Raising the boys

Young Chang

Max Russell is trying to stop saying ‘yeah.’

“Do you have a lot of friends?”

“Yeah. I mean yes.”

“Did your grandpa tell you to say yes and not yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean yes.”

The 7-year-old laughs.

And when Max laughs, his whole face delights. His strawberry freckles

get all up in a bunch, the eyes squint, the teeth and gaps show.

He’s an outgoing boy, Luis Guerra said. Loves talking to people, very

curious, very funny.

His brother Joseph -- he’s 13, which pretty much speaks for itself. He

has his interests, skateboarding being one of them, and is trying out

that angst-ridden, murky phase we all once knew as being a teenager.

He’s not as talkative as Max and laughs less, but the three watch

basketball games at night -- Guerra’s a 76-er fan, Joseph’s all about the

Lakers -- go out for breakfast, talk when time permits and start each day

off together.

The Russells call Guerra “grandpa” because that’s what they’ve always

called him. But the 60-year-old Newport Beach electrician is legally

their month-old dad.

Guerra adopted them in May, to make it official that the boys are his

number-one priority. Their grandmother and Guerra’s sweetheart Patricia

Flynn passed away six years ago. She and Guerra had raised the boys since

Joseph was three and Max was one-and-a-half.

Before Flynn passed away, she had asked her boyfriend of 20 years to

look after her grandsons.

The boys’ parents are, simply put, not around. Their father isn’t

alive. Guerra would rather not share about their mother. The children

have a grandfather in Huntington Beach, an aunt in Westminster and yet

another aunt in Inglewood. Nobody wants to get involved, Guerra said.

But, he’s doing it -- for the second time -- on top of a

seven-to-seven job and with no partner with whom to share the joys and

pains.

He’s also enjoying it.

“It’s a challenge. It’s not easy,” said Guerra, who has a grown

daughter and son. “But I love the boys.”

At first, Guerra didn’t want to tell his story. His attitude was one

of “what’s there to be told?” Why flaunt the fact that he took in two

little boys not related to him? Why risk hurting them?

But he decided to open up his home. And showed such treasures as

pictures hung in frames hand-crafted by Max at Newport Elementary School.

In the kitchen is a cheese cutter, carved, rounded and slicked with

Danish oil by Joseph during a wood shop class at Ensign Intermediate

School. The semi-hexagonal napkin holder -- comparable to the light-wood

designs put out by furniture haven IKEA -- is his creation too.

Skateboards, flung around action figures and the occasional miniature

vehicle, decorate the living room. Black-and-white pictures from

yesteryear -- of Guerra’s parents, of a very pretty Flynn -- wallpaper

the apartment walls.

The breakfast table is clothed in a red-and-pink pattern, Max’s little

plate, which once held waffles, is empty and so is his glass of juice.

Joseph’s home-made bagel sandwich -- egg and cheese -- sits there, but

he’d rather pack it and eat it at school.

This is daily life for Guerra and his boys.

Cheryl Kaufman, a friend of Guerra’s and former client of his electric

services, calls the father a hero.

“At his age, he could just be kicking back and stuff,” she said. “But

he’s got his hands full.”

Kaufman said Guerra once explained it like this: “I’m the only one

standing between them and the system.”

And while he’s at it, he wants to make life fun. The trio go shopping,

swim at the beach and hang out at the park.

Earlier this week, Max and Guerra went to a spaghetti dinner at Christ

Church Day Care, where Max hangs out after school. Joseph didn’t want to

go -- the whole being a teen thing, his dad explains -- but Max loved the

ice cream and magic show. So did Guerra.

“The boys -- they’re like my sons,” he said.

He thinks a second.

“Well, they always have been.”