"Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power" -Abraham Lincoln
Lovers Lane, Brownsville,
July 18, 2010
It has been again nearly a year since my last posting I am astonished, I thought surly I had gotten the writing/musing bug since. Time has really slipped by and I have not noted it, how strange.
Where do I start here, first all is well, we are on a whole moving forward and trying to keep a positive attitude in the face of the near annihilation of the Gulf of Mexico. Health care was passed although it was in my opinion put through the shredder, they left out the most important bits.
Barry works harder than ever with one Hurricane and a second Tropical storm under our belt early in the season. He spent a week helping out the much beleaguered Mobile, while they are freed up to forecast for the BP oil spill. We have not seen signs of the oil here, our water remains clean for now, even after Alex swept past us. This is a nightmare there is no waking from. I am speechless that there are still factions demanding that we begin drilling deep water wells immediately damn the consequences. I thought we had heard it all with the lies of our last Administration WMD's and the like. The ruthless waiving of our protections in place and backroom deals, of the King makers. But I am utterly breathless with the Gaul and callousness with witch the CEO etc. of BP have behaved. Rape, annihilation, crass indifference, of our ecology and economy are just a few words to describe what has happened and continues to happen. I have applauded this Administration for all of it's innovation and the alacrity of such, but boy did everybody drop the ball on this one. Even after injunctions to stop the spraying of dispersant's BP blithely ignored all. The loss of life will not be just the 11 souls lost on the platform and the honorable Captain who committed suicide, it will be untold for years to come because of the gross negligence of our overseeing agency, BP out right, and hosts of others who profit hugely from the recovery of oil from the earth. Pass the guilt around and none have stood up and done "the right thing". Read this in your head with a scathing bitter tone of voice and you might approximate the level of anger and disgust I feel.
So I take a deep breath and try to gather up all the news from Brownsville and our far flung friends and family. OK big sigh...
End of September I received the ultimate Happy Birthday gift from the universe. Going through a short cut, near the house I saw in the middle of the road two dogs. The female chihuahua had been hit and died the male mixed breed was protecting her and standing over her body. Frantically trying to get help for her. I pulled over and lifted her off to the grass verge. He followed and tried to nudge her awake, he was signaling me to help. I knew if I left him there he would run back and forth in the street and he would be a casualty as well. I walked a few feet away and called him when he dashed over I loaded him in to my truck and drove him home. He was panting and Mal nourished exhausted and traumatized, and cute. After giving him two doses of feline Frontline and feeding him chicken I spent the next few hours picking ticks and flees off. He let me groom and pick to my hearts content. Dr. Missy after responding to my SOS gave him a clean bill of health shots ET all, and made an appointment for three weeks to neuter him. Collar leash, etc. procured, Barry, Craig and I, came to an agreement he was to be Cesar. I wanted Leal, Loyal but love Cesar Milano the "Dog Whisperer" so...I do call him Cesar Leal in our intimate petting bonding times. Sometimes I see the sadness in his eyes for the pretty female who died. I often look in the area to see if any offspring can be found. He is such a sweet loving dog and he is as quirky as Pablo. They, are the best of friends and play and wrestle between naps. It is so much fun to watch these two interact, Callie also has taken to Cesar, although she achews the horseplay for some licky snoozy time with him. I thank the universe who heard me say more than once to Barry, I would like a dog...
Craig has spent a semester at our local campus of UTB and is working part time at Best Buy. His plans are to register in the Spring in Austin after the fall semester here. I am so very happy that he will continue with his degree process and have enjoyed having Craig again so close. I think he has a love hate relationship with the area, but I think it has been a very good experience all in all. in June Craig flew to London for a week with the Casados' and then to Paris for a week spending time with friends. He brought me home a beautiful gold band that was found in the park and it fits perfectly!
Goli, and Adam built the Town House we had a wonderful party there, ( I swear I wrote a blog all about this but maybe it's Deja vu). On second thought though, the commute has been very hard and they rented it out and may look for something in town. As I write they have left their visit with Margo and Ricki and have headed to Paris. Bon Voyage, and enjoy your Euro trip kids. Tyrion their pup is a delight and I think Sholeh and he are inseparable. I don't think he gets along with the resident cat, he sees her as sport, and she in turn does not like guerrilla warfare.
Margo and Ricki have been travelling between work. On their Christmas holiday they sailed down the Nile and toured Egypt. Thank you Isis. We are expecting a little girl early in September. That makes me a Bubbie and Barry a Zedie, I can't help it, I think it's very funny in this day and age but I am coming to love the monikers more and more. I know Carmen and Mel are over the moon and delighted. I am leaving for London on the 18th of Aug. and coming home tentatively Sept. 22nd Margo's birthday. I hope Carmen can meet me there and we can co-coach and cheerleaders.
Rossana and I have been up to no good as often as we can, and I continue to make lunches so we can gab to our hearts content. It is wild really we talk all day and or text all day and still have things to to share. We often muse what we would get up to if we were back door neighbors, pajama parties and tea in the wee small hours. I have a lot of thanking to do this year Yom Tov.
Barry and I are content, although we miss dancing and food and markets. We, US, are happy and bicker lightly or tease sardonically. And once in a while just to let the air out we have a bit of a toe to toe and it is all good. Because he knows that I am really right, LOL.
Clark, Barry's nephew continues to grow and I think is topping six feet. He is also one of the top students at the Barry school, and his musical prowess grows as he masters several wind instruments, Latin Hebrew and Spanish. I'm tired just thinking about it. All i can say is Kvell.
My nephew Harrison is gearing up for his Bar Mitzvah, and tells me all about the party my sister has planned and wow is it. He ends the description with a wink, this is my mom's idea of just a little something. He cracks me up. I can"t wait and will go dress/gown hunting ASAP. I think I may mail it up to N.Y. just in case...
Since the last posting I think I am even smaller, you can't see but I am now a size small-6. I haven"t been that little since I was a toddler, seriously. I spent about eight hours yesterday finally purging my closet and dresser of stuff, and the last of my big cloths. I made a big commitment here, I have given away the last of it. I think I am shrinking though, not just the weight. We used to kid about my mother being just a wisp of Platinum white hair over the steering wheel, I um think I am going to become a wisp of Strawberry Blond over my steering wheel seriously.
I continue to make Jewelry, selling some. I think in the late fall I will host a tea and show my line. I have a growing stock and as much as I like hording it's time to let go. My pantry will attest to my new non hording venture as I slowly use it up and refill very judicially. Turning over some old habits are hard, but we evolve so...
As always I am greatful for my friends and family for being such loves. And for the brilliant soul who invented spell check.
"It's easy to make a buck. It's a lot tougher to make a difference." - Tom Brokaw
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
QUE' VIVA
September 11, McAllen Texas
Wednesday was 09-09-2009, I'm not sure of the ramifications, number permutations et all, but it was on the whole a good day. I was able to get through a 30 min. Zumba tape without tripping over my self too much these last two days. The weight has stopped coming off and I am at a plateau, I need too firm up all the flesh that seems to be left. I tried on a few of my old dresses and pants and they are comically grande, xtra big on me, yet when I see pictures of myself I do not see any changes I seem to look as fat and tum tummy as ever! The proof is on the scales, and cloths sizes but not on film or my mind...
Rossana and I were invited to a special event in Matamoros for La Mesa Redonda Panamericana. It was the new officers induction, and our friend Victoria is on the incoming board. Victoria is a marvelous elegant multi-talented woman. Fastidious and trim, her ballet training is visible as well as the horsewoman posture and demeanor. She is a dentist par excellence, her dental spa with its pure oxygen filled room, special lighting, and two lasers have sold me on her high tech all natural approach. Victoria is very involved in the cultural center of her community and is on the forefront of promoting healthy living and lifestyle. No easy task in Mexico.
It is wonderful to be invited to such an August group, Rossana and I have to plan our outfits. Here in Brownsville it is very casual and with my large weight loss, cloths are a big issue right now. My better cloths are at a bare minimum, but I do have one pair of pant, if hidden by a longer jacket I can pin at my waist. I also have a box jacket sequined in an animal print, that will allow me to do this, so, I have it covered. We cross the border looking elegant and fitting the occasion. Rossana, in a black dress and ruby red silk jacket and thin red belt, looks like a jewel with the red set we pull from the jewelry collection. As usual the dynamic duo is early, the invitation says four we learn it is really slated for five. Having a very expensive lemonade at the hotel restaurant we bide our time as other elegant ladies arrive and also have coffee etc. Slowly woman from all over the valley trickle in, as well as those whose chapter is in Mexico. The Mayors mother as well as other VIP wives are so noted, and we are asked if we are VIPS. Well, no I guess we are only two nice ladies from Brownsville, rather ordinary in some way but very very special in others. Oh and the funny uncanny question comes up again are you sisters?
Vicky is part of the master of ceremonies duo so she is furiously working out the details with her other half and can not visit with us before hand. Seated at our table we watch the proceedings take shape and meet our fellow table mate. Victoria, has a wonderful speaking voice and is a terrific singer and performer this is a natural for her. A local high school color guard files in as well as the high school Mariachi band, they await the invocation to present the flag and play the National Anthem. I have heard it before at the beginning of soccer matches this is the first time it is so intimate. It really is very striking with the flags being presented and the band playing. Once started the ceremonies are formal and quite a bit different than ours. We seem so informal in comparison. Several times during the proceedings and speeches they repeat their motto in English "One for all, and all for one." As I recall Alexander Dumas coined the phrase for his Three Musketeers series. An interesting choice. As I understand it the lady who spearheaded this organization was from Texas with roots deep in Mexico. Among other things they sponsor full scholarships and this year there will be six.
The young woman on my left at the table is also a guest of Victoria, she and her husband own a "stamp" business. In Mexico an employer can give their employees bonuses and raises by way of purchasing stamps. These stamps are good at any grocery store, tax free to both the employee and employer. A very novel way of raising the standard of living.
Liquid Spanish flows and washes over me. I have stopped trying to self translate and just enjoy the sound. I have the luxury of observing the process, and the assembled ladies. Eventually a dinner of Mexican Meatloaf is served with bread and potatoes. I had been smelling the enticing aroma of Jalapeno peppers only to find the pickled variety on the table. Unlike Rossana who hates pickles and loves the pickled pepper, I love pickles and loath the pickled pepper. I eat at least one cooked or raw pepper a day. I swear it kicks my metabolic rate into high gear. The older traditional (eating) woman of the valley are slim, spry and very vital, it is only the succeeding generations that are so heavy and out of shape. It is the American diet of fast foods that have corrupted the traditional Mexican diet that is so close to the Mediterranean one.
It is dark and we are seconds away from the border, at this time of the evening crossing is a snap. I felt though that I had been decades away, while in Brownsville I am in the 21st century. It is when I cross the border I am transported back to an earlier more formal yet more leasurly time. The civility I find across the border is so pronounced, it feels like we are heathens and lunatics in comparison. Our collective ancestors, parents and grands are twisting and turning with appall at our new cultural icons and morays. We as a nation have been in a steady decline in so many ways, until now a thin thread of civility has kept us from being the proverbial Huns. This summer the veneer was stripped and we as a people have become nothing less than bores and truly the ugly American of repute. I am a relic. Without civility and manners we as a Nation are doomed as the Romans doomed themselves with excess, complacency and the attitude of superiority, and divine right. History always repeats it's self, where are the Egyptians, Spanish? What of modern British society, my daughter tells me, they are drunkards who have lost all civility, and culture. We fail utterly once we forget how to be kind, humane, courteous. The utter deceit and theft of whole truth (s) condemns us to a rapid decline and mediocrity as a people and a nation. Ethics, civility, and fidelity are dead words in our culture, it has become a very cruel world.
Here they shake hands, and everyone receives a kiss. Children greet/part with you, with a handshake and a clear eyed acknowledgment. Greetings are voiced, as are formal goodbyes given in the same way as the salutation. For a moment you are connected and welcomed in. Your parting means something. When someone passes by they acknowledge you and murmur Con Permiso, eye contact. Good afternoon/evening, charming, consistent, warmth. It survives here and reminds me of my childhood, the lessons of yes 'mam and sir. It is not all butterscotch and whipped cream. I find the disconnect here as well, but people are on a whole courteous. We need to work on the littering and disregard for property and my pet peeve replacing the shopping carts to the holders here, but by g-d people are nice and helpful. It is the little touches though that are charming. I am drawn to the culture, food and way of life. I would happily retire to Mexico given the chance, I hope that they can work out the vast problems of a poor nation, and take back the regions that are bedeviled by the drug cartels here. The Mexican people truly deserve better and a Fence is not the answer.
Did I mention once again I am writing at an airport awaiting our delayed plane for Albuquerque, I seem to do my best writing on the fly.
"Que' Viva," is taking us to New Mexico, Santa Fe. Nearly a year ago Margo and Ricky were married in Brooklyn N.Y. Now the family is headed for a party given by Rickys family. Converging from different parts of the compass we will meet at the hotel where the party is being held. It will be fast and furious as we travel today, party tomorrow and head back on Sunday with Goli in tow. If I look back a year I see myself sick and at the end of my proverbial rope. My knee and hip joint messed up and flaming with pain. This year thanks to the surgery and the shots in my joints I am new, reborn invigorated and waiting to dance at La Fiesta! Without exaggeration I feel the best I have in thirty years and that is a very long time. With VSL#3 containing my acute IBS, Prilosec OTC, I have a new spring in my step. A miracle was wrought and this Rosh Hashona I gave extra thanks, dues and praise.
So I sit waiting and hoping the storms skipping around will not delay us further. After months of severe drought we are seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, no cool front yet but we are just a few weeks away from a break. When we get back Goli will get a day at the beach. The bugs and mosquitos are back with a vengeance so as usual it's the good with the bad.
Santa Fe, New Mexico
We caught the new train from ABQ airport, the Road Runner, a meep meep sound as the door closes from stop to stop looses it's cuteness after the sixth stop. It was that way in London with "mind the step", as one accesses and egress from the trains. Margo and Ricky picked us up and transported us to the hotel. We dined at a great restaurant on true New Mex food. I had green, Barry had Christmas (green and red) salsa. I think he had Carne Asado rich and redolent but surely cooked with cinnamon. I had an enchalada y pollo and rice. Rickys sister Carmella is running to the airport to pick up Goli and Adam. Barry and I want to go dancing and we are trying to see who wants to continue the party. When we get back to the hotel, in the lobby are A.J., Goli, Mel, and her friend Melissa, they are wolfing down McDonalds to my chagrin. After chatting all around I realize that there will be no dancing tonight I have just hit the wall and no one else salutes that flag.
Saturday, September 12
We spent the morning watching the pet parade a yearly event on this weekend of burning the Zozobra. Costumed Children and their pets with parents costumed or not parade down the main street. There have been dogs, cats, rabbits, chickens a horse and ferrets. We all got very involved with some dog poop left to languish right in the middle of the parade route trying to warn off the unwary and comiserating with a few who ventured in. Eventually a gent with a plastic bag ventured over and spoiled the rather sadisitc fun we were all having with the poop. I voulnteered a peice of paper to cover the remains and Goli annointed it. Craig was clicking away with his camera so there may even be photo evidence of this "accident", on record. All in all this incident was the most entertaining of the whole parade cute outfits or not. The crowds are thick and festive and we are being carried along. Nine of us try to stick together and after ebbing and flowing in and out of stores, boutiques and galleries we split up with a plan to meet later at the sister hotel of ours in town. Barry and I wander around window shopping he has an eye for a new Bolero but the ones here are just too dear and I know we can get them in Mexico for less. I hate playing tourist, it's even more surreal when we find that most of the shop keeps are Middle Eastern, with few locals. Most of the new owners are from the New York metropolitan area. We are no longer a village but a global community. There is an unpleasant moment when one shop keeper refuses to tell me the price of a Jewish star (Mogen David) I have in mind for Rossana, he intimates that he won't tell me or sell to me because "Jews" are too cheap to pay. Yeah well, I won't even go there...
After that I am not interested in shopping for anything and we find a nice cafe for lunch. Taking the hotel jitney back, after Goli literally crowns herself on the door of the minibus we all split up to rest and get our best bib and tucker on for the evening.
The air has been crisp and clean with a wonderful sweet scent although high up in the mountains and a little thin, it is such a rare treat for us, Craig can't get enough after the stifling heat and oppressive nature of the air in Brownsville. We have been wearing long sleeves and the evening air is a bit nippy. The big outdoor fireplace has been glowing with coals and sends out the crisp autumn scent I have missed all these years. The last time we were in Colonial Williamsburg for Thanksgiving it was too warm for the braziers and fireplaces, the first year we went was truly cold and the bonfire was lit the town glowed and crackled.
The ball room is full of people, and as last year I marvel at my family how handsome and beautiful they all are. My dress is purple really purple and I have great new shoes on that fit like a glove. They are my new favorites, and as I dance on them later I realize they are now my new dance shoes as well, thank you Steinmart for all. Margo as usual has found a dress so Marilyn Monroe and fifties, a white top black under the bust line down with a cute black bolero jacket, I have loaned her my black and silver suite although she does not wear the matching earings a bit much for her. Ricky wears a lovely tailored suit, and my boys are smart in their suites and ties very dapper really, like my dad honestly. Goli is wearing a mod tiny floaty handkerchief thing that had to have cost a bomb as it molds to her in silk it hugs her curvy frame and she wears her sky scraper shoes. When you aren't even five feet, even with four inch heals your at a disadvantage. Barry looks so handsome in his starched silk black shirt shot with silver, black tie and suit. We really should play dress up more often. The single girls go crazy for his suspenders later when he removes his jacket in the heat while we dance. It's cute really although I think someone tried to pick him up ahem... It must have been quite a shock when he stated he was Margo's step dad. Mel and Carmen look lovely and chic, they do their best to introduce us around we are easily one hundred and fifty people. After a little bit Barry and I begin to introduce ourselves to everyone at the tables. Having gone around the room we relax a bit more. I am able to observe Margo and Ricky with his family and friends. Rickys father and his family, his mothers family, his Aunts and Grandmother are all dolls and it really does feel like family to me. His cousin made all of the beautiful corsages and boutineers, and an Aunt put together the elegant flower centerpieces adorning the tables and dais table.
Once dinner is over we file into a line and do "La Danca" kind of like a Rhumba line and Hora combined into one. Ricky's great Aunt is at the head and I am not sure who brings up the rear as the line is two rooms long. After I think six or seven passes we do an under the arms tent kind of thing, it is hot I mean hot and we are all soon soaked with sweat. The air conditiong is not functioning. A first dance is done with the bride and groom but Ricky has put his foot down no more wedding stuff, and so no ceremonial cake cutting, or champagne toasts. Rick is a shy man and he has hit his good nature'd limit for this kind of limelight. Outside in the wide foyer a huge group of people have gathered and are buying drinks at the portable bar. Word has spread that Rick is in town and all of his friends have come to have a drink and visit with their old friend. Those who were not invited to the more formal party are as numerous as those in the ballroom and it is a mob. I try to meet as many as I can outside the room and visit with these young people devoted to Ricky. It is a testament to my son-in-love that so many people have turned out to see him.
Dancing and enjoying the music and the excentric D.J. We are all on the dance floor Ira and his wife, the kids, B and myself Goli and Adam, Carmen, Mel, Melissa, Aunts, Uncles, the only hold out is Craig, I am working on him yet. Barry and I have sussed out the Salsa party being held downstairs and spread the word around the crowd that after the formal party ends at ten we should go down to the Latin dance party.
We find ourselves alone downstairs and I try to get our group together, but have no success so B and I dance and watch the Santa Fe latin dance crowd. The rest of the party is in the upstairs bar enjoying more drinks and family visiting, the kids have stashed plenty of beer in their suite as the cost of open bar and all night drinking can be a bomb. After we leave about 12:30 Margo tells me they all snuck in but didn't see us. It was a fun night and we really appreciated all the love and attention Mel and Carmen put into that party, and the whole weekend. We loved Santa Fe and would love to go back and connect with the Martinez and Casados family.
to be continued;
Wednesday was 09-09-2009, I'm not sure of the ramifications, number permutations et all, but it was on the whole a good day. I was able to get through a 30 min. Zumba tape without tripping over my self too much these last two days. The weight has stopped coming off and I am at a plateau, I need too firm up all the flesh that seems to be left. I tried on a few of my old dresses and pants and they are comically grande, xtra big on me, yet when I see pictures of myself I do not see any changes I seem to look as fat and tum tummy as ever! The proof is on the scales, and cloths sizes but not on film or my mind...
Rossana and I were invited to a special event in Matamoros for La Mesa Redonda Panamericana. It was the new officers induction, and our friend Victoria is on the incoming board. Victoria is a marvelous elegant multi-talented woman. Fastidious and trim, her ballet training is visible as well as the horsewoman posture and demeanor. She is a dentist par excellence, her dental spa with its pure oxygen filled room, special lighting, and two lasers have sold me on her high tech all natural approach. Victoria is very involved in the cultural center of her community and is on the forefront of promoting healthy living and lifestyle. No easy task in Mexico.
It is wonderful to be invited to such an August group, Rossana and I have to plan our outfits. Here in Brownsville it is very casual and with my large weight loss, cloths are a big issue right now. My better cloths are at a bare minimum, but I do have one pair of pant, if hidden by a longer jacket I can pin at my waist. I also have a box jacket sequined in an animal print, that will allow me to do this, so, I have it covered. We cross the border looking elegant and fitting the occasion. Rossana, in a black dress and ruby red silk jacket and thin red belt, looks like a jewel with the red set we pull from the jewelry collection. As usual the dynamic duo is early, the invitation says four we learn it is really slated for five. Having a very expensive lemonade at the hotel restaurant we bide our time as other elegant ladies arrive and also have coffee etc. Slowly woman from all over the valley trickle in, as well as those whose chapter is in Mexico. The Mayors mother as well as other VIP wives are so noted, and we are asked if we are VIPS. Well, no I guess we are only two nice ladies from Brownsville, rather ordinary in some way but very very special in others. Oh and the funny uncanny question comes up again are you sisters?
Vicky is part of the master of ceremonies duo so she is furiously working out the details with her other half and can not visit with us before hand. Seated at our table we watch the proceedings take shape and meet our fellow table mate. Victoria, has a wonderful speaking voice and is a terrific singer and performer this is a natural for her. A local high school color guard files in as well as the high school Mariachi band, they await the invocation to present the flag and play the National Anthem. I have heard it before at the beginning of soccer matches this is the first time it is so intimate. It really is very striking with the flags being presented and the band playing. Once started the ceremonies are formal and quite a bit different than ours. We seem so informal in comparison. Several times during the proceedings and speeches they repeat their motto in English "One for all, and all for one." As I recall Alexander Dumas coined the phrase for his Three Musketeers series. An interesting choice. As I understand it the lady who spearheaded this organization was from Texas with roots deep in Mexico. Among other things they sponsor full scholarships and this year there will be six.
The young woman on my left at the table is also a guest of Victoria, she and her husband own a "stamp" business. In Mexico an employer can give their employees bonuses and raises by way of purchasing stamps. These stamps are good at any grocery store, tax free to both the employee and employer. A very novel way of raising the standard of living.
Liquid Spanish flows and washes over me. I have stopped trying to self translate and just enjoy the sound. I have the luxury of observing the process, and the assembled ladies. Eventually a dinner of Mexican Meatloaf is served with bread and potatoes. I had been smelling the enticing aroma of Jalapeno peppers only to find the pickled variety on the table. Unlike Rossana who hates pickles and loves the pickled pepper, I love pickles and loath the pickled pepper. I eat at least one cooked or raw pepper a day. I swear it kicks my metabolic rate into high gear. The older traditional (eating) woman of the valley are slim, spry and very vital, it is only the succeeding generations that are so heavy and out of shape. It is the American diet of fast foods that have corrupted the traditional Mexican diet that is so close to the Mediterranean one.
It is dark and we are seconds away from the border, at this time of the evening crossing is a snap. I felt though that I had been decades away, while in Brownsville I am in the 21st century. It is when I cross the border I am transported back to an earlier more formal yet more leasurly time. The civility I find across the border is so pronounced, it feels like we are heathens and lunatics in comparison. Our collective ancestors, parents and grands are twisting and turning with appall at our new cultural icons and morays. We as a nation have been in a steady decline in so many ways, until now a thin thread of civility has kept us from being the proverbial Huns. This summer the veneer was stripped and we as a people have become nothing less than bores and truly the ugly American of repute. I am a relic. Without civility and manners we as a Nation are doomed as the Romans doomed themselves with excess, complacency and the attitude of superiority, and divine right. History always repeats it's self, where are the Egyptians, Spanish? What of modern British society, my daughter tells me, they are drunkards who have lost all civility, and culture. We fail utterly once we forget how to be kind, humane, courteous. The utter deceit and theft of whole truth (s) condemns us to a rapid decline and mediocrity as a people and a nation. Ethics, civility, and fidelity are dead words in our culture, it has become a very cruel world.
Here they shake hands, and everyone receives a kiss. Children greet/part with you, with a handshake and a clear eyed acknowledgment. Greetings are voiced, as are formal goodbyes given in the same way as the salutation. For a moment you are connected and welcomed in. Your parting means something. When someone passes by they acknowledge you and murmur Con Permiso, eye contact. Good afternoon/evening, charming, consistent, warmth. It survives here and reminds me of my childhood, the lessons of yes 'mam and sir. It is not all butterscotch and whipped cream. I find the disconnect here as well, but people are on a whole courteous. We need to work on the littering and disregard for property and my pet peeve replacing the shopping carts to the holders here, but by g-d people are nice and helpful. It is the little touches though that are charming. I am drawn to the culture, food and way of life. I would happily retire to Mexico given the chance, I hope that they can work out the vast problems of a poor nation, and take back the regions that are bedeviled by the drug cartels here. The Mexican people truly deserve better and a Fence is not the answer.
Did I mention once again I am writing at an airport awaiting our delayed plane for Albuquerque, I seem to do my best writing on the fly.
"Que' Viva," is taking us to New Mexico, Santa Fe. Nearly a year ago Margo and Ricky were married in Brooklyn N.Y. Now the family is headed for a party given by Rickys family. Converging from different parts of the compass we will meet at the hotel where the party is being held. It will be fast and furious as we travel today, party tomorrow and head back on Sunday with Goli in tow. If I look back a year I see myself sick and at the end of my proverbial rope. My knee and hip joint messed up and flaming with pain. This year thanks to the surgery and the shots in my joints I am new, reborn invigorated and waiting to dance at La Fiesta! Without exaggeration I feel the best I have in thirty years and that is a very long time. With VSL#3 containing my acute IBS, Prilosec OTC, I have a new spring in my step. A miracle was wrought and this Rosh Hashona I gave extra thanks, dues and praise.
So I sit waiting and hoping the storms skipping around will not delay us further. After months of severe drought we are seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, no cool front yet but we are just a few weeks away from a break. When we get back Goli will get a day at the beach. The bugs and mosquitos are back with a vengeance so as usual it's the good with the bad.
Santa Fe, New Mexico
We caught the new train from ABQ airport, the Road Runner, a meep meep sound as the door closes from stop to stop looses it's cuteness after the sixth stop. It was that way in London with "mind the step", as one accesses and egress from the trains. Margo and Ricky picked us up and transported us to the hotel. We dined at a great restaurant on true New Mex food. I had green, Barry had Christmas (green and red) salsa. I think he had Carne Asado rich and redolent but surely cooked with cinnamon. I had an enchalada y pollo and rice. Rickys sister Carmella is running to the airport to pick up Goli and Adam. Barry and I want to go dancing and we are trying to see who wants to continue the party. When we get back to the hotel, in the lobby are A.J., Goli, Mel, and her friend Melissa, they are wolfing down McDonalds to my chagrin. After chatting all around I realize that there will be no dancing tonight I have just hit the wall and no one else salutes that flag.
Saturday, September 12
We spent the morning watching the pet parade a yearly event on this weekend of burning the Zozobra. Costumed Children and their pets with parents costumed or not parade down the main street. There have been dogs, cats, rabbits, chickens a horse and ferrets. We all got very involved with some dog poop left to languish right in the middle of the parade route trying to warn off the unwary and comiserating with a few who ventured in. Eventually a gent with a plastic bag ventured over and spoiled the rather sadisitc fun we were all having with the poop. I voulnteered a peice of paper to cover the remains and Goli annointed it. Craig was clicking away with his camera so there may even be photo evidence of this "accident", on record. All in all this incident was the most entertaining of the whole parade cute outfits or not. The crowds are thick and festive and we are being carried along. Nine of us try to stick together and after ebbing and flowing in and out of stores, boutiques and galleries we split up with a plan to meet later at the sister hotel of ours in town. Barry and I wander around window shopping he has an eye for a new Bolero but the ones here are just too dear and I know we can get them in Mexico for less. I hate playing tourist, it's even more surreal when we find that most of the shop keeps are Middle Eastern, with few locals. Most of the new owners are from the New York metropolitan area. We are no longer a village but a global community. There is an unpleasant moment when one shop keeper refuses to tell me the price of a Jewish star (Mogen David) I have in mind for Rossana, he intimates that he won't tell me or sell to me because "Jews" are too cheap to pay. Yeah well, I won't even go there...
After that I am not interested in shopping for anything and we find a nice cafe for lunch. Taking the hotel jitney back, after Goli literally crowns herself on the door of the minibus we all split up to rest and get our best bib and tucker on for the evening.
The air has been crisp and clean with a wonderful sweet scent although high up in the mountains and a little thin, it is such a rare treat for us, Craig can't get enough after the stifling heat and oppressive nature of the air in Brownsville. We have been wearing long sleeves and the evening air is a bit nippy. The big outdoor fireplace has been glowing with coals and sends out the crisp autumn scent I have missed all these years. The last time we were in Colonial Williamsburg for Thanksgiving it was too warm for the braziers and fireplaces, the first year we went was truly cold and the bonfire was lit the town glowed and crackled.
The ball room is full of people, and as last year I marvel at my family how handsome and beautiful they all are. My dress is purple really purple and I have great new shoes on that fit like a glove. They are my new favorites, and as I dance on them later I realize they are now my new dance shoes as well, thank you Steinmart for all. Margo as usual has found a dress so Marilyn Monroe and fifties, a white top black under the bust line down with a cute black bolero jacket, I have loaned her my black and silver suite although she does not wear the matching earings a bit much for her. Ricky wears a lovely tailored suit, and my boys are smart in their suites and ties very dapper really, like my dad honestly. Goli is wearing a mod tiny floaty handkerchief thing that had to have cost a bomb as it molds to her in silk it hugs her curvy frame and she wears her sky scraper shoes. When you aren't even five feet, even with four inch heals your at a disadvantage. Barry looks so handsome in his starched silk black shirt shot with silver, black tie and suit. We really should play dress up more often. The single girls go crazy for his suspenders later when he removes his jacket in the heat while we dance. It's cute really although I think someone tried to pick him up ahem... It must have been quite a shock when he stated he was Margo's step dad. Mel and Carmen look lovely and chic, they do their best to introduce us around we are easily one hundred and fifty people. After a little bit Barry and I begin to introduce ourselves to everyone at the tables. Having gone around the room we relax a bit more. I am able to observe Margo and Ricky with his family and friends. Rickys father and his family, his mothers family, his Aunts and Grandmother are all dolls and it really does feel like family to me. His cousin made all of the beautiful corsages and boutineers, and an Aunt put together the elegant flower centerpieces adorning the tables and dais table.
Once dinner is over we file into a line and do "La Danca" kind of like a Rhumba line and Hora combined into one. Ricky's great Aunt is at the head and I am not sure who brings up the rear as the line is two rooms long. After I think six or seven passes we do an under the arms tent kind of thing, it is hot I mean hot and we are all soon soaked with sweat. The air conditiong is not functioning. A first dance is done with the bride and groom but Ricky has put his foot down no more wedding stuff, and so no ceremonial cake cutting, or champagne toasts. Rick is a shy man and he has hit his good nature'd limit for this kind of limelight. Outside in the wide foyer a huge group of people have gathered and are buying drinks at the portable bar. Word has spread that Rick is in town and all of his friends have come to have a drink and visit with their old friend. Those who were not invited to the more formal party are as numerous as those in the ballroom and it is a mob. I try to meet as many as I can outside the room and visit with these young people devoted to Ricky. It is a testament to my son-in-love that so many people have turned out to see him.
Dancing and enjoying the music and the excentric D.J. We are all on the dance floor Ira and his wife, the kids, B and myself Goli and Adam, Carmen, Mel, Melissa, Aunts, Uncles, the only hold out is Craig, I am working on him yet. Barry and I have sussed out the Salsa party being held downstairs and spread the word around the crowd that after the formal party ends at ten we should go down to the Latin dance party.
We find ourselves alone downstairs and I try to get our group together, but have no success so B and I dance and watch the Santa Fe latin dance crowd. The rest of the party is in the upstairs bar enjoying more drinks and family visiting, the kids have stashed plenty of beer in their suite as the cost of open bar and all night drinking can be a bomb. After we leave about 12:30 Margo tells me they all snuck in but didn't see us. It was a fun night and we really appreciated all the love and attention Mel and Carmen put into that party, and the whole weekend. We loved Santa Fe and would love to go back and connect with the Martinez and Casados family.
to be continued;
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
I to my fortune...
"And me they left with those of Epidamnum.
What then became of them, I cannot tell;
I to this fortune you see me in."
According to my bog it's been eight months since I last wrote. Wow eight months, a lot has happened and yet very little has changed. Adam and Goli's townhouse is done and they will be moving in any day now, Margo and Rick have been to Italy, and are heading to Spain this weekend and had another visit to Paris not that long ago. Craig, is no longer in Miami but starting his third week here in the Valley although a bit under the weather he is getting along.
I had surgery in February after years of not taking care of a seriously deteriorating condition we finally made the trip to Houston and I spent a week in the hospital. The tests I took were exhaustive and exhausting, but the results showed I have a strong healthy heart and no other red flags. When the surgery was done we headed home for a long and slow recovery, it was all worth it.
This health care debate is very near and dear to my heart. When I was divorced I lost health-care and frankly what I could get was ridiculously expensive and had so many existing condition clauses it was full of Swiss cheese. I finally had to let it go all together and pay out of pocket for a D&C and two lumpectomies that nearly wiped me out financially. Now that I am on Barry's plan I am making up for a decade of neglect and even had my first Dental checkup in nearly seven years. It is a sham and a crying shame that I and others like me had to suffer for untold years for lack of health coverage. Craig is now in that boat and still they say we are moving too fast, I'll tell you what let's take away all your bennies and see how fast you have to move with a sick child or spouse. Five months later and the bills are still rolling in and even with good coverage we are about the 3-4 thousand mark out of pocket for my surgery. Boy I do need my soapbox from time to time eh?
I also discovered through a very persistent friend a near cure to my IBS. I have been suffering for over thirty years with a progressively debilitating form of Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Well VSL#3 from the Mayo clinic has turned that around and I can say I am 97-100% cured. It is in a word a miracle. It works for IBS, Colitis, and Pouchitis. I sing it's praises and now take it every other day. Believe me I tried everything and anything spent thousands of dollars and this works.
Just after mother's day as a gift from Adam and Goli, I spent time with them at Sholeh's and enjoyed the break from Brownsville. We had a great time and I should have stayed longer but then poor Barry just doesn't know when to come home, and eat when I am gone. I do love the D.C. area, but didn't get out and see my other friends so next time I will do some dancing and visiting. Hey it is such a SMALL world. Jean-Marie graduated Temple U. Law school and Goli and I drove up to surprise them. Sitting in the Theatre I see a face so familiar right in front of me and boom I realise it is one of my dance friends from D.C. Her daughter became an over night dance sensation in the Hustle world, and it was Erika's graduation from Law School. Again Congratulations are due to a very pregnant Jean-Marie, lot's of luck to the upcoming licence boards. Goli and I enjoyed the dinner and connecting with the Dunn/Kane family.
While up in the wilds of the gorgeous North we went back to a favorite stomping ground of mine, Longwood Gardens. Talk about sensory over load! Lush lush lush. We met my former husband and his new, new wife of a few weeks Leeanna. This is Ira's third and I hope a happy marriage. It was awkward to say the least after the second wife debacle and her treatment of my kids. It was a wonderful warm sunny Sunday, and I think we all enjoyed the gardens. My life tends toward the dramatic without any direct drama from me. It does keep it interesting though. Hilarious often...
The wind is howling today the temps are about 97 degrees without the heat index so it's about 100+, and not a spot of rain or moisture. Wild fires have been burning in some of the surrounding counties and it doesn't look like any rain for the next two and a half weeks at least. I lost the French lavender and the new Jade plants. Nothing can thrive here but cactus in this drought. I guess I could zero scape but gosh I do need the green around me. When I was up in D.C./VA it was so lush so overly abundant with flowers blooming and so many shades of green. I couldn't get enough it was as if my heart was filling up with all that I have been missing in the last few years. I wouldn't be adverse to becoming a part timer up North again, but not in the winter uh uh, no.
When we first moved down I was going ape s---, cause I was bored. I went into a little beading shop and they didn't speak any English, yet I knew I wanted to learn, so a few months ago I dragged Rossana into another shop she remembered downtown. We took a lesson (translated for me) made a necklace and earrings and I have been at it ever since. It has been my intention to find SOMETHING I could do to make money and work from home. I am not technologically savvy so it had to be either with my head or hands, BINGO! I am delighted and a bit taken aback that I am now creating and making really beautiful high end costume jewelry. My sister Pam was always the crafty one, with her ability to sew, knit, crochet, really super beautiful stuff. I did do quilts many years ago and was quiet good but didn't keep up with it. Now zoom I am in love and obsessed. It is a very expensive obsession, so I need to start selling soon. I have very high hopes I can finally realize a source of financial stability for myself that doesn't rely on the great physical strength that has served me so well most of my life. I am limited to some of that physicality now yet I am healthier and stronger than I have been in a number of years, since the surgery. I am draging Rossana into the buisness so she can help me make my creations the name RoMi seems a good fit.
So many things to say about life (here) so many observations that I should have doccumented and that are gone now, I need to do this on a more regular basis if not for you than just for me. More stories to tell about the past and the players who are no longer on stage with us, before they are not even memories.
"I hope I shall have leisure to make good,
If this not be a dream I see and hear." Shakespeare's The Comedy of Erros
What then became of them, I cannot tell;
I to this fortune you see me in."
According to my bog it's been eight months since I last wrote. Wow eight months, a lot has happened and yet very little has changed. Adam and Goli's townhouse is done and they will be moving in any day now, Margo and Rick have been to Italy, and are heading to Spain this weekend and had another visit to Paris not that long ago. Craig, is no longer in Miami but starting his third week here in the Valley although a bit under the weather he is getting along.
I had surgery in February after years of not taking care of a seriously deteriorating condition we finally made the trip to Houston and I spent a week in the hospital. The tests I took were exhaustive and exhausting, but the results showed I have a strong healthy heart and no other red flags. When the surgery was done we headed home for a long and slow recovery, it was all worth it.
This health care debate is very near and dear to my heart. When I was divorced I lost health-care and frankly what I could get was ridiculously expensive and had so many existing condition clauses it was full of Swiss cheese. I finally had to let it go all together and pay out of pocket for a D&C and two lumpectomies that nearly wiped me out financially. Now that I am on Barry's plan I am making up for a decade of neglect and even had my first Dental checkup in nearly seven years. It is a sham and a crying shame that I and others like me had to suffer for untold years for lack of health coverage. Craig is now in that boat and still they say we are moving too fast, I'll tell you what let's take away all your bennies and see how fast you have to move with a sick child or spouse. Five months later and the bills are still rolling in and even with good coverage we are about the 3-4 thousand mark out of pocket for my surgery. Boy I do need my soapbox from time to time eh?
I also discovered through a very persistent friend a near cure to my IBS. I have been suffering for over thirty years with a progressively debilitating form of Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Well VSL#3 from the Mayo clinic has turned that around and I can say I am 97-100% cured. It is in a word a miracle. It works for IBS, Colitis, and Pouchitis. I sing it's praises and now take it every other day. Believe me I tried everything and anything spent thousands of dollars and this works.
Just after mother's day as a gift from Adam and Goli, I spent time with them at Sholeh's and enjoyed the break from Brownsville. We had a great time and I should have stayed longer but then poor Barry just doesn't know when to come home, and eat when I am gone. I do love the D.C. area, but didn't get out and see my other friends so next time I will do some dancing and visiting. Hey it is such a SMALL world. Jean-Marie graduated Temple U. Law school and Goli and I drove up to surprise them. Sitting in the Theatre I see a face so familiar right in front of me and boom I realise it is one of my dance friends from D.C. Her daughter became an over night dance sensation in the Hustle world, and it was Erika's graduation from Law School. Again Congratulations are due to a very pregnant Jean-Marie, lot's of luck to the upcoming licence boards. Goli and I enjoyed the dinner and connecting with the Dunn/Kane family.
While up in the wilds of the gorgeous North we went back to a favorite stomping ground of mine, Longwood Gardens. Talk about sensory over load! Lush lush lush. We met my former husband and his new, new wife of a few weeks Leeanna. This is Ira's third and I hope a happy marriage. It was awkward to say the least after the second wife debacle and her treatment of my kids. It was a wonderful warm sunny Sunday, and I think we all enjoyed the gardens. My life tends toward the dramatic without any direct drama from me. It does keep it interesting though. Hilarious often...
The wind is howling today the temps are about 97 degrees without the heat index so it's about 100+, and not a spot of rain or moisture. Wild fires have been burning in some of the surrounding counties and it doesn't look like any rain for the next two and a half weeks at least. I lost the French lavender and the new Jade plants. Nothing can thrive here but cactus in this drought. I guess I could zero scape but gosh I do need the green around me. When I was up in D.C./VA it was so lush so overly abundant with flowers blooming and so many shades of green. I couldn't get enough it was as if my heart was filling up with all that I have been missing in the last few years. I wouldn't be adverse to becoming a part timer up North again, but not in the winter uh uh, no.
When we first moved down I was going ape s---, cause I was bored. I went into a little beading shop and they didn't speak any English, yet I knew I wanted to learn, so a few months ago I dragged Rossana into another shop she remembered downtown. We took a lesson (translated for me) made a necklace and earrings and I have been at it ever since. It has been my intention to find SOMETHING I could do to make money and work from home. I am not technologically savvy so it had to be either with my head or hands, BINGO! I am delighted and a bit taken aback that I am now creating and making really beautiful high end costume jewelry. My sister Pam was always the crafty one, with her ability to sew, knit, crochet, really super beautiful stuff. I did do quilts many years ago and was quiet good but didn't keep up with it. Now zoom I am in love and obsessed. It is a very expensive obsession, so I need to start selling soon. I have very high hopes I can finally realize a source of financial stability for myself that doesn't rely on the great physical strength that has served me so well most of my life. I am limited to some of that physicality now yet I am healthier and stronger than I have been in a number of years, since the surgery. I am draging Rossana into the buisness so she can help me make my creations the name RoMi seems a good fit.
So many things to say about life (here) so many observations that I should have doccumented and that are gone now, I need to do this on a more regular basis if not for you than just for me. More stories to tell about the past and the players who are no longer on stage with us, before they are not even memories.
"I hope I shall have leisure to make good,
If this not be a dream I see and hear." Shakespeare's The Comedy of Erros
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Anniversary in a Thumbnail
"The difference between a comedy and a tragedy is that in comedy the characters figure out reality in time to do something about it." Bennett W. Goodspeed
It's election day 2008. This election will be a mile stone in so many ways. My first election was during the Viet Nam war, I had registered the day I turned eighteen. If I remember correctly it was 1970, Oct.16. I had convinced my then boy friend Steven Kellman to register and then go and donate blood with me. It was some kind of rite of passage for me, and I thought it would be a nice bonding process as well. Poor Steven was forced to give up a pint. Both of us felt very fuzzy afterward and we ended up just hanging out for the rest of the day. I can't tell you the sense of pride and ownership that gave me, and one month later I exercised my right to vote. To me then, it was going to be the election and decision of a lifetime, I didn't envision today, this scenario. I never thought I would have had to send one of MY children or anyone elses for that matter into war again. In those days after protesting the war, voicing my concerns about the earth (Earth day). It was just my naivete that this was over and not to be revisited.
So I will get ready soon to line up again as I do every four years and put my stamp on history as well as honor all my past and present family members who fought to come here, who fought to protect our country, and who also with clear consciences walked the line to the polls. Five generations and counting now...
Well this is our one year in Brownsville anniversary. In the words of Barry's boss Nizzette, Brownsville is not that bad. It is nearly a year ago that I began this blog, out of sheer desperation and boredom. Boredom with a big B. We arrived Nov.10 after a grueling three days on the road with two cars, and as you recall with two howling cats and our few precious things as everything else went into storage. I didn't even have a bra, at the last minute we shipped our luggage and it didn't show up for a week and a half. I had a sports bra, sandals, a change of top and a sweat suit. Brownsville, was barren, brown and looked unpromising from my exhausted stressed prospective. We drove around a little got our bearings and shopped for food. We also visited the Island after raiding Dillards first thing Sunday morning for a few staples of cloths. It was windy and a little raw and the waves were rough and all I could do was gaze through the hazy mist and think straight across is Florida if I just head over and keep going I'd hit Naples? San Marco Island? Ya gotta let go of that though and take on the adventure, and know really know that this will be great, just another layer of living.
It's rained quite a bit this year so the area has remained green, flowers are still blooming and the WIND has not yet begun. Hopefully this will be a more normal year and it won't be howling constantly like last season. We love our new home it is a dream, with towering ceilings each a different Tray pattern with beautiful moldings all over. Huge shiny Porcelain floors, fabulous woodwork everywhere and great big picture windows. The pool we put in is just perfect. Truthfully, I was really reluctant to spend the doe re mi, but after it was all done with a tremendous amount of strum and angst, one day I turned in the kitchen and saw Barry happily, really, happily paddling around in it. His year has been hellish, and he has been uber stressed. I just couldn't hold onto to my money squandering fears in sight of such pure delight on the part of my beloved. He has destresed and detoxed in and around the pool, although it's been open such a short part of the season. It was funny to watch him Sunday in the 72' degree water. Don't forget we've got tropic blood now, he was nearly blue when he came out.
I had a Haddasah tea here the Sunday after Margo's wedding. I had out all my beautiful china tea sets and my silver. I hadn't done this in a very long time. We fixed lots of cute sandwiches, I baked scones, cookies, shortbread and pound cake. Rossana made her cucumber sandwiches, I made egg salad, tiny crackers with home made hummos and cilantro, and Kurisit sandwiches. The house looked smashing and the cats were confined to the den with the T.V. on for company. The ladies arrive, Elka starts the presentation... remember I mentioned the great big picture windows? Now we have a great big view of Barry in his bathing suite laying down on the chaise, walking back and forth cleaning the pool and doing what ever, with his great body like the cabana pool boy. All these old ladies are mesmerized by the sight of my honey "relaxing" by the pool. Forget my beautiful china, the house, the hit of the "tea" was Barry and his fab. bod.
The biggest part of our adventurous move way down in the Rio Grande Valley was the momentous meeting of the Bogorads. Geoff and Rossana are our brother and sister in so many ways. They adopted us, saved my sanity and brought a kind of friendship for me that I have never had, nor expect to have again. To say that Rossana and I look nothing alike is an understatement, not to mention my New York accent and her Cordobian Spanish accent, yet everyone who meets us thinks we are sisters and refers to us as so. It is true enough in the sense that we are Soul Mates. Funny really, how astonishing a relationship. Danielle, and Joseph are my surrogate children, nephew niece. Poor kids I give them the "talks" when they need them as if they were my own. Yet they indulge my need to mother, and we have a bond I think that is very special.
So as I always say it was Beshert, coming here where names like Tipotex, pay homage to where we lie on the map. Where a Sheriff in Jail for taking bribes in dealing with the border can run unopposed from his Jail cell, and people will STILL vote for him cause they like him and he's a good Sheriff. One Judge said he isn't the first and won't be the last as he lists all the other crooked politicians and public servants who've done jail time. Hey look this is the state that gave us the Idiot Bush, enough said.
We've been to the little local theatre for a few plays, attended some great live music at the funky art gallery 409, manned a table at the Boo at the Zoo last Thursday, gone to a few festivals at the beach and made a few friends. As always Barry and I love to entertain and we've had a few dinners and parties. We hope to get a group together for a dance night either here or at some venue. I need to get some Karaoke music for B's machine and do a night maybe with dancing. Lately we've been renting funky foreign films and watching it on our huge flat screen in the den. I am enjoying that very much and look forward to our next odd ball pick. Rossana as always is my partner in crime.
"Language shapes consciousness, and the use of language to shape consciousness is an important branch of magic." Starhawk, Dreaming the Dark
We cross over the border with regularity, and this is probably my most favorite activity of all. I am astonished how much I enjoy Mexico and the Mexican culture and people. Yes, food is always a motivating factor in my life and the food there has been great, but it goes beyond my stomach as it were. Here the people are sincere, polite and interested in talking to you. Yes, yes there are thieves and the poor and the near subsistence part of Mexico mixed in, but the spirit of the people is very fetching to me. I have come to admire the work ethic, community and close family ties. It is also harder to make friends as an Anglo or outsider but not impossible.
My Spanish is lagging along, although my vocabulary gets bigger each day I still am unable to make my self intelligible. Hilda comes once a month to clean she is a g-d send as these floors although beautiful are a lot of work with the cats. From the time she arrives she speaks to me full tilt with every hope that I understand her fully and that we are having a conversation. Often I do understand and can somewhat comport my self but often I run to the phone and Rossana for a clear interpretation. This amuses Hilda no end and each month I suspect she tests my mettle with more in depth conversations. She loves Pablo bless her and lets him do his crazy while she cleans, I often hear her laughing or quietly admonishing him. He totally responds to her and I think the key here is I need to speak to him in Spanish. He has become such an integral part of our little family. His misdemeanors are often hysterical and we fight hard to rebuke him. Piper is showing his age, he is very lean although he eats heartily his bones show a bit. Arthritis is slowing him down, and when Pablo wrestles him you can see how Pablo takes great care to not really rough Piper up. He kind of play tags and wrestles his old friend. Callie is just the sweetest, no words to describe my little girl. Pablo drives her crazy with his games of hide and seek, tag. Once in awhile she will super discipline him, but mostly she yells plaintively at him. She is so aggrieved at his sport it is funny, and again we have to work up a need to admonish him.
We are certainly not experiencing life in the fast lane here, but I have to say I am enjoying it. So yes Nizzette Brownsville is not so bad.
"Motion or change and identity or rest are the first and second secrets of nature: Motion and Rest. The whole code of her laws may be written on the thumbnail." Emerson
It's election day 2008. This election will be a mile stone in so many ways. My first election was during the Viet Nam war, I had registered the day I turned eighteen. If I remember correctly it was 1970, Oct.16. I had convinced my then boy friend Steven Kellman to register and then go and donate blood with me. It was some kind of rite of passage for me, and I thought it would be a nice bonding process as well. Poor Steven was forced to give up a pint. Both of us felt very fuzzy afterward and we ended up just hanging out for the rest of the day. I can't tell you the sense of pride and ownership that gave me, and one month later I exercised my right to vote. To me then, it was going to be the election and decision of a lifetime, I didn't envision today, this scenario. I never thought I would have had to send one of MY children or anyone elses for that matter into war again. In those days after protesting the war, voicing my concerns about the earth (Earth day). It was just my naivete that this was over and not to be revisited.
So I will get ready soon to line up again as I do every four years and put my stamp on history as well as honor all my past and present family members who fought to come here, who fought to protect our country, and who also with clear consciences walked the line to the polls. Five generations and counting now...
Well this is our one year in Brownsville anniversary. In the words of Barry's boss Nizzette, Brownsville is not that bad. It is nearly a year ago that I began this blog, out of sheer desperation and boredom. Boredom with a big B. We arrived Nov.10 after a grueling three days on the road with two cars, and as you recall with two howling cats and our few precious things as everything else went into storage. I didn't even have a bra, at the last minute we shipped our luggage and it didn't show up for a week and a half. I had a sports bra, sandals, a change of top and a sweat suit. Brownsville, was barren, brown and looked unpromising from my exhausted stressed prospective. We drove around a little got our bearings and shopped for food. We also visited the Island after raiding Dillards first thing Sunday morning for a few staples of cloths. It was windy and a little raw and the waves were rough and all I could do was gaze through the hazy mist and think straight across is Florida if I just head over and keep going I'd hit Naples? San Marco Island? Ya gotta let go of that though and take on the adventure, and know really know that this will be great, just another layer of living.
It's rained quite a bit this year so the area has remained green, flowers are still blooming and the WIND has not yet begun. Hopefully this will be a more normal year and it won't be howling constantly like last season. We love our new home it is a dream, with towering ceilings each a different Tray pattern with beautiful moldings all over. Huge shiny Porcelain floors, fabulous woodwork everywhere and great big picture windows. The pool we put in is just perfect. Truthfully, I was really reluctant to spend the doe re mi, but after it was all done with a tremendous amount of strum and angst, one day I turned in the kitchen and saw Barry happily, really, happily paddling around in it. His year has been hellish, and he has been uber stressed. I just couldn't hold onto to my money squandering fears in sight of such pure delight on the part of my beloved. He has destresed and detoxed in and around the pool, although it's been open such a short part of the season. It was funny to watch him Sunday in the 72' degree water. Don't forget we've got tropic blood now, he was nearly blue when he came out.
I had a Haddasah tea here the Sunday after Margo's wedding. I had out all my beautiful china tea sets and my silver. I hadn't done this in a very long time. We fixed lots of cute sandwiches, I baked scones, cookies, shortbread and pound cake. Rossana made her cucumber sandwiches, I made egg salad, tiny crackers with home made hummos and cilantro, and Kurisit sandwiches. The house looked smashing and the cats were confined to the den with the T.V. on for company. The ladies arrive, Elka starts the presentation... remember I mentioned the great big picture windows? Now we have a great big view of Barry in his bathing suite laying down on the chaise, walking back and forth cleaning the pool and doing what ever, with his great body like the cabana pool boy. All these old ladies are mesmerized by the sight of my honey "relaxing" by the pool. Forget my beautiful china, the house, the hit of the "tea" was Barry and his fab. bod.
The biggest part of our adventurous move way down in the Rio Grande Valley was the momentous meeting of the Bogorads. Geoff and Rossana are our brother and sister in so many ways. They adopted us, saved my sanity and brought a kind of friendship for me that I have never had, nor expect to have again. To say that Rossana and I look nothing alike is an understatement, not to mention my New York accent and her Cordobian Spanish accent, yet everyone who meets us thinks we are sisters and refers to us as so. It is true enough in the sense that we are Soul Mates. Funny really, how astonishing a relationship. Danielle, and Joseph are my surrogate children, nephew niece. Poor kids I give them the "talks" when they need them as if they were my own. Yet they indulge my need to mother, and we have a bond I think that is very special.
So as I always say it was Beshert, coming here where names like Tipotex, pay homage to where we lie on the map. Where a Sheriff in Jail for taking bribes in dealing with the border can run unopposed from his Jail cell, and people will STILL vote for him cause they like him and he's a good Sheriff. One Judge said he isn't the first and won't be the last as he lists all the other crooked politicians and public servants who've done jail time. Hey look this is the state that gave us the Idiot Bush, enough said.
We've been to the little local theatre for a few plays, attended some great live music at the funky art gallery 409, manned a table at the Boo at the Zoo last Thursday, gone to a few festivals at the beach and made a few friends. As always Barry and I love to entertain and we've had a few dinners and parties. We hope to get a group together for a dance night either here or at some venue. I need to get some Karaoke music for B's machine and do a night maybe with dancing. Lately we've been renting funky foreign films and watching it on our huge flat screen in the den. I am enjoying that very much and look forward to our next odd ball pick. Rossana as always is my partner in crime.
"Language shapes consciousness, and the use of language to shape consciousness is an important branch of magic." Starhawk, Dreaming the Dark
We cross over the border with regularity, and this is probably my most favorite activity of all. I am astonished how much I enjoy Mexico and the Mexican culture and people. Yes, food is always a motivating factor in my life and the food there has been great, but it goes beyond my stomach as it were. Here the people are sincere, polite and interested in talking to you. Yes, yes there are thieves and the poor and the near subsistence part of Mexico mixed in, but the spirit of the people is very fetching to me. I have come to admire the work ethic, community and close family ties. It is also harder to make friends as an Anglo or outsider but not impossible.
My Spanish is lagging along, although my vocabulary gets bigger each day I still am unable to make my self intelligible. Hilda comes once a month to clean she is a g-d send as these floors although beautiful are a lot of work with the cats. From the time she arrives she speaks to me full tilt with every hope that I understand her fully and that we are having a conversation. Often I do understand and can somewhat comport my self but often I run to the phone and Rossana for a clear interpretation. This amuses Hilda no end and each month I suspect she tests my mettle with more in depth conversations. She loves Pablo bless her and lets him do his crazy while she cleans, I often hear her laughing or quietly admonishing him. He totally responds to her and I think the key here is I need to speak to him in Spanish. He has become such an integral part of our little family. His misdemeanors are often hysterical and we fight hard to rebuke him. Piper is showing his age, he is very lean although he eats heartily his bones show a bit. Arthritis is slowing him down, and when Pablo wrestles him you can see how Pablo takes great care to not really rough Piper up. He kind of play tags and wrestles his old friend. Callie is just the sweetest, no words to describe my little girl. Pablo drives her crazy with his games of hide and seek, tag. Once in awhile she will super discipline him, but mostly she yells plaintively at him. She is so aggrieved at his sport it is funny, and again we have to work up a need to admonish him.
We are certainly not experiencing life in the fast lane here, but I have to say I am enjoying it. So yes Nizzette Brownsville is not so bad.
"Motion or change and identity or rest are the first and second secrets of nature: Motion and Rest. The whole code of her laws may be written on the thumbnail." Emerson
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Casados
(Cas-AH-dos)
San Antonio, Texas
I met a veteran at the Dunkin Doughnut counter, I needed Cappuccino badly. The flight out of Harlingen was stormy, seems to me every time I fly now there is plenty of drama and electricity. Great flight very hard landing, all flaps wide open full throttle, drop her like a stone, and brake for all she's worth. Saves fuel but is hell 0n the passengers. Back at the counter, army baseball capped this gent has one of the heaviest New York accents I've heard in awhile. Queued up he turns to me, grousing, how he hates Krispy Kreme, here is the other indication he is or has been a New Yorker, we tend to begin conversations with perfect strangers. Kreme's have been closing their stores all over so I am informed "somebody played fancy with the money." He only eats Dunken, orders three, two jelly and one glazed, a cup of Java. Brooklyn, he confirms not New York, Brooklyn a Brooklynite. In the late forties he moved to Mexico, been there ever since. Lives in an ex-pat community in Mexico City, very safe no problems. He wants to buy me a coffee, I decline, we exchange news of goings on and shake hands before we part. There was a nostalgic moment when I mentioned Prospect Park, he used to live in view of it.
Wish I had my computer this is one long lay-over. Packing light meant leaving my books back home. The constraints of traveling today leave a lot to be desired. Something else has become apparent to me, I am unable to do "without" these days. Pills, cremes, ankle wraps ...stuff... Can't go back to the old days traveling Europe with a tiny case of feather weight undies, drip dry mini dresses and a pair of sandals. A life time ago, no three. Different girl, long haired brunette, features so young, unmarked rounded full cheekbones skin fair and smooth,blue eyes wide open. Now, I see ghosts, ghost of my mother, my Aunts. My face is not my own, it is a hodge-
podge of woes, tears, hope, triumph and knowledge and ecstatically, finally, more than a bit of the sage, a crone. I am very proud to reach the status of healer, earth mother, elder, crone. Just wish there wasn't so much sagging involved. The fullness of face has migrated to my neck where it gathers happily upon my jowls and under chin. Dabs and dobs of green creme erase tiny red capillaries that dot the landscape followed by cunning liquid cover ups. Blush tries to revive the all too pale mounds of cheek bone that are now flattening planes. Pink on lids that are now crapier, darker, lower. Cover all with powder guaranteed to Glow. I don't need to "do" my roots as often, grey is taking over, it looks kinda silvery blond. I look at old pictures now and see myself in the long gone faces of my clans women. A comfort, continuity.
I've been channeling Anita a lot lately, she comes through without warning. I hear the tone, words, and I know it's her. I've become more flippant and irreverent out loud. Stunning are my words, never before would I utter these things. Talking to my Gastroenterologist, above the screaming of a child in the recovery area, he closes the door to chase the sound away, while commenting on his dislike for children, he doesn't "do" them. I quip "does your wife know about this?" Oh boy inappropriate on so many levels, funny yes but oy vey ANITA. He laughs dryly and says "that's a whole other story", good grief, I just blink and we get back to the discussion. My friend Geoff found it very funny to my relief. Anita visits more and more, I tend to have less inhibitions less to loose in so many ways. So much of her moments interpose my own, I am astonished that Michele as I knew her exists at all. I consult her often, and more often out loud. My dad Hal has always helped me "fix" things, work the broken, and summon the strength when needed. Fantastic assets to be sure, now Anita and her incorrigible humor, the don't give a damn 'tude has found a new home.
Looking at my double nickles birthday in the mirror, it is wonderful to realize I have come home to myself, I've made peace with my life and past. It's also a relief not to hold onto or care about the trivial mundane inanities of life. The other side of the coin is I am crankier, and have no trouble saying so. It's the whole earning the right to be fed up with BS and a panoply of the insufferable flotsam and jetsam in my life. Middle age plus has it's perks, being frank and not suffering gnats and their pettiness is a biggy. It seems to me I am smarter, faster, sharper more alive in every way. Physically I am stumbling a bit, but I still have energy and drive to spare. My mental acuity, aside from the loosing of reading glasses and misplacing a thing or two is truly better that it's ever been. Admitidly my spelling is just as bad. My former policy of think it, don't say it, is on the very back burner.
Funny, to finally figure it all out, all of it. I need my 18 year old body back dammit. NOT FAIR. Pigs are not flying with or without lipstick, so I look ahead, set my shoulders, and lean forward against the often not gentle wind of life and set my course to the future.
Union Station, D.C.
I haven't been on Amtrack since mom died. It was the trip down to D.C. after the funeral for Adams G.W.U. Law school graduation. The whole week had taken it's toll and I arrived with Bronchitis. At the time he was living with Shepard and Tui. A.J. took me to a clinic, that turns out to be on the same block as Goli's clinic. They must have passed each other all the time, but it took the Internet and deployment in Iraq for them to "meet". Just the other day they put a bid in for their new home, a large place as they hope to start a family. When the question came up I acquiesced to being called Bubbie. If I ever get a face/chin lift and loose those damn fifty pounds it sure as heck gonna be Bubbles. Grandpa or Pop used to call me Cookie, I wouldn't mind that. Or some other language version of it. Bubbie just hangs there, I see the picture of Mollie my Great- Grandmother, tiny, stout, bust, waist and hips all melded together, multi chinned, heavy bye- bye arms. This mother of twelve children and legions there after, with her Austrian accent, no English, she was a Bubbie.
Neither of my Grandmothers were. Ruth Schick Bernstein was a mover and a shaker in her day. Big busted, tiny, plain, she regaled me with stories of her past. Modern dance classes in the twenties, reading and adhering to modern child psychology books, her disdain of formalized religion of any kind. She carried the first woman's drivers licence in NY, and in defiance of the law with great personal conviction she handed out diaphragms to the poor women in the tenements. She was a bookkeeper who was a working mother and until she had a mishap with a sidewalk at seventy five, continued to work. Slowly there after her life and strength began to unravel. The recipient of one of the first knee transplants, she suffered quietly as she relied more and more on television for her view of the world. Grandma Ruthy believed in free expression, women's rights and modernism. Grandma was no beauty, yet she had a spirit of confidence that was profound. When first married she blew off the Orthodoxy that both she and Herman were raised in. She refused to sleep separately from her new husband shocking her mother-in-law and distressing both sides of the family with her break from the traditional role of Jewish wife. We were often offered a Hanukkah Bush from Ruth, and my father although never mindful of the traditions of Judaism would not allow one in our home. Her father, Rabbi Bernard Schick of Hungary, was by all accounts a tough often brutal man. I got the sense that Grandma, blamed his awful temper and insensitivity on his fanatical religiosity. She was the youngest of sixteen children, Great-Grandpa had four wives and my Great Grandmother was wife number three. He emigrated a second time, to Palestine in his seventies to become a freedom fighter for Israel, married again and lived past one hundred.
My mothers mother Etta, no nonsense, aloof and beautiful. A woman of style and sophisticated taste. Another liberated, smart albeit quirky woman who was certainly before her time. She was a terrific cook but I always thought she would have been happier running a business. My mother used to call me the throw back, perhaps, I make no apologies for being a "throw back". I make no apologise for my talents. They do lie with the more domestic side of life, although there is the "woo, woo" as Adam coined, side of my nature. Do I throw back to Bubbie though, four generations back?
Margo and Rick will meet me at Penn Station, the bride wants to shop. I am just along for support. This will be my first face to face with my new son. Adam sprang Goli on me without warning. Jean Marie and I were besieged at Adams welcome home soldier ceremony by this diminutive, beautiful woman. I had no clue who she was, Goli, Goli? Who, when, what and why. Poor Goli my reaction of startled blankness, she thought I hated her on sight, she also thought my son had told me all about her! What a beginning and how typical of Adam. Jean-Marie somehow gently interrogated Dr. Shadlin Goli , my soon to be daughter-in-love. The shaky start to firm foundations. This drop dead gorgeous, brilliant, loving, down to earth woman has brought such richness and energy to our family. Now Richard Louis Casados, so loving, so patient, and talented. A perfect fit for Margo. Neither of my new kids are the old norm. Not from New York, culturally very different. Bringing change to our old European Jewish centric energy.
As my train pulls me closer to a new era in my life, a new child to love and worry about, a new family to embrace and meld. I note a sign welded to a trestle bridge spanning the river it gives me pause...Trenton Makes the World Takes. Is that still true? I don't even want to think about where we are going and where we are in the world. Not this weekend, I am taking a break from my running feud with the Idiot Bush and all that beleaguers the U.S. at the moment.
We had dinner at Adam's favorite place Marks Duck house at Seven corners. Nothing fancy but the best duck and great Chinese food. Probably the best South of the Mason Dixon line. Self proclaimed high brows need not come, we however enjoy it. Yes, this is a dig.
I need to feed upon Bagels/lox, Deli, real New York pizza, Pho and if we can Hungarian. Anita's all time favorite was Malkas. Indian is high on the list here, so much food so little time.
I miss my chanclas my feet haven't been in shoes well, in forever. I live in the tropics. I own chanclas of every color, high heels and all. Flip flops for every occasion. Now I am shod in break the bank loafers that gleam and shine and I pine for my Old Navy chanclas. Sexy bare toes with fresh really red polished toe nails a thin curvy line intersecting the big toe from the first toe, are black thongs for the feet. Stilettos are over rated, when bare skin with a strap of silver,or bronze, all colors of the rainbow show off smooth bare legs, and the satisfying smack, smack, smack, as I go about my business with rhythmic accompaniment, striding along Terra Firma all seems right with my world.
New York, New York
We three share a cab and ride up to my sister in the 80's. Things are the same the crowds, noise, construction, yet there are differences. Many old shops restaurants are gone, and with in minutes of being above ground I see that the city does look different. During the next few days I realize there is no going home for me. Margo and Rick mention that they realize that coming back to NY may not be an option for them. The cost of everything, the changes, they no longer feel at home. These are middle class young people and they don't feel there is a place any longer for them here.
Ricks smile is magic and his energy is fantastic, I fall in love with my new son and the sense of relief is palpable. No worries here, I just hope they aren't too stressed about the wedding and the "families".
After spending some time with my sister Margo and Rick run off to do their chores and check out the restaurant Le Barricou, where the reception will be held. Harrison, my soon to be eleven nephew, Pam and I head to the new favorite Hungarian restaurant. I have a dish I hadn't seen on Malkas menu, this place is in the same section of the city it's the German Austrian and Hungarian. I learned to eat and cook it as a mothers helper with the Shelly's in their Hampton Bays home eons ago. Mrs. Shelly was a Hungarian Jew, and that summer her mother was visiting. Heaven help my spelling here Rococumpli, is a dish of potatoes quartered, hard boiled eggs sliced and with sausage, or hot dogs if feeding growing kids, and sour cream with lots of good paprikash and browned onions. It can be made in a casserole, as I make it layered, or all sauteed together slightly browning the eggs and potatoes. Food real ethnic food can't be beat. Hearty with overtones of the old country it helps me to feel well less alien to this world I took for granted. Ten years in the south has changed my eating in many ways.
The next few days I spend time with Pam and Harrison with snippets for the kids. Friday we get together with Ricks mom Carmen and sister Carmella. What sweet hearts, I am sooo happy and relieved that once again my new family are loves.We have all met to do a girls medi-pedi with Annick, Mary Margo Carmen Carmella and myself. After the other girls return to work, We have a late lunch at Katz' deli. I have a personality disorder. Mild mannered, well mannered until I go home. At Katz' I really let loose, hey I am not chopped liver, I eat chopped liver. I think they(Carmen, Carmella) are in Jewish/New York culture shock it's a whole different world from New Mexico. There are lots and lots of food stacked up in front of us. Margo's nervous stomach and some chicken matzoh ball soup click just fine. She runs off, as Craig arrives. He eats and I take off for Pam's to dress and ready for the "Family" dinner.
Dinner is in a new Italian restaurant in Brooklyn. The owners are young and hip, friends of Rick's and Margo. They have a wood fired oven and a very eclectic menu. BYOB. It's on a dark and rough looking street, yet our welcome is warm and they take very good care of us. A few cousins, Aunt and Uncle on both sides, siblings and parents. We are a surprisingly big crowd and a hungry one. Beer and wine appear and we begin the process of introductions and renewing old relationships although slightly estranged. It's fun to see many of my other nieces, nephews and their "dates" after all these years. It's always a little awkward for me around my former husband and his family. This time I am so far down the "road," I let go of the old feelings and just enjoy myself.
Margo and Rick enter and she looks like Marilyn Monroe. How cute are they and Margo is just glowing. I want to take her home with me though, wrap her up in cotton wool and put her to bed. Those days are long long gone, yet my mothers instinct takes over. I don't think my mother felt this way about my first marriage, but I know my dad didn't want to let go. For daughters it is so different.
Saturday, and we rush out to pick Margo and all her "stuff" up in preparation to take her to the Chelsea hotel where she and Rick will spend the next couple of nights. Adam is her chauffeur for the day. He drives us first to our hair appointment. It's fun to see Margo in action, this is her old hairdresser, before she moved to London. They are all so happy for her it is infectious. I've been sick for days now and last night was the worst I've had in a long time. I am exhausted dehydrated and hungry but I dare not eat. I cab it back to Brooklyn, Williamsburgh where we are renting a two bedroom one bathroom. Adam, Barry Goli and Sholeh share the space with me. We are trying to not step all over each other. Poor Sholeh slept on a foam whatsit, and Barry and I tossed and turned on a double mattress on the floor. It's cheap and convenient. The neighborhood is vibrant with lots of mom and pop stores and restaurants. In the city the chains have taken over and only a few independent food places still exist. Here the crowds flowing by look like birds of every feather. The mixed DNA on the street is astounding after living in such small towns with a homogenized look for the last ten years. No where is like NY. No where is like Brooklyn. My fathers home town. The outfits so outrageous so urban are parading the streets with aplomb. Even Adam and Goli see such a difference from the conservative look in D.C. Barry remarks often about the dark somber cloths of the valley. Florida was all about the bust and legs. Here the dress is less sexually obvious. Pompis or butts are big here, but usually sheathed in black.
I can hardly walk, my knee is totally out and my hip is screaming. Using the subway and walking all the stairs this past week have caught up to my liabilities. I just want to get through this with a smile on my face and to truly dance at Margo and Rick's wedding. I have been Reiking myself like crazy, popping pills and keeping my fingers crossed. I run through the shower, makeup and extra glue for my false lashes. We look splendid. I look at my house mates and kvell.
Saturday September 20, Prospect Park Brooklyn;
It is a perfect fall day in the park. The air is crisp and the crowd is in a festive mood (as well they should be). People are busy doing, lovers are intertwined, the athletes are doing hip athletic stuff, strollers are consciously strolling and being seen, parents are taking their progeny out for an airing. We gather under Erica's balloons slowly working our way through various parts of the city and Brooklyn to be here. I must say we are a splendid lot. Although the witnesses are few in number we are in high gear and grand spirits. The Facilitator is lovely and funny as well, she puts us at our ease. The main street through the park will open soon as the street fair is winding down. Adam and Margo are stuck in terrible bridge traffic and so we all make our way to the little copse that will act as back drop for the vows. It is quiet and lovely well treed and enough off the beaten path. Margo's second reconnoiters the area letting the few non party members who are enjoying the solitude know about the upcoming nuptials. They watch for anything that might become a nuisance ready to pounce and clean up. Erica, Margo's dear friend and wedding planner places rose petals along a soft undulating course up to the "spot" In due course the text arrives that they are indeed making their way to the party. Ira goes to the top of the stairs to escort Margo, I mount the last set so that we can flank her in the traditional walk to the groom. Rick bless him has been calm and kidding with us. He looks all Carnaby street and very much the Handsome groom. I hear cheers and applause, Adam rushes down and after a minute over the top I see Margo she is glowing in the dimness of the late afternoon. Her shiny head adorned with a tiara, The perfect white stole surrounding her shoulders as she and her father begin the decent towards me. The sound of the Violin begins tentatively at first and strengthens as they come nearer, bless Erica and her husband who is playing intently. I can't take my eyes off of my darling daughter. She is perfect and I am crying trying not to disturb this moment. At some point I am aware that I must give her up and I need to steel my self for this. I am speechless and can only kiss her and place her next to Rick. The young man on the bench has stayed and is with rapt attention watching the proceedings. Another elderly man tries to linger just beyond not intruding but there never the less. The sun is fading but the light continues to glow. It is a magical moment in the park as Margo and Rick exchange their vows. Max bears the rings and Mary reads a confirmation of their love. Mr. and Mrs. Richard Casados.
All in all one of the most moving and beautiful marriages I have witnessed. What a shame that we could not all assemble there in the park as witnesses, but the rules and regs were beyond even Margo and Erica's combined powers.
I will remember the light and the halo that virtually surrounded Margo that evening. When Rick and Margo stood together, a wonderful green haze of heart love surrounded them. I see that same glow when I see Adam and Goli together.
The party was fun, all who attended, this small band of happy souls, brought together out of love and friendship for the Casados, made the most of the evening. When it came time to toast the couple we had a great deal of laughter and all with such love and sincerity. There was true warmth and careing in that room.
Sunday, Chelsea Hotel New York,
We are at the venerable Chelsea, unchanged without regard to century or mod cons. It is fantastic, fun, legendary. Those of us left in NY have come for brunch before heading back to whence we came (ok,ok). The best damn lox I ever had and some great bagels as I hand out Memosas, and Carmen passes around chili bread made by an Aunt in New Mexico, such an incredibly sweet thing to do. Carmella also has special cookies to share, very much like the ones here in Mexico. We all try to fit on the enormous day bed, in front of the huge bow window. What I wouldn't give to own that baby and have placed in my bedroom in front of that window, wowza.
I see my children kibitzing and laughing together, my three kids and my two new ones and I am at peace. I know that it will all work out and they will remain close and keep the family together. Barry has kept close to me he knows that I have been in emotional hyper drive with one thing and another. It's great to have his support his solid strength. His love and understanding of my children makes our marriage all the more precious. It was worth waiting for.
New Yorkers don't "do" tourist, but we were straining to catch every bizarre picture, every nuance as we left her highness the Chelsea. Going back to spend the night with Barry's mom and then fly home was comforting, a good ending for a whirlwhind week. It still astonishes me to say I live in Texas, more astonishing still is the happiness I feel when I come home.
Thank You, to all who could not be invited to this intimate wedding, and sent their love and regards. Muchos Gracis, to all who put this adventure on at such short notice, a big Bravo to all of Margo's and Rick's friends.
As a post script Rick flew back to London Thursday October 9 with new Visas in hand. Margo needless to say after a days fasting was very content to have dinner with her husband.
Casados Spanish word for married.
San Antonio, Texas
I met a veteran at the Dunkin Doughnut counter, I needed Cappuccino badly. The flight out of Harlingen was stormy, seems to me every time I fly now there is plenty of drama and electricity. Great flight very hard landing, all flaps wide open full throttle, drop her like a stone, and brake for all she's worth. Saves fuel but is hell 0n the passengers. Back at the counter, army baseball capped this gent has one of the heaviest New York accents I've heard in awhile. Queued up he turns to me, grousing, how he hates Krispy Kreme, here is the other indication he is or has been a New Yorker, we tend to begin conversations with perfect strangers. Kreme's have been closing their stores all over so I am informed "somebody played fancy with the money." He only eats Dunken, orders three, two jelly and one glazed, a cup of Java. Brooklyn, he confirms not New York, Brooklyn a Brooklynite. In the late forties he moved to Mexico, been there ever since. Lives in an ex-pat community in Mexico City, very safe no problems. He wants to buy me a coffee, I decline, we exchange news of goings on and shake hands before we part. There was a nostalgic moment when I mentioned Prospect Park, he used to live in view of it.
Wish I had my computer this is one long lay-over. Packing light meant leaving my books back home. The constraints of traveling today leave a lot to be desired. Something else has become apparent to me, I am unable to do "without" these days. Pills, cremes, ankle wraps ...stuff... Can't go back to the old days traveling Europe with a tiny case of feather weight undies, drip dry mini dresses and a pair of sandals. A life time ago, no three. Different girl, long haired brunette, features so young, unmarked rounded full cheekbones skin fair and smooth,blue eyes wide open. Now, I see ghosts, ghost of my mother, my Aunts. My face is not my own, it is a hodge-
podge of woes, tears, hope, triumph and knowledge and ecstatically, finally, more than a bit of the sage, a crone. I am very proud to reach the status of healer, earth mother, elder, crone. Just wish there wasn't so much sagging involved. The fullness of face has migrated to my neck where it gathers happily upon my jowls and under chin. Dabs and dobs of green creme erase tiny red capillaries that dot the landscape followed by cunning liquid cover ups. Blush tries to revive the all too pale mounds of cheek bone that are now flattening planes. Pink on lids that are now crapier, darker, lower. Cover all with powder guaranteed to Glow. I don't need to "do" my roots as often, grey is taking over, it looks kinda silvery blond. I look at old pictures now and see myself in the long gone faces of my clans women. A comfort, continuity.
I've been channeling Anita a lot lately, she comes through without warning. I hear the tone, words, and I know it's her. I've become more flippant and irreverent out loud. Stunning are my words, never before would I utter these things. Talking to my Gastroenterologist, above the screaming of a child in the recovery area, he closes the door to chase the sound away, while commenting on his dislike for children, he doesn't "do" them. I quip "does your wife know about this?" Oh boy inappropriate on so many levels, funny yes but oy vey ANITA. He laughs dryly and says "that's a whole other story", good grief, I just blink and we get back to the discussion. My friend Geoff found it very funny to my relief. Anita visits more and more, I tend to have less inhibitions less to loose in so many ways. So much of her moments interpose my own, I am astonished that Michele as I knew her exists at all. I consult her often, and more often out loud. My dad Hal has always helped me "fix" things, work the broken, and summon the strength when needed. Fantastic assets to be sure, now Anita and her incorrigible humor, the don't give a damn 'tude has found a new home.
Looking at my double nickles birthday in the mirror, it is wonderful to realize I have come home to myself, I've made peace with my life and past. It's also a relief not to hold onto or care about the trivial mundane inanities of life. The other side of the coin is I am crankier, and have no trouble saying so. It's the whole earning the right to be fed up with BS and a panoply of the insufferable flotsam and jetsam in my life. Middle age plus has it's perks, being frank and not suffering gnats and their pettiness is a biggy. It seems to me I am smarter, faster, sharper more alive in every way. Physically I am stumbling a bit, but I still have energy and drive to spare. My mental acuity, aside from the loosing of reading glasses and misplacing a thing or two is truly better that it's ever been. Admitidly my spelling is just as bad. My former policy of think it, don't say it, is on the very back burner.
Funny, to finally figure it all out, all of it. I need my 18 year old body back dammit. NOT FAIR. Pigs are not flying with or without lipstick, so I look ahead, set my shoulders, and lean forward against the often not gentle wind of life and set my course to the future.
Union Station, D.C.
I haven't been on Amtrack since mom died. It was the trip down to D.C. after the funeral for Adams G.W.U. Law school graduation. The whole week had taken it's toll and I arrived with Bronchitis. At the time he was living with Shepard and Tui. A.J. took me to a clinic, that turns out to be on the same block as Goli's clinic. They must have passed each other all the time, but it took the Internet and deployment in Iraq for them to "meet". Just the other day they put a bid in for their new home, a large place as they hope to start a family. When the question came up I acquiesced to being called Bubbie. If I ever get a face/chin lift and loose those damn fifty pounds it sure as heck gonna be Bubbles. Grandpa or Pop used to call me Cookie, I wouldn't mind that. Or some other language version of it. Bubbie just hangs there, I see the picture of Mollie my Great- Grandmother, tiny, stout, bust, waist and hips all melded together, multi chinned, heavy bye- bye arms. This mother of twelve children and legions there after, with her Austrian accent, no English, she was a Bubbie.
Neither of my Grandmothers were. Ruth Schick Bernstein was a mover and a shaker in her day. Big busted, tiny, plain, she regaled me with stories of her past. Modern dance classes in the twenties, reading and adhering to modern child psychology books, her disdain of formalized religion of any kind. She carried the first woman's drivers licence in NY, and in defiance of the law with great personal conviction she handed out diaphragms to the poor women in the tenements. She was a bookkeeper who was a working mother and until she had a mishap with a sidewalk at seventy five, continued to work. Slowly there after her life and strength began to unravel. The recipient of one of the first knee transplants, she suffered quietly as she relied more and more on television for her view of the world. Grandma Ruthy believed in free expression, women's rights and modernism. Grandma was no beauty, yet she had a spirit of confidence that was profound. When first married she blew off the Orthodoxy that both she and Herman were raised in. She refused to sleep separately from her new husband shocking her mother-in-law and distressing both sides of the family with her break from the traditional role of Jewish wife. We were often offered a Hanukkah Bush from Ruth, and my father although never mindful of the traditions of Judaism would not allow one in our home. Her father, Rabbi Bernard Schick of Hungary, was by all accounts a tough often brutal man. I got the sense that Grandma, blamed his awful temper and insensitivity on his fanatical religiosity. She was the youngest of sixteen children, Great-Grandpa had four wives and my Great Grandmother was wife number three. He emigrated a second time, to Palestine in his seventies to become a freedom fighter for Israel, married again and lived past one hundred.
My mothers mother Etta, no nonsense, aloof and beautiful. A woman of style and sophisticated taste. Another liberated, smart albeit quirky woman who was certainly before her time. She was a terrific cook but I always thought she would have been happier running a business. My mother used to call me the throw back, perhaps, I make no apologies for being a "throw back". I make no apologise for my talents. They do lie with the more domestic side of life, although there is the "woo, woo" as Adam coined, side of my nature. Do I throw back to Bubbie though, four generations back?
Margo and Rick will meet me at Penn Station, the bride wants to shop. I am just along for support. This will be my first face to face with my new son. Adam sprang Goli on me without warning. Jean Marie and I were besieged at Adams welcome home soldier ceremony by this diminutive, beautiful woman. I had no clue who she was, Goli, Goli? Who, when, what and why. Poor Goli my reaction of startled blankness, she thought I hated her on sight, she also thought my son had told me all about her! What a beginning and how typical of Adam. Jean-Marie somehow gently interrogated Dr. Shadlin Goli , my soon to be daughter-in-love. The shaky start to firm foundations. This drop dead gorgeous, brilliant, loving, down to earth woman has brought such richness and energy to our family. Now Richard Louis Casados, so loving, so patient, and talented. A perfect fit for Margo. Neither of my new kids are the old norm. Not from New York, culturally very different. Bringing change to our old European Jewish centric energy.
As my train pulls me closer to a new era in my life, a new child to love and worry about, a new family to embrace and meld. I note a sign welded to a trestle bridge spanning the river it gives me pause...Trenton Makes the World Takes. Is that still true? I don't even want to think about where we are going and where we are in the world. Not this weekend, I am taking a break from my running feud with the Idiot Bush and all that beleaguers the U.S. at the moment.
We had dinner at Adam's favorite place Marks Duck house at Seven corners. Nothing fancy but the best duck and great Chinese food. Probably the best South of the Mason Dixon line. Self proclaimed high brows need not come, we however enjoy it. Yes, this is a dig.
I need to feed upon Bagels/lox, Deli, real New York pizza, Pho and if we can Hungarian. Anita's all time favorite was Malkas. Indian is high on the list here, so much food so little time.
I miss my chanclas my feet haven't been in shoes well, in forever. I live in the tropics. I own chanclas of every color, high heels and all. Flip flops for every occasion. Now I am shod in break the bank loafers that gleam and shine and I pine for my Old Navy chanclas. Sexy bare toes with fresh really red polished toe nails a thin curvy line intersecting the big toe from the first toe, are black thongs for the feet. Stilettos are over rated, when bare skin with a strap of silver,or bronze, all colors of the rainbow show off smooth bare legs, and the satisfying smack, smack, smack, as I go about my business with rhythmic accompaniment, striding along Terra Firma all seems right with my world.
New York, New York
We three share a cab and ride up to my sister in the 80's. Things are the same the crowds, noise, construction, yet there are differences. Many old shops restaurants are gone, and with in minutes of being above ground I see that the city does look different. During the next few days I realize there is no going home for me. Margo and Rick mention that they realize that coming back to NY may not be an option for them. The cost of everything, the changes, they no longer feel at home. These are middle class young people and they don't feel there is a place any longer for them here.
Ricks smile is magic and his energy is fantastic, I fall in love with my new son and the sense of relief is palpable. No worries here, I just hope they aren't too stressed about the wedding and the "families".
After spending some time with my sister Margo and Rick run off to do their chores and check out the restaurant Le Barricou, where the reception will be held. Harrison, my soon to be eleven nephew, Pam and I head to the new favorite Hungarian restaurant. I have a dish I hadn't seen on Malkas menu, this place is in the same section of the city it's the German Austrian and Hungarian. I learned to eat and cook it as a mothers helper with the Shelly's in their Hampton Bays home eons ago. Mrs. Shelly was a Hungarian Jew, and that summer her mother was visiting. Heaven help my spelling here Rococumpli, is a dish of potatoes quartered, hard boiled eggs sliced and with sausage, or hot dogs if feeding growing kids, and sour cream with lots of good paprikash and browned onions. It can be made in a casserole, as I make it layered, or all sauteed together slightly browning the eggs and potatoes. Food real ethnic food can't be beat. Hearty with overtones of the old country it helps me to feel well less alien to this world I took for granted. Ten years in the south has changed my eating in many ways.
The next few days I spend time with Pam and Harrison with snippets for the kids. Friday we get together with Ricks mom Carmen and sister Carmella. What sweet hearts, I am sooo happy and relieved that once again my new family are loves.We have all met to do a girls medi-pedi with Annick, Mary Margo Carmen Carmella and myself. After the other girls return to work, We have a late lunch at Katz' deli. I have a personality disorder. Mild mannered, well mannered until I go home. At Katz' I really let loose, hey I am not chopped liver, I eat chopped liver. I think they(Carmen, Carmella) are in Jewish/New York culture shock it's a whole different world from New Mexico. There are lots and lots of food stacked up in front of us. Margo's nervous stomach and some chicken matzoh ball soup click just fine. She runs off, as Craig arrives. He eats and I take off for Pam's to dress and ready for the "Family" dinner.
Dinner is in a new Italian restaurant in Brooklyn. The owners are young and hip, friends of Rick's and Margo. They have a wood fired oven and a very eclectic menu. BYOB. It's on a dark and rough looking street, yet our welcome is warm and they take very good care of us. A few cousins, Aunt and Uncle on both sides, siblings and parents. We are a surprisingly big crowd and a hungry one. Beer and wine appear and we begin the process of introductions and renewing old relationships although slightly estranged. It's fun to see many of my other nieces, nephews and their "dates" after all these years. It's always a little awkward for me around my former husband and his family. This time I am so far down the "road," I let go of the old feelings and just enjoy myself.
Margo and Rick enter and she looks like Marilyn Monroe. How cute are they and Margo is just glowing. I want to take her home with me though, wrap her up in cotton wool and put her to bed. Those days are long long gone, yet my mothers instinct takes over. I don't think my mother felt this way about my first marriage, but I know my dad didn't want to let go. For daughters it is so different.
Saturday, and we rush out to pick Margo and all her "stuff" up in preparation to take her to the Chelsea hotel where she and Rick will spend the next couple of nights. Adam is her chauffeur for the day. He drives us first to our hair appointment. It's fun to see Margo in action, this is her old hairdresser, before she moved to London. They are all so happy for her it is infectious. I've been sick for days now and last night was the worst I've had in a long time. I am exhausted dehydrated and hungry but I dare not eat. I cab it back to Brooklyn, Williamsburgh where we are renting a two bedroom one bathroom. Adam, Barry Goli and Sholeh share the space with me. We are trying to not step all over each other. Poor Sholeh slept on a foam whatsit, and Barry and I tossed and turned on a double mattress on the floor. It's cheap and convenient. The neighborhood is vibrant with lots of mom and pop stores and restaurants. In the city the chains have taken over and only a few independent food places still exist. Here the crowds flowing by look like birds of every feather. The mixed DNA on the street is astounding after living in such small towns with a homogenized look for the last ten years. No where is like NY. No where is like Brooklyn. My fathers home town. The outfits so outrageous so urban are parading the streets with aplomb. Even Adam and Goli see such a difference from the conservative look in D.C. Barry remarks often about the dark somber cloths of the valley. Florida was all about the bust and legs. Here the dress is less sexually obvious. Pompis or butts are big here, but usually sheathed in black.
I can hardly walk, my knee is totally out and my hip is screaming. Using the subway and walking all the stairs this past week have caught up to my liabilities. I just want to get through this with a smile on my face and to truly dance at Margo and Rick's wedding. I have been Reiking myself like crazy, popping pills and keeping my fingers crossed. I run through the shower, makeup and extra glue for my false lashes. We look splendid. I look at my house mates and kvell.
Saturday September 20, Prospect Park Brooklyn;
It is a perfect fall day in the park. The air is crisp and the crowd is in a festive mood (as well they should be). People are busy doing, lovers are intertwined, the athletes are doing hip athletic stuff, strollers are consciously strolling and being seen, parents are taking their progeny out for an airing. We gather under Erica's balloons slowly working our way through various parts of the city and Brooklyn to be here. I must say we are a splendid lot. Although the witnesses are few in number we are in high gear and grand spirits. The Facilitator is lovely and funny as well, she puts us at our ease. The main street through the park will open soon as the street fair is winding down. Adam and Margo are stuck in terrible bridge traffic and so we all make our way to the little copse that will act as back drop for the vows. It is quiet and lovely well treed and enough off the beaten path. Margo's second reconnoiters the area letting the few non party members who are enjoying the solitude know about the upcoming nuptials. They watch for anything that might become a nuisance ready to pounce and clean up. Erica, Margo's dear friend and wedding planner places rose petals along a soft undulating course up to the "spot" In due course the text arrives that they are indeed making their way to the party. Ira goes to the top of the stairs to escort Margo, I mount the last set so that we can flank her in the traditional walk to the groom. Rick bless him has been calm and kidding with us. He looks all Carnaby street and very much the Handsome groom. I hear cheers and applause, Adam rushes down and after a minute over the top I see Margo she is glowing in the dimness of the late afternoon. Her shiny head adorned with a tiara, The perfect white stole surrounding her shoulders as she and her father begin the decent towards me. The sound of the Violin begins tentatively at first and strengthens as they come nearer, bless Erica and her husband who is playing intently. I can't take my eyes off of my darling daughter. She is perfect and I am crying trying not to disturb this moment. At some point I am aware that I must give her up and I need to steel my self for this. I am speechless and can only kiss her and place her next to Rick. The young man on the bench has stayed and is with rapt attention watching the proceedings. Another elderly man tries to linger just beyond not intruding but there never the less. The sun is fading but the light continues to glow. It is a magical moment in the park as Margo and Rick exchange their vows. Max bears the rings and Mary reads a confirmation of their love. Mr. and Mrs. Richard Casados.
All in all one of the most moving and beautiful marriages I have witnessed. What a shame that we could not all assemble there in the park as witnesses, but the rules and regs were beyond even Margo and Erica's combined powers.
I will remember the light and the halo that virtually surrounded Margo that evening. When Rick and Margo stood together, a wonderful green haze of heart love surrounded them. I see that same glow when I see Adam and Goli together.
The party was fun, all who attended, this small band of happy souls, brought together out of love and friendship for the Casados, made the most of the evening. When it came time to toast the couple we had a great deal of laughter and all with such love and sincerity. There was true warmth and careing in that room.
Sunday, Chelsea Hotel New York,
We are at the venerable Chelsea, unchanged without regard to century or mod cons. It is fantastic, fun, legendary. Those of us left in NY have come for brunch before heading back to whence we came (ok,ok). The best damn lox I ever had and some great bagels as I hand out Memosas, and Carmen passes around chili bread made by an Aunt in New Mexico, such an incredibly sweet thing to do. Carmella also has special cookies to share, very much like the ones here in Mexico. We all try to fit on the enormous day bed, in front of the huge bow window. What I wouldn't give to own that baby and have placed in my bedroom in front of that window, wowza.
I see my children kibitzing and laughing together, my three kids and my two new ones and I am at peace. I know that it will all work out and they will remain close and keep the family together. Barry has kept close to me he knows that I have been in emotional hyper drive with one thing and another. It's great to have his support his solid strength. His love and understanding of my children makes our marriage all the more precious. It was worth waiting for.
New Yorkers don't "do" tourist, but we were straining to catch every bizarre picture, every nuance as we left her highness the Chelsea. Going back to spend the night with Barry's mom and then fly home was comforting, a good ending for a whirlwhind week. It still astonishes me to say I live in Texas, more astonishing still is the happiness I feel when I come home.
Thank You, to all who could not be invited to this intimate wedding, and sent their love and regards. Muchos Gracis, to all who put this adventure on at such short notice, a big Bravo to all of Margo's and Rick's friends.
As a post script Rick flew back to London Thursday October 9 with new Visas in hand. Margo needless to say after a days fasting was very content to have dinner with her husband.
Casados Spanish word for married.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Ike Ike, I do not like Ike
I have been caught up with getting ready for Margo's wedding, and I haven't even finished my last blog! Well now there is this bloke named Ike, who is trying to decide if he wants to "visit" Brownsville. Inconvenient doesn't even begin to describe this. I am cancelling my visit to Adam, Goli and Sholeh. Tomorrow Wednesday instead of flying out I will be boarding up, for real this time. Two scenarios, I shelter in place, or evacuate with the cats with or without Barry. My heart is aching.
I will do the water, hurricane run latter. Ernesto will screw down the pool works and I have calls out for help to board up the house and those awfully big leaky front doors. This time it is surreal, painful, waiting to find out what the track and intensity will be. My sense of humor is fighting my dread and disappointment. With a fellow local Reiki master we are trying to change the trajectory and intensity of Senior Ike.
Well, I will let you all know what is what until then Vio con dios
Post: It is Wednesday, No pre-storm headache, no rain, but some really great looking cloud formations. With Barry's assurance the storm is headed as of 3:00 central time today for Matagorda Bay, Houston and was still gaining Latitude I am less stressed. We have not boarded but I did run out with Rossana and get more ply-locks in any event. They are not cheap, but a necessary evil if you will. We have also cooled down from the high 90's to just 90 today.
Margo is feeling a bit helpless, she wants to be with me and not have me go through another hurricane alone. With her wedding and all the other stresses in her life, I have tried to reassure her. The Bolivia ferry it is being posted on The Weather channel will stop running. That's not something you hear every day! School closings, airports but THE ferry? WOW that's big. I am antsy enough to think about baking a shissel of bread! Hey how much is a shissel anyway?
The birds have been feeding in a blanket on the ground. We have a lot of them and many are new to me. There's one that sounds just like a crypt door slowly opening, and one that has a cackle cry. The butterflies seem to exist all year here, and darning needles rule the airways. All the buzzing, flying thingys seem very busy today. I'll take this calm before the storm...
Saturday, "There for the Grace of G-d"...
I am soaking Hibiscus (Flor de Jamaica) flowers in boiled water. The concentrate with water and ice added becomes a wonderful cold drink that everyone assures me from the grocery checkout boy to Rossana is a tonic for the Kidneys. Next to me is reheated rice, my stomach has taken a hit from the stress and energy of Ike. We are fine, no wind, no rain, no terror in the night. A major bullet was dodged. Barry went to S. Padre Island yesterday and this morning. There was no beach or dunes yesterday. Only huge waves washing over to the roads. Geoff and another co-worker checked in the afternoon, at the Island and was astonished by the debree and destruction of the beach. B reports that a lot of dredging and work will need to be done to restore our beautiful sandy beaches. There was absolutly no wind. Brownsville for the first time since I arrived ten months ago was earily still. The sky I can only describe as a pre snow storm Nor' Easter glow. When you grow up in the North east, it is a sky you note, and then begin to stock up with milk, bread, eggs etc. The rules are different down here, other than ominous signs we are unscathed.
Astonishingly enough as Ike continues to roar as a Cat1 through the Houston burbs with it's spokes spreading outward, the media report on all the residents who did not leave Glaviston/
islands, and all the A flood zones. It is estimated 40% of residents who were ordered to evacuate did not. These folks may not be tecnically in running for the Darwin awards, it is my belief that they are golden recipients of the Dodo.
Does anyone else remember the old black and white movies where a monster of some sort or unnatural disaster is loose(d) upon the populas? Wether it was a Japanese flick or an American, the army was out going around with bull horns ordering the evacuation. Those who did not obey were escorted from their homes by gun point and a nudge. The Japenese flicks had the peasents scurrying with bundles on their backs and grannys strapped to younger men like so many sacks of potatos. They seemed to be packed and ready to leave without the bayonet point. As the mighty monster/disaster decended it was to empty towns or city's filled with gridlock and yellow cabs and madly fleeing drivers and pedestrians as the army directs and hustles them off. My point? I always belived that the Gov't would do whatever it took to keep us safe. I now understand as a "free" Nation, we are free to be as stupid and suicidal as we want. Forget that they are endangering the emergency response people, or looking for their Andy Warhol moment. As the wife of a man who's sole mission is to keep people safe, with as acurate forecasting as he can, his sweeping, brilliantly written impact statements that the NWS offices as well as the EMS, and media have repeated over and over I see his pain and puzzlement. One death and he is affected, his energy saped he questions me WHY? I can only say for the most part man is a dumb animal. I could corrilate it to our political outlook/mess, and religous beliefs but I won't. We are just dumb. Post storm deaths are inevitable and numerous, those are often wrong place, foolish etc., but to die by drowning or mishap in your own home when you could be high and dry?
We need to donate to the disaster relief funds and Red cross, this is going to take a lot of money and man power to put back together. Tzedaka and Tikkun Olam.
Well, I hope to book a flight out of here Monday and put Ike behind me, while I celebrate my family and get to wear my new sleek sexy black mother-of-bride cocktail dress. Now should I wear my diamond studs or my big silver disks...
I will do the water, hurricane run latter. Ernesto will screw down the pool works and I have calls out for help to board up the house and those awfully big leaky front doors. This time it is surreal, painful, waiting to find out what the track and intensity will be. My sense of humor is fighting my dread and disappointment. With a fellow local Reiki master we are trying to change the trajectory and intensity of Senior Ike.
Well, I will let you all know what is what until then Vio con dios
Post: It is Wednesday, No pre-storm headache, no rain, but some really great looking cloud formations. With Barry's assurance the storm is headed as of 3:00 central time today for Matagorda Bay, Houston and was still gaining Latitude I am less stressed. We have not boarded but I did run out with Rossana and get more ply-locks in any event. They are not cheap, but a necessary evil if you will. We have also cooled down from the high 90's to just 90 today.
Margo is feeling a bit helpless, she wants to be with me and not have me go through another hurricane alone. With her wedding and all the other stresses in her life, I have tried to reassure her. The Bolivia ferry it is being posted on The Weather channel will stop running. That's not something you hear every day! School closings, airports but THE ferry? WOW that's big. I am antsy enough to think about baking a shissel of bread! Hey how much is a shissel anyway?
The birds have been feeding in a blanket on the ground. We have a lot of them and many are new to me. There's one that sounds just like a crypt door slowly opening, and one that has a cackle cry. The butterflies seem to exist all year here, and darning needles rule the airways. All the buzzing, flying thingys seem very busy today. I'll take this calm before the storm...
Saturday, "There for the Grace of G-d"...
I am soaking Hibiscus (Flor de Jamaica) flowers in boiled water. The concentrate with water and ice added becomes a wonderful cold drink that everyone assures me from the grocery checkout boy to Rossana is a tonic for the Kidneys. Next to me is reheated rice, my stomach has taken a hit from the stress and energy of Ike. We are fine, no wind, no rain, no terror in the night. A major bullet was dodged. Barry went to S. Padre Island yesterday and this morning. There was no beach or dunes yesterday. Only huge waves washing over to the roads. Geoff and another co-worker checked in the afternoon, at the Island and was astonished by the debree and destruction of the beach. B reports that a lot of dredging and work will need to be done to restore our beautiful sandy beaches. There was absolutly no wind. Brownsville for the first time since I arrived ten months ago was earily still. The sky I can only describe as a pre snow storm Nor' Easter glow. When you grow up in the North east, it is a sky you note, and then begin to stock up with milk, bread, eggs etc. The rules are different down here, other than ominous signs we are unscathed.
Astonishingly enough as Ike continues to roar as a Cat1 through the Houston burbs with it's spokes spreading outward, the media report on all the residents who did not leave Glaviston/
islands, and all the A flood zones. It is estimated 40% of residents who were ordered to evacuate did not. These folks may not be tecnically in running for the Darwin awards, it is my belief that they are golden recipients of the Dodo.
Does anyone else remember the old black and white movies where a monster of some sort or unnatural disaster is loose(d) upon the populas? Wether it was a Japanese flick or an American, the army was out going around with bull horns ordering the evacuation. Those who did not obey were escorted from their homes by gun point and a nudge. The Japenese flicks had the peasents scurrying with bundles on their backs and grannys strapped to younger men like so many sacks of potatos. They seemed to be packed and ready to leave without the bayonet point. As the mighty monster/disaster decended it was to empty towns or city's filled with gridlock and yellow cabs and madly fleeing drivers and pedestrians as the army directs and hustles them off. My point? I always belived that the Gov't would do whatever it took to keep us safe. I now understand as a "free" Nation, we are free to be as stupid and suicidal as we want. Forget that they are endangering the emergency response people, or looking for their Andy Warhol moment. As the wife of a man who's sole mission is to keep people safe, with as acurate forecasting as he can, his sweeping, brilliantly written impact statements that the NWS offices as well as the EMS, and media have repeated over and over I see his pain and puzzlement. One death and he is affected, his energy saped he questions me WHY? I can only say for the most part man is a dumb animal. I could corrilate it to our political outlook/mess, and religous beliefs but I won't. We are just dumb. Post storm deaths are inevitable and numerous, those are often wrong place, foolish etc., but to die by drowning or mishap in your own home when you could be high and dry?
We need to donate to the disaster relief funds and Red cross, this is going to take a lot of money and man power to put back together. Tzedaka and Tikkun Olam.
Well, I hope to book a flight out of here Monday and put Ike behind me, while I celebrate my family and get to wear my new sleek sexy black mother-of-bride cocktail dress. Now should I wear my diamond studs or my big silver disks...
Friday, August 22, 2008
Fiesta y Cordoba
Wednesday, no sign of Ernesto, the cool deck is due to be poured. The pool a two/three week project is now of Hoover-Dam-ian proportions. I am awaiting Rossana to begin, Rossana and Micheles most excellent adventure. We are heading for Cordoba Mexico with Mr. Torio, Rossanas father, for the Torio family reunion. When I hear Cordoba (in my head) I hear and picture Ricardo Montalvan, saying Corinthian leather. I can just picture him when he was still a hunk in that mellow suave voice saying Cordoba. I have to quit I give myself goose bumps, I will always hear his sexy voice speaking to me in Spanish. If you have no clue about Ricardo, you missed something.
Two generations ago Rocco Torio immigrated to New York and then again to Veracruz. Gelsomina Vignola (de Torio) of Italy immigrated to Veracruz and then met Rocco in Cordoba Mexico. Rossanas cousin Juan Bueno Torio, a Senator for the state of Veracruz, decided to throw a Family reunion . A fiesta to celebrate their heritage. Anna Mary Torio, a second cousin, with Juan did the research and they have put together a history and updated family tree. Mr. Torio, Jose' or Don Pepe has been looking forward to this with the greatest anticipation.
In my carry on, are my stacks of cheat index cards in Spanish. I know a lot of vocabulary words but have yet to get the knack of putting them in recognisable sentences. I get flustered and blurt out something in French or German, of which I have a small working knowledge.
Rossana and I will stay with her mother Elizabeth Ramos Echeverria, or Betty. Rossana's parents divorced a number of years ago. Her father will stay with son Rafa and family.
The border we cross is Pharr, and I am doing (far) jokes in my head, it is a Pharr Pharr better thing I do...they are corny but fun. We need to get visas for the week trip, we were warned that it could take up to two hours, and are stamped with ringing finality within minutes. Traffic and the bad roads have eaten more time than we expected, so it is with great urgency we set out again. There is also a need to exchange money for tolls etc up ahead. Don Pepe is unflappable as we negotiate the Mexican traffic on less than ideal roads. Tandem trucks swerve dangerously close on narrow and uneven roads. There doesn't seem to be a speed limit either if they are posted I missed them and so did everyone else.
Monterrey airport small neat and relatively empty. Security is surprisingly old fashioned, an agent paws through our luggage asking a few questions in Spanish, gives a nod to my carry on and purse. Our bags are tagged and gone in a flash.
All day the sky has threatened rain, Barry warned us that about 6-6:30 we would see storms. Right on time it hits with Florida like ferocity with in 20-30 minutes we have lost power in the terminal. The rain comes down in torrents, I want to write about my impressions of the scenery and drive but my fingers are painful and I am not comfortable holding my pen. Instead I read by emergency security lights The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chambon.
Passing through towns that looked little more than nailed together, scrap everything, metal, card board, bill boards. Most of the housing are hovels in decay and disrepair. The more fortunate families live in Gov't built concrete oblong block structures with a cantilevered upper level. All built cheek and jowl, stepped in rows. A lone white steeple the tallest structure somewhere embedded in a place that generations have inhabited. Lean to tiendas, auto shops, and Taquerias heave crazily this way and that, forever twined with one another in decayed and faded camaraderie. Structures so close to the road it is miraculous, how manically driven trucks have not pushed them over while careening down the road. Mexico is no holds barred in every way. Mexicans drive, eat, drink and party with abandon. They also as I have come to learn, work with the same intensity, and drive for detail.
Rossana points out that the Motels, "El Eden" and the like spanning the road to the airport every thousand feet or so. These are not for the weary traveler, they are rent by the hour, discreet rendezvous places. Enclosed garages with bedrooms up stairs allow discreet access. Although very well advertised the entrance way and exists also afford quite a bit of discretion. Every town big and small Cosmopolitan and rural have these Motels.
Seduction and cheating is an art form here so I am informed. Men rich and poor maintain Mistress's locally and in neighboring areas. Some form lifelong attachments and others play the proverbial field. Everyone knows who is cheating with whom, some spouses know and disregard others are in the dark. Woman more than match the men, cuckolding husbands who are too busy with their paramours to notice. There are a few scandals of course and more than a few post cheating divorces, but on a whole it is part of the daily life in Mexico.
We are delayed, the rain is falling with less ferocity but lightening and thunder still ring the airport. Lined up once again I am laughing at the idea of having to run pell mell down a ramp in the blowing wind and rain to mount the steps to our aircraft who's jets are spinning impatiently. Wind blown and soaked I am handed two small pieces of paper towels to mop myself up. Seated we take off within minutes during an active storm, piercing the lowered ceiling of clouds in our escape. Veracruz is hot, humid and very sticky it is also very late. There is no rain here, yet everything is wet. We will not be seeing this Gulf resort town tonight, perhaps on our way back. It is becoming more of a destination for tourists.
Our driver sent by Raffa, Jose' Luis drives us, it is about one hours drive. Coffee is grown in abundance here as well as sugar cane and the distinct pong of burnt sugar cane fuses with the damp hazy air. I can see nothing of the surrounding countryside and only a hazy outline of the Mountains.
Having eaten a little rice at the Monterry airport hours before we are very hungry and thirsty, when we get to town we stop off for Pambazos at Las Brazas. Like a sandwich, they are spicy and very good, some have a slice of cactus, Nopalito in them with beef others beef with sauce. I am eating only cooked foods and drinking from bottles. Rossana has a horchata, I stick with bottled water.
Greetings and introductions over we head down stairs in the heat of the night to our respective bedrooms. I have perfected Mucho Gusto, and igualmente. It is a little cooler down the stairs, but still feels a little damp. The house reminds me of several I have visited, in Israel and other tropical locals. Two stories with second story balconies this one higher up on one of many hills over looking the mountains. Plenty of windows to catch the breezes. The stone floors are welcomed cold under my feet. I hand Rossana ear plugs, we will need them. As well as over looking mountains, lawns and other homes, the main road runs bellow not more than a block or two from the house. A traffic light is at the bottom of the hill, all vehicles and trucks have to shift down gear to stop and then rev mightily in first gear to begin the next climb up. With attending noises of motorcycles, gears gnashing, and general traffic it is necessary to use ear plugs. A tower fan runs humming at the foot of my bed and a steady stream of air flows through my room.
Thursday morning brings clear views of the mountains with tower clouds rising behind them against blue skies. The scents of fresh morning air flowers and tamales fill the air. Canela the chihuahua jumps ecstatically for attention spinning herself around and pawing the ground. How can I resist she looks like a tiny fawn, her great big eyes fix upon me hoping for a cuddle. She is sweetness itself. Both Barry and I had not been too enamored of this breed but Canela is winning me over. Cafe con leche, fresh squeezed orange juice and really good tamales finished with tiny cookies we have made up in one meal the sparsity of food yesterday. Now a tour of the gardens we could only scent out last night.The driveway is lined with exotic and abundant flora, each perfectly in alignment and harmony with it's neighbor. Butterflies alight and drift from flower to flower, Orchids hang from moss and wood bark platforms. Everywhere I turn the names of plants and flowers spring to mind I see some that are new, native to the area. It is a cornucopia of flora and I am in gardeners heaven. A postage stamp lawn is surrounded and pots, wheelbarrows and tables are heaped with floral abandon. Canela keeps up with the tour sniffling the air and nosing around the small grounds. I carry her about as much as I can and Rossana's mother warns me that I will spoil her. With pleasure.
It is time for Betty to go to the lighting store downtown that she runs for her daughter Betty older sister to Rossana. She is married to a retired engineer who is now in politics. Currently he is a diplomat of some kind and they travel all over the world. Sister Betty also owns a wine and gourmet store in town. Down town is a mix of the very old and traditional architecture and the newer. The central square is all traditional a beautiful park rebuilt and designed by Rossanas younger brother Pepon, the cathedral, the city legislature and on one side stores, the other restaurants. Rossanas brother-in-law before he became a diplomat was vice mayor of the city and helped restore the gov't building and the park. Central to the park with it's many shade trees, and benches is a large band stand where music and dancing go on nightly. A lovely fountain provides another layer of rest and respit from the intense heat and languor that develops. The park is filled. From young to old people stroll, sit and read or gossip with one another. We sit and absorb the atmosphere and try to cool off before returning to sight seeing. All around the park is hustle and bustle there are many street vendors and many shoe shines, men and women. At night roving bands of Mariachis play for the diners and strollers. We take pictures just outside the Cathedral. Inside it is only a fraction cooler but much darker, this is a lovely well kept church. They are doing restoration work I can imagine a full time job given the age and climate. Ceilings or multi domes look to me like Faberge eggs with the rich icing and detail work, gold and gold gilding shine with intensity. The pastel colors harmonize with each other, and bring a lightness that uplifts the spirits. I am a little non plussed at the sight of Jesus with a full head of human hair, in several statue vignettes. This is also a busy and well used area, like the park it is filled with many people in the middle of the day.
On to the streets we explore while finding a money exchange. Hot and thirsty Rossana has some kind of coconut water, I am apprehensive she has Colitis, and I am afraid it will be too indigestible for her. She has two. I sip bottled water with a sinking feeling. As we explore Rossana has a need for el bano, and we duck into this massive building, The Italian club. Visiting rooms and I think a restaurant downstairs and a disco, and dance floors upstairs. Lunch with Betty at one of the restaurants ringing the park. It is pre-fix from soup to desert. I enjoy the meal, it is the dinner if you will of the day. A large lunch with the stores and businesses closed around two in the afternoon, then siesta until after five. It truly is too hot for anything else. we head home as Betty maneuvers the car expertly up and down the treacherous roads shifting with expert ease. Rossana is not feeling well. So goes the next 24 hours of grief for her. After siesta Patty, Pepons wife and four daughters visit. The girls ranging in age from 20-9 want to practise their English. They are sweet lovely girls all different all well mannered. The youngest is a tiny thing with a big personality and zeal. Betty heads back to the store and we go in the van with Patty and girls for a guided tour of a very wealthy area of town, the Italian club has a country club up here. Then we head across the road to Rossanas older brother Rafa's compound. Mary Elana, his wife's family owns acres of beautifully maintained grounds and gardens. The family home rambles all over a central cobblestone courtyard, the stables now turned into another home for a daughter and family. Just beyond is the home of a son and behind that Raffa's and Mary Elana's drive and homestead. The gardens here are designed and tended by Raffa, he has two aviary's at the back wall behind the house with canaries and many other birds. Flitting from time to time in Cordobas trees you see canaries, family pets now gone wild and breeding. Scratching my legs, I have been bitten badly with mosquitoes and they are coming out again as evening drops. We meet the four children two handsome boys and two beautiful girls intent on serving us their jello treats that they make for their uncles catering service. They also with the help of a cousin run inside to bake us a cake. Don Pepe greats us and we chat for quiet awhile as warm chocolate cake is served with pitchers of Tamarind water. Rossana is really feeling it now. Heading home we spend the rest of the evening watching Rossana suffer and the Olympics (she is a very good sprinter.) Our plans to head over to Puebla with niece Paulina are in doubt for Friday.
After, a phone consult with Rossana's state side Doc via Geoff, we run and get Cipro and a few other things late at night.We don't need a prescription and conduct our business though metal grates at the pharmacy. By morning the Cipro and the imodium we have been pumping in her has done half a cure and poor Ross, is feeling better. Our morning starts with Gloria, the wonderful housekeeper regaling us with her life's story and very spicy hand made gorditas, a masa flour shell with salsa, manchego cheese and raw onions. Sometimes they are served with beans and or chicken or creme instead of cheese. Sort of like a tortilla. We had ours straight up and I added an oil from hot peppers (Salsa Macha). WOW as breakfast goes this is a kick in the head. Again we have Cafe con leche and fresh orange juice. Cookies follow, I could really get used to this. I can understand every word Gloria says, she is very loud and pronounces her words very clearly. With an enormous grin and an infectious laugh. She is working for the shear joy of working, her son is well to do and tried to retire her. She was clinically depressed and her doctor told her go back to work, you love it, forget retirement. So everyday she gets up and works for 6 hours and is paid 14.00 dollars a day and is the happiest person I have ever met. I wanted to steal her and bring her home with me for the delight she carries with her as an energetic gift to all. She said she would come but her kids would never let her. Oh Blast.
We rest, I read and write. As a weather weenie, married to a meteorologist I pried myself in predicting the wx. When we first got up I noted the huge towers behind the mountain and told Rossana who does not share my weenieness, that if THOSE clouds make it over the mountains we are in for it. Fast forward we are now late in the afternoon having tea at Betty's home (sister)somewhere in the hills of Cordoba, meeting another sweet niece and getting a tour of one of the most intricate wine cellars I have been to. Through a mechanical trap door in one of the rooms we have descended to an up to the date temp controlled Wine enthusiasts dream. It has started raining, so we all run out to waiting cars, Rossanas mom back to the lighting store, while we get a tour of the beautiful converted home now cum store. Wine and every cheese, ham including the rare black hoof Sorrano illegal in the U.S. Room after room in this architectural dream, is filled with wine, cafe, deli store and expensive nick knacks for sale. Betty is being trained as a coffee Barrista and is opening her cafe soon. Everything has been lovingly stocked, and hand carried back from Italy. The coffee will be locally grown and roasted and ground to her specifications. The skies are pouring forth and leaks are springing everywhere. The road out front is flooding and customers are soaked to the skin. It is a monumental deluge, we are stuck while Cordoba is flooding. Finally Ross' mom Betty, plucky as can be comes and gets us and we brave the rushing waters to get home. Left overs and Canela on my lap while we watch the Olympics with Spanish commentary. The Torio Sanchez branch of the family will wear blue shirts, other branches will be in green, orange, pink, and yellow. So we lay out our things in anticipation for the big Fiesta mannana. We will be picked up by Pepon and the girls in the morning. The sky has emptied itself and left a cooler evening.
Today is clear no Towering clouds behind the mountains. It is still hot and damp and promises to stay that way. We look great in our Fiesta togs, I've flat ironed Rossana's curls into submission, she looks like a million bucks. Her happy eyes flashing in antiscipation of seeing all her long lost cousins, and others she has never met. The property is a huge 60's Modern home and grounds. The pool and covered areas immense and very sleek. The bar sweeps accross the back of the house all white concrete and curved lines. Tabels for 120 are set under the low roofed patio. They have an area for the children down the slope, with inflatable slides and the like. Family trickles in, everyone kisses, everyone even myself, although I am clearly out of place. They greet me with warmth and as much English as they can muster. Rossana is feeling great and has decided to eat whatever is served. I have been blessed with no "tummy" trouble and vow to keep up.
When the bulk of the Torio crew is gathered a slew of roaving photograpers gather the various family branches for photos. As soon as they are clicked, children with or with out bathing suits are happily splashing in the 3-4 foot depths. Don Pepe is so happy and proud his feet are barely able to touch the ground. We meet his brother and sisters, cousins and nephews and nieces. This is a good looking family. Many of the men though have strong faces with very Romanic nosses. Two girl cousins are DJ'ng and the music that pours forth is all Italian. Everyone receives a family tree book and CD of the afternoons tracks.
Wine truly flows like water along with beer and what all else. Fabulous trays of anti-pasto are on the tables, although not a pork eater I partake, with cheese and Salmon carpacio that is out of this world. Good crusty bread and olive oil. Crowds around the tables flow back and forth as cousins visit and hug. Late cummers come over and everyone hugs and kisses. There are two men, dressed in Mexican cowboy style with big straw Cowboy hats a Mandolin and Harp. They are clearly brothers, it turns out they are old friends of don Pepe. Jaraneros, sing off the cuff verses. The name means little mandolin. These verses are sung with the same tune but the words are always stories of the individual they are singing about. Someone clues the singer in and he takes it and makes these wonderful witty mini songs. They even made one for me at the behest of Don Pepe.
The food this afternoon is strictly Italian. The chef a dapper gentelman hovers over the hot steam tables with a blend of anxiety and pried, this after all is a very important family. More family than anticipated has shown up and the food dwindles quickly with only some Risotto, and salad left for the last few tables. I must admit the hot fare is dissapointing, Rossana agrees. As soon as the plates are cleared, the buisness of family begins. More wine and the like is poured and we settle in to listen to the story of the Torio saga. Now to many New Yorkers the name Torio has a familiar ring. The infamous Johnny Torio mob boss and patrone to Al Capone was Rocco's first cousin. They call this the dark side in the family. Everyone listens with rapt attention as the two cousins who put this event together tell the stories of emmigration, opportunity and love. They tell the stories of home made wine and customs, relatives who have passed and stories about each other. It has hard to not undersatnd it all, I get glimses of things, so as the observer I watch everyones faces and feel the crowd. You can tell when someone is mentioned which branch they hailed from, members sniffle and shed tears clap and call out. In all it is a wonderful presentation. The Family tree is revealed with the family crest. A huge core board creation done by Raffa, it is extensive and well layed out. One by one members get up to talk about thier branch and exchange humorous stories. Don Pepe has declined to speak he has become very emotional since his heart attack.
Dessert is served little powdered cookies that are jaw breakers meant to be dunked in rich red wine or cafe au lait, and home made desserts pile along a table. More wine is poured and now the music is all Mexican, popular style. Everyone runs to the front and begins to gyrate and dance with steps and movements I do not know. Rossanas brothers have been imbibing steadily and they are dancing with fluidity. Young, old,men, women, it continues on for hours. New York affairs follow a stricht pattern, a lot of food, less talk and very little celebration. As soon as dessert is offered we haul our over fed bodies out of chairs and stuff our selves into our cars to rest the evening away. Not so my Mexican family, they are heedless of time and heat. The party began at 1:00, in the afternoon, at 11:30 p.m. Tacos are served, as waiters run back and forth tirelessly with booze and bottles of wine. Even desserts that have sat in the heat for many hours are being revisited as the group energy feeds itself. I am amazed, soaked and more than a little tired. We have had a blast and a party like none I have ever attended. Before we leave, Rossanas' Aunt and Cousins have promised us a reservation for thier hotel on Vera Cruz beach for Monday, we fly out on Tuesday. I check and it is 1:00 a.m. We drag Pepon out to drive us back home. What a day, what a party!
Sunday, we have brunch with Betty at a lovely resturant another former residence transformed They feature Crepes, which are very popular here. I get the mushroom cheese. The crepe itself is tender, but my filling is stuffed with canned warmed over mushrooms with a sauce napped on top. Not very tasty and I am very disapointed. We do buy these wonderful Merangue cookies to bring with us to Betty's ranch. After a ride just out of town, among fields of corn and sugar cane are a pair of huge metal gates with an immense cement wall running along the property.
Imu's!! Roaming freely and hindering our progress through the gates onto the Ranch are Imus. We drive the length of a rutted road to a two story structure that is still in the building stages. Betty her two daughters and husband are dining alfresco on Pollo and Riz. Immense wine glasses with blood red wine are full as the bones of the meal lay about. We pass the cookies around I have a beer. They are wearig long pants, riding boots, leggings tucked in, and long sleeved safari shirts. The bugs are wicked. MY eau de cologne has been Listerene all week I hope I am immune. We spend the rest of the afternoon inspecting the grounds pens filled with animals. From ducks to sheep, goats, pigs and cows. I make friends with as many of the flying, bleeting fawna as I can. Chickens run every where, troughs are filled, and water bins are replenished. It is fantastic. There are mounds on the property that yield ancient Mayan relics and we are shown carvings and shells of every discription. Peppon and family have been visiting and the younger girls have been digging the mounds and visting the animals with young abandon. They show us their dug up treasure. Betty puts them away, so that when they have built their home all will be displayed. Flint is everywhere, this is a treasure trove of Mexico's past. The grounds have been planted with hardwood trees from South America, they will be sold as lumber when all are mature. Every thing on the ranch is sold as food. At some point I can see this as a self sustaining homesite. The work involved is immense.
We stop for Tacos on the way home, I smell like goat and sheep, but I have had a blast.
Monday and we say our good-byes. It was a wonderful experiance, and Rossana's mother has been a trooper, considering the even tenor of her life, that we have disrupted. We make the ride to Vera Cruz a coastal town off the Gulf of Mexico. Our driver is once again Jose' Luis. He is ours for the day, and he is wonderful driving us all around the new and old town. As we leave Cordoba I look back and see the snow covered peak of a dormant volcano wreated in clouds but clear as can be. Ixtazhuatl. There are people who live along the foot paths of this volcano, and locals often climb this picturesque mountain.
The hotel is one of the first luxury hotels with four stars in the new area of Vera Cruz. Hotel Torremar, Crown Plaza is on a pristine stretch of beach, beautifully appointed with luxurious bedding and bathroom. We are being treated like Queens, and King.
We sight see, The water rolling dark and slightly rough looking. Ships on their moorings, many out on the Horizon, others traversing the water lanes. The jetties are the main staple of town, many shops crammed together lining the water. Waiting for the tourists. At one time large cruise liners paid visits to this port. A few still visit but they are rare these days.
Lunch at an Italian resturant with a sea view. We are taken back to the hotel for our Siesta, we need it.
Many structures are being rebuilt and the reconstruction also lines the very large Cathedral that dominates the old town. Old hotels and many street cafes face the strips of beaches. We go to a bakery so Rossana can pick up the Pan Dolce that Joseph loves, Bolillo. After wandering around old town we go to the most famous cafe' in the area, Parroquia. Their coffee is famous and we sit as they pour it into glasses with a high stream of hot milk that floats on top. It is served with long hard double braided cookies that are to be dunked and sucked on. We have several glasses as we sit and watch the world go by. I am wired. It is not often I drink this much coffee. Parroquia, denotes another form of church. Natives from the mountains show us handiwork of every kind. They are dressed to my imagination like Peruvian woman with full skirts with many slips and bandanas or hats pulling back thick black braides. Their high cheek bones, slightly flat noses and dark skin are intriguing and highlight the faces of the ancients. The linen they show us with embroidery are well done and not made in China, but Papantla, where they grow and harvest the Vanilla orchard and beans. As the day winds down, cars pull in to spots as the well heeled populous visit resturants and cafes. Street musicians get ready to play for the evening crowds, and all manner of peddlers begin to assail us. An interesting exchange on the street takes place. The self appointed parking attendant who also washes his patrons cars with alacrity is having words with a rather pompus musician. He tells him that he may be poor but he has his pride, and he works hard. His patrons know he serves them well and he watches everyones car. No ones car is molested and he helps them negotiate the tiny parking spaces with out mishap. Everyone tips him and he has done his job. Rossana translates the exchange for me, and I am humbled.
We see Jose' Luis and another driver who is meeting Raffas brother-in-law soon, to drive him back to Cordoba. We are droped back at the hotel for an early night for an early 5:45 call, with coffee sent up. I did not sleep a wink, too much caffene. I clip on my new bracelet and earings I bought yesterday in the hotel gift shop, wonderful silver reminders of our trip.
We leave this part of the world unlike our arrival no thunder and lightning heralding us. An uneventful departure and final, if not damp arrival home. I have had a wonderful trip, thank you Rossana, Don Pepe, Betty and all the Torio clan as I have had a most excellent adventure.
Two generations ago Rocco Torio immigrated to New York and then again to Veracruz. Gelsomina Vignola (de Torio) of Italy immigrated to Veracruz and then met Rocco in Cordoba Mexico. Rossanas cousin Juan Bueno Torio, a Senator for the state of Veracruz, decided to throw a Family reunion . A fiesta to celebrate their heritage. Anna Mary Torio, a second cousin, with Juan did the research and they have put together a history and updated family tree. Mr. Torio, Jose' or Don Pepe has been looking forward to this with the greatest anticipation.
In my carry on, are my stacks of cheat index cards in Spanish. I know a lot of vocabulary words but have yet to get the knack of putting them in recognisable sentences. I get flustered and blurt out something in French or German, of which I have a small working knowledge.
Rossana and I will stay with her mother Elizabeth Ramos Echeverria, or Betty. Rossana's parents divorced a number of years ago. Her father will stay with son Rafa and family.
The border we cross is Pharr, and I am doing (far) jokes in my head, it is a Pharr Pharr better thing I do...they are corny but fun. We need to get visas for the week trip, we were warned that it could take up to two hours, and are stamped with ringing finality within minutes. Traffic and the bad roads have eaten more time than we expected, so it is with great urgency we set out again. There is also a need to exchange money for tolls etc up ahead. Don Pepe is unflappable as we negotiate the Mexican traffic on less than ideal roads. Tandem trucks swerve dangerously close on narrow and uneven roads. There doesn't seem to be a speed limit either if they are posted I missed them and so did everyone else.
Monterrey airport small neat and relatively empty. Security is surprisingly old fashioned, an agent paws through our luggage asking a few questions in Spanish, gives a nod to my carry on and purse. Our bags are tagged and gone in a flash.
All day the sky has threatened rain, Barry warned us that about 6-6:30 we would see storms. Right on time it hits with Florida like ferocity with in 20-30 minutes we have lost power in the terminal. The rain comes down in torrents, I want to write about my impressions of the scenery and drive but my fingers are painful and I am not comfortable holding my pen. Instead I read by emergency security lights The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chambon.
Passing through towns that looked little more than nailed together, scrap everything, metal, card board, bill boards. Most of the housing are hovels in decay and disrepair. The more fortunate families live in Gov't built concrete oblong block structures with a cantilevered upper level. All built cheek and jowl, stepped in rows. A lone white steeple the tallest structure somewhere embedded in a place that generations have inhabited. Lean to tiendas, auto shops, and Taquerias heave crazily this way and that, forever twined with one another in decayed and faded camaraderie. Structures so close to the road it is miraculous, how manically driven trucks have not pushed them over while careening down the road. Mexico is no holds barred in every way. Mexicans drive, eat, drink and party with abandon. They also as I have come to learn, work with the same intensity, and drive for detail.
Rossana points out that the Motels, "El Eden" and the like spanning the road to the airport every thousand feet or so. These are not for the weary traveler, they are rent by the hour, discreet rendezvous places. Enclosed garages with bedrooms up stairs allow discreet access. Although very well advertised the entrance way and exists also afford quite a bit of discretion. Every town big and small Cosmopolitan and rural have these Motels.
Seduction and cheating is an art form here so I am informed. Men rich and poor maintain Mistress's locally and in neighboring areas. Some form lifelong attachments and others play the proverbial field. Everyone knows who is cheating with whom, some spouses know and disregard others are in the dark. Woman more than match the men, cuckolding husbands who are too busy with their paramours to notice. There are a few scandals of course and more than a few post cheating divorces, but on a whole it is part of the daily life in Mexico.
We are delayed, the rain is falling with less ferocity but lightening and thunder still ring the airport. Lined up once again I am laughing at the idea of having to run pell mell down a ramp in the blowing wind and rain to mount the steps to our aircraft who's jets are spinning impatiently. Wind blown and soaked I am handed two small pieces of paper towels to mop myself up. Seated we take off within minutes during an active storm, piercing the lowered ceiling of clouds in our escape. Veracruz is hot, humid and very sticky it is also very late. There is no rain here, yet everything is wet. We will not be seeing this Gulf resort town tonight, perhaps on our way back. It is becoming more of a destination for tourists.
Our driver sent by Raffa, Jose' Luis drives us, it is about one hours drive. Coffee is grown in abundance here as well as sugar cane and the distinct pong of burnt sugar cane fuses with the damp hazy air. I can see nothing of the surrounding countryside and only a hazy outline of the Mountains.
Having eaten a little rice at the Monterry airport hours before we are very hungry and thirsty, when we get to town we stop off for Pambazos at Las Brazas. Like a sandwich, they are spicy and very good, some have a slice of cactus, Nopalito in them with beef others beef with sauce. I am eating only cooked foods and drinking from bottles. Rossana has a horchata, I stick with bottled water.
Greetings and introductions over we head down stairs in the heat of the night to our respective bedrooms. I have perfected Mucho Gusto, and igualmente. It is a little cooler down the stairs, but still feels a little damp. The house reminds me of several I have visited, in Israel and other tropical locals. Two stories with second story balconies this one higher up on one of many hills over looking the mountains. Plenty of windows to catch the breezes. The stone floors are welcomed cold under my feet. I hand Rossana ear plugs, we will need them. As well as over looking mountains, lawns and other homes, the main road runs bellow not more than a block or two from the house. A traffic light is at the bottom of the hill, all vehicles and trucks have to shift down gear to stop and then rev mightily in first gear to begin the next climb up. With attending noises of motorcycles, gears gnashing, and general traffic it is necessary to use ear plugs. A tower fan runs humming at the foot of my bed and a steady stream of air flows through my room.
Thursday morning brings clear views of the mountains with tower clouds rising behind them against blue skies. The scents of fresh morning air flowers and tamales fill the air. Canela the chihuahua jumps ecstatically for attention spinning herself around and pawing the ground. How can I resist she looks like a tiny fawn, her great big eyes fix upon me hoping for a cuddle. She is sweetness itself. Both Barry and I had not been too enamored of this breed but Canela is winning me over. Cafe con leche, fresh squeezed orange juice and really good tamales finished with tiny cookies we have made up in one meal the sparsity of food yesterday. Now a tour of the gardens we could only scent out last night.The driveway is lined with exotic and abundant flora, each perfectly in alignment and harmony with it's neighbor. Butterflies alight and drift from flower to flower, Orchids hang from moss and wood bark platforms. Everywhere I turn the names of plants and flowers spring to mind I see some that are new, native to the area. It is a cornucopia of flora and I am in gardeners heaven. A postage stamp lawn is surrounded and pots, wheelbarrows and tables are heaped with floral abandon. Canela keeps up with the tour sniffling the air and nosing around the small grounds. I carry her about as much as I can and Rossana's mother warns me that I will spoil her. With pleasure.
It is time for Betty to go to the lighting store downtown that she runs for her daughter Betty older sister to Rossana. She is married to a retired engineer who is now in politics. Currently he is a diplomat of some kind and they travel all over the world. Sister Betty also owns a wine and gourmet store in town. Down town is a mix of the very old and traditional architecture and the newer. The central square is all traditional a beautiful park rebuilt and designed by Rossanas younger brother Pepon, the cathedral, the city legislature and on one side stores, the other restaurants. Rossanas brother-in-law before he became a diplomat was vice mayor of the city and helped restore the gov't building and the park. Central to the park with it's many shade trees, and benches is a large band stand where music and dancing go on nightly. A lovely fountain provides another layer of rest and respit from the intense heat and languor that develops. The park is filled. From young to old people stroll, sit and read or gossip with one another. We sit and absorb the atmosphere and try to cool off before returning to sight seeing. All around the park is hustle and bustle there are many street vendors and many shoe shines, men and women. At night roving bands of Mariachis play for the diners and strollers. We take pictures just outside the Cathedral. Inside it is only a fraction cooler but much darker, this is a lovely well kept church. They are doing restoration work I can imagine a full time job given the age and climate. Ceilings or multi domes look to me like Faberge eggs with the rich icing and detail work, gold and gold gilding shine with intensity. The pastel colors harmonize with each other, and bring a lightness that uplifts the spirits. I am a little non plussed at the sight of Jesus with a full head of human hair, in several statue vignettes. This is also a busy and well used area, like the park it is filled with many people in the middle of the day.
On to the streets we explore while finding a money exchange. Hot and thirsty Rossana has some kind of coconut water, I am apprehensive she has Colitis, and I am afraid it will be too indigestible for her. She has two. I sip bottled water with a sinking feeling. As we explore Rossana has a need for el bano, and we duck into this massive building, The Italian club. Visiting rooms and I think a restaurant downstairs and a disco, and dance floors upstairs. Lunch with Betty at one of the restaurants ringing the park. It is pre-fix from soup to desert. I enjoy the meal, it is the dinner if you will of the day. A large lunch with the stores and businesses closed around two in the afternoon, then siesta until after five. It truly is too hot for anything else. we head home as Betty maneuvers the car expertly up and down the treacherous roads shifting with expert ease. Rossana is not feeling well. So goes the next 24 hours of grief for her. After siesta Patty, Pepons wife and four daughters visit. The girls ranging in age from 20-9 want to practise their English. They are sweet lovely girls all different all well mannered. The youngest is a tiny thing with a big personality and zeal. Betty heads back to the store and we go in the van with Patty and girls for a guided tour of a very wealthy area of town, the Italian club has a country club up here. Then we head across the road to Rossanas older brother Rafa's compound. Mary Elana, his wife's family owns acres of beautifully maintained grounds and gardens. The family home rambles all over a central cobblestone courtyard, the stables now turned into another home for a daughter and family. Just beyond is the home of a son and behind that Raffa's and Mary Elana's drive and homestead. The gardens here are designed and tended by Raffa, he has two aviary's at the back wall behind the house with canaries and many other birds. Flitting from time to time in Cordobas trees you see canaries, family pets now gone wild and breeding. Scratching my legs, I have been bitten badly with mosquitoes and they are coming out again as evening drops. We meet the four children two handsome boys and two beautiful girls intent on serving us their jello treats that they make for their uncles catering service. They also with the help of a cousin run inside to bake us a cake. Don Pepe greats us and we chat for quiet awhile as warm chocolate cake is served with pitchers of Tamarind water. Rossana is really feeling it now. Heading home we spend the rest of the evening watching Rossana suffer and the Olympics (she is a very good sprinter.) Our plans to head over to Puebla with niece Paulina are in doubt for Friday.
After, a phone consult with Rossana's state side Doc via Geoff, we run and get Cipro and a few other things late at night.We don't need a prescription and conduct our business though metal grates at the pharmacy. By morning the Cipro and the imodium we have been pumping in her has done half a cure and poor Ross, is feeling better. Our morning starts with Gloria, the wonderful housekeeper regaling us with her life's story and very spicy hand made gorditas, a masa flour shell with salsa, manchego cheese and raw onions. Sometimes they are served with beans and or chicken or creme instead of cheese. Sort of like a tortilla. We had ours straight up and I added an oil from hot peppers (Salsa Macha). WOW as breakfast goes this is a kick in the head. Again we have Cafe con leche and fresh orange juice. Cookies follow, I could really get used to this. I can understand every word Gloria says, she is very loud and pronounces her words very clearly. With an enormous grin and an infectious laugh. She is working for the shear joy of working, her son is well to do and tried to retire her. She was clinically depressed and her doctor told her go back to work, you love it, forget retirement. So everyday she gets up and works for 6 hours and is paid 14.00 dollars a day and is the happiest person I have ever met. I wanted to steal her and bring her home with me for the delight she carries with her as an energetic gift to all. She said she would come but her kids would never let her. Oh Blast.
We rest, I read and write. As a weather weenie, married to a meteorologist I pried myself in predicting the wx. When we first got up I noted the huge towers behind the mountain and told Rossana who does not share my weenieness, that if THOSE clouds make it over the mountains we are in for it. Fast forward we are now late in the afternoon having tea at Betty's home (sister)somewhere in the hills of Cordoba, meeting another sweet niece and getting a tour of one of the most intricate wine cellars I have been to. Through a mechanical trap door in one of the rooms we have descended to an up to the date temp controlled Wine enthusiasts dream. It has started raining, so we all run out to waiting cars, Rossanas mom back to the lighting store, while we get a tour of the beautiful converted home now cum store. Wine and every cheese, ham including the rare black hoof Sorrano illegal in the U.S. Room after room in this architectural dream, is filled with wine, cafe, deli store and expensive nick knacks for sale. Betty is being trained as a coffee Barrista and is opening her cafe soon. Everything has been lovingly stocked, and hand carried back from Italy. The coffee will be locally grown and roasted and ground to her specifications. The skies are pouring forth and leaks are springing everywhere. The road out front is flooding and customers are soaked to the skin. It is a monumental deluge, we are stuck while Cordoba is flooding. Finally Ross' mom Betty, plucky as can be comes and gets us and we brave the rushing waters to get home. Left overs and Canela on my lap while we watch the Olympics with Spanish commentary. The Torio Sanchez branch of the family will wear blue shirts, other branches will be in green, orange, pink, and yellow. So we lay out our things in anticipation for the big Fiesta mannana. We will be picked up by Pepon and the girls in the morning. The sky has emptied itself and left a cooler evening.
Today is clear no Towering clouds behind the mountains. It is still hot and damp and promises to stay that way. We look great in our Fiesta togs, I've flat ironed Rossana's curls into submission, she looks like a million bucks. Her happy eyes flashing in antiscipation of seeing all her long lost cousins, and others she has never met. The property is a huge 60's Modern home and grounds. The pool and covered areas immense and very sleek. The bar sweeps accross the back of the house all white concrete and curved lines. Tabels for 120 are set under the low roofed patio. They have an area for the children down the slope, with inflatable slides and the like. Family trickles in, everyone kisses, everyone even myself, although I am clearly out of place. They greet me with warmth and as much English as they can muster. Rossana is feeling great and has decided to eat whatever is served. I have been blessed with no "tummy" trouble and vow to keep up.
When the bulk of the Torio crew is gathered a slew of roaving photograpers gather the various family branches for photos. As soon as they are clicked, children with or with out bathing suits are happily splashing in the 3-4 foot depths. Don Pepe is so happy and proud his feet are barely able to touch the ground. We meet his brother and sisters, cousins and nephews and nieces. This is a good looking family. Many of the men though have strong faces with very Romanic nosses. Two girl cousins are DJ'ng and the music that pours forth is all Italian. Everyone receives a family tree book and CD of the afternoons tracks.
Wine truly flows like water along with beer and what all else. Fabulous trays of anti-pasto are on the tables, although not a pork eater I partake, with cheese and Salmon carpacio that is out of this world. Good crusty bread and olive oil. Crowds around the tables flow back and forth as cousins visit and hug. Late cummers come over and everyone hugs and kisses. There are two men, dressed in Mexican cowboy style with big straw Cowboy hats a Mandolin and Harp. They are clearly brothers, it turns out they are old friends of don Pepe. Jaraneros, sing off the cuff verses. The name means little mandolin. These verses are sung with the same tune but the words are always stories of the individual they are singing about. Someone clues the singer in and he takes it and makes these wonderful witty mini songs. They even made one for me at the behest of Don Pepe.
The food this afternoon is strictly Italian. The chef a dapper gentelman hovers over the hot steam tables with a blend of anxiety and pried, this after all is a very important family. More family than anticipated has shown up and the food dwindles quickly with only some Risotto, and salad left for the last few tables. I must admit the hot fare is dissapointing, Rossana agrees. As soon as the plates are cleared, the buisness of family begins. More wine and the like is poured and we settle in to listen to the story of the Torio saga. Now to many New Yorkers the name Torio has a familiar ring. The infamous Johnny Torio mob boss and patrone to Al Capone was Rocco's first cousin. They call this the dark side in the family. Everyone listens with rapt attention as the two cousins who put this event together tell the stories of emmigration, opportunity and love. They tell the stories of home made wine and customs, relatives who have passed and stories about each other. It has hard to not undersatnd it all, I get glimses of things, so as the observer I watch everyones faces and feel the crowd. You can tell when someone is mentioned which branch they hailed from, members sniffle and shed tears clap and call out. In all it is a wonderful presentation. The Family tree is revealed with the family crest. A huge core board creation done by Raffa, it is extensive and well layed out. One by one members get up to talk about thier branch and exchange humorous stories. Don Pepe has declined to speak he has become very emotional since his heart attack.
Dessert is served little powdered cookies that are jaw breakers meant to be dunked in rich red wine or cafe au lait, and home made desserts pile along a table. More wine is poured and now the music is all Mexican, popular style. Everyone runs to the front and begins to gyrate and dance with steps and movements I do not know. Rossanas brothers have been imbibing steadily and they are dancing with fluidity. Young, old,men, women, it continues on for hours. New York affairs follow a stricht pattern, a lot of food, less talk and very little celebration. As soon as dessert is offered we haul our over fed bodies out of chairs and stuff our selves into our cars to rest the evening away. Not so my Mexican family, they are heedless of time and heat. The party began at 1:00, in the afternoon, at 11:30 p.m. Tacos are served, as waiters run back and forth tirelessly with booze and bottles of wine. Even desserts that have sat in the heat for many hours are being revisited as the group energy feeds itself. I am amazed, soaked and more than a little tired. We have had a blast and a party like none I have ever attended. Before we leave, Rossanas' Aunt and Cousins have promised us a reservation for thier hotel on Vera Cruz beach for Monday, we fly out on Tuesday. I check and it is 1:00 a.m. We drag Pepon out to drive us back home. What a day, what a party!
Sunday, we have brunch with Betty at a lovely resturant another former residence transformed They feature Crepes, which are very popular here. I get the mushroom cheese. The crepe itself is tender, but my filling is stuffed with canned warmed over mushrooms with a sauce napped on top. Not very tasty and I am very disapointed. We do buy these wonderful Merangue cookies to bring with us to Betty's ranch. After a ride just out of town, among fields of corn and sugar cane are a pair of huge metal gates with an immense cement wall running along the property.
Imu's!! Roaming freely and hindering our progress through the gates onto the Ranch are Imus. We drive the length of a rutted road to a two story structure that is still in the building stages. Betty her two daughters and husband are dining alfresco on Pollo and Riz. Immense wine glasses with blood red wine are full as the bones of the meal lay about. We pass the cookies around I have a beer. They are wearig long pants, riding boots, leggings tucked in, and long sleeved safari shirts. The bugs are wicked. MY eau de cologne has been Listerene all week I hope I am immune. We spend the rest of the afternoon inspecting the grounds pens filled with animals. From ducks to sheep, goats, pigs and cows. I make friends with as many of the flying, bleeting fawna as I can. Chickens run every where, troughs are filled, and water bins are replenished. It is fantastic. There are mounds on the property that yield ancient Mayan relics and we are shown carvings and shells of every discription. Peppon and family have been visiting and the younger girls have been digging the mounds and visting the animals with young abandon. They show us their dug up treasure. Betty puts them away, so that when they have built their home all will be displayed. Flint is everywhere, this is a treasure trove of Mexico's past. The grounds have been planted with hardwood trees from South America, they will be sold as lumber when all are mature. Every thing on the ranch is sold as food. At some point I can see this as a self sustaining homesite. The work involved is immense.
We stop for Tacos on the way home, I smell like goat and sheep, but I have had a blast.
Monday and we say our good-byes. It was a wonderful experiance, and Rossana's mother has been a trooper, considering the even tenor of her life, that we have disrupted. We make the ride to Vera Cruz a coastal town off the Gulf of Mexico. Our driver is once again Jose' Luis. He is ours for the day, and he is wonderful driving us all around the new and old town. As we leave Cordoba I look back and see the snow covered peak of a dormant volcano wreated in clouds but clear as can be. Ixtazhuatl. There are people who live along the foot paths of this volcano, and locals often climb this picturesque mountain.
The hotel is one of the first luxury hotels with four stars in the new area of Vera Cruz. Hotel Torremar, Crown Plaza is on a pristine stretch of beach, beautifully appointed with luxurious bedding and bathroom. We are being treated like Queens, and King.
We sight see, The water rolling dark and slightly rough looking. Ships on their moorings, many out on the Horizon, others traversing the water lanes. The jetties are the main staple of town, many shops crammed together lining the water. Waiting for the tourists. At one time large cruise liners paid visits to this port. A few still visit but they are rare these days.
Lunch at an Italian resturant with a sea view. We are taken back to the hotel for our Siesta, we need it.
Many structures are being rebuilt and the reconstruction also lines the very large Cathedral that dominates the old town. Old hotels and many street cafes face the strips of beaches. We go to a bakery so Rossana can pick up the Pan Dolce that Joseph loves, Bolillo. After wandering around old town we go to the most famous cafe' in the area, Parroquia. Their coffee is famous and we sit as they pour it into glasses with a high stream of hot milk that floats on top. It is served with long hard double braided cookies that are to be dunked and sucked on. We have several glasses as we sit and watch the world go by. I am wired. It is not often I drink this much coffee. Parroquia, denotes another form of church. Natives from the mountains show us handiwork of every kind. They are dressed to my imagination like Peruvian woman with full skirts with many slips and bandanas or hats pulling back thick black braides. Their high cheek bones, slightly flat noses and dark skin are intriguing and highlight the faces of the ancients. The linen they show us with embroidery are well done and not made in China, but Papantla, where they grow and harvest the Vanilla orchard and beans. As the day winds down, cars pull in to spots as the well heeled populous visit resturants and cafes. Street musicians get ready to play for the evening crowds, and all manner of peddlers begin to assail us. An interesting exchange on the street takes place. The self appointed parking attendant who also washes his patrons cars with alacrity is having words with a rather pompus musician. He tells him that he may be poor but he has his pride, and he works hard. His patrons know he serves them well and he watches everyones car. No ones car is molested and he helps them negotiate the tiny parking spaces with out mishap. Everyone tips him and he has done his job. Rossana translates the exchange for me, and I am humbled.
We see Jose' Luis and another driver who is meeting Raffas brother-in-law soon, to drive him back to Cordoba. We are droped back at the hotel for an early night for an early 5:45 call, with coffee sent up. I did not sleep a wink, too much caffene. I clip on my new bracelet and earings I bought yesterday in the hotel gift shop, wonderful silver reminders of our trip.
We leave this part of the world unlike our arrival no thunder and lightning heralding us. An uneventful departure and final, if not damp arrival home. I have had a wonderful trip, thank you Rossana, Don Pepe, Betty and all the Torio clan as I have had a most excellent adventure.
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