Shine On Me Sunshine, Walk With Me
World
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Back in the day, I loved that song.
I suspect it was my “whistling past the graveyard” attempt. Believe me, I was
anything but the “Happiest Girl in the Whole USA”. I was full of pretense and
misery, unemployed and broke, a single mom, newly divorced.
In those days women bore the onus
and responsibility for a “broken marriage”. Men were simply labeled “single and
up for grabs”. It was not a pretty place for a woman to be.
So I had a bit of an internal giggle
at myself when the words of my once-favorite song looped through my thoughts on
the bus from Mazatlan to Guadalajara, and this forty some years later. The
monster of fear I faced was an eye appointment, which turned out to be positive
in all ways. I am cleared for cataract surgery, but…I’ll think about that
later.
My thoughts on the bus took me to a
realization of how content I am. Who would ever have thought a farm girl from
Harlem, Montana would one day live in Mexico? I could not have imagined my life,
the places I’ve been, the experiences I’ve had and the people I’ve met and come
to love.
Take this week, for example. Ariel
met me at the bus and became my guide through the streets of Guadalajara, to
the doctor’s office and back to the chickens-and-goats bus station, around the
corner from the station with the posh cross country buses
We boarded the bus to Etzatlan, a small farming village, to
be met by his wife, Lani, my cousin Nancie and her husband, Pat.
The very next day Nancie and Pat made
a decision the buy the house in which we were staying. That’s exciting stuff.
It is a beautiful brick casa, built in the old Mexican style. Lani has been
trying to talk me into buying a casa here these last three years.
Life is not all business. The
following day we women drove to Tonala for the tianguis, a huge open-air street
market. Tonala is known for handcrafts, especially pottery. With a new house to
furnish, Nancie geared up to poke around every stall. It is simply not
possible. Four hours of shopping filled Lani’s car. I wanted a clay tea pot. I
have a specific pot in mind, found it, but left empty handed since the pot came
only in a set. Still on the search.
Every village celebrates Carnival,
the Mardi Gras. There is no lack for activities. We’ve watched the dancing
horses, the bull riding, fancy roping, precision riding with the young girls in
full regalia, the “ugly women” contest, and, ah, the parades, the bands, the
costumes, the clowns. We’ve listened to music and munched crispy churros in the
plaza. Much of the fun is watching people, especially the children.
We drove to a mountaintop restaurant which overlooked the
valley, sampled churros in the evening at the plaza, bought chocolate croissants
from our favorite panaderia. Each village has a day for the city tianguis or
market which can take up several streets. After Friday market we ate birria in
that special place along the highway. Not that the place is so special but the
birria, a goat soup, is the mouth-watering best.
Now Lani is leaning on me from one
side and Nancie from the other, trying to convince me to move to Etzatlan. Being
the ultimate tourist is great. Carnival Week and visiting friends and family
are only a tiny piece of life. Everyday living is another matter.
I told Nancie and Lani that moving
here would be like moving from Seattle to Harlem. Big city—small town. I’ve
done both.
I’ve lived in enough places to know
that place isn’t as important as the person living inside the body I take with
me. Most days I’m content with her.
Most I get out of bed and I can say,
Hello, sunsine. Good morning, morning. And if I look in the mirror and see an
old grump, well, she is part of my life too. Meanwhile, it’s a skipped-doo-dah
day.
Sondra
Ashton
HDN: Looking
out my back door
February 11,
2016
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