News you can use
News you can use
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Several of us here on Rancho Esperanza begin our days with Qi Gong, a Chinese energy-movement routine; good for balance, stretching and breathing. Breathing is a good thing. We have learned the form, Soaring Crane. Most of us are in our seventh decade. Samantha, our teacher, goes through each of the five separate movements with grace and beauty. We do the best we can. I would say I look more like a Crippled Crane. But I keep going. It makes me feel good. The last few weeks...
First serving: soup. When I hug friends goodbye, friends whom I see once a year or less frequently, I go into a three-day funk. My life feels like metaphorical soup, seasoned with a dollop of melancholy and a pinch of abandonment. The day after Jerry and Lola left, I came the closest to a panic attack that I’ve been since the ’80s. Jerry and Lola are innocent. All they did was go home to Idaho. My friends, whom I love, were tasty ingredients in my soup. I’d been six weeks...
Ai-yi-yi, what a week this has been. A few days ago, tongue in cheek, I mentioned to my friend Dan in Fort Worth that I would be returning to my “quiet and uneventful life.” Dan thought I was serious and took me to task and rightly so. After three weeks with my friends Don and Denise from Oregon, plus another week on the coast, seeing old friends from the years Mazatlan was my home, I am back home, in Etzatlan, in my casita. Jerry and Lola from Idaho, who were here with my...
Last night, Don and Dorothy, former neighbors, made arrangements to meet me to go to Loony Beans in Cerritos for breakfast. I went to the lobby at 8:50. I like to be prompt. I waited until 9:45 before I gave up; figured my wires had gotten crossed. Things had gone bump in the night. I had left my simple, cheap, adequate Mexican cellphone on the bed where I was lounging with a book. I always, always, always put said phone away in my bag in its pocket. Later in the night, when...
This afternoon I waved goodbye to Don and Denise, with hugs and kisses and tears, as they got into the taxi to carry them to the airport. Now I’ll feel an empty place inside me for the next couple days. I’m still in Mazatlan. I was supposed to take the bus back to Etzatlan today. Phone conversations this week went like this: “Sondra, it is Leo. You stay. Is cold and storm every night, just like rainy season. Too cold for you. You stay.” And this from Josue, “If you can, stay...
After a week on the beach, my guests, Don and Denise, and I, boarded the Primera Plus Autobus in Mazatlan, and climbed across the Sierras to my home in Etzatlan. In a country where not everyone has acquired a car and where some people with cars chose to take advantage of the excellent public transportation, I’ve got to tell you, my friends, we are impressed. We used to have pretty decent public transit in our country, too, until every family “needed” two cars in the garag...
Greetings from Mazatlan. Every morning I sit on my balcony and watch the waves sloppy kiss the sand. Bird Island sits directly across a narrow stretch of water. Condors, vultures by any other name, circle thermals upward from island nests, then split off in search of wider skies and prey. Shrimp boats troll the horizon. Frigate birds patrol the sky. Pelicans dive face first into the sea, bob up with fish hanging from beaks. Morning sun splatters the beach through coconut palm...
We gringos were all invited to attend a double christening for a great-granddaughter and a great-grandson of Delia, the Rancho owner. In preparation, Jim and I went into town to get gifts the day before the event. We figured since we were specially invited, we should bring gifts. Unfortunately, we went with flawed information. We, separately, understood, or misunderstood as the case would be, the ages of the children to be around 8 and 10 years. We don’t know the children a...
I had to decide. She’d had a reaction to the anesthetic which left symptoms similar to epilepsy. Convulsions. Starvation. A rack of bones loosely held in rags of fur. Put her down. A euphemism by any other name … death. My tears soaked her fur. I held her last breath. My Cat Ballou, playful, teasing, gentle sweet kitten-cat. That night I lay in bed, holding memory, accusations rattling around my brain cage, familiar. Why does everyone, everything I love, leave me? What is wro...
“Sure wish I’d known 40, 50, years ago what I know today. I might have done some things differently,” I told my daughter. I was bemoaning my financial status, not for the first time, more like a recurring toothache or a grumpy relative one feels obliged to visit. “There you go again, bad-mouthing your ‘lack-of-planning’ choices. Most people work their whole lives for retirement and then never end up getting to do anything with it. When you worked, you worked hard. Then when y...
“I couldn’t sleep a wink last night,” it’s true. It’s silly to be lovelorn and at my age too. Oh, no. Don’t get excited. It’s not what you think. More’s the pity. I swear, I can hardly believe myself. An animal. A dumb animal. Well, not so dumb, it turns out. Saturday, the chosen day, finally arrived — Cat Ballou took an anticipated trip to the veterinarian for the essential surgery, the one to prevent an unending series of duplicates. Surgery went well. Ballou returned home c...
The same Arctic cold that swept down through the southwest and snowed on Houston brought to Jalisco, inland Mexico, our own cold snap, minus snow, just short of freezing. At the same time, the fires of southern California created winds that pushed clouds our way to hold the frigid air close to the ground. I can cope with an ordinary cold winter day. By 10:30 to 11 a.m., the sun has warmed the air, the ground, and my body — and my house. By afternoon, I’m togged out for sum...
Admittedly, my wonderland is different than your wonderland. My wonderland lacks the beauty of new-fallen snow with crystalline flakes painting the landscape pristine and pure. Neither does mine include snow-shovels, car engine heaters, ice on the roads or frost on the windshields. Not that I have a car, but you know what I mean. Although cannas and hibiscus continue to bloom and the geraniums look gorgeous as ever, winter snapped us hard and fast a good month ago. Every...
Q: Does that mean I’m crazier some days than others or does it mean that I’m crazier than other people? A: Yes I dread to tell this story on myself. I could keep it secret. I’m committed to honesty in my writing. So here’s today’s story, warts and all. My day began peacefully. I felt tranquil. Almost blissful. I had decided to write about how crazed we Americanos become when things do not go our way, based on my observations — which I felt to be valid because after four...
I’m not sure when that vague wisp of an idea began to seem do-able. What I can tell you with certainty, though, is that once “vague wisp” grows to “might be do-able” and then morphs into “desire,” I’ll figure out a way to make it happen. Care and feeding of an idea is important. Some of my best ideas never grow past the embryo stage. Getting outside information is important. Some of my best ideas won’t work. It helps to know that before I sink money, time, blood, sweat and tea...
Back when I was young and filled with angst and drama, certain my life would end if I didn’t get what I wanted or if the heartache of the day didn’t cease or if I thought you looked at me critically, I had a good friend who didn’t mince words. Gino laughed at me, a lot. He often said, “Don’t worry. Tomorrow will be different. It may not be better but it will be different.” Generally he told me this over gallons of coffee, sitting around a table in a restaurant that didn’t...
Many years ago, I took oil painting classes with Julanne Campbell in Suquamish, Washington. I like everything about painting. Oil painting, water colors, painting the walls of my house. I like the smells of paints and turpentine. I like the feel of the brush stroke against a blank surface. I’m a tactile painter; my fingers often ignore the brush and create a smooth stroke here or a smudge there. I don’t spend enough time drawing to be good. But in any endeavor, there are the...
It is dangerous to invite a stranger into one’s home, one’s sanctuary. Can the guest be trusted to display simple rudimentary manners? What if we’re not compatible? What if our schedules don’t mesh? Will there be food issues? What if we end up eye-balling one another with death wishes? A thousand considerations must be addressed. Yet, on impulse, I invited Cat Ballou into my home a mere month ago. Fortunately, she is bi-lingual. Unfortunately, within a couple days I found m...
Every day should be my best day! There I go, thinking I “should” be grateful and, truly, I am. However, “should” can take a hike into the out beyond and stay there. But my reality is that I feel shaky, in pain, and morbidly fixated on possibilities: broken bones, concussion, blood spatters. None of which happened. My day started with pleasure. I woke to the musical prayers of the procession of thousands from Etzatlan marching with the Statue of the Virgin from here to San Jau...
October brings on the melancholia of autumn. Even here. I recently read an extensive political and economic history of Mexico. Early Spanish invaders called this area in which I live, the land of perpetual spring. I’ve lived here close to two years. I have to agree. The description is apt. I hesitate to even talk about what it is like here when my Havre friends are digging out from under unprecedented snowfall. Though seasonal changes in this area are subtle, hardly n...
Are you safe? Are you in the earthquake zone? Did you feel the quakes? Is there flooding in your area? What about the hurricanes? Do they reach you? The volcano? What has reached me are the concerns of many friends. Yes, I am safe. I didn’t feel the earth move. We’ve plenty rain but the elaborate system of canals, I am told, diverts run-off water quickly into the lakes and lagoons with which this area abounds. No active volcanoes live in this valley. Hurricanes? No, we are...
Do you ever have times when you wonder who you are? I mean, you might be sitting under the cottonwood tree, perfectly content one moment; the next moment you feel like the essence of you is outside your skin, looking at your body askance, as if to say, "Now who are you?" You might follow that observation with the notion that who you are is not who you ever meant to be. Well, that's my story. Given some of the wrong turns and dead ends in my life, I guess I'm lucky. I never...
“Can you name the seven deadly sins?” she asked. I lay on Bonnie’s table, my body full of acupuncture needles. “I hope there is no wrong answer,” I countered, considering my vulnerable position. “At one time, in my youth, I could have rattled them off easily. Why do you ask?” She shrugged. I know Bonnie to be a thoughtful, introspective person, so I don’t accept a shrug but put her motivation on hold as none of my business unless she chose to share. “Pride?” I aske...
Sunshine! After a solid week of all-day, all-night rain, the sun shines. Tropical Storm Lidia whooshed unrelenting rainclouds our way before veering off with a huff into the Pacific, energy dissipated. We nestle in a mountain valley dominated by Volcan de Tequila, or Tequillan, “the place where they cut.” Volcan de Tequila has been inactive for 220,000 years but once spewed obsidian throughout an extensive area. People have mined obsidian here since ancient times. Since she no...
From there to here. I’m not sure what sparked my curiosity, but from Havre in Montana to Etzatlan in Jalisco, Mexico, the distance is 2449.9 miles. That mileage does not take into consideration any deviation from the route: no searching for a better hotel or non-franchise-plastic-food eatery, no side-trips to see friends or relatives close to the route. Imagine a human automaton, hands glued to the steering wheel, eyes on the road, single-mindedly moving forward, only f...
