I was born November 5th 1946 at 2:21 p.m. in a little hospital in Fullerton California. The son of Arthur Kirker and Felicia (Acosta ) Kirker. It was three years after my sister Magerete Deloris Kirker.

My Father at that time was a Taxi Cab Driver for "Yellow Cab" but that job only lasted him about a year and a half after my birth because on December 4th 1948 his heart stoped beating. The following month my dear mother went to the hospital with terburculoses and that same year my aunt Leta, Art's sister died of terburculoses while my mother spent her time slowly recovering. I was passed on to my aunt Margret and then spent some time with my Grandmother in the little house where my mother grew up with 11 other brothers and sisters. My Sister went to live with my Aunt Teddy and her family.

My mother was the only one of the 12 siblings to fisnish Highschool. In those days not very many mexican teen agers graduated from High School. She also lettered in Field Hocky at Anaheim High.. Twenty two years latter my sister graduated from their too, and three years latter 1965 so did I.

All of my grandmothers children went to work to helped support the family. Had it not been for a teacher, the mother of her friend Virginia Ward. (Mrs. Ward) came to the packing house to take my mother out of her summer job, and paid for her school uniform and books. Mrs. Ward talked my Grandmother into letting her finish her last year, oterwise my mother would have stayed working just like the rest of her brothers and sisters at the Orange Packing Company there in town. Instead she Graduated from Highschool.

Years later after my father had died and after my mother recouperated from Turburkulosis She went to Chris Business College and recieved an education to be a secritary. She soon after found a job with Northrope Grumman. That job gave her a way to support my sister and I. I am proud of my mothers determination and lady like manerisums. Her faith in what she calls; "The Good Lord" is unwaving to this day. She really is quite the Lady and I'm sure if God were judgeing she would be one of his favorite children, because of her generosity , kindness and compassion for others.

The town of Anaheim was founded by a group of German Farmers who incorperated there farmland in an effort to grow Grapes. By the time I arrive the land was coverd with orchards of oranges but today there is only one small grove left right at the end of Clementine street, the street were all my aunts and uncle grew up. The little house that Grandma Nica paid for by selling her torteas and tamales and where she raised all her chilren is gone now. Today there are generic looking appartments filling that old neighborhood.

I grew up on Olive Street, about five or six blocks from my Grandmothers house on Clementine Street. So I could ride my bike to visit my Grandmother when I was a kid, and later when I went to middle school and High School too.

On Olive Street there were a lot kids my age and we liked to play army and war games around the neighborhood. Hiding and killing each other all day long, We were all John Wayne killing each other. dieing and getting up again yelling out! "New Man!" and killing each other over and over all day long, never giving a thought to what war really was about.

 

 

At the age nine I finally had the chance to say goodby, to the stranger who shared his name and short life with me. I have always found this photo quite ironic.