Donkeytale's sainted mother, known affectionately to all her little asses as "Donkette", used to say that the "yellow" races were destined to rule the world.
"It says so right there in the Book of Revelations." she would remark confidently.
Donkette was educated in the Catholic Church all the way through high school, but for some reason she refused to let her little asses attend mass, much less parochial school. Secretly, we counted our blessings. We surely didn't want to wear those dorky uniforms to school every day like the Mexican kids on our street.
We wanted to dress sharp, like our hero, little Ricky Nelson: Levis cuffed above the ankle, white socks and black "italian" loafers (predating Michael Jackson by a good 25 years), white knitted JC Penney crew neck tee shirts and of course, the patented little Ricky Nelson flat top with "fenders" (longer hair on the sides swept back into a ducktail, all held firmly in place with gobs of pomade).
Eventually, Donkeytale started to feel the stirrings of pre adolescence and he fell hard for little Miko Hirabayashi, who lived about half a block from us. Her father, like many Nisei in those days, was an expert gardner. Nisei gardners were much sought after in the wealthier districts of LA where people could afford to pay others not only to mow their lawn but also spend hours taking meticulous care of the landscape. Nisei gardners were paid a premium for the great skill with which they went about their business. The Nisei stuck to themselves. They didn't socialize with the other work men who met up for breakfast each morning at the local coffee shop to swap tall tales. This was still several years before Donkeytale would learn in high school that most of the Nisei had spent long stretches of their own youthful school days imprisoned with their parents at nearby Santa Anita for the duration of World War II.
As his luck would have it, Donkeytale's own father also happened to be in the gardening business, although he was no match for the Nisei in terms of quality. Eventually, he would give up gardening for roofing and painting jobs which never paid quite enough to get him out of the increasingly non-white working class suburbs of LA.
Donkeytale felt sure that having gardner fathers in common would be enough to make Miko see that their destiny was to be together forever. Surely, ten year olds today can no longer feel the same fidelity in puppy love during this age of the multiple divorced and remarried parents.
Finally, Donkeytale worked up the nerve to tell Miko he loved her. He counted the days and saved his quarters for what seemed like an eternity until Valentines Day came around and then bought the largest card he could find at the Thrifty Drug Store, along with a red, heart shaped cherry sucker and shyly left both on Miko's desk while she was away in the morning before recess.
He waited nervously and was too afraid to look up when she returned to her desk. Donkeytale buried his head in his arms and waited and waited for the affectionate tap on the shoulder that he yearned for more than he even yearned for the Little League season to begin in April.
Nothing. No response or acknowledgement from Miko of any kind. He was crushed and ashamed. All day he sat and stared at the back of her head in the classroom, silently exhorting Miko to allow her hardened heart to melt in his direction.
That night Donkeytale lie in bed sobbing softly into his pillow, hoping not to be heard by his parents. Donkette came to his side and silently rubbed his head until he fell asleep, never to know that the first girl to break her eldest son's heart was a member of the "yellow" races destined to someday rule the world.
It says so right there in the Book of Revelations.