinos were obliged, in Burdeos’s view, to begin building their new lives by confronting and absorbing the alien American culture in which they found themselves in: “Filipinos had to assimilate to the American way as much as possible to be understood and accepted. Since they were the newcomers, it was just proper that they had to adapt the American way of doing things.”

In the chapter on United States Coast Guard Commander Zacarias S. Chavez, Jr., the commander’s daughter Christine acknowledges her father’s sacrifice and hard work in realizing his ambition to reside in America. Christine gives credit to her father for what he accomplished in the Coast Guard and for impressing upon her and her siblings the value of discipline and of having “the competitive spirit” that would be an essential cornerstone for securing a bright and prosperous future.

Not easily given to the perfect image attributed by many Filipinos to Americans, Burdeos does a short chapter on Master Chief Quartermaster Rogelio L. Reyes palpably racist experiences in the US Navy. In Reyes’s words: “The whites generally didn’t want to associate with Filipinos. They always gave the impression that they were superior…they kept a distance from us.” With African American servicemen, it was something of a different story for Reyes. For him, they “had their own problems with the white superiority.” Yet Filipinos somehow “found ways to get along with blacks.”

Ultimately, what did it mean for these Filipinos to be able to serve in the US Navy and Coast Guard? Largely, it meant being able to go and stake their claim in the land of opportunity. With clear notions of financial advancement and stability as the connective thread, most of these Filipinos, along with Ray Burdeos, stayed in the US after their service ended and eventually became American citizens.

Years from now, as new chapters of the history of the Filipinos in America are written, the story of Filipinos in the US Sea Services in particular will have been inextricably woven into that history. And no one is more qualified to tell that history than Ray Burdeos whose literary publications have become indispensable contributions to the understanding of Filipino American history.

ALLEN GABORRO