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Father Substitutes
Coach Ridderhof was one of the bright lights of my senior year in HIgh School. I did not have a father at home that I could call my own. The Coach saved my life and gave me a team be feel a part of.
Date: 4/13/2005 12:08:22 AM ( 19 y ) ... viewed 1319 times It was in my 10th grade year that I was running the track
and felt like I was breaking down.
It was early in the morning, first period.
I had had a very difficult time that morning at home.
Ida, my stepmother, woke me up again with early morning
vacuuming in the living room. That was where I slept.
I was feeling compressed and angry.
I did not feel safe. I had no safe place to think
or study except the library, far from home.
I wanted to succeed. I wanted to excel.
The pressures were great.
I was running around the track.
We were being clocked.
I was a very slow runner, one of the slowest
in our class.
I was doing something against my will.
In those days, it was mandatory for kids to do P.E.,
Physical Education.
I was going as fast as I could.
It was not good enough.
I felt a tear in my hips.
I tried ROTC, Reserve Officers Training Corp for a bit too,
but that was not by cup of tea, although as a kid I loved
playing "army" with my toy miniature plastic men.
By the 11 grade, I found out I could get out of P.E.by being
the manager of the Cross Country team.
That was the year I first met Glenn Erso, who was one of our star Cross Country
runners, and then a championship miler on our track team.
We were a school that did not have too many good sports teams,
and Glenn was one of our heros.
The coach was name Ridderhof. He was an older man,
a loving man. I did not have too many of those archetypes
in my life then. He had white hair. He must have been in his
70's.
He was one of my first father substitute figures who showed me
a positive role model, aside from Chic Lapidus, the father of my best friend
RIchard, and Ira Erenberg's dad, who would take us on occasion to
the Olympic Auditorium for wrestling matches.
I never in my life recall doing a special event with my own dad,
although on Sundays we did go shopping and have an ice cream.
I also remember going to the beach with our family a couple times.
I never had one man to man time with him, other than the times
he force fed me religion.
For the most part, his religion stole him from me.
He had two jobs. One was being a presser in the garment district of L.A.
The other was his Jewish religious jobs.
On Sundays he would go to the cemetary and pray for the families of the
dead. He was gone every Sunday, gone to t Mt Carmel
cemetary. In later life, we went to the Home of Peace a lot.
That was the cemetary where the layed my mother's bones.
She died when I was 12.
He went to the Home of Peace. My home was hell after she died.
We moved from the simple life of the East Side, and my Mexican
friends, to the West Side.
There is a street called Fairfax, that was the centerpiece of our neighborhood.
There is a deli there called Canters. Undernearth it says "Fairfax."
Canter's :"Fairfax."
Not too many Jews or other visitors likely note that once there was an original
Canters. That original Canters was in Boyle Heights, East L.A.
That was where I was born, in the boiling pot of Boyle Heights.
There were gangs. There were kids who would steal your things.
There were kids who would stop you on the street, make you drop your pants,
and do violating things to the kids who were smaller.
We were smaller.
My street was pretty safe, and the neighbors were family.
Gilbert Orozco was my mother's best friend.
My father went to sleep early. He left then alone on the porch.
Around 9 or so on a summer eye, I would be in bed.
I heard a voice from across the street. "Gilbert, come home!"
It was Natalie, his wife.
"I'm taking to Anne!" he would say.
Then, I heard a voice from my house. IT was Solomon,
my father. "Anne!" he would say.
"I am talking to Gilbert.: she would answer.
When we moved to West L.A, East L.A. died, died for the Jews.
It was no longer.
It was just like in Europe. We left. The town died for Jews.
We were one of the last families to leave East L.A.
Canters East L.A. died too. Today, not too many Jews
remember it existed.
I remember, and my body today is remembering
as I go back to pick up pieces.
This precious body. I never knew what to do with it.
IT never worked for me, even when it was pre-arthritic.
I was a wild kid, one of the wildest.
The whole system seemed to be geared up to
box in my wildness.
I rebelled as much as I could, but finally succumbed.
I did not have an athletic body. I never got to be on the team as
a star, but beginning with Coach Ridderhof, I discovered I could run
through the other boys.
I became a valued member of the team.
I lettered just like them.
That meant a lot, but of course, in the context of
my mother dying, and all the other pressures of school and quasi family
stressful life, I have taking time to remember this good memories,
as well as the hard ones.
I am grateful for this moment, this remarkable day,
here in Sarina's house of pleasure.
I am grateful for having you to read me,
and witness with me, this remarkable point in my history.
Your Enchanted Gardener
April 13, 05
7:42 AM
This photo below is an image of Coach Ridderhof.
He saved my life. I hear he died a few years after we graduated.
He really gave me a foothold in life, a positive experience to counter balance
a lot of negatives. This unfocused photo was copied at the 40th Fairfax ReUnion.,
April 9, 05, Los Angeles.
This is where you will find the story of my 30th High School ReUnion
that begins this series about a Radical Healing surrounding my 40th ReUnion:
http://curezone.com/blogs/m.asp?f=92&i=120
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