A Special 100th Birthday Party
By Larry J. Rodarte © The Diaz Observer online, July 19, 2020
Thirteen years ago I held a party for my grandfather Joseph V. Diaz, Grandpa Joe to me, to commemorate the 100th anniversary of his birth.
I had just remodeled a room in my home that would serve as a kind-of museum space to display photos and artifacts of his life. Like his mother before him, Joseph Vicente Diaz was born On July 19, 1907, in the small mountainous region of El Rancho de Chixo, in Huandacareo, Michoacán. There were very few modern day amenities then, but he would see many invented in his lifetime.
I was excited because I invited his living brothers and sister, and some cousins to help celebrate Grandpa Joe’s milestone birthday. I was so young when he passed in San Louis, Potosi, Mexico, but I remembered sharing a room with him when I was four years-of-age and how history was always important to him.
He wanted his 16 grandkids to reap the benefits of a good education, and aspire to relish in the better life that America had to offer as oppose to his homeland.
Grandpa was a respected man, by most counts, at least to his family and many people came to him for advice, taxes, and issues surrounding civil liberties.
His involvement with the Union Cívica Mexicana, The United Autoworkers Local 668, and education became his legacy, even almost 50 years since his passing in February of 1971.
To be Mexican-American during post World War II, with the Civil Rights movement in full swing in the mid 60’s, predisposed Grandpa to use his education for the betterment of men of color in Saginaw and in other locales across the state. His vested interest was the migrant worker and the lack of fairness they received by their employers.
This legacy of Joseph V. Diaz is not as prolific as it once was, like when he lived, but I have done my best to bring about awareness to him and those fellow founders of the Cívica who’s interest in equality for all men stood in the forefronts of their minds for their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
My grandfather and like-minded men and women fought for a strong union and negotiated the benefits that many autoworkers today take for granted. Solidarity. A more crude way of saying this: They fought for all the workers and against the dirty, hazardous jobs and unfair pay.
Grandpa Joe was probably reminded daily of the suffering his father, Grandpa Senobio, went through with his bronchitis, which was probably derived from the cold winters of Michigan, but amplified by shoveling coal in the hot heaters of the Grey Iron Plant.
So here we were in July of 2007. Tia Dora, Tia Lola, Tia Della and Uncle Fred all came to the celebration. I made tamales for them to enjoy and my hollyhocks welcomed them outside as they pulled up the driveway.
We had a great party and each, along with cousin Paul Orozco, were interviewed as they spoke of their big brother and uncle and of course the Diaz farm. I admired how there was such great love between the siblings. Tia Dora Medel was on a roll spilling her beans and telling on the mischief of Uncle Fred, my mom and Tia Della.
“He always called me baby girl,” said Tia Della Chantaca “He did help grandpa a lot during those years. If Dad was out in the fields, he would go out there and help him until it was time for him to leave — sometimes sundown.”
I recall that there was such love, and enthusiasm the day of the party, they were able to see their brother’s 100-year-old birth record from San Geronimo, that grandma Cecilia, Grandpa Joe and my mom kept from the church records in Huandacareo. It is our family’s oldest relic.
Cousin Paul Orozco spoke fondly of his Uncle. “I’ll go back to Sixth Street, me and Cooper used to visit Uncle Joe and we would sit down in the kitchen. He called us ‘muchachos’… He was a lot of fun and came to my wedding. He talked about ‘you better behave yourself, you’re married now. He would tell Lucy, ‘let me know if this guy gets out of hand. I’ll straighten him up.’”
Amongst the backdrop of old family photos, I was in my glory with these tias and tio, speaking about the old days. Uncle Fred Diaz was opening up, and the smile on his face said it all.
“He used to call me ‘boy’ all the time. Whenever he came to the house he’d say ‘hey boy, how you doing?’ He was a gentle man.”
I loved how Tia Dora referred to her father with such conviction, yet lovingly when she said, “ Daddy would not let us go out to a dance or any place. Joe would go and ask him if he could take us to the show. But he would take us to the dance. That’s the only way we got to go to the dances. ” And that is how she met Uncle Willy!
What can I say but I wish that I was back on that farm,” continued Tia Dora. “I remember it was so, so, oh I just can’t describe it.”
I tried to document this day the best I could with the equipment I had during that time. The party was special for my sisters Jo and Nancy and I, as well as Aunt Liz and Stacey. The pictures I captured of Tia Della, Uncle Fred and Tia Dora with the seven feet hollyhocks that year are truly keepsakes. They stand tall amongst the children of the little indita named Cecilia. They each recalled how the flower reminded them of their mother who had these same flowers around the farm.
With Tia Dora and Uncle Fred now gone, too. Like my grandfather I know they are all on that farm, somewhere, someplace, along with Tia Cruz, Uncle Steve, Tia Carmen, Tia Rosie, and Uncle Ralph smiling with Grandpa Senobio and Grandma Cecilia. Happy 113th birthday Grandpa Joe.
Take the time to go through the videos from that party found below. My Grandpa loved Que Sera, Sera by Doris Day, and I remember him putting it louder in his car when it came on the radio. Thus I used this song as background music.
I had just remodeled a room in my home that would serve as a kind-of museum space to display photos and artifacts of his life. Like his mother before him, Joseph Vicente Diaz was born On July 19, 1907, in the small mountainous region of El Rancho de Chixo, in Huandacareo, Michoacán. There were very few modern day amenities then, but he would see many invented in his lifetime.
I was excited because I invited his living brothers and sister, and some cousins to help celebrate Grandpa Joe’s milestone birthday. I was so young when he passed in San Louis, Potosi, Mexico, but I remembered sharing a room with him when I was four years-of-age and how history was always important to him.
He wanted his 16 grandkids to reap the benefits of a good education, and aspire to relish in the better life that America had to offer as oppose to his homeland.
Grandpa was a respected man, by most counts, at least to his family and many people came to him for advice, taxes, and issues surrounding civil liberties.
His involvement with the Union Cívica Mexicana, The United Autoworkers Local 668, and education became his legacy, even almost 50 years since his passing in February of 1971.
To be Mexican-American during post World War II, with the Civil Rights movement in full swing in the mid 60’s, predisposed Grandpa to use his education for the betterment of men of color in Saginaw and in other locales across the state. His vested interest was the migrant worker and the lack of fairness they received by their employers.
This legacy of Joseph V. Diaz is not as prolific as it once was, like when he lived, but I have done my best to bring about awareness to him and those fellow founders of the Cívica who’s interest in equality for all men stood in the forefronts of their minds for their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
My grandfather and like-minded men and women fought for a strong union and negotiated the benefits that many autoworkers today take for granted. Solidarity. A more crude way of saying this: They fought for all the workers and against the dirty, hazardous jobs and unfair pay.
Grandpa Joe was probably reminded daily of the suffering his father, Grandpa Senobio, went through with his bronchitis, which was probably derived from the cold winters of Michigan, but amplified by shoveling coal in the hot heaters of the Grey Iron Plant.
So here we were in July of 2007. Tia Dora, Tia Lola, Tia Della and Uncle Fred all came to the celebration. I made tamales for them to enjoy and my hollyhocks welcomed them outside as they pulled up the driveway.
We had a great party and each, along with cousin Paul Orozco, were interviewed as they spoke of their big brother and uncle and of course the Diaz farm. I admired how there was such great love between the siblings. Tia Dora Medel was on a roll spilling her beans and telling on the mischief of Uncle Fred, my mom and Tia Della.
“He always called me baby girl,” said Tia Della Chantaca “He did help grandpa a lot during those years. If Dad was out in the fields, he would go out there and help him until it was time for him to leave — sometimes sundown.”
I recall that there was such love, and enthusiasm the day of the party, they were able to see their brother’s 100-year-old birth record from San Geronimo, that grandma Cecilia, Grandpa Joe and my mom kept from the church records in Huandacareo. It is our family’s oldest relic.
Cousin Paul Orozco spoke fondly of his Uncle. “I’ll go back to Sixth Street, me and Cooper used to visit Uncle Joe and we would sit down in the kitchen. He called us ‘muchachos’… He was a lot of fun and came to my wedding. He talked about ‘you better behave yourself, you’re married now. He would tell Lucy, ‘let me know if this guy gets out of hand. I’ll straighten him up.’”
Amongst the backdrop of old family photos, I was in my glory with these tias and tio, speaking about the old days. Uncle Fred Diaz was opening up, and the smile on his face said it all.
“He used to call me ‘boy’ all the time. Whenever he came to the house he’d say ‘hey boy, how you doing?’ He was a gentle man.”
I loved how Tia Dora referred to her father with such conviction, yet lovingly when she said, “ Daddy would not let us go out to a dance or any place. Joe would go and ask him if he could take us to the show. But he would take us to the dance. That’s the only way we got to go to the dances. ” And that is how she met Uncle Willy!
What can I say but I wish that I was back on that farm,” continued Tia Dora. “I remember it was so, so, oh I just can’t describe it.”
I tried to document this day the best I could with the equipment I had during that time. The party was special for my sisters Jo and Nancy and I, as well as Aunt Liz and Stacey. The pictures I captured of Tia Della, Uncle Fred and Tia Dora with the seven feet hollyhocks that year are truly keepsakes. They stand tall amongst the children of the little indita named Cecilia. They each recalled how the flower reminded them of their mother who had these same flowers around the farm.
With Tia Dora and Uncle Fred now gone, too. Like my grandfather I know they are all on that farm, somewhere, someplace, along with Tia Cruz, Uncle Steve, Tia Carmen, Tia Rosie, and Uncle Ralph smiling with Grandpa Senobio and Grandma Cecilia. Happy 113th birthday Grandpa Joe.
Take the time to go through the videos from that party found below. My Grandpa loved Que Sera, Sera by Doris Day, and I remember him putting it louder in his car when it came on the radio. Thus I used this song as background music.
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