During the 40’s and the 50’s, my parents provided shelter and supported dozens of Filipino families as they came to the USA, as nurses, doctors, accountants, Army and Navy enlistees and common laborers. I never knew a weekend when there wasn't a Baptism, a Confirmation, a 1st Communion, a birthday, a Dimas Alang (Filipino Shriners) event, a Jose Rizal celebration, a Blessed Virgin feast day or just a reason to celebrate.
As it were, both my wife Priscilla and I, as first generation Americans never really fit in with the Filipinos who followed. For although we had the same culture, we had different background experiences. Language was always the first barrier and we regret now that we were not taught a Filipino dialect as children
I did not know the significance of living in a West Oakland neighborhood that was two blocks from the Greyhound bus depot. In fact, I vividly remember when I was in the first grade at St. Francis de Sales School (Holy Names Sisters), having to bring something to school to put together a basket of food for the poor. You can imagine my surprise when the day before Thanksgiving, there was a knock on the door and they delivered us a food basket. I did not even know that we were “poor”. I recall picking up the can of Campbell tomato soup and seeing my name that I had written on the bottom. It was that same can of soup that I brought to school the week before. Little did I know that it was to return.
As a toddler, my father worked in the Alameda Shipyard during the war helping build the "liberty ships" that carried war supplies across the Pacific and the Atlantic. One evening, I remember the screaming and sobbing of my mother at the sight of my father who was severely beaten as he returned home from the shipyard. It wasn't until years later that I finally understood what had happened. While rummaging through a drawer I found a round yellow patch on which was embroidered "I am not a Jap". He had to wear it because many Americans had fathers, brothers, and sons being killed in the Pacific war and anyone who resembled someone of Japanese heritage was despised and severely beaten. I could go on about my Japanese-American friends who were put in "relocation camps", but that is another story.
When I went to St. Elizabeth High School in East Oakland, I was the only Filipino in a school of 500 students. I worked at Edy’s on Grand Avenue in Oakland, busing tables and washing dishes. During the summer, I picked fruit at a farm in Suisun, CA where one of my uncles was a foreman.
My Dad was ecstatic when I was elected Student Body President. When my relatives teased him about his diminutive size as he stood by my side with the other elected officers and their parents. He said that he "felt like a dime among nickels. Half the size and twice as proud!"
Little did I know that my future wife, Priscilla Montegrande, was picking strawberries in Santa Maria, CA during the summer to pay for her school expenses. She was the talented one in the family. She even won toasters and mix-masters as prizes for her singing on the “Ted Mack Amateur Hour.” Her father also emigrated from the Philippines. After a short stint in Hawaii as a straw boss in the sugar and pineapple plantations, he came to California, worked in the fields of the San Joaquin valley. During WWII, he also worked in the shipyards, but in Mare Island and Vallejo. He settled in Delano, CA where he met his wife, Ascension Terro.
I continued to work at Edy’s Grand Restaurant through college. Of course, college was a lot more expensive, so I also drove a truck, worked as a playground director, worked on the can assembly line of Continental Can and as a warehousemen for Montgomery Ward.
A couple of years ago I went to the 50th high school reunion of the class of '57. One of my former teachers, Fr. Emery Tang, a Franciscan Monk (of Chinese descent and that too, is another story) who presided at our wedding in 1962 attended and my best friend had a restored 57 Chevy very similar to the 57 Chevy convertible I drove in the homecoming parade with the queen waving from the back. It was "Happy Days" all over again, but nothing compared to the present days as a loving husband and proud grandparent of 8 grandchildren.
Priscilla and I spent 22 years in the Air Force, traveling the world and stationed in diverse places like Japan; Korea; Vietnam; Thailand; Ottawa, Canada; Madrid, Spain; Duluth, MN; and Riverside and San Bernardino, CA. Priscilla is the true champion of the family having to raise three children alone while I was away for three years in Korea, Viet Nam and Thailand.
After the Air Force, I worked for TRW in support of the Strategic Ballistic Missiles Office, the Defense Finance and Accounting Service, and even owned a Mexican rotisserie chicken restaurant called, “Juan Pollo” for two years.
I am proud of my adult children who continued the American dream and all graduated from college. My eldest, Christopher, the engineer, graduated from Cal Berkeley; My daughter Kim, an associate pastor of children's ministries, from UC Riverside;, and Kelly, a former ABC TV news reporter and Korey, the School of Education Valedictorian and teacher, who both graduated from University of Southern California. The thing that is most amazing is that the three that are married chose the most wonderful spouses to be their partners!
For the past 30 years, Priscilla and I have been fortunate to be part of St. Adelaide church in Highland, CA and we are presently facilitators for the RCIA, the Evening for Engaged, the ministry of the sick and elderly, Eucharistic Ministers, and Lectors. I am also involved in the community as a member of the Board of Directors for the San Gorgonio Girl Scout Council.
Priscilla and I are blessed with 8 grand-children. They are of English, Canadian, German, Chinese, Jewish, Filipino-American heritage, but to me, they are simply "Americans".
We are blessed.
Richard G. Aquino, SMC ’61-‘62