Mom, you lucky gal, happy Motherâs Day. Sunday we celebrate our mothers, whether they are with us or not.
Julieta Bustamante Portillo turned 80 last month and fortunately for her, being the proud Mexican-American mujer that she is, can also celebrate DÃa de las Madres, which is observed in Mexico on May 10.
Most mothers are special. Mine is very special.
Julie B., as we call her, was born in Tucson, in the old Storks Nest, a birthing center downtown on North Court Avenue at the corner of West Council Street. The building is still there and houses a hydrogeological consulting firm.
Mom has never let me and my siblings â Carmen, Mario and Carlos â forget where she was born. In fact, mom reminds us constantly of the Tucson she knew and loved as a child before World War II and as a teenager in the postwar years.
That Julie B. loves Tucson is an understatement. Sheâs a one-person chamber of commerce. Sheâs Tucsonâs unofficial No. 1 cheerleader waving University of Arizona red and blue pompoms. She is Tucson.
Her boundaries, however, go further than the mountains and desert surrounding her birth town. They extend south into Mexico, where my grandparents, Carmen Macias and Miguel Bustamante, and my father, Ernesto Portillo Sr., were born. And her roots branch out to Los Angeles, where my grandmotherâs family, like thousands of other Mexican families, settled after they fled Mexicoâs turbulent political and social unrest that persisted after the 1910 revolution.
But the Old Pueblo was and continues to be Julie B.âs center of the universe. She filled us with stories of her blissful childhood:
The kids and teachers at Safford elementary and junior high schools, and mighty Tucson High. Watching cartoons and cowboy serials at the Mickey Mouse Club on Saturday mornings at the Fox Theatre. Craning her neck from outside my grandparentsâ second-story apartment to listen to what was being presented on the stage next door at the Temple of Music and Art on South Scott Avenue. Walking downtown with her older sister Alva.
While she relishes her memories, madreâs love for Tucson is not simply based on nostalgia. Itâs always been about its people, friends or strangers.
Mom liberated herself in the 1960s by going to work. One of her first jobs was as a teachers aide at Mission View Elementary School in South Tucson.
It was the dawn of bilingual education and mom was all in, helping the students and their parents, some of whom were immigrants.
She left Mission View, with her commitment intact, to serve as the office manager at Pueblo Gardens Elementary School near South Campbell and East 36th Street. She later worked in the districtâs human resources office.
Public education was paramount for her. I can still hear her berate Tucson voters who turned down school bond proposals.
Later she moved over to the Arizona Daily Star, where she spent more than 17 years as the administrative assistant to the publisher and editors.
She was a news junkie and was in heaven in the busy, energetic newsroom. Every person at the Daily Star was her daughter or son, and she called them mija and mijo.
In her capacity, she connected nonprofit organizations with the Star. She would do what she could to assist groups in the arts, education and child development.
And when she couldnât help give away the Starâs money, she made sure to contribute what she and my father could afford to community groups. She would say that philanthropy is our duty, regardless of the amount. And if we cannot give money, we have time to give.
These days Julie B., grandmother to four girls and two boys, spends much of her time with her new passion: quilting. She continues to get together with her girlfriends and remains active with Club Duette, a social group of women, many of whom mom grew up with in the days when it seemed that everyone knew each other.
My politically opinionated and liberal mom continues her love affair with the town that gave a beginning to her parents as well as to my father, who had a long career in Spanish-language radio. Her unabated attachment still is infectious and inspires my love for my Tucson.
Gracias, madre.
