On Oct. 25, inside the St. Anthony's gym, a memorial alumni basketball game honoring the memory of Maureen "Moe" Iorio will take place.
EDITOR'S NOTE: Manteca to a T columnist Chris Teicheira is stuck on a tractor somewhere, so he commissioned Jacob Lile, a Golden West and East Union graduate, to guest write this week's column.
I recently did a little bird-watching in Manteca. Not at Caswell Park or some country field, but right in the middle of town. The Chevron at the corner of Yosemite and Spreckels is my preferred watching habitat. It was 6 a.m. and the coffee lineup was full. That's when I spotted one. "Lots of bad stuff in the paper lately. Manteca sure isn't how it used to be."
I was watching football with friends recently when an old high school buddy's 7-year-old daughter let me know "I'm the fastest in my class - .even the boys!" I thought aloud, "Must be fun never getting caught at Tag." To which she responded, "We don't get to play Tag anymore." Talk about sucking the air out of the room. I should've just stayed focused on the Raiders taking another beating but I needed resolution, so I asked her why?
Looking at my mother you'd never guess she has a 35-year-old son. She does – but my brother Richie has nothing to do with me turning 42.
September has arrived, and for farmers across the San Joaquin Valley that means one thing – harvest time.
It seems that everywhere you turned this summer, somebody was filming part of a movie right here in Manteca. Whether occupying a local gymnasium, hospital or grocery store, Manteca was a destination spot for several filmmakers.
There is an immeasurable sense of brotherhood and fellowship that exists between people that have been football teammates. I'm talking about real football – not that game you play at the park with your older brothers, though that is a wonderful way to refine your skills. I'm talking two-a-days, mid-summer heat, sprints for five straight days, and haven't even seen a football on the field yet. Then you finally get your helmet and pads.
I've been preparing to write this football column for nearly three weeks and the only thing that has become clear is that I could legitimately write a column about football every single day for the next 25 years without having to repeat myself.
This was going to be my column about football and women; my male chauvinist view of how women are ruining my enjoyment of the sport. Not the ones that hate it, but the ones that feel the need to show us how much they love the sport. We get it: You like football, but you've begun to invade our space – and some of us don't like having to share our "Mary-Kay" party with you. But I'm going save it until next week. I figure the backlash will be severe enough that the Bulletin will be forced to ...
It's mayoral campaigning time around town. I'm on a comedy road trip to Seattle and noticed every town and city had their signage on full display. I began daydreaming about what it would be like to be the mayor of our town. I, of course, would take this on as a lifetime gig. The daydream soon turned into full sleep as I drifted away to distant future Manteca, a dreamland that incorporated both old and new Manteca.
Happy 26th column everyone! That may seem like an arbitrary number to celebrate, but it means I'm halfway through. No, this column hasn't been some court-mandated punishment handed down for years of bad behavior on the mean streets of Manteca. It means my goal of doing this for a year is halfway complete. I don't often set goals for myself, or as I call it "Life Pacing," but I'm finding there have been many ancillary benefits to striving for these things people call goals.
Monday morning I stopped by my mother's house while she was on vacation. She had asked that I'd water the lawn while she is gone. I remembered seeing a box of brown sugar cinnamon Pop Tarts there the week before – so I was more than happy to help out.
There is nothing I enjoy more than hearing from a friend or acquaintance that they want to give stand-up comedy a try. I usually recommend they walk outside in the morning to get the paper in their underwear; it's basically the same, especially if you decide to get the entire block's paper for them.
This weekend marks the 95th annual MRPS Hall Celebration of the Holy Ghost – better known as Festa. The Portuguese people have left an indelible mark on California as far back as 1542. That's when Portuguese explorer Joao Cabrilho became the first European to set foot in our great state when his ship landed in San Diego Bay.
EDITOR'S NOTE: Manteca to a T columnist Chris Teicheira is in Costa Rica. In his absence, he's asked Mark Condit to share his thoughts about growing up in The Family City. Worth noting, Condit has purposely misspelled Mick Founts' name wrong throughout this piece for reasons only he knows.
Does anybody remember the actual moment they found out Santa wasn't real?
In attempting to write a column in regards to the homeless ordinances that have been passed – and its subsequent backlash, I realized that even written with kid's gloves – made of angels' wings and butterfly kisses – someone is going to be unhappy with it. So I'm just going to take the gloves off, and say some of the things nobody apparently wants to hear.
I went to the Raiders game over the weekend with a couple of old friends, Steven Strawser (U.S. Army veteran) and Jess Grande (U.S. Marines veteran). The Marines celebrated their 239th Birthday on Monday and Veterans' Day was Tuesday.
It is 5:47 a.m. on a Thursday morning, and I am on Day 5 of a heated argument. Not with a girlfriend – I've learned long ago to cut my losses short in that department. Not with a member of my large Portuguese Catholic family – I've watched the show Game of Thrones and choose to keep my head. But with a group of people I hardly know and in a place that doesn't matter.
Let the candy grab begin. Kids will spend the night filling bags. Adults will spend the next week sneaking into those bags – and don't for a second act like you won't.
You would think after a life spent on a farm, I would have developed an affinity for all types of livestock.
Tuesday night saw the 15th Annual MAMA Awards come and go. The Modesto Area Music Awards are the 209's version of the Grammy's with all the pomp and circumstance to boot.
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