American Legacy Collection

Isaac M. Flores

Description

American Legacy Collection is a book of short stories written in two parts. The first portion links the stories of four young friends who grow up together and go through a series of adventures as students in school and on into later life. It depicts their mischief, their industriousness (yes), their intellect, their love for each other, the military service of two of them and, finally, their tragic deaths as young adults. The most popular of the boys meets a mysterious death officially ruled a suicide -- or was it murder?
The second part of the manuscript is a potpourri of short stories on many topics.
These include the author sharing a pizza with Fidel Castro, a new, summarized version of the Challenger disaster, a comical takeoff on a Miami federal trial for mobster Meyer Lansky, a detailed report about Trinity Site in New Mexico where the first atomic bomb was tested, a bizarre kidnapping in Santo Domingo, a funny Christmas dinner in Fidel Castro's Cuba in the 1960s, a real character at Walt Disney World and a tear-jerker Christmas story from the little town of Christmas. Florida, USA. There are others, plus a few short poems within several of the pieces.
The author is Isaac M. Flores, also known as Ike Flores. who worked for The Associated Press for more than 35 years. While there, he was a staff writer, and an editor on the General, Latin American and Foreign desks in New York.
He became a foreign correspondent during the time of Fidel Castro in Cuba and then headed bureaus in Lisbon, Portugal, and Sao Paulo, Brazil. He later covered the Caribbean and the Kennedy Space Center at Cape Canaveral.
In retirement from AP, he was a senior writer for Lockheed-Martin, defense contractor in Orlando. He has written six books. He has a home in Winter Park, Florida, and currently resides in Greeensboro, North Carolina.
His email address is [e-mail]. Telephone [phone].

Sujets

• Short Stories
• Flores
• Isaac
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris US
• Date de parution: 15 février 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781669857044
• Langue: English

Extrait

American Legacy Collection









Isaac M. Flores



Copyright © 2022 by Isaac M. Flores.
ISBN:
Softcover
978-1-6698-5705-1
eBook
978-1-6698-5704-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.





Rev. date: 11/22/2022





Xlibris
844-714-8691
www.Xlibris.com
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Contents
Dedication
Author Biography
PART ONE
Chapter 1A
It Weren’t Las Vegas
Chapter 2A
Juarez Or Bust
Chapter 3A
Murder Or Suicide?
Chapter 4A
Benny’s Football Shoes
Chapter 5A
The Sole Saver
Chapter 6A
The Drunk
Chapter 7A
Good Writing
Chapter 8A
Rationing And Its Consequences
Chapter 9A
D. H. Lawrence’s Erotic Paintings
Chapter 10A
Loosening The Bonds
Chapter 11A
Duty Calls
Chapter 12A
Manolo’s Story
PART 2: POPOURIE
Chapter 1
The Old Man Of The Sea
Chapter 2
Pope John Paul In Miami And Havana
Chapter 3
Space Shuttle Challenger
Chapter 4
Loneliness
Chapter 5
Trinity Site
Chapter 6
A Christmas Story From Fidel Castro’s Communist Paradise
Chapter 7
The Secret Place
Chapter 8
Learning About Life
Chapter 9
The Kid And The Tamalero
Chapter 10
A Cuban Christmas
Chapter 11
Louisiana Governor Leaves Mental Hospital For A Crazy-Quilt Tourist Tour
Chapter 12
The Character
Chapter 13
A Christmas Story



Dedication
For Arcola, Cathy, Lexi and Alyssa



Author Biography
American Legacy Collection is a book of short stories written in two parts. The first portion links the stories of four young friends who grow up together and go through a series of adventures as students in school and on into later life. It depicts their mischief, their industriousness (yes), their intellect, their love for each other, the military service of two of them and, finally, their tragic deaths as young adults. The most popular of the boys meets a mysterious death officially ruled a suicide -- or was it murder?
The second part of the manuscript is a potpourri of short stories on many topics.
These include the author sharing a pizza with Fidel Castro, a new, summarized version of the Challenger disaster, a comical takeoff on a Miami federal trial for mobster Meyer Lansky, a detailed report about Trinity Site in New Mexico where the first atomic bomb was tested, a bizarre kidnapping in Santo Domingo, a funny Christmas dinner in Fidel Castro’s Cuba in the 1960s, a real character at Walt Disney World and a tear-jerker Christmas story from the little town of Christmas. Florida, USA. There are others, plus a few short poems within several of the pieces.
The author is Isaac M. Flores, also known as Ike Flores. who worked for The Associated Press for more than 35 years. While there, he was a staff writer, and an editor on the General, Latin American and Foreign desks in New York.
He became a foreign correspondent during the time of Fidel Castro in Cuba and then headed bureaus in Lisbon, Portugal, and Sao Paulo, Brazil. He later covered the Caribbean and the Kennedy Space Center at Cape Canaveral.
In retirement from AP, he was a senior writer for Lockheed-Martin, defense contractor in Orlando. He has written six books. He has a home in Winter Park, Florida, and currently resides in Greeensboro, North Carolina.
His email address is [e-mail] . Telephone [phone].



Part One



Chapter 1A
IT WEREN’T LAS VEGAS
Well, there we were, all four of us teenagers driving down to the border -- this border meant two little villages about 35 miles south of our little town of Taylor, which was on the New Mexico side of that invisible barrier separating the United States and Mexico.
Columbus, New Mexico, which Pancho Villa had once invaded and ransacked, stood on our side of the border. Palomas, a much poorer neighbor, graced the border on the Mexican side.
Wind-blown Palomas was our final destination. There was a tiny “border control station” in Columbus but as far as we knew it controlled nothing except, maybe, coyotes, jackrabbits and cactus that comprised this part of the desert landscape. Anyway, we were well-known and always waved through if there happened to be a guard in his little shack there.
The important thing to us was that Palomas was wide open. By that I mean you could do anything you wanted in Palomas, no matter who or what you were -- or how young you were, in our case. It was a micro Las Vegas before its time.
This was a Friday. And, we had just finished a round of testing at Taylor High School and we were gonna celebrate with a little Mexican booze. My buddies and I headed across the border to prepare for our big weekend.
Vegas-2
Once there, we bought some beer. a couple of bottles of tequila, and a rotgut whiskey called Waterfill and Frasier, which we were told was originally from Kentucky but was now distilled in Juarez, Mexico, making it much cheaper in price -- and taste.
We each had a beer or two, and a dime shotglass of tequila at this place which was kind of a Mexican 7-Eleven. We were young but, as I say, once we crossed the border from the New Mexico side, nobody cared what we did in Palomas.
Our purchases in hand, we stumbled upon a knock-down drag-out fight between two young women outside the Lincoln Bar. By outside I mean they were down in the dirt, there being no paved streets, not to mention sidewalks. A bunch of whooping beer drinkers surrounded the women, who were punching and clawing at each other in a cloud of dust.
Even a small group of guitar players seemed to be rehearsing their chords in the background of all this. Three of them we recognized as members of the crew who performed at Palomas’ Lincoln Bar in the evenings. “ Ay, ay, yay, yay,” sang one of them. “ Canta y no llores, porque cantando se alegran los corazones y llorando te déja todo jodido.” (“Sing, sing, don’t cry, because singing gladdens the heart and crying deadens the soul”).
We were goggle-eyed at what was taking place down in the dirt. There was a lot of hair-pulling and a little blood from one of the combatant’s bloody nose. And the ladies’ dresses were pulled up above their hips to reveal their long legs and panties.
Vegas -3
something which kept us rooted to the spot for awhile. But we soon tired of that, especially when someone in the crowd yelled while walking away disgustedly, “They’re just prostitutes.”
“Let’s get back,” Robert said to us. “Remember, I’ve got an early date.”
It was getting late for all of us by then, so we picked up our booze and beer, climbed back in the dusty car and drove back to our little hometown. We made our plans for the weekend and split up to get home in time for dinner. We told no one about this, of course.
We got together later that evening and had a fine time for the start of our weekend. The vodka tasted especially good with 7-UP.
We were in the throes of the Great Depression at that time. I guess you could say our families were poor, but maybe lower-middle-class poor would be a better description. My dad said we were on the ragged edges of middle class, but he was being optimistic.
My mom worked at a big restaurant at the town’s busiest corner, the one with the stoplight. My dad worked at odd jobs, one time with the WPA (Works Progress Administration), a federal program that put men to work building structures such as restrooms and concrete benches, tables and barbeque pits in public parks in the area.
So you may be wondering by now how we got enough money to drive around town and all the way out to Palomas. (for one thing, Henry’s “car” was formerly a bread truck once used by his dad, a baker).
How could we afford the money for gas and booze when we couldn’t buy new Levis or tennis shoes? Well, we had our own priorities, you see:
My small amount of cash came mostly from my grandma. I mean she worked as a waitress and short order cook at various places in town. But she always had a quarter and a cookie or two every time I saw her at home. I saved the quarters, but gobbled down the cookies. Her noisy parrot ate a cookie or two right along with us.
To add to my few assets, I built a shoeshine box, stuffed it wih brush and strips of soft cloth, plus the tins and bottles of black, brown and white polish, and I went to work on weekends. I shined the shoes of the army guys stationed at the Army Air Base near the town’s country club. The small training base housed a contingent of troops flying mostly helicopters and small two-engine planes (this was before and during the Second World War).
I got some good tips from those soldiers. especially when they got paid.
I charged a dime for the brown and black shoes and 15 cents for anything white. but the army guys invariably tossed me a quarter and told me