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Publishing Corner: Indian Community: Science & Wonder Indian Heros: California Indian Art: CALIE Library: Academic Financial Aid: Tribal Governments: Indian Gaming: |
Yack-a-de-yack - Joe Calac
The year was around 1951–52 when my brothers, Bobby and Dumbo and I were the youthful menaces on the Soboba Indian Reservation.
One of our targets was Mr. Joe Calac who lived across Soboba Rd. from St. Joseph’s Catholic church on the Soboba Rez. He was an original cowboy in manner, dress and transportation as he always rode his horse where ever he went. Big Stetson cowboy hat, long sleeve snap button shirt, leather vest, big bushy mustache and a handkerchief tied around his neck. He also wore leather chaps, cowboy boots and spurs. He also had a rifle in a leather pouch attached to the saddle as I now remember. For some reason – and to this day I don’t have a clue why – we chose to torment him. But on this bright, sunny day my brother, Bobby, and I were just leaving church having finished our catechism instructions as ol’ Joe Calac was clearing the front gate of his property on Soboba Rd. While he was closing his gate, we got ahead of him picking up rocks as we went. And as soon as he reached the road, we started chucking rocks at him and his horse causing it to buck and turn while old Joe fought to maintain control. As we bounced rocks off him and his horse we’re laughing hysterically and chanting “Yack-a-de-yack Joe Calac, Yack-a-de-yack Joe Calac” and scrambled for more rocks to throw. While ol’ Joe’s horse seem to be totally out of control, wildly jumping from one side to the other as we dodged back and forth until we found ourselves up against the barbwire fence on the west side of the road, corralled. In the mean time, ol’ Joe is cursing us in Spanish and the next thing we know he whipping our sorry asses with his horse whip. Needless to say, we were now crying hysterically as painful big red welts raised all over our arms, backs and shoulders, our faces are now a mass of tears and snot. When we reached home we were still smarting and sniveling from the brutal beating. One look as us and our dad asked us what happened and we told him hoping he would go find ol’ Joe and punch him in the nose for beating us.
First thing he asked and answered was “What were you doing? Throwing rocks at his horse? And with that we got another ass whipping. It just goes to show you that there are some days you just can’t win. Did Bobby and I learn anything for this experience? Yes we did. First, we learned to be careful with whom we messed with in the future. Secondly, we learned to always maintain the high ground. And finally, we learned to be aware of the environment around us. Yea, I know you were going to ask if we learned to respect our elders? The answer is yes, eventually we did, but it took a lot more ass whippings to get us there because we were always thick between the ears. Different time different world. +++++++ WHO PRODUCED THIS BLOG?
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