Ray Torres, January 7, 1928 - March 5, 2008

Today is a challenging day…the last of a year of “firsts.” March 5, 2008 my father passed on. Like every day since, I’ll think of him throughout my day. After I post this I’ll drive over to the family house and Mom and I will take care of her errands (she doesn’t drive). And I will sit in Dad’s seat in his Tahoe and smile – knowing he’s smiling about how we’ve managed to keep on keeping on.

Below is an essay that I put up on my MySpace page last year:

I lost my dad last Wednesday night.

While we knew he was weak with congestive heart failure, and we knew that another cardiac event could be his last, we’re all still reeling from the suddenness and finality of his passing.

It could have been worse. He was behind the wheel, my mom in the passenger seat, at a major intersection just blocks from their house. They were stopped (thank God) for a red light. Dad mentioned he felt dizzy and went unconscious. Mom hit the OnStar button for help. About that time a lady came to the passenger side and tapped on the window to get Mom’s attention – turns out she was a nurse. She went to the driver’s side and started CPR on Dad while he was still in the driver’s seat.

We didn’t get her name and we hope she will get in touch with us – her actions, I’m sure, gave us one more day to gather with Dad in the ER. My mom, my sisters and my niece were all with him when he passed the next evening.

Since then, we’ve been doing what needs to be done…moving through the process with memories and tears that are ready to flow at the mention of a time or place. I do my best to find the bright spots but there’s a panicked voice (my own) that keeps breaking through:

What are we gonna do without Dad???

He was the rock. He was the mechanic. He was the constant.

He worked tirelessly – first in the automotive business and then for 44 years in Real Estate – to provide the essentials (and more) for my mom, sisters and me. I’ve never had to go to jail, but Dad “bailed me out” so many times. And for the big decisions in life I could always go to him for good, sound, practical advice.

He was a motorhead. A real So Cal hot rod pioneer. His love of motorsports took him to El Mirage Dry Lake, Bonneville Salt Flats and all of the historic drag strips in the south part of the state. We have boxes and boxes of trophies from his wins at SCSA speed trials. He and his pals (including Dan Gurney, who would become a motorsports legend) ruled the roads in the collection of small towns that would eventually be known as the “Inland Empire.” His ability to fine tune an engine for performance carried over into speedboats and motorcycles.

And while Dad gave me every opportunity to do all of these things, he was no less supportive when his son found a different “obsession” – music – and he made sure I had every opportunity to immerse myself in pursuit of my dreams. He did the same thing for my little sister and her quest to be an aviator.

Dad had his first heart attack (and five way bypass) in the early ’90s. Through the years he had more episodes that slowed him down, little by little. However, no matter how much we all admonished him to “take it slow” and delegate the physical stuff to others he worked it HIS WAY until the end.

He never had to give up driving. He didn’t have to linger, in a diminished capacity, in an assisted care facility. He enjoyed (much to Mom and Little Sister’s chagrin) the foods he loved – in moderation, of course. ;-)

Most of all, he lived and loved and made sure we were all taken care of.

And this makes me hear that voice again:

What are we gonna do without Dad?

Well, we’re going to do what we have to do. We’re going to make sure Mom has all the help she needs. We’re going to make sure we move forward in the way Dad would want us to. And, most importanty, we’re going to carry him with us in our hearts until we’re done here and move on to whatever it is that waits beyond this life.

We’re going to bury Dad Thursday, March 13 at 11:15 AM at the Riverside National Cemetary. Services will be graveside with his good friend Jim Mills officiating. Somehow, I’m going to talk about a lot of the stuff I’ve written here.

After the service we’re going to have a big celebration of his life at the March Air Reserve Base Officer’s Club. I’m going to sneak in a cooler of Miller High Life quart bottles – because Dad would prefer that over spending good money on an overpriced bar drink.

“If you learn how to do it yourself you won’t have to pay someone else to do it,” he would advise me. (I’m still learning.)

It’s going to be a tough road doing without Dad. But I can feel him with me right now telling me that I’m going to do just fine.

Thanks, Dad.

A day that means more to others…more than I’ll ever be able to imagine.

“For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness. We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus - and non-believers. We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this Earth; and because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve; that as the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself; and that America must play its role in ushering in a new era of peace.”
         – President Barack Obama, January 20, 2009

I have an appreciation of all music, but when it comes to a concise composition of melody and (usually) lyric I am a true believer.

It makes sense that I was formatted for pop. Mom worked in the local stereo/record store until she was eight months along with me. After I made my appearance her work was at home and the soundtrack was a rich mix of Ellington, Fitzgerald, Getz and Brubeck. ’60s pop soon became a constant (KMPC 710) and I was picking out my own singles at 7 and LPs at 10.

I talked my way into my first band in 9th grade – lead vocals and percussion. I picked up enough piano to play 70s pop by the chords. After graduation it was all about writing our own stuff. Years went on and bands formed and broke up. I remained always a fan and feasted on the bountiful smorgasbord of post-’70s rock. Recognition and validation came from some who really mattered; fame and fortune went to the party down the block.

Today, it’s still a condition/problem/compulsion/obsession. Yes, I’m painfully aware of how my 20-something self would cluck pitifully at some old dude who was still trying with the spandex and pyrotechnics. I know how easy it is to slip unsuspectingly into the abyss of self-parody. Despite this wisdom, I have made the resolution to add time in my life to play more music – to offer up my best in an honest context without pomp and all those other pomp-like things that can multiply the cheese factor.

My confidence comes entirely from the guys you see me with here:

mostly harmless: John M., Dennis G., Phil O. & Ralph T.

After all these years I have the privilege of working with exceptionally talented, decent, honest people. We do it with a complete absence of drama. John M. is an award winning singer/songwriter, guitarist and undiscovered Giant of Science. Phil O. is an accomplished producer/engineer/songwriter, guitarist and recognized for his gear journalism in EQ Magazine and on HarmonyCentral.com (where he has been a forum moderator for most of this decade). Dennis G., who has refined his habit of beating on things into a fine percussive craft, is also world-renowned for his work as a master builder at a big guitar house (he makes ‘em for the stars, folks, including one John Flansburgh and that guy who plays guitar in The Police).

So, we’ve got a plan. We’re gonna work on getting together more often (this means booking some gigs). John and I are going to get our finished tracks together and make (at least) one digital EP release for each of us. We’re also planning to bring some other artists onto our “imprint” and work on producing a few live podcasts from Phil’s place. Hopefully the music will make you smile and you won’t feel embarrassed for the old dudes trying to keep it going.

Because I really don’t think I’m ever going to be able to stop it.

Ray Torres' 80th Birthday Party Invitation

Today is my father’s birthday. He would have been 81.

This is the front of the invitation I put together for his 80th. We had a huge surprise party and barbecue for him at the State Citrus Park here in Riverside. It was really a big day for him with friends and best wishes arriving from all over the country.

Mom wanted to do something special for him – she knew how weak he had become and, I think, had a strong intuition that he wasn’t going to hang in there much longer. Dad had never had a big party for his birthday and wouldn’t have been happy about the cost of such a bash so the only way for us to do it was to keep it mum.

He was indeed surprised. And it was pure joy to see him that afternoon as the center of attention among lifelong friends and family. I put together a program of his favorite music – four CDs of songs we shared together.

Two short months after his party he was gone. We are so thankful we got to do it for him.

I’m going to go up to his gravesite at Riverside National later today to sit and remember. I was such a lucky kid to have him for a father.

Happy 81st, Pops. Love you and miss you.

- Ralph

My little sister doesn’t like it. My mom tolerates it (”It looks so nice when you pull it back.”). My big sister thinks it’s cool (big sister also had a VW Bug with flower decals when she was 18).

Give me a head with hair...

We went to dinner New Year’s Eve at a mid-priced steakhouse and the old lady across from us stared at me with a look of disgust for most of her meal. I could only smile at her.

Sure, I’ve had my dalliances with short hair. When I was a little kid Dad would take me to the barber who would take it nice and short and whisk my face with the brush. Dad would settle up with him and I would get a piece of Chum Gum. As the ’60s progressed and the counterculture became more and more mainstream I was drawn to the styles of the musicians on the covers of the 45s I would buy at Grants and Singer. If it was good for John, Paul, George and Ringo it was good for me. By 1972 I was 10 years old and sporting hair long enough to prompt Dad’s buddies to call me ‘Alice.’ The joke was on them.

Ten years later it was a social imperative to cut (and spike) your hair. I jumped in with no hesitation. The ’80s carried on and before long there was reason (once again) to flaunt it against The Man. Thank you, Ronald Reagan, Moral Majority, Tipper Gore, and the Christian Coalition. By 1990 it was longer than ever.

The last time short hair happened was in the late ’90s. We were visiting Becky’s family in New York and a particularly charismatic NY hairdresser talked me into it. To be honest, I did it for my then future mother-in-law because she had been so awesome to accept me as I was (and her response to my new flattop was well worth the risk).

I managed to keep it short for a few years, until the tone of the country began to change. Authority was running rampant. Out of control, even. People close to me – people that I loved dearly – began to question and criticize my speaking out about events and trends that did not sit well with me. I saw the same thing happen in the media – on a far larger scale – to people who had the same opinions and concerns as I did. This time it was a statement – a rejection of conformity complete and absolute and without apology. If all the folks with W04 decals on their SUVs got a kick of revulsion when they saw me my job was done.

I told myself for most of ‘08 that I would cut it again if my pick got in office. It happened (a most joyous event that I’m still reveling in no matter who might get bent about it) but I’m still holding on to my mane. I even went out and ordered a short run of business cards with a headshot. Yup. Flying my freak flag upfront – because if you have a problem with my hair you REALLY aren’t concerned about talent or ability. There’s probably a little vanity in this motivation…but I also have to admit that I’m just not quite ready to close the door on rebellion or questioning authority or the ability to make uptight folks uncomfortable in my presence.

If you’re offended by any of this you can take relief that I didn’t just come out to you.

It’s Wednesday, December 31, 2008 and I’ve officially started a weblog.

I’ve long had the intention…but the inspiration and motivation levels had not yet reached critical mass until I started spending time with Twitter. There are a lot of people there who have a lot to say; the best have learned to say it well within the constraints of a 140 character post. The most interesting also maintain some sort of web log, and my favorites among these have inspired me to flex my own writing muscles. I owe a big shout out to @LilPecan, @barelydiz and my oldest and dearest friend @backwardsflip.

I’m a ‘cuspie‘ – born in 1961 so I’m too young to be a real boomer and too old to be a real gen-xer. This suits me fine as I hike my way into middle age with the foundation of a happy childhood, a wonderful family and a loving, intelligent spouse.

This last year has been my most challenging yet. In the long run it also may become my most significant.

I lost my dad in March. He made it to 80. He battled heart disease for years, and damage from several cardiac events had left him very tired. Even with this struggle he worked until his last day – always keeping busy with the activities that helped him thrive. It’s been a tough road for all of us and I’m learning how a loss this big doesn’t go away. You somehow find a way to rebuild around it, but the empty space will always be there; a repository for the memories and respect and longing.

And while missing Dad has dominated the remainder of ‘08, we have had so many good things come our way. Mom doesn’t drive, so I now put aside Tuesdays and Thursdays for our errands. It’s been good therapy for me to have the time with her and I smile to myself when I remember all the times I assured Dad that I would be there for her.

My wife landed a great gig as an ophthalmic technician. I’ve had time to develop my web startup idea. My little sister embarked on yet another mission to the Middle East and returned safely. My older sister’s daughter married a talented and loyal young man. Mom has carried on with an amazingly positive outlook and a resigned relief that only a caretaker can know.

And what to expect of 2009? I have plenty of good intentions…but knowing the twists and changes ‘08 put us through I’m going to leave them as ‘intentions’ and not be too disappointed if life happens and puts them off for another year.

Happy New Year to all. May it be a year of progress, dialogue and new foundations for all of us.