The "Spires of Form"

In 1836 Ralph Waldo Emerson, the great American philosopher, essayist, and poet, wrote an essay called "Nature" which was prefaced by this little poem:

A subtle chain of countless rings
The next unto the farthest brings;
The eye reads omens where it goes,
And speaks all languages the rose;
And, striving to be man, the worm
Mounts through all the spires of form.

I was reminded of this poem when my friend Joe Pastry sent me this link to an article about the H1N1 flu in the L.A. Times:

http://www.latimes.com/features/health/la-sci-swine-reality30-2009apr30,0,3606923.story

It appears that this virus is not quite as bad as was originally feared and lacks a component of the 1918 flu that killed so many people worldwide. There is still a danger, however, that because it came at the tail end of the flu season it will evolve and re-emerge in October in an invigorated state as it "mounts through all the spires of form". Here in Irapuato we have been blessed that it has not reared its ugly head but the people and the local government are taking many precautions. I hope and pray that this plague passes quickly and I pray that God spares all of my friends out there in "Bloggerlandia" and sends this hateful virus back down to Hell with the Devil where they both belong.

The Enquiry Squad

I think that in order to confound the Devil it has been ordained by God that out of every evil there must come a little good. In the case of the ugly virus that has darkened our horizon of late there has emerged an awareness of something that has strengthened my faith. However, that part comes later. For now I must set the prologue.

In the year 1936 Robert Frost wrote a poem about "ants" and he titled the poem "Departmental". Perhaps you know it. It is one of my favorite poems and I memorized it at an early age. The poem begins with the story of an ant who finds himself on a tablecloth confronted by a dormant moth of many times his size. He shows not the least surprise. His business isn't with such. He gives it scarcely a touch, and is off on his duty run. The poem continues:

"Yet if he encountered one
Of the hives enquiry squads
Whose work it is to find out God
And the nature of time and space,
He would put him on to the case."

Well, I tend to fancy myself as part of an "enquiry squad" and my lifelong quest has been to find out God and the nature of time and space. Other people are happy to be part of the "futbol squad" or the "cooking squad" or the "nightclub squad" ect., but the humble enquiry squad suits me just fine.

Many years ago someone asked me why I believe in God. At the time the only real answer that I had was because I had been "born" a Catholic and I believed what my parents and the nuns and priests taught me. It was an honest answer and I must confess (no pun intended) that at the time it was the only answer that I had. This was shortly after Vatican II and many Catholics didn't know that we were sometimes allowed to think for ourselves. By and by doubt entered the picture, and the shadow of agnosticism began to descend upon me. A few years later, when I was about twenty four years old, I moved to Arizona and lived near a big desert. I found the desert to be a very beautiful and interesting place and I enjoyed taking long hikes into the desert to observe the flora and fauna. I ventured further and further into the desert and began sleeping out under the stars and there is where I had my epiphany.

One night, as I lay under the canopy of a million stars listening to the coyotes and pondering the nature of the Universe, I took note of the various cactus plants that surrounded my campsite. I could barely make them out in the starlight...there were saguaro, ocotillo, nopal (prickly pear), barrel, and, of course, cholla. They looked like grotesque limbs straining upward to reach Heaven from their grave in the barren rocky soil. Some actually grew out of cracks in the rocks and managed to survive the hot days and cold nights with very little water or nutrients of any kind. "What made them do it?" I wondered. "Why not just give up?". There must be some spirit, some "Holy Spirit" that gives impetus to all life. The desert had revealed to me my first clue in "finding out God".

My second clue came when I observed that there were so many "bad" things happening in the World, beginning with the Cuban Missile Crisis, the assassinations of the Kennedy brothers and Martin Luther King, the race riots in Chicago and Los Angeles, the Civil Rights struggle, the Watergate scandal, the Iranian hostage crisis and so on and so forth, etcetera. Some of these things were obvious struggles between peoples of different political and economic persuasions but there were also atrocities being committed that made no sense at all. Yes, the Theory of Evolution intimates that everything comes down to us on an evolutionary "survival of the fittest" river of blood but only a finite amount of blood is required in the game of evolutionary draw, play, discard. There is no need for excesses and atrocities like random beheadings, gang rape, or hideous torture in order for the species to evolve (or as some might say, "to be perfected"). This made me understand that there simply must be a God to counterbalance the visible and prevalent force of evil in the world or "The Dark Side" as it were. That was my second clue.

This brings me to the present flu pandemic crisis. Most contagious diseases are delivered in one of two forms. One form is bacteria, the other is virus. A bacteria (or bacterium) is alive. It is a single celled organism and is a completely self-contained and self-reproducing unit. When the time is right, a bacterium will split its DNA and RNA genetic material in two. Separate cell walls will build up around these two new bacteria, and this process will continue until thousands or millions of bacteria have formed. This is how strains of bacteria survive in almost every environment on Earth, including non-living surfaces like rocks. Ninety-nine percent of all known bacteria are considered beneficial to humans, or at least harmless.

A virus, on the other hand, is dead. It cannot reproduce without a living host. A virus may lie dormant for thousands of years before finally coming into contact with a suitable host. Once inside a living cell, a virus replaces the cell's original DNA or RNA commands with its own robotic genetic instructions. Those instructions are usually to make as many copies of the virus as possible. Once the individual cell has outlived its usefulness, it explodes and sends out thousands of copies of the original virus to other unsuspecting cells. Most viruses serve no beneficial purpose. Their sole mission in life is to create more viruses in order to assure survival of the strain and cause chaos in the natural world. The deadly effect that a virus has on its host is evil and ruthless. Viruses are one hundred times smaller than bacterium and cannot be filtered out like bacterium can. They are the work of an evil spirit who gives them impetus and instructions. What better way to pit country against country and people against people than to create a virus in their midst. This virus that has come upon us is just another tool of the Devil who could not himself exist if there was no God. So there it is...another clue to strengthen my faith and bolster my effort to "find out God".

Oh Lord, deliver us from the evil H1N1 Virus. Amen!

An observation on differences in culture...

For some time I have been trying to put my finger on the exact words to describe the differences between the Mexican culture and the American culture and I think I've got it. The culture in the United States is "quantitative" and the Mexican culture is "qualitative". Americans tend to measure everything precisely, especially time. Our schedules are exact, our laws are exact, our plans are well ordered, and we demand that results meet our expectations. In Mexico, however, time is relative to the occasion and how one feels about it. If a man does not come to work because he has a terrible "crudo" (hangover) he is usually excused with a shrug of the shoulders and the understanding that the bout of excessive drinking was probably unavoidable. Perhaps the man's favorite dog died or a friend who he hadn't seen for a long time came to visit, or his wife left him and went to live with her mother. Planning here is mostly a rule of thumb. If some one tells you, "Ahorita vengo", or "I'll be back in a moment", they might or they might not. It is just their way of being polite and keeping their options open. Much of the time expectations here are never met so expectations are usually low while hope is always high. It is a real paradox for a "Gringo" but even if I never understand it completely I am learning how to deal with it..."más o menos" (more or less).

More and more I can't help but compare the cultural differences between Mexico and the United States even though some things are similar in content if not format. For example, not long ago I was at a large convention center for an industry exposition and I observed something very typical of the profound difference between the two cultures. The Americans had arrived very early and had set up their booths and were waiting for a crowd of people. The Mexicans, on the other hand, didn't show up until mid-morning after a leisurely breakfast. Outside of the main exhibit hall at the convention center there was a fast food establishment that was offering things like hot dogs, hamburgers, and french fries. There were tables and chairs out on the main concourse like there would be on the concourse of any modern metropolitan shopping center, train station, or airport. At noon, many of the American exhibitors took turns to come out to grab a quick hamburger and fries so they could get back to their sales booths. All of the tables and chairs were occupied by Americans gobbling down their food in a big hurry while the Mexicans just stood around in small groups chatting amiably and watching the Americans with mild amusement. By about 1:pm most of the Americans were back at their stations manning their sales exhibits like wooden indians but by about 2:pm the Mexicans, including the Mexican exhibitors, had all but disappeared. Most of them had drifted off in groups to one of about three favorite restaurants for a nice long leisurely lunch where they could talk and visit one another from table to table. Now that I have learned the ropes and have paid my dues I am usually invited to go along with the Mexicans and I thoroughly enjoy myself. I would never be caught eating a hamburger at noon with the crazy Gringos. About 4:pm when the Americans are just about ready to declare a disaster, pack it in, and go home, the Mexicans start returning to the exhibit hall relaxed and smiling and ready to take it all in. It drives the Gringos nuts.

When sales people or industry officials come to visit us for a meeting the first time, very often they will send a proposed "agenda" beforehand. My companions at work think that these agendas are hilarious. Here is a recent typical agenda:

Tuesday

Introductions/Pre- Meeting Discussion 8:00 a.m.
Facility Tour 8:30 a.m.
Begin Meeting 9:00 a.m.
Lunch 12:00 noon
Resume Meeting 1:00 p.m.
Complete Day’s Activities/Summation 4:30 p.m.

Wednesday

Resume Meeting 8:00 a.m.
Lunch 12:00 noon
Complete Meeting/Post-Meeting Discussion 1:00 p.m.
Terminate Meeting Activities 4:30 p.m.

Usually what happens is that the meeting really doesn't get started until about ten o'clock because most of our management personnel are still in their "calzoncillos" (underwear) at 8:am and sitting out on their backyard patio drinking hot chocolate and watching the hummingbirds. We tell the secretary beforehand to apologize profusely for us and feed the visitors donuts until we arrive (after we have had a nice leisurely breakfast). Then when the meeting finally begins, the visitors rush through the preliminaries to make up for lost time in keeping up with the agenda and by noon you can hear the stomachs of the American visitors starting to grumble. When they mention "breaking for lunch" we just say "Ahorita" (in a little bit) and keep on going (because we just ate breakfast). About 2:pm we finally break for lunch (because now we are hungry too) and we take them to a nice comfortable restaurant with fantastic food for a leisurely two hour lunch. By the time we get back to work it is almost their quitting time and they are yawning. That is when the meeting resumes in earnest and when we start to drive home the deal. We finally break about 7:pm and take them to supper. The supper is twice as good as the lunch and we make sure that they have a wonderful time. We stay out late. The next morning they are not so eager to start the meeting so early and on day two they are content follow the Mexican style agenda. By the time the meeting ends and it is time for them to go to the airport or hotel all of the expectations of the meeting have been met and everyone is happy. If they can stay another day we take them sight seeing and make sure that they load up with plenty of souvenirs. After all, we must all do our part to help keep Mexico "green". Everybody who comes to visit us leaves with the sense that the people here really know how to live. We do...and we intend to keep it that way!

"EL JUEGO" (HWAY-goh), "The Game"

The following little story has been floating around the Internet in Spanish for ages and copied many many times. I don't even know who the original author is. It is a very cute story though and I thought it would be nice to translate it into plain English for those with only beginner skills and also as a practice lesson for those who are a little more fluent in Spanish. In any case I hope that you enjoy it as much as I do. Keep in mind that some of it is not a literal translation because a direct word for word translation doesn't always sound very good.

Cuentan que una vez se reunieron en un lugar de la tierra todos los sentimientos y cualidades de los hombres.
They say that once upon a time on the Earth there was a get together of all of the feelings and qualities of mankind.

Cuando El ABURRIMIENTO había bostezado por tercera vez, LA LOCURA, como siempre tan loca, les propuso: "¡Vamos a jugar a los escondidos!".
When BOREDOM had yawned for the third time, CRAZINESS, crazy like always, proposed to the others, “Let's play a game of hide and seek!”.

LA INTRIGA levantó la ceja intrigada y LA CURIOSIDAD, sin poder contenerse pregunto: "¿A los escondidos? ¿Y cómo es eso?".
INTRIGUE raised an intrigued eyebrow and CURIOSITY, without being able to contain herself asked, “Hide and seek? What is that?".

“Es un juego”, explicó LA LOCURA, “en que yo me tapo la cara y comienzo a contar desde uno hasta un millón mientras ustedes se esconden y cuando yo haya terminado de contar, al primero de ustedes que encuentre ocupará mi lugar para continuar el juego".
“It is a game”, explained CRAZINESS, “Where I cover my face and begin to count to one million while you guys hide yourselves and when I have finished counting the first one of you that is found will take my place to continue the game”.

EL ENTUSIASMO bailó secundado por LA EUFORIA, LA ALEGRÍA dio tantos saltos que terminó por convencer a LA DUDA, e incluso a LA APATÍA, a la que nunca le interesaba nada.
ENTHUSIASM danced and was backed up by EUPHORIA, and JOY did so many leaps that she ended up convincing DOUBT and also APATHY who was never interested in anything.

Pero no todos quisieron participar, LA VERDAD prefirió no esconderse. "¿Para que?, si al final siempre la hallaban"; y LA SOBERBIA opinó que era un juego muy tonto (en el fondo lo que le molestaba era que la idea no hubiese sido de ella) y LA COBARDÍA prefirió no arriesgarse...
But not everyone wished to participate. TRUTH preferred not to hide. “What for if in the end they always find you?”; and PRIDE was of the opinion that it was a very foolish game (in truth she was upset that the idea hadn't been hers) and COWARDICE preferred not to take a risk.

"Uno, dos, tres"...comenzó a contar LA LOCURA. La primera en esconderse fue LA PEREZA, que como siempre se dejó caer tras la primera piedra del camino, LA FE subió al cielo y LA ENVIDIA se escondió tras la sombra del TRIUNFO, que con su propio esfuerzo había logrado subir a la copa del árbol más alto.
"One, two, three", began counting CRAZINESS. The first one to hide was IDLENESS who like always dropped down behing the first rock in the road. FAITH rose up to heaven and ENVY hid under the shadow of TRIUMPH who by his own effort had managed to climb to the crown of the tallest tree.

LA GENEROSIDAD casi no alcanzaba a esconderse, cada sitio que hallaba le parecía maravilloso para alguno de sus amigos: ¿que si un lago cristalino? ¡ideal para LA BELLEZA!; ¿que si la hendija de un árbol? ¡perfecto para LA TIMIDEZ! ; ¿que si el vuelo de la mariposa? ¡lo mejor para LA VOLUPTUOSIDAD! ; ¿que si una ráfaga de viento? !magnífico para LA LIBERTAD!. Así termino por ocultarse en un rayito de sol.
GENEROSITY almost couldn't find a place to hide. Each place she was finding seemed marvellous for one of her friends. What if there was a crystaline lake? Ideal for BEAUTY! What about a cleft in a tree? Perfect for TIMIDNESS! What about the flight of a butterfly? The best thing for VOLUPTUOSITY! What about a puff of wind? Magnificent for LIBERTY. In the end she hid herself in a ray of sunshine.

EL EGOÍSMO en cambio encontró un sitio muy bueno desde el principio, ventilado, cómodo...pero solo para él.
SELFISHNESS on the other hand found a very good site right away, airy, comfortable...but just for him.

LA MENTIRA se escondió en el fondo de los océanos (mentira, en realidad se escondió detrás del arco iris) y LA PASIÓN y EL DESEO en el centro de los volcanes.
The LIE hid herself in the depths of the oceans (that's a lie, in reality she hid behind the rainbow), and PASION and DESIRE hid in the center of volcanoes.

EL OLVIDO... se me olvidó donde se escondió... pero eso no es lo importante.
FORGETFULNESS...I forget where he hid himself...but that isn't important.

Cuando LA LOCURA contaba 999.999, EL AMOR aún no había encontrado sitio para esconderse, pues todo se encontraba ocupado... hasta que divisó un rosal y enternecido decidió esconderse entre sus flores.
When CRAZINESS counted 999,999, LOVE still had not found a place to hide because all of the places he looked were already taken...until he spotted a rose bush and moved (emotionally) by that he decided to hide among the flowers.

"Un millón", contó LA LOCURA y comenzó a buscar. La primera en aparecer fue LA PEREZA sola a tres pasos de una piedra.
"One million", counted CRAZINESS and began to search. The first to appear was IDLENESS only three steps from a rock.

Después se escucho LA FE discutiendo con Dios en el cielo sobre Zoología y a LA PASIÓN y EL DESEO los sintió en el vibrar de los volcanes.
Afterwards FAITH was hear arguing with God in heaven about Zoology and PASSION and DESIRE were felt in the vibration of the volcanoes.

En un descuido encontró a LA ENVIDIA y, claro, pudo deducir donde estaba EL TRIUNFO.
ENVY was discovered by mistake and then one could easily guess where TRIUMPH was.

EL EGOÍSMO no tuvo ni que buscarlo. El solito salió disparado de su escondite, que había resultado ser un nido de avispas. De tanto caminar sintió sed y al acercarse al lago descubrió a LA BELLEZA.
SELFISHNESS didn't even have to be seached for. The loner shot out of his hiding place because there was a wasps nest there. After running so much he felt thirsty and getting close to the lake he discoverd BEAUTY.

Con LA DUDA resulto más fácil todavía, pues la encontró sentada sobre una cerca sin decidir aun de que lado esconderse.
With DOUBT it was even easier yet because she was discovered sitting on a fence without being able to decide on which side to hide herself.

Así fue encontrando a todos, EL TALENTO entre la hierba fresca, a LA ANGUSTIA en una oscura cueva, a LA MENTIRA detrás del arco iris...(mentira, si ella estaba en el fondo del océano) y hasta EL OLVIDO... que ya se le había olvidado que estaba jugando a los escondidos, pero solo EL AMOR no aparecía por ningún sitio.
And in a similar fashion all were found, TALENT in the fresh grass, ANXIETYin a dark cave, the LIE behind the rainbow...(this is a lie, yes she was at the bottom of the ocean) and to FORGETFULNESS...who had already forgotten that he was playing hide and seek, but LOVE didn't appear anywhere.

LA LOCURA busco detrás de cada árbol, bajo cada arroyuelo del planeta, en la cima de las montañas y cuando estaba por darse por vencido divisó un rosal y las rosas... Tomó una horquilla y comenzó a mover las ramas, cuando de pronto un doloroso grito se escucho. Las espinas habían herido en los ojos AL AMOR!!!!!
CRAZINESS looked behind every tree, under every small rivulet on the planet, on top of the mountains until when just about ready to give up spied a rose bush and roses. She took a forked stick and began moving the branches when suddenly a painful cry was heard. The thorns had had wounded the eyes of LOVE!!!!

LA LOCURA no sabia que hacer para disculparse, lloro, rogó, imploro, pidió perdón y hasta prometió ser su lazarillo. Desde entonces; desde que por primera vez se jugaron a los escondidos en la tierra EL AMOR ES CIEGO Y LA LOCURA SIEMPRE LO ACOMPAÑA.
CRAZINESS did not know how to make up for it and so ever since then from the first time that hide and seek was played on the Earth LOVE IS BLIND AND IS ALWAYS ACCOMPANIED BY CRAZINESS.

Some notes:

Sometimes we wonder why in Spanish everything has a gender. In this case all of the human feelings are either a "he or a "she". In English we can't do that. I find it interesting and a bit humorous that "EL AMOR", love, is a male and "LA LOCURA", craziness, is a female.

¿que si la hendija de un árbol?
What about a cleft in a tree?
You might not find "hendija" in your regular Spanish/English dictionary. "Hendija" is a variuation of the word "rendija" which means "chink, crack, rift, or split". I used the word "cleft" because I like it.

El solito salió disparado de su escondite
The loner shot out of his hiding place
"Solito" is another word you might not find. It is a variation of the word "solo" and means "the lone person". I used the word "loner" beacause that is what an "egoist" generally is.

EL TALENTO entre la hierba fresca
TALENT in the fresh grass
I translated "entre la hierba fresca" as "in the fresh grass" but "heierba fresca" can also mean fresh herbs. The culinary herbs such as basil (albahaca), dill, (eneldo), rosemary (romero), and thyme (tomillo) are often referred to collectively as "hierba fresca".

Oh, and I almost forgot...what about CAFECITO?

My Nemesis

I was going to call this post “My Enemy” but after thinking about it “My Nemesis” seemed like better choice. The word “nemesis” means “unconquerable opponent or rival” and in Greek mythology Nemesis was the goddess of divine retribution. This fits very well with what I think about the anonymous, cheap, light-weight, portable, waterproof, stackable, washable, polypropylene plastic patio chair with which the entire world has been inundated. These chairs go by the name of “monobloc” and are are stamped out on an enormous press from a two kilogram piece of 3/16” thick polypropylene plastic in one fell swoop about every 60 seconds. They cost only about three dollars each to manufacture and they have become one of the world's most universally accessible, mass-manufactured object. You can find them in every country in the world. Trash dumps and land fills are overflowing with them and millions more are on their way. Why don´t I like them? Because one size does not fit all and I am a fairly big person. Okay, okay, so I will be honest with you. I am fat. It pains me to squeeze my fat rump into a monobloc chair, not to mention the insecurity I feel about the chair collapsing or the sweaty feeling I get in my butt crack from sitting on the hard shiny plastic. Why, oh why, do we put up with this stuff?

The whole thing began with the GM Corvette Stingray. In 1953 they began making the Corvette out of the newfangled fiberglass and they made the fiberglass panels by hand by using fiberglass “cloth” impregnated with a plastic resin and placed over a mold. They only made about three hundred cars the first year and for that the hand layup process wasn't so bad. When they needed to increase production, however, they started looking for an alternative. They found a company in Ohio that was making bread trays for delivery trucks out of fiberglass using matched metal dies into which a chopped fiberglass and resin combination was forced under pressure and they turned to that process for their car bodies. A company named A.O. Smith was the fabricator of Corvette fiberglass bodies under contract to GM from 1953 until 1966. When the contract ended A.O. Smith had this enormous press for making the fiberglass corvette bodies and to keep this press running they turned to other products. One of these products was fiberglass trough hatch covers for use on the new one hundred ton capacity jumbo covered hopper cars that the railroads had begun using to haul grain out of America's heartland. One thing led to another and as the pressure fed matched metal die process improved and newer materials were developed other people began to see a big future in “plastics”. If you remember the movie “The Graduate”, Dustin Hoffman's character (Ben Braddock) was given the tip by an old timer to get into plastics. Do you remember THAT Mrs. Robinson (Anne Bancroft)? How about YOU Elaine (Katharine Ross)?

People began experimenting with extruded plastic matched metal die chairs in the late sixties. The designers fell in love with them because the plastic looked so modern and artsy fartsy. After about a decade of improvements in both materials and designs the moduloc chair began to take over the world. They are manufactured in every part of the globe in places like Russia, Taiwan, Australia, Mexico,the United States, Italy, France, Germany, Turkey, Israel and China. Companies such as Corona beer and Coca Cola began using the chair as a give away to their wholesale customers as promotional items to ensure customer loyalty. So many times I have walked into a small restaurant in Mexico and the only places to sit were on moduloc chairs with the Coca Cola logo. I could never enjoy a meal while squirming around on one of those things and I avoid them like a passion. They are the scourge of the Earth. I'll never forget the day that I flew back to Chicago to visit my parents when I walked out onto their patio and spotted a stack of shiny white moduloc chairs. My Dad said to me, “Hey look at the chairs that I just bought. You can stack them up and you won't believe how cheap they were”. “Oh, no” I thought, “The aliens have come and taken over my Mom and Dad”.

The Grim Reefer

The refrigerator that we had in the old parish house in García was ample but ancient. There was no light inside and the kitchen was pretty dark so I generally had no idea what the refrigerator contained past the first few inches of the interior. The refrigerator didn't sit level so when you went to open the door you had to hang onto it or it would go crashing into the wall. The kitchen was lit by a forty watt bulb hanging from the ceiling by a couple of fuzzy wires, the same as in my room. The bulbs looked like Thomas Edison originals. Whenever the motor in the refrigerator came on the kitchen light would go dim. I think I know why. The refrigerator was plugged into an old extension cord that draped over a cupboard and then wound around a hook in the wall about ten or eleven times and then eventually made its way over to a kitchen counter where the extension plugged into a socket mounted on the wall. The refrigerator made frightful noises when it was running and I knew that it was just a matter of time when it would go “poof”. I didn't worry too much about it though because nobody else seemed to. I figured that if it broke down they would just call in the greatest refrigerator repairman in all of García and he would go down to the ancient used refrigerator parts store which more than likely is located in somebody's house in a box under their bed and get whatever parts he needed to fix it.

Then one day the unthinkable happened. The refrigerator went “kaput”. The greatest repairman of ancient refrigerators in all of García came and gave it last rights. Not even a well placed modified coat hanger could get it working again. This posed a new problem. Padre Humberto located another refrigerator but the cost was four thousand pesos and the parish till contained only about ten percent of that amount. However, Padre Humberto is a very resourceful priest. In a stroke of genius he formed a refrigerator committee and installed me as chairman. He prayed that God would give me the wisdom and the insight to find the money for the refrigerator. My first instinct was to rob a bank but alas, García had no bank and if it did have one it probably wouldn't have enough money to rob. Not wanting to go hungry for lack of cold leftovers I took the job seriously and buttonholed every merchant, politician and passer by until the amount was raised. In the end I had to kick in quite a bit myself to put us over the top but finally the deal was made. We would have a new refrigerator. Besides, they promised me that the new refrigerator would have a light inside so that when you open the door you would be able to see what you are about to eat and you will be given a chance to turn back before it is too late.

In the evening of the same day that the refrigerator gave up the ghost I heard somebody banging around in the kitchen and whomever it was seemed to be humming to himself. I stuck my head in to see what was going on and discovered that it was Padre Humberto. He told me to come and help him make a fiesta. I asked him what the occasion was and he said, “The passing of the old refrigerator”. Apparently whatever meat had been kept in the old freezer section had already thawed and it couldn't wait for the new reefer. So, he took a bunch of avocados and chopped up some tomatoes, onions, and garlic along with some peppers and other “stuff” and mixed it together for the guacamole. Then he wrapped some potatoes in aluminum foil, handed me the meat, and off we went. Before we left the kitchen he yanked one of the old shelving grills out of the old refrigerator and he said “We won't be needing that anymore”. I didn't have a clue as to exactly what he was up to. He called to one of the sacristans and said “Go over to the Franciscan convent and tell the nuns to come to our fiesta”. Then we went out to the walled courtyard behind the parish house. He said, “Now we must cook the meat”. I said, “But Padre...how? We have nothing to cook it on”. He said”No problem” and he went around the corner to where some men had been working on the school and came back with a wheel barrow. He threw a few chunks of concrete into the wheelbarrow and started a fire on top of the concrete chunks with some wood and then threw on some charcoal. He put the old refrigerator grill on top and “presto change-o” we had a barbecue grill. Then he sent one of the boys to the corner store for some soft drinks and chips and soon the meat was cooking and the guests started to arrive.

It wasn't a big party, just the nuns and priests and I, the sacristan, and a few altar boys but it was very pleasant. The night was warm and the sky was full of stars. You could smell the bugambilia and the other flowers on a very gentle breeze. It was the perfect evening for a party. Padre Humberto hooked up a portable CD player (boom box type) and we had music. It turned out that these people were big Karen Carpenter fans. They didn't understand the words but they just loved her voice. So there we sat in very rural Mexico under a million stars, happily chatting away the time and listening to Karen Carpenter singing “Rainy Days And Mondays Always Get Me Down”. Oh, and speaking of “getting me down”, the high point of the evening was when the plastic Coca-Cola chair that I was sitting on collapsed under me and I did a double back flip. One of the nuns was the Mother Superior from the Provincial House in Bogotá, Columbia who was visiting. She looked like some kind of sour puss when she arrived...you know, kind of stiff, like a “lieutenant colonel” of the nuns. However, after the chair incident I started telling “Bob” stories and by the time the evening was over she was laughing and tapping her feet to the music and I knew that she had a good time. I also knew that the other nuns were very grateful about that too.

When the party was over and we were leaving, Sister Lucy (the head nun from Bogotá) came over and asked me to come to Columbia. She said that she had directed Sister Liliana to provide me with all of the necessary information about traveling to their country and directions on how to find their convent. I told her that I appreciated he invitation but that I didn't think that a trip to Columbia was possible. “Oh yes”, she said, “Of course it is possible and I know that you will come”. I take it that it was more of an order than an invitation. I'm sorry Sister Lucy, unless God grants me a double lifetime I don't think I am going to make it to Columbia. Oh, yes, and one more thing. Padre Humberto's makeshift barbecue grill worked just fine but eventually the wheelbarrow became very hot and the heat blew the tire on the wheelbarrow. The men came looking for their wheelbarrow the next morning and they were not very happy. Quick thinking Padre Humberto formed a committee on the spot to rectify the situation and once again gave me the dubious honor of chairing the committee and guess who ended up footing the bill for the new wheelbarrow tire. Oh what a feeling...

A Mystery Solved.

Since about the beginning of the sixteenth century and perhaps long before then church bells of one kind or another have been used for communication. We tend to think of the ringing of big bronze bells as a church function but bells have served civic and military functions as well. In the United States a meeting house bell in Philadelphia proclaimed liberty throughout the land and to all the inhabitants thereof and in Mexico the fight for independence from Spain began on Sept. 16, 1810, in the small town of Dolores with the ringing of church bells. Father Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla, a Catholic priest, rang the bells to summon people to begin the struggle with the “Grito de Dolores”, or "Cry of Dolores". Anyone who has ever glanced aloft at the church towers in Mexico has no doubt noticed the size and variety of bells and wondered why so many and what they were all used for. Of course the primary use of bells was to announce the hour of church services but the bells were also used to communicate the time, what feast day it was, the nature of the mass, whether a sermon would be preached and many other details. In fact the person who rang the bells had an important job and it took quite a bit of training to get it right. As time went by some of the functions of the bells fell by the wayside due to the high cost of maintenance and lower cost and increased availability of modern clocks and watches and various other forms of communication but nevertheless we still listened for the bells. When I was a kid growing up in Logan Square in Chicago we always had to be home by eight in the evening when the bells at St. Joseph's Home for the Aged rang for Vespers, the evening prayer.

Nowadays most of the old bells in the church towers are silent except for the one bell that still calls people to church. You can usually identify it by a thick old rope running from the bell and down the side of the building with which someone rings the bell. In the Village of García, in Nuevo León where I first came to live, either the sacristan or one of the altar boys would ring the big bell before mass. There was a mass at ten-thirty on Sunday mornings and then in the late afternoon there was another mass at six. At one half hour before each mass the bell would ring once, and then there would be a pause. After the pause the bell would ring continuously about twenty times and after another pause it would again be rung once. At about fifteen minutes before the start of the mass the bell would ring again. This time it would ring twice, and then a pause, and then around twenty more times before pausing a moment followed by two rings. When the mass began the bell rang again only this time it rang three times, and then a pause, etc. Being a bit compulsive I began counting the number of rings between pauses Sometimes there were only seventeen or eighteen and sometimes there were as many as twenty-three. I began trying to figure out the significance of the numbers (I get this from my mother).

Since I lived right next door to the bell it was pretty hard for me to ignore it and I began to record the number of times in sequence that it was rung. I was trying to discover some kind of pattern or code. It became an obsession and it started to drive me crazy. By the time that I had learned enough Spanish for basic verbal communication I herded the sacristans and the altar boys together and asked them to tell me all about the code of the bells. I tried to explain myself in various ways in my limited Spanish but the only reaction I got was blank stares. Finally one of them said, “Señor Bob, the bells are to call the people to church for mass”. “Yes”, I said, “Of course, but what is the significance of the number of times you ring the bell in between the pauses?”. There were more blank stares. Finally one of them said, “We don't know. Nobody ever asked us that before. We just pull the rope until it seems like enough or until our arms get tired”. I said, “I think that you should pull the rope the same amount each time”. The young man replied, “Why Señor Bob,? You are the first person who ever counted”. I would like to end this story by saying “And from that day forward in the Village of García the bells were always rung exactly the same way”. Yeah, right! What a letdown. About the only conclusion that I could draw from this exercise was that the number of times the bell is rung is directly proportional to the size and strength (and boredom) of the bell ringer. This myth is busted!

A shocking tale.

I tell a lot of stories about my first experiences in Mexico, especially in the little town of García in Nuevo León where I first came to live. Other than a small “farmacia” (pharmacy) and an “abarrotes” (small grocery store) there wasn't much of anything else in the way of shopping when I lived there. To get anything else one had to go about thirty kilometers. The old parish house that I lived in was built from rubble stone and adobe in 1804 and so there was always something to challenge my ingenuity if something broke and I needed to fix it. I remember one time the light switch in the bathroom broke, the one that turned on the overhead light. I could turn on the light in the hall and see well enough to use the toilet but that didn't help much when I was shaving. I tried shaving with a flashlight but a razor works better (just kidding). Anyway, it is very hard to shave in the light of a flashlight in front of a mirror. The light does all kinds of weird things. Learning to live contentedly in Mexico is learning the art of “making do” so I decided to handle the problem the Mexican way which is to deny that there is a problem in the first place when in fact there is only an inconvenience.

The first thing that I did was to carefully remove the light switch and throw it away. I said "carefully" because I couldn't find a fuse box and didn't even know if there was a fuse box. After the switch is removed you just have to be careful not to hold onto the two bare ends of the wires at the same time. Then, one at a time you bend little hooks on the ends of them and spread them out a little bit. When you want the light to come on you just bend them toward each other and hook the ends together and the slight tension in the bent wires will keep them hooked. Mexican people do this all the time in a pinch. The real tricky part is when you come into a dark room you have to gingerly feel around for the hole in the wall where there would normally be a switch plate and then you grab a wire by the insulation with each hand and “bump” them together to make the light flash. In the light of the flash you look really fast to see what you have to do to in order to hook the wires together. In the very beginning it is a bit nerve wracking but after awhile you get used to it. Just be careful when you go to shut off the light after taking a shower and everything is still damp or else you might be singing a new song called “Mexico, you light up my life”. Don't ask me how I know either.

Slap happy!

Lately I have been reminiscing about the year that I spent in García, Nuevo León when I first came to Mexico. Since I am already on a roll I think I will just keep going until I get it out of my system. I miss that time and place very much. Yes, I have been back to visit but it just isn't the same. My friends at the parish house, Pardre Humberto and Padre Joel, have moved on to other assignments, my good friend Pépe Fernández, the fantastic guitar player is dead, and so are a lot of my other older friends. Some of the cute little girls of the village are already barefoot and pregnant and the cute little boys who grew up to make them that way are jerks. In certain matters life is really not that different in Mexico than it is anywhere else. One thing that I do not miss, however, are the zancudos (sahn-KOO-dohs) which is what people here call mosquitoes.

I think that García is the home of the worlds loudest mosquitoes and they are also the tiniest. To make up for their small size they like to fly into your ear and buzz around like an automobile theft alarm going off in your head. When you try to slap them you end up slapping yourself silly. One night when I really needed to get some sleep, I ran into the “Snoopy” of the mosquito world and he must have thought that I was the Red Baron. The little bugger was totally annoying and I was in a really bad mood. I would slap at him and slap at him and one of us was definitely driving the other one nuts. I tossed and I turned and I even put my pillow over my head but somehow he would find a way to burrow down and drill. Then I got desperate. I jumped out of bed determined to hunt that mosquito down but I couldn't find him anywhere so I climbed back in bed. No sooner had I turned off the light and gotten comfy under the covers and he would return again...zzzzzzzz right in my ear...slap, slap...zzzzzzzzzz...slap, slap...zzzzzz...over and over with no relief.

The buzzing and slapping went on and on and I was getting dizzier and madder with every slap. I jumped out of bed two or three times very fast and turned on the light but he was too smart for that and he would always disappear before I could see him. Finally after just about slapping myself into unconsciousness I quickly jumped up with my my flashlight and there he was and I swiped at him and get this...I caught him in my fist! Right then I decided to teach that little bastard a lesson so instead of immediately crushing him like a bug I brought my fist up to my lips and opened it just enough so that he could hear me and I shouted:

Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZTTTTT! ! ! !

¡Feliz Pascua!

Today is a day of reflection and renewal for Christian people all over the world for today Our Lord has risen again in our minds and in our hearts. There is also a prayer that binds all Christians together whether they are Roman Catholic, Lutheran, Episcopalian, Baptist, Quaker, Methodist, Congregationalist, Fundamentalist, Presbyterian, or one of the many other Christian sects that I would mention here if I could only remember them all. It is the prayer that Jesus taught to his disciples that we call the “Lord's Prayer” or the “Our Father”. There are a couple of things that I would like to remind you about this prayer in these uncertain and troubled times when so many people are worried about money and about their future.

When I first came to Mexico I went to live with Padre Humberto and Padre Joel in a big parish house in a little town in the state of Nuevo León. I didn't speak much Spanish and they spoke no English at all. The first thing that they made me understand is that they were not going to learn English just for me so I needed to learn Spanish in a hurry. Padre Humberto accelerated the process right off the bat by telling me that I had to learn to recite the “Padre Nuestro” (The Our Father) in Spanish before I could eat. After that he threw in a new prayer at regular intervals to keep me going. As I was memorizing the Our Father in Spanish I had a chance to focus in on the individual words. Many people have a habit of reciting the Our Father by starting out strong with a loud “Our Father who art in heaven” and then they start downhill with a muffled mumble, mumble, mumble, mumble and then finish it off with a loud AMEN! When you study the prayer word for word there are certain things that pop out at you.

The first thing that came to mind is the phrase “Give us this day our daily bread”. I took note that He didn't say “Give us this day our weekly bread”, or “Give us this day our monthly supply” or even “Give us this day our sack of wheat”. He simply told us to ask for today's bread and have faith that tomorrow is a different day entirely. In Matthew 6:34 He reminded us: “Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. The same people who got through many hard times including wars and recessions, unemployment, taxes, sickness, injury, hurricanes, floods, and tornadoes are constantly worried about what is going to happen next. Well, we got this far haven't we? If we got this far then what the heck, we are probably going farther and the going will be easier if we are all singing the same tune.

The second thing that came to mind is the phrase “And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us”. I am sure that most of us take this to mean that we are asking God to forgive our sins in proportion to the forgiveness that we have shown to others. I don't know about you but this is my real weak spot. Anyway, it was interesting to me that the original texts used the words “debt” and “debtors” instead of “trespasses” and “trespass”. Here it is in the Latin version:

Et dīmittē nōbīs dēbita nostra, sīcut et nōs dīmittimus dēbitōribus nostrīs.
And forgive (literally "drop") our debts, as we forgive (literally "drop") our debtors.

This is something to think about in these days of bailouts, bankruptcies, foreclosures, and layoffs et cetera. God is telling us to let bygones be bygones or as we say in Spanish “Borrar y cuenta nueva” (erase and start counting over).

On Easter Sunday over two billion Christians will recite the Our Father in one language or another. Some will mumble it and some will concentrate on the words and pray sincerely. There is another large group of “Christians” who have either forgotten the prayer or haven't recited it since they were little kids. I have written it out below in both Spanish and English. Perhaps you would like to recite it with me or perhaps those of you who live here in Mexico would like to learn it in Spanish. Whatever the case may God bless you and I hope that you have a Happy Easter.

Padre nuestro, que estás en el cielo,
Our Father, who art in heaven,

Santificado sea tu Nombre.
Hallowed be thy Name.

Venga a nosotros tu reino.
Thy kingdom come.

Hágase tu voluntad,
Thy will be done,

On earth as it is in heaven.
En la tierra como en el cielo.

Danos hoy nuestro pan de cada día;
Give us this day our daily bread;

Perdona nuestras ofensas,
And forgive us our trespasses,

Como también nosotros perdonamos a los que nos ofenden;
As we forgive those who trespass against us;

No nos dejes caer en la tentación,
And lead us not into temptation,

Y líbranos del mal. Amen
But deliver us from evil. Amen

[Porque Tuyo es el Reino, el Poder y la Gloria por siempre, Señor. Amén.]
[For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen.]

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