no hablo español.
I have tried since I was fourteen to learn and speak Spanish and it just doesn’t stick. But I know why. You might think I’m a bit loopy but believe me no hablo español.
The Hispanic gods have cursed me. Let me explain, I grew up in the Latino section of Los Angeles on the eastside. You would think this would be a plus but no hablo español. Plenty of native tongue Spanish speakers to give me help. Only if I had asked. But no, I didn’t.
Here is what happened: I was hanging with some guy friends with nothing else to do and we all were about 14 or 15-years old. Loose and looking for a bit of trouble. This would be somewhere near 1958. After biking around and being just restless and with no goals in mind we decided to go into our favorite store which had a large magazine and book section. Plus candy bars, gum, and more. So I picked up a Baby Ruth candy bar. Then got to looking all through the book and magazine section and my eye caught this little pocket size English/Spanish dictionary. The price was one-dollar and fifty cents. But I only had enough money to buy the candy bar. So after looking from side to side and take notice of the cashier, I stuck the little dictionary in my coat pocket. A small dictionary with a liver colored vinyl cover. Nothing one would never ever risk being caught stealing. But again, I was Okie and fourteen. The age one dares to do most anything. So I stepped up to the cashier and showed my candy selection and paid the cashier. Don’t ever do this!
In retrospect, I could imagine being caught stealing this ugly red pocket book and as a result they call the cops. After taking me to police HQ and ‘Booked’ my folks would be summons to come and bail me out of jail. All because I desperately wanted to speak Spanish.
Never the less, from time to time I attempted to learn Spanish and to no avail. I am certain it was a Hispanic curse. So… no hablo español.