Opinion: Cheech Marin is an inspiration to us all

I recently started performing stand-up comedy. At 50.

Some call it a pivot. My wife, Angie, calls it a midlife crisis. 

She’s not wrong… but please don’t tell her. 

I spent some of my childhood in Baldwin Park, where laughter was part of the household hullabaloo. If my dad wasn’t cackling at Red Foxx in “Sanford and Son”, he was doing his best impersonations of Cheech and Chong.  

And I mean his best. 

While Tommy Chong’s uncanny resemblance to my Dad secured him a special place in my heart, it was the continued cultural and creative work of East Los Angeles’ Cheech Marin that seized my imagination.

As a college student at Occidental, I’d sometimes tell classmates my life aspiration was to be like Cheech. They’d furtively make the doobie rolling gesture; I’d wave them off and whisper, “No. ‘Celebrity Jeopardy’ champion, vato.”

The stoner comic of the 70s and 80s was the first “Celebrity Jeopardy” winner in ‘92. I remember watching the episode with my grandmother in her kitchen while I was a senior at Bassett High School. 

A couple of weeks ago, work took me to Los Angeles City Hall. Our client, The LA84 Foundation, spoke to the City Council about the upcoming, national Play Day. 

It was Friday morning. 10:00 am. Sparse chamber. 

And then, as if through a cloud of smoke, Cheech Marin walked in.

Turns out, June 20th had officially been designated Cheech Marin Day in Los Angeles. He was there to receive the honor and I happened to be sitting just feet away.

After a round of praise from council members including Hugo Soto Martinez and Imelda Padilla, Cheech stepped to the mic and delivered a brief, heartfelt message. He called out the current political climate of fear and retaliation. Then he challenged Mexican American artists to lead with our art. To not just belong but to build. To create the future instead of asking for permission to join it.

That’s what he’s done. He hasn’t distanced himself from where he started. He’s taken the comedy and curiosity that made him famous and turned it into something lasting, something concrete.

He founded The Cheech Center for Latino Art & Culture, a landmark museum of Chicano art in Riverside. The 61,420-square-foot cultural center houses hundreds of paintings, drawings, photographs and sculptures by artists including Patssi Valdez, Carlos Almaraz, Frank Romero and Sandy Rodriguez. None of it possible without Marin’s leadership and gifts from his personal collection.

That morning, I didn’t just see an icon honored. I saw a model of what it looks like to make work that’s durable. 

He didn’t let anyone else’s perception of him shrink his interests. He didn’t ask what was “allowed.” He did the work and made the space. And now that space exists for others. Artists like Cheech don’t just open doors. They widen the frame. They make more things possible. And in doing so, they give the rest of us permission.

Later that night, I had a stand-up show at Chismosa Cafe in downtown Covina. Packed house. Middling performance. My wife and kids were there.

And right before we wrapped, my 15-year-old daughter Maya asked to take the mic.

Say what?

She had secretly prepared three minutes of material and delivered them with confidence. And she killed.

I laughed until I cried. Because it was funny, yes. But also because I saw something being passed down.

Cheech at City Hall. Me on stage. My daughter getting the biggest laughs of the night.

That’s the chain.

Sometimes you get lucky enough to catch a glimpse of your story while it’s happening. A moment that says: You’re not too late. You’re not too old. Keep going.

And if you’re lucky, someone else sees you going for it and decides they can too.