The Mortgage Already Branded Me

A series by Anthony Solorzano exploring Riverside through the eyes of a transplant, as the memory of a hometown slowly fades.

The Mortgage Already Branded Me
(Anthony Solorzano)

It was an ordinary Wednesday in the middle of February. My family went to work. The coffee maker in the kitchen was set for 6 in the morning to wake the house up with the caffeinated smell of a dark roast.

Kenny, our dog and self-appointed house guard, woke up ready for his morning ritual – play catch with me, use the restroom and report to duty ready to alert half the block there is a person entering our cul de sac.

Sometime in the middle of the day, a text went into our house thread, "Do you all want to order some food today to commemorate the day?"

A year ago, on Wednesday, February 11, we got the keys to the house. The four-bedroom with triangle windows on each end, down the street from an active, yet family-friendly park, became ours. Riverside became home, at least for the next 30 years while we pay our mortgage off.

I will raise my family here. It's comforting and I need to commemorate the moment in my life. I thought long and hard and I think I should just get a tattoo of the Raincross somewhere in my body. There is no better way to commemorate my commitment to Riverside.

A tattoo will be helpful if I ever forget why I need to pay for property taxes, or if I forget my address, or if for some reason the internet is down and I can't get home using the Maps app, I will know exactly what direction to go the moment I look at my branding.

The infamous symbol has been used by the city of Riverside since 1907, according to its website. It was designed by Frank Miller, owner of the Mission Inn, combining a replica of a bell used by a missionary priest and the cross used by Navajo and Central American Indians to pray for rain. The cross was given to the Mission Inn and it's included in the city flag.

But where will this new body art go? I don't want to disappoint Miller by getting it on his least favorite finger, leg or arm.

Instead of dealing with such a dilemma on my own, I took the conversation to the depths of discourse - Reddit. You know, for inspiration and they did not disappoint.

One person said they created a paddle to give to their fraternity brother. Do you think there is a hazing lawsuit against Chico State, somewhere in the court systems, with the paddle as evidence?

"Your honor, exhibit A," then the defense shows a picture of some freshman's behind with a red mark of the raincross.

Someone mentioned the emblem became synonymous with gang activity in the '90s. What a crazy turn of events. The raincross has to be one of the only things I can think of that has gone from the church to the streets. I've heard of born again religious people who find God and escape violence. At one point of its life, the ideogram chose the life of a G rather than G-O-D.

Another member of the community said they got it tattooed on their leg at the age of 22 because Riverside is home. I mean, yeah, that's super cool and it means a lot to that person. But, a government-issued ID with the address would suffice, don't you think?

What if you move because so many new coffee shops open, skyrocketing the price of living and you are squeezed out by gentrification, leaving a sour taste in your mouth and forced to move to San Bernardino because it's all you can afford?

On second thought, maybe I should just get a new ID with my address. That should get the job done. I don't need a tattoo. The mortgage already branded me.

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