Top Exec Blog (Web Log)

In the 1970’s, FM radio came of age, supplanting AM broadcasts because of quality, stereo channels and multiple formats superior to AM offerings. For this essay, however, the letters FM have several different meanings. Let me explain.

FM means “Family Man”.

FM indicates “Father of a Man”.

FM also means “Friend Missed”.

Each “FM” applies to a man I wrote about in my November 11, 2011, post. Anthony J. Cabrera, at age 89.5 (89 and ½) years of life, passed away quietly in the early morning hours of December 7, 2011 (Pearl Harbor Day).
Another aged veteran who served his country in WWII, and who formed part of the “Greatest Generation”, left this vale of tears, after a long life. What can we say about that life?

From the perspective of the many who gathered to celebrate his time on this earth, this past Saturday, in California, Tony was a “gem”, a “jewel”, “un gran señor”. Of the 140 residents in his senior living apartment, his presence was always notable, whether at common mealtimes or otherwise. When he was there, in the words of the facility director, his presence (or lack thereof) was always felt in a remarkable way. He was a man who “knew how to have a good time”, said one. Another commented lovingly on his famous “two hour hot baths and a request for a cold beer” during a visit with family in Denver. Still another mentioned how amazed she was that he could speak fluent English, Spanish and French. And my sister, Magdalena, mentioned his love of all things French, and the poetry of Hugo, Balzac and Verlaine. He had lovingly recited a French poem to his 80-something tablemates from memory during a recent mealtime that ended with the phrase, “What have you done with your youth?” He was, to say the least, in tune with the wisdom that comes with age.

He was an amateur musician all of his life and played trumpet from early on, learning and loving jazz improvisation through the big band era, the be-bop era and throughout his playing days. He played “as well as the best of them” when it came to improvisation, said one longtime friend, and I have to agree, having accompanied him on piano many a time. Melodically, creatively and rhythmically, he had it all, including the discipline to practice, or “woodshed” as he would say, till he got his embouchure or breathing or playing just right. Even into his ‘80’s, he would practice his horn two hours per day, which amazed us all. He did so, whether in the seat of his pickup truck in a remote parking lot (so as not to disturb others), or on the side of a mountain road overlooking the Eel River Valley, or wherever he needed to, so as to be able to practice all he felt he should on his beloved trumpet. Later, in his final year or so, he took up the piano, and taught himself how to play, practicing as diligently as ever, and inspiring all who observed his self-discipline and motivation, even at age 88+.

As a child, he grew up in rural California, suffering the challenges of an immigrant Mexican family during the Great Depression. His father always had work, but Pop told us one of his earliest memories was as a small child, sitting under the tables where his mother, Rosalina, worked, sorting apricots or some other fruit harvested from the fields of the Golden State. He shared, too, the trauma of being beaten for speaking Spanish in the public schools, in those long-ago days of the 1920’s and 30’s. Despite the harsh punishments, his father, Isidro, made sure his children learned Spanish, reading the funnies to them in Spanish, after first listening to them read those same comic strips to him in English, and helping them learn to read and write
in his native language. All the same, Tony was one of the most popular kids to swap lunches with, since his mom was putting burritos in his brown bag, and the Anglo kids all wanted to exchange their white bread sandwiches for the homemade Mexican fare that Tony brought to school. I’m sure it was his friendly and outgoing personality, too, that helped him make his way through those years of youth and adolescence.

With the explosion of war, his life took on a massive change. He, like so many others, was swept up in the great militarization of American society, becoming a part of the U.S. Army Air Corps (now the U.S. Air Force), and serving in WWII as a navigator (see my post from 11/11/11), until shot down
over France, where he began his lifelong love of the French language. Forced to hide with the locals of the French Resistance, the Maquis, Tony and the rest of his crew who had crash landed somewhere in France, tried their best to communicate with the locals. Because he was bilingual, with his Spanish, he made good progress in learning some French. This led him to eventually dedicate himself to really studying the language and becoming fluent upon his return to the US, and his completion of college at UC Berkeley, under the GI Bill. His love of France and all things French was so remarkable that twice he took his family to live there, and two or three more times he spent a summer there alone, studying the language and the literature, as part of his career as an educator and community college professor of French. All  because of the unexpected and thoroughly life-threatening experience of crash-landing in a potato field in France during WWII.

In addition to raising three children with his wife of 59 years, Virginia (RIP), he also proudly was the grandfather of six, teaching several of them trumpet technique over the years. Without a doubt he was a lover of books, and had a vast collection cobbled together from swap meets, flea markets, bookstores and other sources. Invariably, he would give someone a book, a newspaper clipping, a magazine article, and tell them he had thought of them when presenting them the item. His talent also included photography, which
he loved enough to become proficient in developing and printing photos (B&W) in a darkroom of his own invention back in my home town of Visalia. He had an eye, too, for the well-composed photo, and one of his legacies is the many hundreds of photos from travels, family events and other moments in his life that we will cherish. He almost always had his trusty 35mm camera with him, and the photos prove that he made use of it with good results.

Thanks for reading,sharing or subscribing. May the Good Lord bless you and yours at Christmastime and always.

© Daniel A. Cabrera, Top Exec Partners, All rights reserved, 2011.