Reyes Serrano

For most of his 97 years, Reyes Serrano rode wild horses, rounded up cattle, hunted bobcats, chewed tobacco, smoked cigars and supposedly downed a shot of whiskey with breakfast every morning. Until he moved into a nursing home two months ago, he spurned Orange County's "city life," living in Trabuco Canyon out of view of the houses and strip malls that encroached upon the open hills where he once worked.

For most of his 97 years, Reyes Serrano rode wild horses, rounded up cattle, hunted bobcats, chewed tobacco, smoked cigars and downed a shot of whiskey with breakfast every morning. Until he moved into a nursing home two months ago, he spurned Orange County's "city life," living in Trabuco Canyon out of view of the houses and strip malls that encroached upon the open hills where he once worked.

Reyes Serrano's life seems to call for a bit of soundtrack music, some theme that could rise as he rode his horse across the hills, fields and arroyos of Orange County, unimpeded by fences or other man-made clutter. But what music? It shouldn't be your typical twangy cowboy themes, because the 92-year-old Serrano was a real cowboy. Instead of quick-draw shootouts, he spent his days in the saddle or in the dust, in the cuss-awful work of castrating and branding cattle.

For most of his 97 years, Reyes Serrano rode wild horses, rounded up cattle, hunted bobcats, chewed tobacco, smoked cigars and supposedly downed a shot of whiskey with breakfast every morning. Until he moved into a nursing home two months ago, he spurned Orange County's "city life," living in Trabuco Canyon out of view of the houses and strip malls that encroached upon the open hills where he once worked.

The Persian Gulf War came and went and Reyes Serrano didn't hear a word about it. He also did not hear the news that greater El Toro will soon be known as the city of Lake Forest. He squirts tobacco juice into a plastic cup and begins to swear when a visitor tells him about the change.

While reading the March 24 edition of The Times Orange County Section, I was taken aback after reading the fine articles on the retired cowboy Reyes Serrano ("Unwelcome Change") and the U.S. Marine Ollie Wilson ("2 Men Called Heroes After Catching Suspect in Sexual Attack, Robbery") who recently helped save a woman's life in Fullerton. It was Mr. Serrano's concern about changing the well-established and historical name of El Toro to the embarrassingly yuppie name of "Lake Forest" that caught my attention.

For most of his 97 years, Reyes Serrano rode wild horses, rounded up cattle, hunted bobcats, chewed tobacco, smoked cigars and downed a shot of whiskey with breakfast every morning. Until he moved into a nursing home two months ago, he spurned Orange County's "city life," living in Trabuco Canyon out of view of the houses and strip malls that encroached upon the open hills where he once worked.

The comedy group Latins Anonymous will perform a special anti-tobacco version of its spoof "LA LA Awards '93" in an entertainment event presented by Latino Artists Against Tobacco Use and Advertising at the Bilingual Foundation of the Arts July 9-11. The event, sponsored by the L.A. County Department of Health Services Tobacco Control Program, will take place in a visual environment created by artists Miguel Angel Reyes, David Serrano and Mario Calvano, with a reception and art exhibition.

It may have been all right for William Shakespeare to proclaim that " . . . a rose by any other name would smell as sweet," but to some El Toro residents, the vote in March to change the city's name to Lake Forest stank. "I am a longtime resident of El Toro who is saddened and disheartened to think that a number of people who have moved to my hometown from who knows where now want to change the name," said Mary Lynn Petralia.

Tiny Serra Chapel is powerful evidence of the cultural foundations of Orange County. The adobe and wood-beamed church at Mission San Juan Capistrano, where Father Junipero Serra first said Mass in 1778, is one of the oldest buildings in California. Its walls are covered with a hybrid of artistic designs; wispy Native American swirls in red and yellow framed by somber portraits of the saints depicted in regal Spanish passion.

Reyes Serrano's life seems to call for a bit of soundtrack music, some theme that could rise as he rode his horse across the hills, fields and arroyos of Orange County, unimpeded by fences or other man-made clutter. But what music? It shouldn't be your typical twangy cowboy themes, because the 92-year-old Serrano was a real cowboy. Instead of quick-draw shootouts, he spent his days in the saddle or in the dust, in the cuss-awful work of castrating and branding cattle.

While reading the March 24 edition of The Times Orange County Section, I was taken aback after reading the fine articles on the retired cowboy Reyes Serrano ("Unwelcome Change") and the U.S. Marine Ollie Wilson ("2 Men Called Heroes After Catching Suspect in Sexual Attack, Robbery") who recently helped save a woman's life in Fullerton. It was Mr. Serrano's concern about changing the well-established and historical name of El Toro to the embarrassingly yuppie name of "Lake Forest" that caught my attention.

The Persian Gulf War came and went and Reyes Serrano didn't hear a word about it. He also did not hear the news that greater El Toro will soon be known as the city of Lake Forest. He squirts tobacco juice into a plastic cup and begins to swear when a visitor tells him about the change.

In Orange County, houses collapsed, records were broken and the political landscape shook, but a decade from now, how will 1998 be remembered? As the Year of the Ant? South American fire ants, quarter-inch insects with bright-red heads and midsections, a mean disposition and a meaner bite, were discovered in South Orange County. Living in dome-like anthills, they swarm if disturbed and inflict painful bites that can cause welts and dangerous allergic reactions.

Whatever else 1993 might have been, it was clearly a fine year in which to be obsessed. Our Fixations subjects in the past 12 months amounted to one very twisted horn of plenty.