Tracing grandma's footsteps #2

Address: 3305 Pasadena Ave Los Angeles (Lincoln Heights)

Year: 1976

Former Name: Leval of California, Inc

Current Name: Leval

This past Saturday, I woke up early in order to get a head start on the long weekend and quickly get some errands out of the way. I drove down to the huge Goodwill donation center on San Fernando rd. to drop off an entire car load of junk clothes and other things. The center is near my old old neighborhood in Lincoln Heights, which is why I'm somewhat familiar with it. Anyhow, as I drove down Pasadena Ave, I realized one of my grandma's workplaces from the '76 stack was located close by.

After I unloaded the car and collected my receipt, I drove back on Pasadena Ave looking for this place. Unlike Downtown L.A., I wasn't too familiar with the area since my family moved away when I was 5 years old. I had no idea what type of building I was looking for. It was a bit strange to drive past the old church where my teenaged parents met. It was even stranger to discover my grandma worked just one block down from that church. I parked and walked up to the one story building where I heard the buzz of sewing machines hard at work. But that wasn't 3305. I walked over about half a block and I was very surprised to see the name on the 1976 document still matched name on the door. The door was closed so it may also have been shut down fairly recently.

According to the document, my grandma's time there was very short. Although, it doesn't matter to me whether she was at a specific place for a few weeks or a few years. It's still a part of her past and a part of the trail that I'm trying to piece together and I'm definitely looking forward to seeing what's next.

Tracing grandma's footsteps: #1

Grandma's Footsteps c.2011

Address : 808 S. Broadway Downtown Los Angeles

Year: 1976

Former Name : Ideal Fashions

Current Name: Anjac Fashion 

I was very excited to visit the first location of my grandma's former workplaces. To be honest, I was thinking about how to approach this project throughout the day. Instead of walking to all of the locations in one go, I decided to visit one location in a given day and in chronological order.

I should mention my grandma was a seamstress her entire life, which will give everyone a better idea of the type of buildings she was at. She loved to sew outside of work too. She'd make some clothes for me when she had the extra time and resources. My favorite handmade item was a purple dress she made especially for my 2nd grade picture day. But I digress...

After I got out of work and ate a quick dinner out, I looked at the stapled 1976 W2 forms and selected one address. With a full stomach and renewed energy, I walked from Flower down to Broadway along 7th street. As I was looking for the street numbers, I noticed I wasn't too far from the location. I was at 710 and needed to find 808. The majority of the street numbers on that side of Broadway are hard to find. Most are missing or just hand painted. It was a different feeling to walk while looking up for the numbers. The shops and stands along Broadway are so overwhelmingly "in your face" that it's easy to miss some of the architectural designs that are directly above everyone's heads over second floor.

 Grandma's Footsteps c.2011

As I approached 806, I saw two unnumbered spaces then 810. I asked a vendor next door which one was 808, and she pointed at the chained gate. She went on to tell me it's out of business and completely empty. I was surprised since it didn't look abandoned. There was a security camera and the decals on the doors were completely in tact, so it looked like it was just closed for the day. I asked the vendor how long had it been closed and she said it's been about 6 months.

Grandma's Footsteps c.2011

Based on the tax form, my grandma wasn't there for too long. She never went into detail about why she  left her jobs. All I know is that she simply moved onto the next place. It was the only way she knew how to survive. She had to, for herself and for her two daughters. I'll always be thankful for that and I'll continue to thank her by retracing these steps.

The Purple Dress

f*ck yeah side ponytail!

A walk through my grandmother's past

Pursuing the American dream

I love my family (God rest their souls) but I grew up with a couple of hoarders. I've always known that to some extent but now that I'm in charge of deciding what to toss and what is worth keeping, it has really hit me. I'll never fully understand why they kept so much, although I can try understand the possibility of the stuff simply sneaking up on them over the years.

I'm having a good time finding some interesting items and I've come up with a new idea for a photo series. It came to me while I was purging my grandmother's W2 forms from the 1970s (yes, you read that correctly). I noticed she had several jobs in Downtown L.A. between 1976-81.  I wrote down a few addresses and I plan to visit each building over the next few days and take a snapshot. I'm sure I've walked past these specific places a million times before, completely unaware of the personal link. I can't wait to see what these specific addresses look like and I can't wait to share the images.

A walk through the park

Otherside of the tracks c.2009

“Always remember to slow down in life; live, breathe, and learn; take a look around you whenever you have time and never forget everything and every person that has the least place within your heart.”

Blink

Civic Center c.2011

"A hundredth of a second here, a hundredth of a second there - even if you put them end to end, they still only add up to one, two, perhaps three seconds, snatched from eternity.”~ Robert Doisneau

Walking with baskets & carts

Mobile pic 2011

I stayed home from work recently. It isn’t often that I take full advantage of a sick day because 9 times out of 10, I’m actually sick. But I needed to clear my head, badly. In an effort to be practical before embarking on my own version of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, I decided to go to the laundry mat.

Doing laundry probably isn’t the most therapeutic activity for most. Actually, I think most people hate it. I remember somewhat hating it as a kid too. My mom would often let the laundry pile up until we were forced to make these trips to the laundry mat an all day event. She’d rarely give me quarters for video games, which didn’t make it any more fun for me. But I also remember the good things that came along with those trips. It was one of the few times we’d eat donuts from the Chinese food/Donut shop next door, tacos from the taco truck on Hicks Ave, or a ¼ lb burger with the fat fries from Jim’s burgers a block away on Rowan Ave. I’d be in charge of a few loads while she managed another set of loads. I'd be the lookout person for an empty machine, folding table or basket. Although she was slightly (very) obsessive over the way our laundry was separated and washed, she didn’t make me hate it. If anything, I couldn’t wait to do laundry MY way one day.

So I started my day off by going to the laundry mat. I rarely see this place completely empty since I usually go on weekends. I have to say it was nice. Just me, my thoughts, and scattered memories. 

A walk alongside abandoned tracks

Mobile pic 2011

“You know, the camera is not meant just to show misery. You can show things that you like about the universe, things that you hate about the universe. It's capable of doing both.”

~Gordon Parks

Walking by broken sounds

    

 


I develop prints the same way I cook

I rarely measure or keep time. I'll stop if it looks right.

Occasionally, it actually works.~ V.F.

These prints are a sample of a strange collection I began back in 2008. Over 100 developed B&W 35mm images are under my belt, as well as plenty of undeveloped rolls of film. I also have a load of random digital and mobile pictures, although I prefer to use film for this project.

I like to choose one major street to walk along for a few miles and attempt to find as many pay phones as I can. Over the last few years, I've searched along sections of Whittier Blvd., Sunset Blvd., Central Ave., Florence Ave., Skid row on 6th St, 7th St, & 8th St. It's been awhile since I've gone on a pay phone mission, equipped with rolls of film and appropriate shoes. I'm going to resume where I left off...

A Saturday night ride

Mobile pics c.2011

"Photography is an immediate reaction, drawing is a meditation."
~Henri Cartier Bresson

Walking with too much

Gateway shadows c.2009

When I was a child, my mom and I would always pass by the Whittier Blvd. arch on our walks to the Commerce shopping center. Everytime I pass by that arch now, I'm reminded of her forgetfulness. 

My mom would constantly forget we didn't have a car to put our purchases into. She'd always buy too much, and would often use me as a sort of shopping cart. Carrying five grocery bags on each arm was normal for me. The most embarrassing thing she and my grandma ever made me do was to "wear" an extra grocery bag as a backpack by putting my arms through the bag handles.

Some habits are hard to break. Those experiences are exactly why you'll find me carrying a massive amount of things from a car at once rather than making multiple (and more practical) trips. Sometimes if I walk or take public transportation to a store, I might forget I didn't drive there... just like mom did.

Root of the walk

Gaze c.2007

I don't remember why I ventured out on this night time walk by Hollywood and Highland.  I'll assume I was simply restless that night. While looking at this picture, I began to think about when I became aware of my long walks.

Earlier today, I read an article on yahoo that ranked L.A. third among the dirtiest cities in the country.  "AFC voters also put traffic-clogged Los Angeles in last place for being pedestrian friendly..." 

I’ll be the first to agree with this. This city is definitey not pedestrian friendly in comparison to most other major cities that I've visited. But I usually find comfort and freedom in taking crazy long walks. I’ll credit my grandmother for that. 

It started when I was 7yrs old. I had to sell 5 boxes of chocolates for my school’s fundraiser, and if you sold 5 boxes, then you won a free trip to Disneyland. We didn’t have much money so this was the only way for me to earn a ticket in. I guess you can say this was my first job. Many of the students gave their boxes to their parents where they'd sell them at work. Since my grandmother worked in a sweatshop and my mom wasn’t working at that time, that wasn’t an option. Everyday after school my grandma would pick me up and hand me a box of chocolates, much to my horror. Instead of taking our normal route home,  which included 3 buses, she’d made me walk from Brooklyn (Cesar Chavez now) & Boyle all the way home to Whittier & Townsend. It was a little less than 4 miles, but it was an awful lot for a little girl and an old lady.

She made me ask every person that walked by us. Pushed me into every business on the street. Made me stand in front of gas stations until we were kicked out for soliciting. Auto shop mechanics were my best customers. Dentists were not. At the end of it all, she not only tested my stamina, but also taught my first lesson in earning. As if a 7 yr old needed extra appreciation for a trip to Disneyland. I’m glad she made me do it, though. She made walking through this crazy town completely normal as well as altered my definition of a long walk, for life.

Restart

Think of a place where you're completely in your element.

Now think of being away from that place for a year.

That's what being away from the darkroom has been for me.

I'm pretty sure Freestyle misses my business.

An apology

Ditch days

c.2007

(Written March 2011)

Mom,

Late last year when you had the sudden urge to eat at Clifton’s Cafeteria, I thought it was really strange. I remember going there several times when I was little but I didn’t remember the food being anything special. My memories attached to that place are associated with a specific court case when I was 8.  That’s where we ate right after the trial and I don't remember enjoying it after that day.

When I asked why you suddenly wanted to go back, you shared something I never heard before. Your first meal when you came to this country was at Clifton’s Cafeteria. That was actually really cool to learn. But for some reason (my own selfish reasons) I kept putting off our lunch date at Clifton’s. To tell you the truth, there were too many other places I wanted to take you to eat instead. I tried my best to keep our bi-monthly lunch dates. But in the end, I let my own bad memories associated with Clifton’s deprive you of your own nostalgia.

When your neurological exam was finally scheduled for Friday March 25^th, I was happy for many reasons. Not only was I thrilled that you were prepared to take the necessary steps to tackle this brain tumor, but I was also looking forward to our ditch day. We were finally going to eat at Clifton’s and then go to the L.A. Zoo, like you’d been wanting for some time. That was the plan.

My heart stopped for a moment when I saw you lose consciousness the night of the 11^th. On the way to the hospital, I didn’t want to believe that this was all unraveling two weeks before your scheduled exam, and before our ditch day. As the days passed, I became anxious, especially when I learned of the possibility of multiple procedures. I wanted you to come home for a while before going back to the hospital. When the first procedure didn’t go as planned, I couldn’t wait for you to wake up. The danger was becoming too real. I shared my fears with my close friends and I couldn’t wait to promise you we’d be going to Clifton’s the moment you got out of there. My worst fears were confirmed when I was informed you were rushed to a second emergency procedure and you were never going to wake up. From one day to the next, I never thought my last words to you would be just that. Last words.

 I’m so sorry I kept putting off your simple requests…a meal at Clifton’s being the most recent one. That will always haunt me every time I walk by the corner of 7^{th  &} Broadway. Of course there are a million other things I would’ve done differently. I honestly assumed we had more time. Everyday I wish we had more time.

A walk down to the artwalk

As the next Downtown L.A. Artwalk event approaches, I'm reminded of the pleasant stroll I took while heading over to the artwalk last month. 

I decided to take "the long way" down to the artwalk before meeting my friends who were already having dinner on Spring St. I could have met up with them sooner and I didn't have to walk down from upper Grand. However, on my way from work I realized I didn't have too many pictures of the Cal Plaza at night. Besides, if this picturesque detour meant I could avoid the rat friendly blocks that border Pershing Square, then so be it. There weren't many people walking around the plaza, which wasn't surprising. It wasn't too late but I've noticed that place typically becomes a bit of a ghost town after the sun sets.  I was vigilant about anyone following me, but I was actually a bit more anxious of any rats that might cross my path.

I already liked visiting that place during the daytime on a weekend. It can be a very peaceful pocket in the city and I found that exact sentiment was true on a week night. Although I was simply passing through, I felt as ease and serene. That isn't something I can say for too many parts of Downtown L.A. at night. At least not from the ground level.

A stroll through Cal Plaza 

c.2011

A missed block of local history

Mobile pic c.2011

Yesterday was off to a frustrating start. I woke up with a full blown flu, I was out of medication, and I had two library books that were due. I tried to renew the books online but they were put on hold by someone else. Unfortunately, I didn't have a choice but to take them back in my condition. But I figured I could get some fresh air and pick up some much needed medicine.

After I dropped off my books, I wasn't in the mood to hang out and browse. (You know I must have been really sick) I met up with Chris and we decided to walk over to Little Toyko to have a early dinner before my medication reload. We walked along 5th St. past Pershing Square, which I hate to do late in the afternoon due to the nasty rats that like to run by. Aside from the rat anxiety, the fresh air was a nice contrast to my feverish forehead. As we crossed the street onto Hill St., Chris pointed to the ground and smiled.  My reaction? "Wow, that's old school!" It's strange that this piece of pavement has been left alone years after Thrifty's became Rite Aid. It's stranger that this piece isn't in front of a Rite Aid. It's even stranger that I've repeatedly missed this piece of pavement.  

I'm sure I'm not the only one that has memories of trips to Thrifty's specifically for the ice cream. Rite Aid still sells the well known ice cream under its former name, but it's not 29 cents anymore. In our household, Baskin Robbins ice cream was for extra special occasions. You can label Thrifty's ice cream as the proletariat's ice cream. Coconut Pinapple, Black Cherry and Rocky Road were my favorite flavors. They still are. I remember I couldn't wait until I was old enough to finish a triple scoop on a waffle cone. Come to think of it, I never got to do that. I think I know what I'll order on my birthday. 

Has it all been done?

No More Ideas c.2010

Whenever I walk through the streets of L.A., I often ignore people that walk by me. This might have originated during my upbringing. My mother was a very young when she had me and was in her early twenties by the time I started school. She's very pretty and received a lot of unwanted attention in her youth. One of the first social lessons she taught me was how to ignore men. Anytime she received an inappropriate cat call she would instruct me not to look at the person and to simply keep walking. As I grew up, that tip evolved to apply to everyone. I've walked right by old friends and even celebrities because of my tendency to look straight ahead or to look down.

Looking down as I walk has had it's advantages. Aside from finding coins and avoiding dog shit, I've also noticed artwork that can be missed quite easily. I was walking in downtown one day when I saw the following message stenciled on the sidewalk. "No More Ideas". I'm sure this is intentionally vague, but it got me thinking about my own love of photography. As time progresses it seems that everything that can be done artistically has in fact been done. Have we really gotten to a point where every style reminds the viewer of someone else's work?


I believe every person brings a different perspective to their work, visually or technically. This can be true even when intentionally duplicating a style. Whether the end result is any good is another story. In a time when Hollywood studios keep filming remakes, TV has been swarmed by the reality programming, and new artwork looks familiar, it's understandable to think we're out of ideas. Many like myself try to prove that this isn't a fact, and at the end of the day, we all hope we're right.

Lonely girl c.2010

Walking right past natural beauty

SoCal winter morning

 Mobile picture c.2011

Have you ever repeatedly walked by a certain spot and then suddenly notice something different? It happened to me recently. I was leaving for work one morning when the blue morning sky gravitated my attention upward. Three gorgeous trees had just been trimmed by city workers due to the high winds. There have been ongoing problems with large branches breaking off and blocking the streets, not to mention the danger to pedestrians. Unlike other parts of the country, winters in southern California are never truly frigid. As a result, it rarely looks like winter around here. Perhaps looking at the snow capped mountains and christmas lights are our reminders. I'm not complaining, however it's pretty well known that we don't have four seasons down here. Also, the seasons we do have don't always come in chronological order.

 That morning felt different.  There wasn't a heat wave or a freak storm. The combination of the crisp, "California cold" morning air along with the naked trees felt like the perfect SoCal winter day.  Or maybe there wasn't anything too different about that day. Perhaps the only difference was that I stopped rushing and took a second to notice the beauty has been across the street all along.

It's not polite to stare

Staring c.2011

Mobile picture

On Friday nights, I often go to Hollywood after work just to detox a bit. Whether its to eat a bite, browse through a bookstore, perhaps run a few errands. Riding the subway to Hollywood makes much more sense than to drive there. Everything I need is around the station, and I don't lose 30 minutes stuck in traffic and another 30 minutes looking for parking.

As you can imagine, there are some interesting characters and sights on the train alone...as well as in hollywood alone. Put the two together and who needs a book to stay entertained?

I had already finished my book earlier in the day, "The Castle in Transylvania", so I didn't have anything to look at other than my fellow passengers. When the train approached the next stop, a flood of passengers came in and a woman caught my eye immediately. Ok, I admit I liked her scarf. But then I noticed her sternum was sticking out of her chest. I turned my focus onto her face and sure enough, she was anorexic. I'm sorry to say that my first thought was, "I've never seen one in real life before". Maybe there was another explanation, but that was my assumption. Others looked at her too. She was nothing but skin and bones and didn't look like she would survive this year. She was well dressed and had some make up and it was clear she wasn't homeless. She sat down right in front of me. It was interesting watching standing passengers stare at her as she read her book.

Several stops later, a man with a tattered T-shirt and a guiter along with his two children came into our section of the train. He announced that he and his kids hadn't eaten dinner yet asked if anyone could spare any change after their performance. They sang "Help!" by the Beatles, which was quite fitting and sounded sincere. I found it incredibly ironic that they performed in front of the skeletal woman. I didn't have any change to give which saddened me. I do give spare change to people that ask, so I always feel a little extra sad when I don't have any change to give to those that actually do something other than just beg.

I walked away from that ride feeling badly for both, the hungry woman and for the hungry family, although it was for two very different reasons.

A Happy Sign

Knitting is for girls c.2011

Mobile picture

During my rides on the train, it isn't uncommon to see passengers partake in their hobbies, whether it's reading, writing, knitting, sleeping etc. My ride home today was a little bizarre. I get on the first stop of the route, so the trains layover for several minutes, even during rush hour. After the train filled up, some time had passed and everyone started to get a little restless. The beeping sound that signals the closing of the doors kept sounding off non stop. Everyone knew something was wrong. After several minutes of annoying beeps, the conductor announced that there were technical difficulties and everyone had to transfer onto the train on the otherside of the platform. Groans were heard all around as everyone got up out of their seats and rushed over to the otherside.

I was able to find a window seat. Just as soon as I had sat down, an older man in a work suit sat right next to me. He immediately smiled at a young guy sitting right in front of us. I hadn't noticed that the young guy was knitting. The man next to me asked him, "how many times have you heard 'I've never seen a guy knit before'?" That's when I noticed that older man next to me was also knitting.

I admit, I've never seen a male knit before, and there I was, sandwiched between two men who were knitting. They were so close to me that I couldn't get a picture of both of their hands in the same frame. I snuck some pictures, although I really wish they had turned out clearer.

While I was doing this, I received a call from an out of state phone number. Since I was in the middle of taking pictures with my phone, I instantly picked up the call. It was the phone interview I had been waiting for. It was for the volunteer spot for Habitat for Humanity's Global Village program. I was smiling to myself during the phone interview. Perhaps sitting next to the only two male knitters in the city was a sign that something out of the ordinary was about to happen.

The interview went well and I'll be off to Romania for a couple of weeks later this year. As George Bailey might say, "Holy Mackerel!"

New Year, New Start

Central library c.2011

Mobile picture

New year's resolutions. I know the majority of people have the idea that a new year's resolution is only an attempt at a goal rather than a goal waiting to be accomplised. I know everyone says this, but I really do have every intention of sticking to my resolution. Well, at least the one I have relating to this blog.

After being without home internet service for exactly one year, I decided to do something about it today. I wasn't boycotting any service, but not having the internet at home simply ...just happened. I was using the library's service and the service on my phone, which is why I didn't feel any sense of urgency to have another connection. However, I wasn't able to spend as much time at the library with my new schedule. Blog entries and other personal projects backed up as a result. I like the quiet environment at the library and it made it easier to gather my thoughts there, but I'm going to have to practice self discipline at home and stop making excuses.

***

2010 wasn't my favorite year of the decade. Actually, it ranked pretty close to being the worst of my 20s. But here I am, still standing in 2011 and completely open to optimism instead of absolute realism.

Speaking of optimism, something happened two days ago that made me smile. Let me back track a bit. Two weeks ago, I sent in a volunteer application to Habitat for Humanity's Global Village program. They ask applicants to list their top three location choices. I relunctantly filled out the other two choices even though I had my heart set on El Salvador, my mother's country. After a few of days, I only heard back from the team leaders of my other two choices, Romania & New Zealand. I wasn't thrilled about these places but their program dates are the most convenient.

After reading the responses from both team leaders, I was beginning to like the idea of volunteering in Romania. I'm ashamed to say I don't know too much about the country other than their strong Olympic gymnastics history, and Transylvania, but the email was very enthusiastic and detailed. I wrote back to the Romanian team leader expressing further interest. After few email exchanges, it was settled that I would be contacted for a phone interview very soon. As the idea of going to Romania continued to brew in my head, a "sign" came my way two days ago.

I went to Borders in Hollywood for no apparent reason. As I was browsing through the travel section, I talked myself out of buying any guide related to Eastern Europe. I didn't want to get too ahead of myself. What if I'm not contacted or it simply doesn't work out? I'll be disappointed and I'll be out $25 on a useless guidebook. So I wandered over to the fiction section, specifically to the "V's". It's no secret that I'm a fan of Jules Verne. I looked and I hoped I'd find a copy of one of hard to find books that I've only read online. I found something better. Off at the end of the shelf I saw a small purple book with a title I had never heard of. "The Castle in Transylvania"

mobile picture

Um, what?? A "new" Jules Verne book set in Romania? It may be a freaky coincidence but I am choosing to see this as a happy omen. I bought it without any hesitation. On the way home, I read that this was published in the middle of 2010 and it was the first english translation since the 1890's. The story was also written 4 years before Dracula (which is next on my reading list). I think it's pretty obvious the publishers are trying to capitalize on a certain teen vampire series, but that's ok since it worked to my benefit. Heh.

Not only am I choosing to view this discovery as a sign of a new opportunity abroad, but also as a sign that other things may fall into place in 2011. It may sound too "Pollyanna" but I'm ok with that.