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D IRE C TOR Y PUBLISHER David Tingen
EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Victoria A. Schmidt
EDITOR EMERITUS Alejandro Grattan-Dominguez
Graphic Design Roberto C. Rojas Reyes Diana Parra Morales Special Events Editor Kim Le Mieux Associate Editor Sally Asante
Index... 38
COVER STORY
RAIN IN THE RAVINE Sergio Casas shares another of his ongoing stories about young Martin. This time Martin and his friends face the challenges when they find themselves deep in a ravine when the rain starts.
08 The Criminal and Me, by O.B. Howell 16 Ulterior Motives, by Dr. Lorin Swinehart 22 A Dark Prince of Columbia, by Bob Drynan 26 Your Gay Grandaddy Tells the Family History, by Don Beaudreau
Theater Critic Michael Warren
28 I Never Had a Horse, by Larry Kolczk
Roving Correspondent Dr. Lorin Swinehart
34 A Brush With Death, by Gabriel Blair
Poetry Editor Mel Goldberg Sales Manager Bruce Fraser Carmene Berner ADVERTISING OFFICE Av. Hidalgo # 223, Chapala Mon. thru Fri. 9 am - 5 pm Sat. 9 am - 1 pm Tel. 01 (376) 765 2877, 765 3676 Fax 01 (376) 765 3528
44 Pink Pencils, by Carol Bradley 48 Anticipation, by Steve Griffin
COLUMNS THIS MONTH
06 Editorial 12 The Streets of Mexico 14 Vexations & Conundrums 18 If Pets Could Talk 20 Life in the Laugh Lane
from When to Say, “When?”, by Martin A. Bojan
30 Lakeside Living
I Am Learning, by Mel Goldberg
36 You and Your Doctor Are
50 Jacaranda, by Michael Warren Meditation, by Rob Moore
The Paper Bark Tree, by Mark Sconce
Ave. Hidalgo 223 (or Apartado 279), 45900 Chapala, Jalisco Tels.: 376 765 3676, Fax 376 765 3528
PRINTING: El Debate El Ojo del Lago aparece los primeros cinco días de cada mes. (Distributed over the first five days of each month) Certificado de Licitud de Título 3693 Certificado de Licitud de Contenido 3117. Reserva al Título de Derechos de Autor 04-2011-103110024300-102 Control 14301. Permisos otorgados por la Secretaría de Gobernación (EXP. 1/432 “88”/5651 de 2 de junio de 1993) y SEP (Reserva 171.94 control 14301) del 15 de enero de 1994. Distribución: Hidalgo 223 Chapala, Jalisco, México. All contents are fully protected by copyright and may not be reproduced without the written consent of El Ojo del Lago. Opinions expressed by the authors do not necessarily reflect the views of the Publisher or the Editor, nor are we responsible for the claims made by our advertisers. We welcome letters, which should include name, address and telephone number.
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By José María Reyes
Dressed in All Our Decades, by Susa Silvermarie
Refugees, by Margaret Van Every Send all correspondence, subscriptions or advertising to: El Ojo del Lago www.chapala.com elojodellago@gmail.com
COVER IMAGE
VOLUME 38 NUMBER 12
El Ojo del Lago / August 2022
Your Medical Team 42 Verdant View 48 Poetry Niche
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COLUMNIST
Editor’s Page By Victoria Schmidt
One Nation?
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was born into a staunch Republican family. My mother signed me up for Teenage Republicans, and my folks also gave financial support to the Republican Party. My mother took great pride in being photographed with President Gerald Ford. As typical for many mothers and daughters, our few differences evolved into sweeping ones. Basically, we disagreed on just about everything. I am sure she thought I was possessed by aliens. But one thing we never argued about was that women were being held back. We were both supporters of Roe v. Wade. I was a sophomore in high school, and with its passing, we celebrated what we perceived as a long-earned victory. She is probably turning in her grave right now. This would have been impossible if her Republican Party still existed. But it doesn’t. The GOPE exists. Grand Old Party Extreme. This party does not believe in the separation of church and state. This party doesn’t believe that women should be in charge of their own bodies. Nor should we receive equal pay for equal work. This party also doesn’t believe in clean air, clean water, and now the Supreme Court underlines that by voting against the EPA. This doesn’t just affect the USA; it affects the world. Right now, Europe is experiencing a “heat apocalypse.” The United Kingdom, today, is enduring its hottest day in their record keeping history, 104F/40C. All-time record heat, wildfires are burning in France and Spain, while northern Italy is suffering one of its worst droughts in decades. Over a thousand people have died from excessive heat in Portugal and Spain. Globally, people are dying from the heat. Extreme for Minnesota, it is experiencing triple digit temperatures. The famed giant sequoias, which have been standing for millennia in Yosemite National Park, were threatened by wildfire as we undergo yet another firestorm
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in our western states. And 35 million Americans have been under excessive heat warnings. A 2021 National Geographic study found that more than a third of all heat deaths worldwide can be pinned on climate change. Scientists have been predicting this for a long while, but it remains an “inconvenient truth,” even labeled a left-wing conspiracy theory by many on the far right. The new norm is, the powers that be simply turn the page, adopting the “it’s someone else’s problem” attitude. Our Supreme Court which is supposed to uphold the law of the land, to remain objective, to uphold the Constitution, has become unbalanced and political. The United States is no long united; it’s divided, vociferously so, and we are hurtling towards a catastrophe. I have long been a proponent of a law that requires every citizen to vote. We should not have the Electoral College. The popular vote would win. Period. Isn’t that the very definition of a democracy, the voice of the majority prevails? But today the will of the people is being thwarted by gerrymandering. Time should be spent on governing instead of weaseling votes. Right now, our two-party system isn’t functioning. And the developing trend we’ve seen in recent primaries is the losing candidate proclaims the election was rigged. This sophomoric attitude would be laughable were it not such a direct threat to democracy. Our high school students running for class president show more maturity. Our courts are clogged at every level, and the “supreme” court has become the “inferior” court and no longer follows its mandate. We think of ourselves as a country of law and order, where individual rights are protected, but for most of us, we can simply say, “That was in the good old days.” We now debate if the police are really policing? What happened to
protect and serve? Call 911 and wait on hold. Call 911 and watch the police in Uvalde wait and do nothing. Call 911, are they going to protect the peaceful protestors or will they be killed by insurrectionists? I also believe that anyone running for state or national office needs to be able to pass a high school civics level litmus test. We need smart people in office who understand what governing is. I speak for no party, no religion, no corporation. I am simply speaking to people directly, not only to those who see things as I do. With open minds, can we
not look objectively at this perilous path we’re following and together resolve to create a realistic approach toward protecting our country and our world and its inhabitants? What is needed is clear-headed leadership, leaders who listen and are not labeled as weak if compromise that mirrors the will of the majority is reached. Or we may lose our nation to chaos. Victoria Schmidt
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The Criminal and Me By O.B. Hollow
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n early 1972, when I was almost 19 and my parents were divorcing, I chose to live with my father. He was a man who loved everyone unconditionally, but was passive beyond all reason. He had never managed, and hardly tried, to subdue his paranoid, unpredictable Italian wife. Our attractive West Texas home was a prison and she was warden. Rage and violence were the tools of her demons; so, no one was safe, not him, not me or my sisters, and not anyone who might unwittingly come to call. Perhaps because in the 50’s and 60’s a father was very unlikely to get custody of three little girls, my father endured – always present, but never intervening.
As we had each turned 18, we were allowed only “coke dates” with anyone willing to brave the warden’s blatant cruelty about how they dressed or spoke. We were too embarrassed to have visitors; school and little parttime jobs were our places of refuge – there we were valued and respected. As a young woman, I was naïve, but knew a few things for sure. I would find a way out and never again witness her abuse; I was willing to harm her to protect myself, or someone I loved; and, because I knew what a bad wife looked like, I would someday be a good wife. What a bad man might look like was unknown to me. My eldest sister, the closest thing I
had to what a mother should be, had died tragically three years earlier. Without her good counsel, I was adrift at sea. Even living with Dad, I just wanted to be free and as far from my mother’s domination as possible. The same town was not far enough. Other things happened in, or had happened prior to, the year 1972 that would matter to me very soon: Research showed that untreated, abused children tend to find partners who will continue the abuse they have come to expect, and might believe they deserve; Serious discussion of the concept of “informed consent” before a medical procedure was just beginning; Medical doctors allowed husbands to give consent for a fully conscious and competent wife’s procedures; Police officers could do little or nothing about threats of, or actual, domestic violence; In October, a young female Texas attorney argued Roe v. Wade before the US Supreme Court, with a 7-2 opinion legalizing abortion handed down in January 1973; and, A high school friend of my eldest sister needed a female singer for his country band. So, in the summer of 1972, with only the chance to leave West Texas and make my way alone, and no one to stop me, I fled to New Mexico, to sing and make what I thought was real money. When December came, I announced plans to marry Marco. “You sound like such a nice girl. Please don’t marry my son.” His mother’s voice over the pay phone was so kind through the heavy Italian accent. I would surprise her, I thought. I would be a good wife and everything would be as it should. I ignored her warning and when I met her in person, I was her son’s wife. My parents and I believed everything: He had owned a building contractor business in Louisville, where his mother lived; he had attended M.I.T. (a university we knew nothing about); and, he would build us a home to start our new life together. As it turned out, we spent the first few months of our marriage at his mother’s home. I loved her but was thrilled when she politely told us to leave. Clearly, she believed he would not earn his own living unless forced to. He told me he could find work in Tucson and there we headed. What I learned from his mother was that Marco had spent many days as a child tied to a tree. Nadia had come to New Mexico as a very young woman with a new husband and a child on the way, only to find that her husband had another wife and family. She had no child support, no ability to speak Eng-
lish, one child after the next because of his random visits, and no option of abortion. Her sole support was working two jobs as a small town waitress. She felt she had no choice, and with the agreement of the local sheriff, Marco, her oldest child, was physically restrained in order to prevent the serious mischief he caused otherwise. Within weeks of our time in Tucson, I realized I had married my mother. Nothing I did was right – the way I dressed, the way I walked, the way I talked. Verbal abuse became physical abuse. Even in my sleep I was punched in the face. “I dreamed I was fighting,” he would say. His days away from the concretefloored, sad house became longer and longer, until he was arriving in the night, drunk and crying, begging forgiveness for losing money at billiards. I was determined to be so good for him that everything would change. Every morning I was up early to cook his breakfast, draw his bath, iron his clothes, and send him off like June Cleaver, then walk as far as I could walk, in hopes of finding my own job. “You should beat her if you need to,” pronounced my mother when she surprised us with a visit on a hot day in summer. “You’re her husband now, Marco.” I recall them laughing together, conversing as if I weren’t there. I finally turned to my father. In a letter, I described how miserable I was, how I detested sex. I hoped he would call, thinking over the phone it would be easier to say how fearful I was, how rough Marco was. But my father was not a man to discuss sex with anyone. He sent flowers, and broke my heart. What I needed, Marco and a male doctor decided together, was a female circumcision. I did not understand then that this was a form of genital mutilation. Needless to say, it made no difference; sex was painful and unwelcome. The violence continued to escalate. One lovely day as Marco was driving, he suddenly slammed on the brakes and his right hand flew across my face, dislocating my jaw. “I saw that! I saw you looking at that man!” “What man?” “That black man on the sidewalk! I know you want to be with him!” He reached across me, opened the passenger door, and tried to push me. The car was still moving at a good speed but I was able to struggle against falling out. With my first attempt at leaving, Marco caught up with me and I was lifted off the ground by the seat of my jeans as I came out of the bank. I had withdrawn exactly half of our balance. I managed to loosen myself from
Continued on page 10
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From page 8 his grip and run toward the street. I approached a group of construction workers screaming for help. They shook their heads, looked at their steel-toed boots, and turned away. Then I flagged a passing police officer. He heard my story and followed me to where Marco stood, then directed me to the back seat of our El Camino, telling Marco to drive home and he would follow. There, he told us to sit down. I had no history with anything remotely similar, certainly not with “good old boy” scenarios, but Marco smirked. The officer smiled at Marco, advised him to be a good husband, and turned to me, saying what Marco did in our home was a private affair, marital business, not government business. Within weeks I learned I was pregnant and tried again to leave. This time, in desperation, I called my mother. That same day, she called saying she had paid for my flight to Houston and I needed to be at the airport right away. When I arrived at the Continental Airlines counter, I was barefoot and had spaghetti sauce on my yellow T-shirt, not your typical passenger. Airline agents were able to make their own decisions in those days. They ushered
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me over the baggage scale and into the baggage storage area, out of sight. I made it to Houston where my mother expected me. Where else could I have gone? She told me she had arranged an appointment with a gynecologist the next day. She and I discussed the now legal option of an abortion. I thought I would receive information from the doctor and would then make a decision, but that’s not how it happened. Shortly after what I told myself was merely a pelvic exam, the doctor told me the abortion had been performed. I would not need to return. Sometimes I feel relief that I didn’t make the decision myself, other times I suppose I need to admit that I did. But every October since that October, I think of a child who might have been. And, I wonder whether I could have protected him or her. I’d like to say the story ends there, but there were more apologies and more pleas. He had nothing to say about losing our child and I guessed I was not the first woman to abort his child. “I am moving to Austin to go to college. You will have to buy me a car, make a living, and let me focus on my education,” I made clear. And, he did make a living, by filing what I imagined was a false claim for Workman’s Comp against his Arizona employer. Then, he spent his time on the sofa watching television. It took Marco shoving the refrigerator at me, then slapping a flat hand against my ear, to get my attention for the last time. I spent days with hearing loss in one ear, not knowing whether it would return. I began to secretly pack every dish and pan into boxes and hide them in the one place I knew he would never find them, in the kitchen cabinets he had never opened. So, on the sofa watching television is where he was when my dad and stepmother arrived one Saturday. They were ready to take me and the boxes I had hidden. Marco was completely befuddled, unwilling to show his true nature to my family and shocked that there was nothing he could do. I last saw him sitting in the over-stuffed chair he had spent close to every moment of the last six months in. It was a glorious plan. I had just finished my semester at the University of Texas and now I was on my way to ditch the trailer at a family member’s home in San Antonio and head with my dad and kind step-mother to their destination – a week at the Texas coast! More clearly than anything else, I remember my euphoria. I was barely 21 and it was over. Finally, and completely, it was over.
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COLUMNIST
Streets of Mexico By David Ellison
Teresa Urrea
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he was the Mexican Joan of Arc. In 1889, when she was 16 years old, Teresa Urrea suffered an acute case of catalepsy, which left her in a death-like coma for nearly two weeks. When she recovered in an apparently miraculous resurrection, she claimed that she’d had heavenly visions and that the Virgin Mary had given her the power to heal. Word spread and thousands made pilgrimage to her Sinaloan town of Cábora to see Teresa and possibly to experience a miraculous cure. Many claimed they did. Soon they were calling her a saint. Even church officials were initially impressed, reporting that Teresa was “always friendly with the sick, especially with the poor, without ever getting angry, demonstrating an exemplary humility. A heroic, she is without rest from dawn until sometimes late at night, and caters patiently and personally with the angry, touching with her hands the most nasty sores, making her bed alongside some patients who suffered from infectious diseases such as phthisis, lazarinos (leprosy), and others.” Healing the sick was one thing. Speaking out against the church and the government was quite another. Teresa did, giving sermons dealing not just with love, but with equality and justice. She urged her mostly native crowds to pray directly to God, and not to rely on priests allied with the dicta-
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tor, Porfirio Díaz, who had stolen their land. Accounts differ regarding whether Teresa actually encouraged revolution; but, regardless, she at least inadvertently incited violent uprisings throughout the northern states of Sinaloa, Chihuahua, and Sonora. For example, crying “¡Viva La Santa de Cábora!” (“Long live the Saint of Cábora!), the citizens of Tomóchic, Chihuahua, declared their independence, and then were massacred by an overwhelming government army (the unfortunate fate for many of St. Teresa’s zealots). Teresa was subsequently expelled from Mexico. Teresa continued her folk healing and fiery sermons in the United States, and eventually opened a dispensary in Clifton, Arizona, for Mexican and Black miners who suffered from horrific diseases like tuberculosis. She, herself, succumbed to it, dying at the young age of 33. This is a selection from Ellison’s forthcoming book, Niños Héroes: The Fascinating Stories Behind Mexican Street Names.
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Abundant Joy
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e have had our hillside home here overlooking Lake Chapala for twenty-one magical years. It is hard to explain to someone how special it is here, unless you can show them in person. I once had a visitor who exclaimed upon first seeing the view of the lake from the mountain, “Tina Turner on the Riviera!” I’d say if my life quality approaches Tina Turner’s, I am at a pinnacle. My husband took me to Lake Como in Italy many years ago. We stayed in
what we heard was one of the finest hotels in the area. Famous people hold their weddings there. We went down to the terrace on the water, and I looked across the lake, then walked to the water’s edge. I looked up and down the water, off to the distance. I walked back to sit with my husband and order our exorbitantly priced drinks, expensive enough to give one pause. “I hate to tell you this, Honey, now that you spent all this money to get us here, but Lake Chapala puts this place to shame.”
The Chapala area has a special feeling to it. First, there is the perfect climate and verdant beauty of nature here, birds flitting constantly, breezes tickling one’s face. Perhaps it comes from the warmth and kindness of the people who inhabit the area. They take care to see that you get where you need to go, and obtain services you may need. Often they go out of their way to help you if you have a problem. Recently we experienced our first flat tire. My husband was delighted when he found a spare tire, though it was temporary and small, hidden under a plastic screw-on cover. Our male guest, a tall gentleman approaching sixty, and my husband began the task of replacing the flat. They gave it a valiant effort! Twenty minutes passed and our guys were not having success removing the tight bolts holding the flat tire in place. Off to our right, I watched a flat-bed truck filled with young people enjoying beers at the week’s end. They were observing the gringos go about their project, as though it were a play for their entertainment. My girlfriend and I stood off to the side, the evening breezes blowing our dresses, not helping the situation, but acting as diligent observers. Suddenly a muscle-bound young man, maybe twenty-eight years old, hopped off the back of the truck and sauntered confidently over to our area.
“What’s happening?,” asked my female friend. “Superman is here,” I responded. The young man offered in Spanish to help. Our men accepted readily, and he dropped down into what I’d call a plank position, his muscles rippling. A quick confirmation that the jack was in place and he effortlessly removed all the bolts in about two minutes, changed the tire, and replaced the bolts. He wiped his hands of dirt and oil as he stood and wished us a good evening. We offered dinero in gratitude and he adamantly refused, wishing us a safe departure. His friends whistled and applauded as their hero returned. I explained to my friend that things like this happen all the time in Mexico. Our years here are filled with what I call “Mexico moments,” where people help you, or improvise a seemingly impossible task, clearing up problems you thought were hopeless. There is also another aspect to these past decades that can’t go unmentioned. When we first arrived, we were invited to attend local events. Some involved helping animals, some helped the population in need, some injected music and the culture of Mexico into our lives. We jumped to attend the gatherings, not realizing the positive effects they would have on our lives. The people who are active in charitable and cultural activities are socially magnetic. They are talented and care about others. They want to give back to this community that gives such peace and happiness to their lives. In the end, one builds a circle of friends that enriches life immeasurably. If we had stayed at home, gazing lovingly at the lake, we would never have had the opportunity to learn the inner happiness that comes from relationship building in a diverse community. We are afforded the joy of a village full of care, and the peaceful, karmic circle that ensues. Katina Pontikes
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Ulterior Motives Dr. Lorin Swinehart
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t was nearing dark on a sultry summer evening during my fourth season as a National Park service ranger on an island out in Lake Erie when a good friend and I decided to take a break from our usual five mile trek to catch some rest before continuing our daily regimen. We had been struggling to lose weight and improve our health and wellbeing since early spring that year. There was a tiny state park, not more than a few picnic tables, jutting out into the harbor, and that is where we stopped to rest. As we sat at one of the picnic tables, talking over the events of the day and watching the gathering darkness descend upon the waters of Lake Erie, two young women who appeared to be in their early twenties approached and sat down opposite us. I was immediately suspicious. Why would two young women approach two old white haired off duty park rangers in a lonely picnic area at nightfall? We were the only people in the park at that time of night, and there were many other picnic tables available. The island where we served for several years as National Park Service rangers was infamous for the bad behavior that typified so many visitors during the summer months. I assumed the worst; either the young women were prostitutes or they were underage and hoped to persuade us to buy alcohol for them. There was no way the situation could possibly be in-
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nocent. As they engaged us in conversation, I grew more and more uneasy, especially as the sky over the park transitioned to ink black, with a few stars feebly shining through the murk of midsummer. In response to their questions, we shared some of the daily challenges and rewards of serving as rangers on such a beautiful island, one with such historical significance. Our part of the conversation included safety issues, silly questions sometimes asked by visitors, the significance of the monument and the six officers interred beneath it, casualties of the Battle of Lake Erie in 1813. They talked about their schools and the classes they were taking, pretty standard stuff for persons of that age. Nothing the least bit improper or suggestive arose in the conversation. Still, having been trained to regard anything that seems wrong to be wrong, I was unable to accept the situation at face value. I was on guard. Something just had to be wrong here. My unease continued unabated. The situation was surreal. I could think of no good reason why they would sit uninvited at our picnic table or why they would have any interest at all in the stories we had to relate. The evening grew ever darker. The hour was late. I wanted to offer some excuse to leave this uncomfortable situation. We could say that we were needed back at the ROC (Ranger Operations Center) or that we needed to head back because we had early duty in the morning, which we probably did. Finally, one of them said, somewhat tentatively, “We have a question we would like to ask you.” I thought to myself, “Oh boy. Here it comes. This can’t possibly be anything good.” Then one of the pair inquired, “We would like to know if you have accepted Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior. We’re here from Campus Crusade.” Lorin Swinehart
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COLUMNIST
If Our Pets Could Talk By Jackie Kellum
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any times a pet will let you know he is not feeling well. We need to learn and recognize signs of these health changes, compared to your pet’s ‘normal’. The purpose of the article is not to tell you what the problem is or its cause. Below is a guide to help you observe and provide examples of what kind of changes that may be unusual for your pet, especially if it is a large change or a new unexplained change. When in doubt, take your pet to your “regular” Vet., especially if it is near the weekend so a thorough examination can help determine if there is a medical issue before it might become a larger problem Changes in the Gastro-Intestinal System: Decrease or lack of appetite, sudden unexplained weight gain or loss, vomiting and/or diarrhea are frequently the first symptoms of an illness, especially if it has occurred over an extended period of time. If the problem lasts more than a day, especially associated with other symptoms like a behavior change, etc. see your Vet. to investigate the underlying cause. Change in Urination: Cats who previously have used the litter box and now pee in other places, or dogs who previously were house-broken and now peeing in the house, are telling you there is a problem. Things to observe for: straining, changes in urine volume [increase or decrease], frequency of urination [excess or decrease], change in urine smell, or visible blood. If possible, take a sample of the urine with you to the Vet. Unusual amount / sudden excessive drooling: If the weather is not particularly hot, and your pet has not exerted himself, and is having difficulty eating his food, food falling out of his mouth, – especially kibble, or has an unusual new smell change in his mouth, rubbing his face on objects, or pawing at his face, etc. these changes should be evaluated. Change in Drinking Habit: If it is a warm day and your pet has exercised a lot, they normally drink a lot of water. But, if the pet keeps going back to the water bowl very frequently within a short period of this, this is not ‘normal’. Drinking much
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more water [‘water intoxication’] or a lot less water than usual, for a period of time, should be evaluated. Change in Breathing: It is normal for your pet to pant after playing or, after being outdoors on a warm day. Heavy, on-going panting is not normal, especially if there is an audible sound during breathing and associated with secretions from their eyes/ nose. If your pet has difficulty breathing or has an on-going blue tint to their tongue/ gums, this should be considered an urgent contact with your Vet. Change in Odor: Your know what your pet ‘normally’ smells like although healthy pets do not ‘stink’. If there is a change or intensity of the smell in your pet’s mouth, ears, anal area, expelled ‘gas’, skin integrityespecially if there are lesions or an open-area…. this should be evaluated. Change in Behavior / Personality: When a pet is in pain or ill, they sometimes behave differently, i.e.: less active, lethargic, hide, withdraw, have unprovoked aggression, erratic temperament, hyperactivity, fearfulness, anxiety, submissiveness, become clingy, etc. The cause of this unexplained behavior change should be assessed. Change in Mobility: may be due to: pain, vision or hearing loss, aging, disease or injury – a thorough examination should help determine the cause of this activity difference. Observe your pet – “Change” is not necessarily a good thing - especially if it involves Health. Jackie Kellum
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COLUMNIST
By Scott Jones
The Electric Fishermen
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ature is my next-door neighbor. My outdoor kitchen/deck faces a marsh and the mountains. If something drops off the counter or deck, it bounces into the stream, which is very convenient for getting rid of fruit skins, piles of suicidal insects of unwanted guests. Although it seems very secluded, I never know who or what will show up: a 300-year-old woman ambles by as I’m doing yoga and wonders why the weird white guy is motionless in a pretzel position; some little dude with a very big gun hunts something while I hope it’s not Farang Season; a manmonkey hybrid scampers up a vertical tree and munches leaves.
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And The Electric Fishermen slosh through the stream. The stream looks lovely from a distance but it’s not the clear, cool, mountain variety. It’s warm, flat, brown and filled with agricultural whatever, sinister septic hoo-hah, UFOs—Unidentified Floating Objects,
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stool samples from my landlord’s diverse fowl collection, excretions from other bungalows, and yesterday, a sixfoot snake. After stepping in while attempting to retrieve runaway kitchen items and sinking ankle-deep into invisible muck, I scrub with concentrated cleaning fluid, bleach and sandpaper. Not only do The Electric Fishermen wade in this infested water up to their necks, their homemade “fishing rod” is hot with watts. Their instrument of death is a mesh of metal lashed to a snake-length bamboo pole wrapped with a live wire slithering through the water, up the bank and finally sticking in one side of one outlet by my water pump. Fisherman A kills and Fisherman B stuffs the assorted dead in a sack as the wife and kids watch the shocking scene, prepared to pull Daddy out and put him in a body bag. I just picture their hair dryer drops into the bathtub. It’s no mystery why my electric bill doubled with these addled anglers pumping current straight into the waterways of Thailand. Fishing in America is littered with specific licenses, daily limits, one-hook rules, seasonal regulations, computerized fish locators, atomic depth finders, supernatural strategies and endless TV angling shows that rival golf shows for
Death By Boredom. I don’t remember anyone plodding through sewage, armed with high-powered cattle prods and extension cords, but this method brings to mind a story involving two neighbors: an avid fisherman and the game warden. Mr. Fisher routinely comes home with a huge catch. When Mr. Warden asks to join him and get a few tips, Mr. Fisher says, “No problem. Meet me at the lake on Saturday at dawn.” Out in the boat, Mr. Fisher lights a stick of dynamite, flings it into the water and scores of lifeless fish fly into the air. As he gathers them into his net, Mr. Warden goes ballistic: “This is outrageous! Totally illegal and disgusting! I’ll have you put away!” Mr. Fisher calmly reaches into his tackle box, gets another stick, lights it, throws it into Mr. Warden’s lap and asks, “Are you going to bitch or are you going to fish?” I hope The Electric Fishermen never learn this technique or my domestic peace will be shattered by explosions as dead fish, snakes, geese and body parts of the fishermen and their families flop onto my Scott Jones deck.
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A Dark Prince of Colombia By Robert Drynan
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n Cali, Colombia, Alberto Hernán Guerra, a young man suddenly found himself as head of the substantial family business when his father, Don Saturno Guerra, was hospitalized in Houston, Texas, and diagnosed with a terminal illness. The milling business in Colombia was just emerging from almost total government control. Prices of inputs and products had been officially set. The state imported the wheat and oversaw the sale of flour, setting quotas to each baker. Industrial processors, such as cookie factories and pasta plants, were subjected to the same regimen. Alberto Hernán wanted to draw on my eleven years of experience in the freewheeling milling business in Venezuela. In 1981, I accepted employment with the Guerra flour milling company. But soon after I arrived in Cali, Don Saturno miraculously recovered and returned to Colombia to find me seated at the right hand of his son and in charge of his mills, and making drastic changes in their operations and management! Don Saturno and I immediately clashed. He inserted himself into dayto-day operations. I moved my office twenty miles from Cali to our largest mill, in the city of Palmira. One time I ordered payment of overtime to a man I had asked to come in and perform a task for me on Sunday. Don Saturno cancelled the payment and told the worker that he should be grateful he had a job. Workers in Colombia were submissive and furtive, a boot on their necks. They sought to remain unnoticed. They refused to meet my eyes when I talked to them. During my year and half there I got to know very few of them by name or personality. Don Saturno, a small, wiry man, about 130 pounds, had enormous presence. His thick, white hair thrust upward like an eagle’s crest. His brooding eyes were set in a narrow, scowling face with harshly etched lines. He patrolled his domain; mills, pasta plant, and sugarcane fields, finding fault with everything. His eyes flashed, almost shooting sparks. He shouted in a shrill, grating voice.
He didn’t spit flames, but evoked the Devil in his paroxysms of rage. When he stalked through the plants, the workers stopped, taking off their hats, eyes downcast. The living image of a Spanish Grandee, he was El Patrón. But Don Saturno was not a Spanish Grandee. In a land where the poor man never rises from the bottom, Don Saturno Guerra did. His story comes from various sources, some his personal narratives and some accounts by his many enemies. He began as a poor trucker in the southern city of Pasto, capital of Nariño state bordering Ecuador. Running freight and produce to Cali, several hundred miles away, Guerra obtained a contract to transport gold from the Nariño mines to the Bank of Colombia in Cali. The narrow road between the two cities cuts through soaring, heavily forested mountains and magnificent views overlooking deep canyons, home to rushing streams and riverine lakes. It is to this day a wilderness region much favored by bandits and guerrillas. The story goes that one day Saturno staggered into the Bank of Colombia in Cali and informed the officials that he had been assaulted by bandits. The gold bars had been taken and his truck driven into a ravine and burned. Within a year Don Saturno had purchased an interest in a flour mill in Pasto, and a year later he purchased machinery for a second mill that he built in Cali. Most of the preceding part of the story comes from his enemies. A hard businessman, he had plenty of bitter enemies. He did it the “Old fashioned way, he earned them!” The whole truth is probably far more complex, but I am sure that his start did not come from saving his earnings as a truck driver. On two different occasions Don Saturno regaled me how he had come by the mill in Palmira. The most modern mill in South America, it employed the most advanced technology available from world leading Swiss milling engi neers, too sophisticated and expensive a technology for the still primitive industry in Colombia. The owner, a poor businessman, found himself unable to Continued on page 24
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From page 22 service the debt he had acquired. He tried to sell the mill, but the only person willing to purchase it, Don Saturno, chortled that he offered so little for it that the man would be ruined. He recounted that the man begged him, but Saturno would not budge from his offer. The man resisted, falling further into debt. Finally, forced to sell the mill to Don Saturno for an even lower price, the man took his own life. It was hard-headed business, but the point of the story is Don Saturno savored the telling of it. Shortly after I moved my office to Palmira, I found a peculiar object lying in my desk drawer, a small pewter model of a penis with wings on it! I didn’t think much of it, and threw it in the trash. A few days later, another one appeared. I casually mentioned it to Mario, my plant manager in Palmira, who showed me an identical one that had been placed in his desk. He said that it was satanic curse that had been deliberately placed in our desks. That I fired Mario’s predecessor before Don Saturno’s miraculous return from Houston had incensed the old man. Mario went on to explain that he had heard of a circle of Satanists in the company, led by Don Victor, the company’s chief accountant and close confidante of Don Saturno. With Don Saturno
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at death’s door in Houston, this satanic circle had prayed to their master for his recovery. They were certain that his return was the doing of the Devil! It made sense to me. In South America satanic cults and other primitive practices derived from the cultures of African slaves and the beliefs and practices of indigenous inhabitants are common, especially in a social environment where the Roman Catholic Church itself exercises a very powerful, cult-like influence on the population. They flourish particularly in rural areas, but also find their place in urban populations and among educated people. The amulets continued to appear sporadically in my desk, in my pickup, and among other personal effects until I left Colombia. Arguably, they worked! After a little over a year in Colombia, I informed Alberto Hernán that I was leaving the company in December of 1982. He was very unhappy with me. We had agreed on a two-year arrangement, but his father had made it clear that I was not wanted there. Meanwhile, I had completed all of the projects that I had set out to accomplish. To leave Colombia, a foreign worker must obtain a document called a solvencia to prove that his tax obligations had been fully satisfied. It must be presented to the immigration authorities in order
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to obtain an exit visa. At Christmas time all officialdom slows to a standstill. I was given to understand that I could expect to receive my solvencia sometime in January. I had sent my family back to the United States six months earlier because of serious security problems. I was determined to be home with them for Christmas. I would leave either by suborning an exit visa or by crossing the border illegally into Panama. My satanic adversary came to my assistance. Don Victor arranged contact with some rough- looking characters that I had to meet in a back street of the old part of Cali. They told me the solvencia would cost me 300 US dollars. They would call me when everything was prepared. When they called me, carrying only the exact amount in cash, I met them. The four of them crowded with me into a VW van. A large man, probably weighing about 250 pounds, sat beside me. I rode with them to the immigration office in Cali, wondering if I was going to end up floating facedown in the river. They folded fifty dollars inside my passport, and instructed me to give it to a specific clerk when I entered alone. The official took the passport and expertly slipped the fifty dollars into his pocket and stamped my passport without once looking at my face. Without further incident, I was
given a ride back to my pickup. I arrived home a week before Christmas. Following my departure, Don Saturno left the operation of the company to his son. In later years, I returned to Colombia on business many times. Alberto Hernán and I have remained friends. He built his father’s original business into a large multimillion dollar operation today, tentimes the size it was in 1982. Two years after I left a sicario (assassin) rode up to Don Victor on a Moped and shot him in the head as he walked down the street Cali! Alberto Hernán insisted to me that it was a case of mistaken identity. Strangely, Don Saturno became very friendly and welcomed me warmly whenever I visited Cali. Occasionally, he wrote to me, soliciting my views on various business schemes that he was cooking up. I was giving a seminar on wheat purchasing to South American millers at Kansas State University in June of 2001. One of Alberto Hernán’s managers attended. We received news that Don Saturno had died at age 89. The young manager cried. Robert Drynan
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Your Gay Granddaddy Tells The Family Secrets By Don Beaudreau
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y mother always outdid the other mothers in our 1950’s Washington, D.C. middle-class neighborhood. Especially in preparing extravagant meals for the chosen ones invited to our house by my father, your great granddaddy, the criminal. Being the 1950’s housewife, your great-grandmamma agreed with his decision and did all the work. So the chosen ones enjoyed clam dip on a Saltine, a Waldorf salad, a Porterhouse steak, a baked potato with everything on it, fresh asparagus, a Pillsbury dinner roll, and strawberry shortcake with copious dollops of Redi Whip.
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When they married in 1933 and moved to Washington, D.C. my parents discovered a new way of life. Both were from small, rural towns: my father from Rhode Island; my mother from Maryland. He was far more experienced in the ways of the world however, and, wanted to continue living the vida loca that only a big city could provide. So she agreed. My father, always the bad boy but now a married one, was the breadwinner for the newly created family. That was how it usually was done in those days: the man of the house left the house to provide for the family; the woman of the house remained in the house to do the housework because she was a housewife and was expected to keep a clean house for her man and children. So she agreed. But my father’s breadwinning was of the bad boy kind. It was an illegal occupation. In other words, he worked for the “mob” — as a bookie. Still, the job provided a more substantial income and a tax-free one, perks that he and my mother would not have enjoyed had he done something else. Even if he could have found a job in those hard economic times of the Great Depression. In addition, he enjoyed the company of gang members — the other guys who made more money than
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most guys their age who were attempting to stay out of jail. His local posse of fellow criminals were guys like he was--young, street-smart, willing to work hard for the money, and anything but a WASP (White Anglo Saxon Protestant), at least not “white” as in very light skin! Most were swarthy of skin, and Jewish or Catholic. Their noses were inherited from their marauding ancestral tribesmen: long and aquiline, some of them hooked. These nasal appendages were not those of cherubic dimension or demeanor. These noses were sharp and meant business. To support this conviction, their no-nonsense noses were accompanied by a variety of weapons hidden away here and there in these bad boys’ three-piece suits. Adding to the gangster’s menacing look were Fedora hats, all of them cocked at precisely the same angle to hide one eye, and to leave the person who was the customer assured that if the eye they could see was so scary, the eye they couldn’t see must be the eye of the devil! So the customer knew that he better pay his debts to the mob, or suffer unfortunate consequences! This camaraderie between these young men symbolized the ageold connection between males. This meant that their wives and kids were part of the family, too. Entertaining each other in their homes was important to maintain a sense of community. The wives did all the work, of course. Their husbands expected them to do so. My father expected my mother to do so. Again, she agreed. An unsophisticated young woman when she married my father, her life as a mid-century, middle-class housewife with a husband and two young boys kept her busy, but not always fulfilled or calm. After all, she was of Scottish and Irish descent, and possessed a lot of energy. In other words, she had a bad case of nerves that sometimes showed itself with a fierce temper. To calm down, she took up alcohol, compulsive house cleaning, and throwing whatever item she could find at my father whenever she could find him (he stopped being home most of the time when I was a boy). But when he was home, he was the life of the party, those very dinner parties she slaved over for his gangster buddies and their wives and kids. As time went on, my mother’s drinking and fits of fury increased, as did my father’s absences from home. When he was home, my mother would fight with him, and accuse him of having “another family.” She was right, a fact I learned only decades after my parents had died. I presume he had many mistresses, not just the one
I knew of for certain — the woman with whom he had a son, my halfbrother I have never met. In 1951 when I was six years old, my father decided that maybe he and my mother should transfer their love of community into less criminal connections, or at least give that outward impression to the cops who were always hovering around my father and the other bookies. So my parents hopped on the Mid-Century American bandwagon and joined a Middle Class Protestant church. They began to tithe, giving to the “Lord” 10 % of my father’s gross income (granted, neither he nor the church ever knew what that amount would be from week to week). So instead of the gang of criminals coming to our house for booze and Porterhouses still gushing blood, the gang of holy rollers was coming to our house for V-8 Juice and over-cooked Porterhouses that required diners to have massive jaw strength to chew. Such was my upbringing for the first twelve years of my life: caught between my own wanting to be a bad boy and a little angel. And realizing all the time, that I was different from the other boys I knew, although I didn’t know how to label myself other than to believe what others said of me: I was a crybaby, I was too sensitive, I needed to stop hopscotching with the girls and start playing ball with the boys, I needed to stop locking myself in my parent’s bedroom and pretending to be Judy Garland singing “Over the Rainbow.” Of course, my older brother did all the things my parents wanted me to do. In addition, he didn’t stutter like I did. He collected baseball cards. He played with his tin soldiers. He didn’t spend hours in the bathroom experimenting with our mother’s makeup. He smelled, and I never did. Then one day in the autumn of 1956, my mother made a statement to me, to the other housewives, to the bookie gang, to the church gang, but most all to my father, that she was pissed off and needed to show how pissed off she was! In retrospect, I realize that she was proclaiming she was a feminist…. To be continued in part two. ***** Note: Don Beaudreau is a local writer who has published 10 books on AMAZON BOOKS. This selection is taken from a work in progress. It is dedicated to his 3 granddaughters. wbeaudreau@aol. Don Beaudreau com
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I Never Had a Horse By Larry Kolczak
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never had a horse. My wife, who grew up on an acreage in Iowa, had six of them over the years. I grew up in Chicago. The only horse I ever got close enough to actually touch was hitched to a fruit peddler’s wagon in the old Polish neighborhood. Not exactly a “Hi-Ho-Silver” experience. Years later, when I was living in Des Moines, I received an adult education brochure in the mail that listed a horseback riding class for only $50. I couldn’t pass that up. It was an early evening class, and I could just make it if I snuck out of the office early. By the time I arrived, the class was full and the horses were being as-
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signed. Because of my long legs, the instructor assigned me Big Red. Just then, another student arrived. He apologized for being late. He was an accountant, and his boss wouldn’t let him leave the office early. He explained that he had only recently received the adult education brochure. By the time he tried to apply, all the courses were full except the one for Chinese cooking. He wrinkled his nose as he said those words. He hoped our instructor would show mercy and squeeze in one more student. By then, all the standard rent-aplugs had already been assigned— Daisy and Flicka, Smokey and Buttercup. So the instructor had to dip into
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his private stock. He called out to his teenage daughter to saddle up her horse, Rocket. As soon as she brought him out, I was jealous. Not because he was a more beautiful horse than mine, but because he had a saddle of padded suede. My saddle was polished leather and as hard as a church pew. It turns out, the owner’s daughter was a champion barrel racer. She needed a suede saddle because polished leather was too slippery. When Rocket would take off, he could shoot right out from under her. Finally, we were all mounted up and ready to go. As we were leaving the barn yard, we began to file past an empty corral with an open gate. As Rocket came up to that gate, he suddenly broke ranks and shot off into that corral at a dead run. The accountant clutched the saddle with both hands as if his life depended on it. And it did. It turns out, this was the arena in which the owner’s daughter practiced her barrel racing. It didn’t even matter that the barrels had been removed earlier that day. Rocket knew the circuit by heart—three skidding hairpin turns, and a straight shot to the finish line. The suede saddle kept the accountant from sliding off through the
entire performance until the horse came to a skidding halt at the barn. It is unclear whether the accountant dismounted or was ejected. But, he hit the ground running and didn’t stop until he reached the parking lot. He got in his car, and burned rubber all the way down the gravel driveway. Maybe, just maybe, he could still get into that Chinese cookery class. The rest of us proceeded cautiously past that corral gate, and down the trail. I found out Big Red had his own idiosyncrasies. As we walked along the fence line, he tried to scrape me off on the barbed wire. Fortunately, I was able to keep my balance as I raised my leg out of harm’s way. Then we came to the woods. As he meandered among the tree trunks and brambles, I had to raise one leg, and then the other. When he aimed for low-hanging branches, I had to either lean forward, or lie back. Eventually, the instructor looked back and spotted me going through my gymnastic pommel horse routine. He yelled, “Don’t let him do that. Let him know who’s boss.” Right. He knew who was boss. I was just thankful he wasn’t into barrel racing. We finally cleared the woodland obstacle course and began sauntering through the pasture. The wrangler took this opportunity to answer people’s questions. Someone asked how often a horse needs shoeing? Big surprise. I thought you put shoes on them once they were full grown, and they lasted for life. What the heck, they’re made of iron. Turns out, a horse’s hooves are constantly growing. So even if the old shoes haven’t worn out, they must be removed every 6 weeks so the hooves can be trimmed and the new shoes put on. That can cost as much as $100 a pop. Think about it. That comes to almost $900 per year—just for shoes. That’s almost as much as my wife spends. Eventually, it was starting to get dark, and the instructor decided we should make the mile and a half return trip at a gallop. My problem was that Big Red was big enough that he could keep up with the others by going at a trot. Trotting is like being dragged by your heels down a flight of stairs—a mile-and-a-half flight of stairs. When it was all over, I never bothered to go back for any more lessons. I couldn’t afford all the chiropractor appointments. Besides, by then, I was developing quite an interest in Larry Kolczak Chinese cookery.
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Kim LeMieux Email: kimslakesideliving@gmail.com
The Lake Chapala Society host Open Circle every Sunday at 10:30am, a popular community gathering in Ajijic, to enjoy a diverse range of presentations. Entrance by the side gate on Ramón Corona, gate opens at 9:30 am. We recommend bringing a hat and bottled water, and please remove containers upon departure. Use of mask is optional. Check their website for upcoming presentations, make your reservation if you want to attend and if you missed a past presentation, you can still enjoy it on line. https:// opencircleajijic.org/ AUGUST PRESENTATIONS INCLUDE: August 7th -Negocios Magicos: enhancing Ajijic, Pueblo Mágico one business at the time. By Katja Kohl and Araceli Kopiloff Giving back to this very special community and the local people who make it our home. Reawakening color, whimsy and highlighting the rich assortment of artisanal culture and heritage in our village. Hardworking business owners deserve to make their wildest dreams a reality. The Goal: To give a small business a fresh start by not only looking better, but also introducing them to a new clientele. Giving them the tools to succeed with business advice and a better online presence. Negocios Magicos will work with them to improve their social networks and introduce them to services that can benefit their income, such as food delivery service or selling online, as well as traditional methods. Kohl Design Haus collaborates with the business owner to make their vision a reality taking their budget into consideration. The owner commits to doing the labor on their own with the support of friends, family, community Katja interior architect, owner of Kohl Design Haus and Araceli business consultant have created the pro bono initiative: “Negocios Magicos”. August 14 - Democracy Today: A global look at 3 types of government. By Terry Rosson Join Terry, Democrats Abroad Lake Chapala Chair and Lake Chapala Society´s Open Circle to focus on democracy in 2022 at the global level. Explore a brief history of democracy since 1700—including women’s right to vote. Dig into the many types of democracy, from full to flawed to hybrid. Examine high-level pros and cons of each type. Our Q&A session will include a discussion of the benefits and commitments required by each type of democracy. Terry brings a passion for voter engagement and over Terry Rosson 25 years in the communications, advertising, and marketing fields. The big question he works to answer: Together, how can we help voters make the best choices for themselves in today’s social-media saturated world? August 21 - Don’t Trust Your Gut: How to Make Better Decisions in Life. By Rex Gale This talk will align with your aim to improve our understanding of ourselves, our community, and our world. Jack Welch, as well as others, seem to always tell us to “trust our gut.” Quite often people make “gut” decisions that they ultimately regret. What hap-
pened? Why did their gut fail them? The decisions we make in life are heavily influenced by past experiences, and the emotions attached to those experiences, resulting in an automatic decision that they make without really thinking. This talk will focus on the Nobel Prize, winning concepts around decision making, and provide a blueprint for helping people understand why and when the gut can be dangerous in decision making, when to trust it, and how to understand the difference.
Rex Gale
August 28 - How to clean the water? By Roberto de Alba Water is the cute and wonderful “animal” who give us health, life, fun and cleaning. Its versatility is amazing. Cleans almost everything. That’s the reason why there are many kinds of contaminants in water: pesticides, antibiotics, hormones, iron, hardness, lead, bacteria, virus, algae, sediments, color, odor, flavor, pH, H2S, CO2 But if the water is for cleaning, how can I clean the water? Each process and equipment need to be logical to clean the water. If I want to inactivate bacteria, I need to install a sediment filter because bacteria can hide in the sediment. Come and discover the process and equipment to clean the precious water Roberto de Alba Roberto de Alba is a Master Water Specialist by the Water Quality Association. He has worked 22 years treating water. Summer Serenade with the Lake Chapala Orchestra On the heels of that success the LCO is presenting a “Summer Serenade” concert on Thursday, August 25 and Friday, August 26. The concert features 12 members of the orchestra in a variety of music that is perfect for a summer afternoon. The Lake Chapala Orchestras (LCO) previous concerts in June were, once again, performed to sold out houses. The enthusiastic audiences were captivated by the full sound and energy of Lakeside’s symphony orchestra. “We started these smaller scale concerts during the pandemic and their success has prompted us to incorporate several of them into our seasonal line up of activities” says Michael Reason, the orchestra’s artistic director. Two works performed by the orchestra’s principal horn players open the concert which in turn is followed by the Clarinet Trio by Brahms. The second half features the Wind Serenade for 12 instruments by the Czech composer Dvorak. Reason comments that “both the Brahms and Dvorak works are true pinnacles of 19th century music and to hear them live in concert is a rare treat!” Both performances will be at Lakeside Presbyterian Church, 250 San Jorge, Riberas and start at 3pm. Tickets are $300 and can be ordered by emailing LCCOtickets@gmail.com There are only 100 tickets available for each concert and as each concert by the LCO sells out several weeks beforehand it is strongly advised to reserve your tickets early. July 31-August 15 For 18 years, the beautiful fishing village of Ajijic, has played host to what has become one of Mexico’s most important and prestigious music festivals, the Northern Lights Festival de Febrero. With artists now traveling across the globe to attend, they come in search for musical inspiration, camaraderie and of course the natural beauty of the village. The success of the Festival de Febrero has been our inspiration for an international academy of music held in the same stunning locations. Festival del Lago offers a very intense and immersive two weeks of music making and apprenticeship for students from precollege level to young profes-
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sional. We also provide a wide range of performance opportunities to participants. From masterclasses, to intimate in-home venues to large concert halls everyone will have the opportunity to perform solo and in a chamber music ensemble and all concerts will be recorded and given to the student. This year the academy has 64 students that are coming from all over the world, 31 international students and 33 Mexican nationals. August 5, 9, 11, 12, 14 “Rising Stars Concerts” featuring the students at the festival (all Rising Stars Concerts are at Haus Der Musik and begin at 8:00.) August 2, 13 “Master Series Concerts featuring the faculty (teachers) All Master Series Concerts are at Haus Der Musik and begin at 8:00 p.m. August 8 Fundraising Gala Concert featuring Faculty and students together at the Old Hacienda Del Lago (no time given at press release). Currently in the process of developing a reservation system on our website. It should be up and running around August 1. So, to reserve tickets and for more information go to www.festivaldellago.com Auditions: Thursday, August 11 & Friday, August 12, 2022. Registration: 9:30 am, Auditions: 10am, LLT on the Terrace. The Revolutionists by Lauren Gunderson Directed by Russell Mack A brutal, comedic quartet about four very real women who lived boldly in France during the French Revolution’s Reign of Terror. We’re looking for 4 women. LLT welcomes and encourages everyone interested in acting, new or experienced, to attend auditions. For scripts & info contact the director (Russell) at auditionsart@lakesidelittletheatre.com. Show Dates: September 30 – October 9, 2022 Auditions: Thursday, September 1 & Friday, September 2, 2022. Registration: 9:30 am, Auditions: 10am, LLT on the Terrace. Twelfth Night by Shakespeare Directed by Dave McIntosh A fast-paced romantic comedy with several interwoven plots of romance, mistaken identities, and practical jokes. One of Shakespeare’s finest comedies. We’re looking for 10 men and 3 women. LLT welcomes and encourages everyone interested in acting, new or experienced, to attend auditions. For scripts & info contact the director (Dave) at auditionsart@lakesidelittletheatre.com. Show Dates: November 4 – 13, 2022 A FOUR WAY AT BARE STAGE! Friday August 26th, Saturday the 27th & Sunday the
28th The August production is a collection of 4 one-act plays that span the ages with themes so common to all of us that it will be impossible not to relate and not to laugh. Hopefully, and perhaps unexpectantly, you will rethink the familiar, as well. Consider Adam & Eve, a story as old as time. In our tale, we take an irreverent look at conventional religion, but one that is also thoughtful, humorous and an argument for gender equality. It also examines Adam, as independent and reckless and Eve as social and curious, leading to their banishment from the Garden of Eden and in particular, her role in the Biblical downfall of man. All delivered in a light and ironic tone, of course. Our second tale examines male dating rituals, crass and immature as they can be. It may seem that these characters’ actions will be a ‘race to the bottom’ but theatre is about conflict and this piece delivers surprises as they stumble upon the unexpected on their weekly, Saturday night romp. The third piece explores the ‘end of life’ decision when two elderly, lifelong friends get together to celL to R, Christine L’Ecluse, Pamela Johnson, Ron ebrate their 75th birthdays Mikulicic & Gisel Phipps. Not pictured, Mark Don- on the 75th day of the year. aldson & Arleen Pace. A heartfelt, yet humoristic
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look at this subject, again with rather unexpected results. Lastly, and with a “For Mature Audiences Only” moniker our theme is sexual deviancy, presented in an almost ‘roll on the floor’, ‘knock your sox off’ manner when two friends meet to discuss a blind date. Hold onto your hat with this one. Our actors will be doing double duty in this production with most of them playing totally different characters back-to-back in each act. We hope our audience will enjoy being witness to the versatility of our talent by arranging our tales in this way, as well as be totally entertained. Mark Donaldson, Pamela Johnson, Christine L’Ecluse, Ron Mikulicic, Arleen Pace (in a cameo) and Giselle Phipps make up our cast. Roxanne Rosenblatt directs, her second play with Bare Stage after last February’s The Savannah Sipping Society. Curtain is at 4:00 pm. Tickets are $200 to join in the fun. Sales are brisk so RESERVE NOW at barestagetheatre2018@gmail.com. We are located at #261 on the mountain side of the Carretera in Riberas del Pilar across from the Catholic Church. Door and Bar open at 3:00 pm. Seats are held till 3:50 pm. Auditorium curtains will be open for air flow. Please Like, Follow & Share our Facebook Page: www.facebook.com/barestagetheatre2018/ Volunteering is at the very core of being human. No one has made it through life without someone else’s help.” ~Heather French Henry Volunteer Opportunities Foodbank Lakeside is looking for a volunteer to fill each of the following important roles. If you’re interested, or you know someone who might be interested, please reply by sending an email, and we’ll schedule a time to chat with you. Steve@stevemotenko.com, Volunteer Coordinator, FoodBank Lakeside Coordinator – Gift from the Heart program is a way to donate to FoodBank Lakeside by honoring or memorializing a friend or loved one. The coordinator of this program will oversee and grow the program, including marketing it to businesses as potential thank-you gifts for their clients. Coordinator – MailChimp to coordinate mailings to donors and volunteers. Will need some familiarity with database management and/or email marketing systems, and preferably with MailChimp. Writers- to interview subjects and create compelling stories about our work, our beneficiaries, and our volunteers, for marketing purposes and especially for our monthly newsletter. We do have a volunteer who will interpret so it’s necessary to be proficient in Spanish. Every Thursday 3:00 – 6:00 Gringo Bingo and Live Music An ongoing fundraiser with the Iron Horse and all proceeds goes to Lucky Dog. Lucky Dog Rescue and Adoption Center is a non-profit volunteer organization dedicated to the rescue and adoption of abandoned and abused dogs in the Lake Chapala area of Jalisco Mexico. Lucky Dog is run solely by a group of dedicated volunteers. Lucky Dog has expanded a lot since its inception, adding additional runs, installing a playing/ training field in back, constructing safety doors on the kennels and shade coverings for the play yards, and more. Come visit us and see for yourself! We are always happy to meet our supporters! Our dedicated volunteers ensure our dogs are walked and loved daily. Visits to the vet are all handled by volunteers, as are routine vaccinations, worm, and flea treatments. For more information to volunteer or donate: LuckydogLakeChapala. com
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A Brush With Death By Gabrielle Blair
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aniel had been looking forward to it all day. The movie would start at 7:30 pm, and he planned to meet his girlfriend, Angelina, in the mall shortly after 7 pm. He was wearing his blue jeans jacket, sporty trousers, and sports shoes. He looked good and he knew she’d notice. He glanced at his watch and strode out into the zebra crossing at a busy Moscow intersection, a couple of blocks from the cinema. Out of nowhere the taxi turned into the intersection and he was thrown to the side of the road. For a brief moment he thought, “This is it! I’m dead.” He became dimly aware that people were
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gathered around him. Blood was pouring from his face and he could see out of only one eye. A Special Forces vehicle was passing by, having been called out to respond to a robbery. One of the officers in the vehicle looked out and asked the driver to slow down for an accident. “Good Lord!” said the officer. “I know that young man lying on the ground. He’s a friend of my brother!” In a moment he made a quick decision. “Pull over,” he ordered. “We’ll see if we can help.” Meanwhile, Angelina was getting anxious. Why was he late? Where was he? She dialed his cellphone and a faint, distant voice said, “I’ve been in an
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accident. A car has run into me.” That’s all he managed to say when he lost consciousness. She left their meeting place and rushed into the street, looking around wildly. A couple of blocks away she could see the flashing lights of police cars and could hear the sirens of an ambulance. She ran in that direction and when she got to the scene of the accident was horrified to see Daniel lying there bleeding profusely. The robbery had ceased to be of first importance and the officer of the Special Forces had taken charge. Daniel was carefully loaded into the ambulance which sped away to the nearest hospital. A nurse held onto his hand, speaking soothing words to him: “You’ll be okay. Don’t worry. You’ll be okay. We’re going to get you all the help you need.” Later, Daniel was to say she had a lot to do with keeping him alive. At the hospital emergency, he was quickly wheeled into the operating room where the traumatologist performed the operation on his brain to relieve the pressure caused by the buildup of blood and fluids. It was touch and go, he told Sergei and Yulia, Daniel’s parents, who were waiting in a state of shock to find out whether their son would live. “We’ve induced a coma and will keep him in that state for better observation. It is very fortunate, when he was thrown by the taxicab, that he landed on the front of his head, as the skull bone is much more resistant to trauma at the front than the back.” Then began the long night of waiting. Sergei and Yulia spent the night on their knees praying that Daniel would be saved. Sergei contacted the many spiritual people that he knew in their church and at a monastery, who immediately promised to pray with them. The next morning, exhausted from lack of sleep, the surgeon told them that Daniel would be kept in the coma as long as was necessary, but it wasn’t known whether he’d survive. It would seem that Daniel was not supposed to
die. As Sergei told me: “God had other plans.” After three days Daniel was brought out of the coma and he began to eat. Everyone knew that this lanky, twenty-year-old could eat like a horse. Surely his returning appetite was a good sign. And it was. As he improved, he was moved out of intensive care into a ward with a number of other patients who were in an extremely bad way. A man of about thirty lay like a vegetable opposite him, unable to do anything for himself. His wife came to visit him every day and Daniel learned that they had a newborn baby. Meanwhile, day by day, like a miracle, Daniel was getting stronger and was recovering quickly. His parents began to conceive of the possibility that their son, should he survive, might not end up in the same tragic condition as the man in the ward with Daniel. “God didn’t mean him to die,” Sergei confided in me, “but we all need to change the way we are.” He didn’t elaborate on this, and I didn’t press him. Thirteen days after the accident had happened Daniel was out of hospital. The phone rang and a jubilant Sergei announced: “Danya is home!” I wished I could have given him a hug of joy and relief over the thousands of miles that separate us here in Mexico from them in Moscow. “Thank you for your prayers,” he said. “We are so grateful for all of you who prayed for Danya. We believe he wouldn’t have survived without your prayers. And he wouldn’t have survived if others, like angels, had not been there to help.” I wiped my tears as I listened. “Did you ever think how you would have faced it if Danya had died?” I asked. “Yes,” he replied without a pause. “If God had taken him, I would have learned to accept it.” What a different phone call it would have been had the news not been so joyful. Gabrielle Blair
Saw you in the Ojo 35
YOU
COLUMNIST
and Your Doctor Are Your Medical Team By Jackie Kellum
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our professional relationship with your family doctor / PCP [Primary Care Physician] is an important part of your life. Without being ‘funny’ it will be almost as important as the one you have / had with your spouse / partner. The difference is your doctor will help guide you to make decisions about your health care as he/she has the medical knowledge to do this. Selecting a family doctor is a significant decision. Things to consider in this decision are many. Two immediate decision to consider: would you feel more comfortable working with a male or female physician, or does it matter to you? At Lakeside there are many doc-
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tors of both genders. Another consideration: if you have a spouse / partner, will you both have the same doctor? Like any kind of relationship in order for it to work well, good communications are essential. There are several questions to consider / think about when selecting your family doctor, or even evaluating your current doctor: Does the doctor [really] listen and look at you when you speak? Does the doctor respect and value your opinion and input? Does the doctor dismiss your concerns or interrupt you frequently when you are explaining how you feel, etc.? If the doctor is going to give you a ‘shot’ or prescribe a new medication, does he give you information about
El Ojo del Lago / August 2022
this medicine? Are you given this important information such as: its name, what is it supposed to do / its purpose, how it works, the dosage & frequency it is to be taken, told the signs that the medicine is working and how long will it take to see any affects, how do you take it [with / without food], how long is it to be taken, and made aware of any possible side effects. Does the doctor ‘welcome’ questions, or act annoyed or too busy, or act like he/she is being ‘challenged’ by you when you ask questions? Do you feel ‘rushed’ when you are with the doctor? Does the doctor answer your questions in terms you can understand? If there are decisions to be made, does the doctor provide options if available, and provide you with a pro-con opinion discussion about each option? Does the doctor respect your expressed wishes regarding end-of-life care - use of “aggressive” or non-aggressive treatment of certain medical conditions? Do you trust that the doctor will honor these wishes ‘when the time comes’? Does / will the doctor make a referral to a specialist if the situation is not in his realm of expertise? Will you / do you feel comfortable talking to the doctor about sensitive or personal health issues? If you believe in combining a traditional medicine and a holistic approach when indicated – does the doctor accept this approach? How ‘easy’ is it to get in touch with your doctor? How does the doctor communicate with you after office hours: - return phone calls? E-mail response to your e-mails? WhatsApp? How do you reach the doctor in an emergency? Does the doctor have a ‘back-up’ doctor or ‘plan’ when he is not available - What is it? Does the doctor treat you like a Team Member in your own care? Yes, I do realize this is a long list of questions to think about and answer, but the response to each one tells you something about the yet to be, or already established relationship with your family doctor. I am not trying to be melodramatic, but you need to be as informed and involved in your own health care as possible. Think of it this way. Your doctor is the pilot. You have the choice to be the co-pilot involved in your own care, or be a passenger who is just going along for the ride. Maybe a bit of a simplistic parallel, but it represents your involvement in things that affect your life and health. If you are searching for a family doctor / PCP talk to your friends whose opinions you value [‘consider the source’] about their doctor experiences, pro or con, with specific details supporting that opinion. Third hand ‘opinions’ or rumors should be dismissed. I strongly suggest that you make an office visit appointment with the ‘pro-
spective’ doctor while you are healthy. Trying to find a doctor and make a decision about your future family doctor when you are already sick is not the most prudent thing to do. When you are sick, your focus is on how you feel – miserable. When ill you want to make a ‘quick’ decision, which does not allow you the time to do some research about the available doctors in the community to try to make the best ‘match’ for you and your health needs. Having a planned meeting will generally give you a sense about this potential professional relationship in selecting the ‘right doctor’ for you. Yes, it is like an interview type of thing, but it is an effective screening technique. In my years as a nurse, this is what I have done when I relocated and needed to find a ‘new’ family doctor. I have ‘ruled out’ a few potentials this way - some of these initial ‘interviews’ were quite revealing and not necessarily such ‘funny’ stories. One potential looked at his watch 4 minutes into the office visit - and he was not taking my pulse. Another ‘potential’, after I explained that I was new to the area and that I was looking for a family doctor before I got sick. This doctor told me straight out: “I never heard of anything so stupid in my life” – neither one got my vote. I have found ‘the one’ that matched my health care needs and earned my trust through this “interview” manner. This process is an ‘investment’ of your time in hopefully establishing a long term professional relationship affecting your health care and your life. Your PCP is your main source for your general health care needs. The PCP’s role has many components, such as: examine you during visits, treat you, refer you to a specialist when medically indicated, coordinate care with other physicians and specialists as needed, educate you about your medical conditions and treatments. He should provide information about any needed lifestyle changes to prevent future medical complications and possibly developing other medical conditions / diseases. The PCP should keep updated written health records for you on paper or computer [you need to help with this if you are seeing specialist doctors], and provide regular physical exams including height, weight, vision, hearing, and blood pressure checks as well as other tests as needed, etc. And most importantly, your PCP should help you make some of the most important decisions affecting your well-being, health, and your life. Jackie Kellum
Saw you in the Ojo 37
Rain In The Ravine By Sergio Casas
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“
artin, come play soccer with us.” “No thanks. I’m too bad to play soccer. Besides, they are about to set up the pozole stand.” Mago, a girl with a slender figure, long black hair, and a pretty face helps her mom to set up the table and chairs outside her house for the vending. I wave my hand as a greeting and she answers with her beautiful smile. My older brother and his friends, with flared pants and psychedelic shirts, are playing guitar, my brother is singing “Heart of Gold.” It seems that girls his age like it. Panchito, my cousin, tells me, “Some of the guys want to go tomorrow to the river at the bottom of the Huentitan ravine. Do you want to go?” “I don’t know, I’ll see tomorrow.” The next day I go out and there are the boys arguing about whether or not to go to the ravine. I tell them that I have no money to pay for transportation. “No one does,” they answer. “Let’s go walking,” El Búho (the owl) says, “I know how to get down.” “Well then, let’s go,” El Gordo says. We get to the boulevard. It is wooded most of the way, which makes the walk more pleasant. “How long do you think it will take us to get there?” asks Aurelio. We look at each other, a long silence until Victor, El Búho, says, “Whatever. We are going anyway. Two hours? Three? A hundred blocks, three hundred, whatever.” “Let’s count the red vochos,” Ramiro suggests.” “Better to count the Ford Mustangs, they are prettier,” I tell them. “Or we’d better count the yellow public transport busses. Ha-ha. They look like giant wasps.” Now we are where the plaza de toros and the Jalisco stadium are, one on each side of the boulevard. We all remember the 1970 World Cup. I was seven years old and it was crazy at every game, especially when the Brazilian team was playing. Already near the end of the boulevard, El Búho says, “That way we can go down.” All I can see is a pile of corn plants but he is sure that the road begins there. We cross the muddy field. Before we start to go down, I stop and
look. It looks like a giant crack, as if a huge snake had passed through here and left this footprint. We arrive at a dense area of grass, trees, and bushes where there seems to be a path. In line we enter, but it is difficult to walk because the wet grass and the slope do not allow us to take firm steps. “We have to hold on to the branches to avoid falling,” Ramiro suggests. El Gordo says, “Branches, bushes, roots, whatever.” Everyone laughs but with a certain nervousness. The more we go down, the more slippery the terrain becomes. “Are you sure it’s this way?” we ask. El Búho answers, “Yes, I can hear the river.” Certainly, if you pay attention, you can hear it. Ramiro shouts, “I can already see.” A murky and muddy river is what we see. The big rocks in the middle of the river make ridges. It’s an interesting view. When I look up, everything is covered with grass and trees, they look like giant green walls. A couple of the boys get into the river, sit down, and let the water hit their backs while toads and frogs jump over their shoulders. One of them yells at me, “Martin, get in the water. It feels good.” “No thanks. I’ll just get my feet wet in a while.” Panchito is barefoot climbing a big, wet rock. Suddenly he slips, falls, and hits his head against the rock. I run to his aid but I can’t get up. I ask him, “Are you okay?” He sits up holding his head. I can see blood on the right side of his head. “I’m okay. I’ll be right down,” he answers. “Do you want us to go back, Panchito?” shouts one of the boys. My cousin shakes his head no. This situation brings back a sad memory. Last year a boy, about 17 years old, from el barrio died days after being hit in the head by a rock in a fight at a party a block away from our barrio. We walk a stretch down the river and find a better place to be. Panchito puts a bandana on his head and goes into the river, while I sit on the river bank with my feet in the water. I hear the song of birds that I had not heard before. There Continued on page 40
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El Ojo del Lago / August 2022
Saw you in the Ojo 39
From page 38 is something moving among the trees; could be a squirrel. I look at the sky, birds with huge wings are, like, floating in the air. It gets cloudy and the sunlight dims. “It would be a good idea to start climbing before it’s too late,” I say to the boys. “Don’t be afraid, Martin, “El Gordo says.” I just say “ I answer. Raindrops start to fall. It’s time to go back. Nobody remembers the point where we went down, so we have to improvise. We go diagonally up the wall of the ravine. The light is fading and it smells like rain. El Búho goes first and the others follow. The climb is slow because of all the mud and the lack of a clear path. Two steps and a slippery slope, we have to hold on to a branch or grass to avoid falling. The slope is very steep, like climbing a wall. The rain begins and El Gordo is the first to slip and fall. Fortunately, a tree stopped him in time before he continued to the bottom. The despair begins. El Gordo does not stop complaining. “We are not going to get to the top before the light goes out. What are we going to do? We are going to fall and die.” “Do not say stupid things,” Aurelio tells him. I try not to think, only to walk and make sure there is something to grab on each step. Now we try to go more vertically but the rain water runs stronger. Suddenly we come to a cliff face. We have to go back and try somewhere else. Lightning lets us see for a split second where we are standing. I feel like someone or something is watching me. In the darkness two round lights shine like luminous eyes of fire. It looks like a dragon. Is it my guardian angel? Ramiro slips and falls a few meters until he grabs something that stops him. We make a chain holding hands and take off our belts to reach him to help him up. El Gordo keeps babbling. He’s tired like everyone else, he’s scared like everyone else, but he expresses it the most. Someone shouts, “A light!” I see a light up there. “It is not the moon?” another says. “It is cloudy. It must be a lamp, maybe from the park at the end of the boulevard.” We accelerate the pace until we reached a flat clearing. It is a lamp. We have reached the top. We all celebrate with shouts and nervous laughter, but this is not over. There are still kilometers to go and the rain continues. Soaked and muddy, we start the return to the barrio. The city is quiet. On Sunday night some families return to their homes after visiting grandma. The puddles reflect light on the streets.
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El Ojo del Lago / August 2022
El Gordo continues complaining. “My shoe is broken. Tomorrow I have to go to help my dad in the workshop and I have no other shoes. My dad is going to scold me.” “We will all have problems if we are late,” I say. A truck stops at one side. An old man wearing a hat drives it. “Where are you guys going?” “Near the Morelos Park, sir.” “Get in, I’ll pass by there.” We get in the box and sit down. The rain is disappearing. “Let me know where you want to get off.” “Yes, sir. Thank you.” “You said you knew the way, Búho,” Aurelio says. “I can see that they call you Búho for your face, not for being smart.” We all laugh. El Búho says, “Shut up.” “Sir, at the corner we get off.” We all jump out of the truck. “Thank you, thank you.” We walk two more blocks and turn the corner. It feels good to get home. El Gordo, with his shoe in his hand, and all of us are dirty and wet. The girls from the barrio are the first to see us. “What happened to you?” “Nothing. We couldn’t get out of the Huentitan ravine,” someone replies. “Holy cow. You look terrible,” Mago says. They all start asking questions. One of my sisters sees me and says, “Look at you. There is hot water ready. Go home and take a shower.” “Yes,” I replay. I look at the boys, happy that we were able to return. “Panchito, tell my aunt what happened to you so she can cure you and maybe take you to the doctor.” “Yes, I will tell her,” he says. “See you later,” I say and go straight to the shower. My mom is busy in the kitchen. After showering I am ready to go to bed. I am tired and with pain all over my body from many scratches and small wounds, I slept restlessly. In the middle of the night, I jump, still struggling not to fall down. I wake up after midday. I go out and sit on the sidewalk next to a lamp post. A neighbor turns on the radio. “It is a beautiful day in La Perla Tapatia with a clear and clean sky.” Must be a joke, I say to myself. Mago helps her mother get chairs and tables out for the sale of pozole. I greet her and she smiles at me. What a beautiful face. Doña Maria looks out the door, side to side; there is no news for her report today. I sigh deeply, happy to be part of another ordinary day in the barrio. Sergio Casas
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COLUMNIST
Verdant View By Francisco Nava
August
August’s official birth flowers include the gladiolus and poppy.
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ugust, eighth month of the Gregorian calendar. It was named for the first Roman emperor, Augustus Caesar, in 8 BCE. Its original name was Sextilus, Latin for “sixth month,” indicating its position in the early Roman calendar. August 1, traditionally known as Lammas Day, was a festival to mark the annual wheat and corn harvest. Lammas also marked the midpoint between the summer solstice and autumn equinox, and was a crossquarter day. From experience we know that a whole packet of zucchini seeds produces just too many squashes. Our refrigerators and freezers are filled with casseroles and breads. And you know your neighbors hide when you smilingly approach with your basketful of four-inchthick zukes. Next time, you can make do with just one or two plants, even though they’re cute when tiny. When you plan the layout of your fall and winter gardens, consider which new crops should follow those just removed. Follow your heavy feeders with light feeders, and vice versa. Heavy feeders include beets, broccoli, cabbage, celery, collards, corn, cucumbers, eggplant, endive, escarole, kale, kohlrabi, lettuce, okra, parsley, pumpkins, radishes, rhubarb, spinach, squash, and tomatoes. Light feeders include carrots, chard, garlic, leeks, mustard, onions, parsnips, peppers, potatoes, rutabaga, shallots, sweet potatoes, and turnips. Fertilize tasseling corn and other vegetables that are setting such as beans, cucumbers, eggplants, tomatoes, etc. This will produce increased yields. Plants appreciate this extra boost in food to use immediately in maturing their fruits. Don’t forget to keep up with weeding and pests, which are aggressively growing and multiplying this month. It seems too hot during the days to think about doing anything now but harvesting, watering, and escaping the heat, but think ahead to winter vegetables and start sowing. You’ll have a winter gold mine in your garden if you
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El Ojo del Lago / August 2022
start seeds for overwintering crops this and next month. Simple household baking soda will get rid of mildew in your home and garden. Dissolve about1.5 teaspoons a gallon of water. Indoors, wipe the solution on windowsills or other mildewed areas. In the garden, spray it onto plant leaves weekly or after rain or sprinkling. The baking soda serves both as a preventative and a cure. Mildew spores cannot spread or reproduce, so their development is stopped. What to plant in August It is still warm and rainy and the viveros/nurseries have marigolds, zinnias, cosmos, sunflowers, phlox, cleome and kniphofia (red hot poker), as well as other goodies like cyclamen and penta. You can still plant the hot weather veggies as it won’t be cold until late October and most take 60 to 90 days to mature. Start asparagus seeds in individual containers for ease in later transplanting. You can plant artichokes, both Globe and Jerusalem, anytime from July to November. Do plant celosia, snapdragon, phlox, petunia and stock seeds now. Also, Gloriosa lily can be planted, which is easy to grow and is an exotic, climbing lily-type flower. This is your last chance to prune your poinsettias for Christmas bloom. Keep up with weeds, fertilizer and pest control and deadheading. Cut back your herbs. They’ll just keep growing. Freeze or dry what herbs you don’t use immediately. Find at the hardware stores or order whatever veggie seeds you will be starting in September. Your gardening friends are excellent sources for seeds and cuttings. Try exchanging some of your seeds and cuttings with theirs. Put garden clippings and non-oily, nonmeat kitchen waste into the compost pile. The garden pests are out in full force. Keep an eye out for them and deal with problems at once, before they get out of hand. Francisco Nava
Saw you in the Ojo 43
Pink Pencils By Carol D. Bradley
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ne chilly morning in late August, I drove in to work like every other Saturday. I had a job behind a checkout counter in a big box office supply store. Banners hung in all the windows advertising back-to-school specials. That particular morning, before the early rush, a large, white Infiniti SUV pulled into a parking space close to the entrance. A woman rounded the back of the car and a girl stepped out of the passenger side. The woman wore a silver fox fur jacket, skinny jeans on mile-long legs, and high-heeled ankle boots. She looked like a model. Models were few and far between in the small city I called home. I watched her come around to close the
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door behind a stocky, red-haired girl. The model caught my eye because of her beauty but more for the contrast between her and the girl whom I presumed to be her daughter. The girl slouched under an Army Surplus jacket and baggy pants. Her ginger hair was cut in a short, curly bob, the opposite to the model who wore a long, wavy mane of highlighted blonde locks. The girl dropped her fists deep into her oversized jacket pockets. I smiled. I, too, had a rebellious daughter. I lost sight of them in the store until they came to the colorful pop-up display of pens and pencils in front of my checkout. The girl had a half-full shopping basket in her hand.
El Ojo del Lago / August 2022
“Oh, Heather, these are just darling,” the model said to the uninterested girl. She held up a package of pink pencils. “They even have glitter.” The girl ignored her mother and picked up a box of pencils stenciled with hockey team logos and dropped it into the basket. The mother followed behind down the next aisle and slipped the pink pencils, unnoticed, into the back of the basket. Several minutes later they arrived at my checkout. Heather began unloading her items while the mother inspected her manicure. “Good morning,” I said with a smile. “Did you find everything you need?” Heather looked up. “Yeah, I guess,” and shrugged. When she came to the pink pencils she turned to her mother. “I won’t use these,” she said with a sigh. “Well, we’ll take them anyway.” She looked at me with a pursed-lip smile. Maybe someday you’ll grow out of this wretched tomboy phase.” She took the package from Heather’s hand and slapped it down on the counter. Green eyes rolled and glared. She’s afraid of losing herself into the void of her mother’s abyss, I judged. “I have a daughter named Heather,” I said in an attempt to engage the girl. “She’s about your age.” A cell phone rang. The mother walked past Heather to the end of the counter. A manicured hand clicked open a designer handbag. “I have to take this,” she said, turned toward the windows, and walked away. I scanned through the hockey pencils, held the pack up for a close look, and said, “I coach a girl’s hockey team. My Heather is our goalie. She’s pretty good.” She looked up at me as her eyes sparked with interest for the first time. I felt confident engaging remote girls. After a few trials and errors, I relished the feeling I got when their eyes lit up. I scanned through more items and placed them in a bag. Heather began packing items into her new cammo backpack: notebooks, a calculator, a box of paper clips. “We practise on Sunday mornings, starting the week after next at the rink on 8th Avenue.” She kept packing. “I don’t know how to skate,” she said, focused on her task at hand. The mother’s voice rose. “I don’t care what happens to that woman. I want her gone by Monday.” Heather ignored her. “You can learn. Lots of girls are learning,” I said. “6:00 AM sharp.” The mother came back, took the drab backpack from Heather’s hands as if it was dirty, and tossed her platinum credit card on the counter. “Okay, I’ll ring this through.” I swiped her card, concluded the transaction, and gave the girl a quick smile.
They started for the door. The mother gripped the shoulder of Heather’s baggy jacket like she carried a rag bag. I turned to my next customer. “Good morning. Did you find everything you need?” “Is there another girl in your class named Heather?” I asked my daughter the next morning. “No, but there is one who goes to the private school out near the Bear Mountain Lodge,” she said and downed her cereal. “Her dad is the mayor of Roseville.” I nodded as I unfolded the newspaper. “She came to the store with her mother yesterday. I invited her to practice.” I picked up my coffee as my delightful tomboy daughter kept eating. “I can’t wait to start. Tommy doesn’t have much of a shot,” she said. Her little brother had been substituted for the team’s sharp shooters during off season. As proud as he was, he didn’t appear to be up to the job. “Me, too,” I said. “I hope the other Heather comes. And don’t talk with your mouth full.” I peered at her side-eyed and went back to my paper. I had two Heathers on the team to start the season. The other one showed up with borrowed gear and a check for her team fee written with a hand so strong two of the pen strokes broke through the paper. She was an eager student and quick to learn. A few weeks later she said, “I’ve been practicing, “as she skated circles around me. “I can tell,” I said, and placed her in the center position. We did dozens of faceoff drills. She had snappy reflexes, took to the game with heart, and got along well with the rest of the players. We were jelling as a team and winning games. Local politician’s wife in critical condition after single vehicle rollover – Distracted driving suspected, the headline glared off the page. The mayor of Roseville’s wife in ICU in hospital . . . I stopped and looked up at my daughter. “Geez, honey, look at this.” I showed her the story. “That’s awful,” she whispered. We signed the cheery get-well card displayed on the concourse of our town’s only shopping mall. I called the mayor’s office and left a message with his assistant on behalf of the team and our family. The other Heather didn’t show up for practice that Sunday, or the next. Games weren’t as fun as the team displayed her number on stickers at the back of their helmets. Christmas came and went. Mayor’s wife out of ICU. Long road to recovery, read the Saturday paper in January. One calm, frozen Sunday morning, Heather came to practice and sat high in the dark bleachers, elbows propped on her knees and watched. I climbed up Continued on page 46
Saw you in the Ojo 45
From page 44 to her perch and sat down beside her. I offered her my Tims coffee, she took a sip, and handed it back without a word. “I’m sorry, Heather,” I said with as much caring and concern those platitudes offer. She shrugged. We sat together until the end, listening to the click and swish of steel blades on ice. The next Sunday morning she came out in her equipment and started warmups. The other girls hugged her in turn as quiet tears rolled down her face. She worked hard that day and stayed late, lined up pucks at the blue line and drilled them as hard as she could, each one hitting the net, until the custodian started turning off the lights. No one noticed a man watching from the other end of the rink, high up in the bleachers. I knew him to be her father from pictures of him in the papers. “Heather’s dad’s on the phone, Mom,” my Heather called. “He wants to talk to you.” “Thank you,” he said when I came to the phone. “I don’t know how she could have gotten through without the team. She is carrying a lot of guilt. Her last words to her mother before the accident were in anger.” “No need,” I said back. “How is your wife?” “She is on a long road. She is determined. We expect her to have lengthy health problems. There is some paralysis . . .” he drifted off. “She is a different woman,” he said candidly. I didn’t know how to respond. I have often wished I could have that moment back, with the useful words I would later find to say, something profound that may have made a difference. Instead, I fell back to what I knew. “Heather is part of our team. I am happy she came back and can start working everything out.” We exchanged a few more pleasantries and said goodbye. The long summer off-season ended with an early snowstorm in late August.
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Back-to-school banners went up in the windows of my store. Heather came in with her mom and dad. She held up her hand to me and waggled it beside her chest. She wore a yellow parka with faux fur around the downturned hood, fitted jeans and UGG boots. Her father held her mother’s arm as she focused on willing her flat boots to make each jerky step. “Hi, Coach,” Heather said several busy minutes later. “Well, hello there, stranger.” I smiled. “We went to visit cousins in Australia for the summer.” She started unloading her school supplies onto my counter. She introduced me to her father. He shook my hand and wore a kind smile that softened his craggy face. “Mom got special treatment at a hospital there,” she explained. Her mother reached out her shaky hand to me that felt warm against my palm. “Thank you,” she said in a low, raspy voice and genuine kindness shone in her bright, green eyes. I could see her daughter in those eyes for the first time. “I like the new do.” I changed the subject to admire Heather’s new hairstyle. Her mother beamed at her daughter as if she had finally discovered something new, something very special. “It’s the thing Down Under,” Heather said with a sly smile and circled a long, copper curl behind her ear. “Don’t go thinking I am going all girlie,” she said, looking up at her mom. “I promised Mom I’m gonna be the best center in the league this season.” Her father nodded reassuringly at me as he wrapped his big arm around her high on her shoulder. “Her mother and I will be at every game.” He slid his credit card across to me. The last item I scanned through for Heather was a package of pink pencils.
Carol D. Bradley
Saw you in the Ojo 47
Poetry Niche Anticipation The vivid hues of flowers are muted by the dust. The radiant green of leaves now dully turned to rust. The nightly coquetries of dews, Prove but a faithless lover’s ruse. The empurpled glory of jacaranda bloom, lie in dusty heaps beneath a gardener’s broom. The barbed-wire whine of the cicadas, disturb the heated air. Pelican bereft, the listless lake, looks skyward with a vacant stare. The hills adorned in somber gowns, Gaze down with pensive eyes. Furrowed fields lie fallow like dusty, open thighs, beneath the knife-blue, sterile, unresponsive skies. All await with bated breath the groom with all his train, his attendant, cloudy lords and life producing rain. Steve Griffin *****
Dressed in All Our Decades from Poems for Flourishing
We’re dressed in all our decades, in rich brocades of life well-worn, and regularly mended. Vivid restoration patches— the hip, the shoulder, the knee-make us into living art! Our tatty brains save us from the trivial forgotten things, spare us for what matters. Delightfully scuffed by life’s great dance, we’re rubbed, at circle’s end, to the luster of original wonder. In the spacious present called aging, we rouse and wake, more alive than we have ever been. Susa Silvermarie *****
from When to Say, “When?” Two crutches tied to the seat of his motorcycle. The old man, losing control, falls off. Unscathed, he tries to right himself. Too frail, he’s unable. A stranger, happens by, offers assistance. That day, a short time later, falls off, again. Sitting on the roadway, he attempts once more, to stand. Struggles, but on each of several attempts, comes to the realization, he’s unable. And so, he sits on the side of the road, and ponders, maybe, just maybe…. When is it time to say, “When? When is it enough?” When is it time to walk away? The mental acuity to make split second decisions, when life or death may lie in the balance. One wrong choice after another, one too many? When is it time to say “When?” Martin A. Bojan *****
I Am Learning I am learning to love myself the way the shore loves the ocean and accepts waves that diminish it. I am learning to love my body the way b’s and d’s are shaped like the bellies of pregnant women because everything I write is birth. I am learning to love my name even after I learned it was not my name because my father had been adopted and was given his step-father’s name. I am learning to love the warm sun although I always consider I have a limited number of days. I am learning to love the night because the moon climbs over the city the way a reader waits for a story to build to a climax. Continued on page 50
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El Ojo del Lago / August 2022
Saw you in the Ojo 49
From page 48
I am learning to love the future although it may not be what I imagine because it is uncertain like opening my eyes in the dark room of forgiveness and receiving what I have not earned so I always give money to beggars at the stop lights and topes. My mother always kept a separate plate and cup for men who came to our door for a meal. I am learning to love life although I think about death and the sadness it will cause others. Mel Goldberg *****
Jacaranda Purple on powder blue, it’s hard to tell where jacaranda ends and sky begins: across the morning haze, a single bell summons the faithful to confess their sins. It’s hard to tell where living seems to end and death begins. The tendrils ache towards the blue, and move and blend in silence with the wind – for living’s sake they die, and flake by secret flake carpet the earth which once they canopied. The azure tent above shakes in the breeze: behind and beyond the village bell I almost hear a sound – it’s hard to tell – a memory of distant deep blue harmonies. Michael Warren *****
Meditation Love of another human with whom we are able to share our dreams alters our perspective and grasp of what it means to be human in a world filled with glitter lined alleys that lead into route-less, empty landscapes devoid of life. Within this rock filled darkness of blind existence, life looses all meaning. Perception opens infinite doors locked by the hand of ignorance, in a time and universe where isolation clouds our focus and blinds our future eyes so that what we see has no meaningful form. The emptiness we wrap around us becomes a useless coat against the cold reality of this mutant
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El Ojo del Lago / August 2022
world in which we now exist. Challenges offer the way forward as we cultivate plantings whose fruit is wisdom which sets us free. Rob Moore *****
Refugees All it took were two: the primordial man and woman were the first to be expelled. The soil, the orchard, the pile of leaves on which they dreamed, the beasts that they had named—the sum of the familiar they thought was theirs. A sword at the back corrected them. They did as countless refugees to come: no questions asked, they placed one foot before the other until they crossed a line. Pained witnesses of forced flight— whatever the flame that drives them out— we weep for the home land lost. Margaret Van Every *****
The Paper Bark Tree
The dropping of leaves by deciduous trees Leaves fall forest floors all but drowned in debris. Evergreen droppings: cone, seed, and nut Lure rodents and birds to indulge in the glut. We too have an evergreen, larger than you’ve ever seen. Linnaeus first named him: “I dub thee Melalucca, Just as I dubbed the saguaro and yucca” But the eight-storey monster that looms in our yard Has a popular name conceived by a bard. The Paper Bark tree, as it’s known in the wood, Is the shaggiest tree in this neck of the hood. Brown envelope brown, but spongy and worn; Like wallpaper peeling, shredded and torn, Parchment-like bark—papyrus-like pages; Evolved for some reason according to sages. To our brawny beast, crown to root: Your majesty is absolute. Mark Sconce
Mel Goldberg
Saw you in the Ojo 51
The Ojo Crossword
BOOK REVIEW Date: June 2022 Reviewer: Kathy Koches Title: The Mexico Lunch Party Author: Sonia Day
B
ACROSS 1 Totals 5 European nation 10 Brawl 14 Delivered by post 15 Loop 16 Draw 17 Friend 19 To incite 20 Modern 21 Opaque 23 Sepals of a flower 26 Not those 28 Pole 31 Wing 32 Milder 33 Deer relative 34 Left wing members 37 Command 39 Cologne ingredient 40 Peacock blue 42 Play a guitar 45 Employees choose work time 49 Promissory note 50 Phase 53 Great! 54 Turkey 55 Use 56 Run away and marry 58 Disguises 60 Stale 61 Parent teacher groups 63 Rome’s ice cream (2 wds.) 69 Prudent 70 Trouble 71 Little Mermaid’s Sebastian 72 Whim 73 Sandwich cookies brand 74 Thyme DOWN 1 Viper 2 Eastern state 3 Genetic code 4 Hinder 5 Sliding toy
52
6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 18 22 23 24 25 26 27 29 30 32 35 36 38 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 51 52 56 57 59 60 61 62 64 65 66 67 68
Crony American sign language Chemical compound Not at all Antiaircraft fire Grapefruit juice brand (2 wds.) To be Still Den dweller Author of “Phantom of the Opera” California (abbr.) Boxer Muhammad Scientist’s office Utter Hellos Roberto’s Bravo Danish krone (abbr.) Foreign Agricultural Service Flightless bird Commotion Lab animal Lotion ingredient It is proven Pose Also Search thoroughly by handling Newton filler The other half of Jima Clean Ram’s mate Igloo dweller Part of TV on which image reproduced Epoch Type of mob Afloat Expires Pounds per square inch Little bit Brew Constellation Anger Automobile Worsen
El Ojo del Lago / August 2022
rief Synopsis: This is the enchanting story of four women “of a certain age” from four different countries, who bond over a love of cooking and gardening. They call themselves the Sisters of the Soil. The women come together every few years at one another’s homes. In the first section, we are introduced to each of the women and their backstory. The main character, Abby, has just left her husband of many years, sold her house and belongings, and moved to a little village called Ajijic, in Jalisco, Mexico. She invites her three friends to join her for a reunion. The author introduces us to each of the women and then invites the reader to the party. Of course, there are unexpected twists and turns, and uninvited guests who add a sense of fun and mystery. The reader is kept guessing as to the true identity of the uninvited guests and how they interact with the four women. Are they in danger? Is romance in the air? The author gives us a true glimpse of life in this small Mexican village, complete with descriptions of the markets, the landmarks, and an understanding of the Mexican people and their unique culture. From the coffee seller in the red truck on the carretera to the tianguis and organic market, the reader feels the excitement, the smells, sounds and tastes of this village. At the end of the book
the author has included the recipes for each of the dishes the sisters brought to the party. The author, Sonia Day, has written eight previous books about gardening. This is her second novel. She lives in Ontario, Canada, but visits Mexico frequently. Recommendation: I highly recommend this book to anyone who wants a light- hearted and humorous read. The characters are well developed, the plot easy to follow, and the descriptions of the places, people and food are excellent. This little gem of a book will entertain and amuse the reader while giving them a taste of Mexican culture and cuisine. Kathy Koches
Saw you in the Ojo 53
Service
EMERGENCY NUMBERS
directory.chapala.com
DIRECTORY
- EL OJO DEL LAGO Tel. 376 765-3676
- LONAS MEXICO Tel: 376 766-0045, Cell: 33-3956-4852
* ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS - ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS Tel: 333-383-6598, 33-3198-6653
- MOSQUITO CONTROL Cell: 331-498-7699
* CANOPIES
* ADVERTISING / DIRECTORY
Pag: 46
* ANIMAL CLINICS/PET SHOP - CLINICA VETERINARIA SAN ANTONIO Pag: 07 Tel: 376 766-0808 - LAKESIDE FRIENDS OF THE ANIMALS AC Pag: 15 Tel: 376 765-5544 - MASKOTA’S LAKE Pag: 34 Tel: 376 766-0287, 33-3448-2507 - PET PLACE Pag: 14 - ZAVALA - Animal Clinic Tel: 376 766-1604, Cel: 333-480-6686 Pag: 49
Pag: 34
Pag: 31
* CLEANING SERVICES - AXIXIC SPRING CLEAN Tel: 33-1075-7768, 376 766-5140 - STEAM CLEAN Tel: 33-2385-0410
* GARAGE DOORS OPENERS - AUTOMATIC GARAGE DOOR OPENERS Tel: 376 766-4973, Cell: 332-213-8933 Pag: 16
CHIROPRACTIC - LOWELL STEPHEN BIRCH, D.C. Cell: 331-319-1799
Pag: 45
Pag: 41 Pag: 34
* GARDENING - GARDEN CENTER Tel: 376 765-5973 - RAINFOREST Cell: 331-241-9773
Pag: 40
* GOLF - ALTOZANO Tel: 312-688-1010
* COACHING
Pag: 10
Pag: 35
- TRANSITIONAL DIRECTIONS - Life Coaching Tel: +52 331-435-7080 Pag: 41
- DIANE PEARL COLECCIONES Tel: 376 766-5683 - LA BELLA VIDA Tel: 376 766-5131
Pag: 13
* BAKERY - COLIBRI GARDEN
Pag: 47
54
Pag: 18
- SOL Y LUNA Tel: 376 109-1595, Cell: 333-232-6888
Pag: 41
- COMFORT SOLUTIONS Tel: 33-1228-5377 Pag: 09 - GENERAL HOME SERVICES - Amancio Ramos Jr. Cell: 331-520-3054 Pag: 46 - SERVICIOS AGUILAR Tel: 333-393-4991, 333-021-0753 Pag: 36 - SIKA Tel: 376 766-5959 Pag: 38 - WARWICK CONSTRUCTION Tel: 376-108-8754, Cell: 33-1135-0763 Pag: 46
- HECHT INSURANCE Tel: 376 109-1694 Pag: 40 - LAKESIDE INSURANCE - EDGAR CEDEÑO Cell: 33-3106-6982 Pag: 13 - PARKER INSURANCE SERVICES Tel: 376 765-5287, 376 765-4070 Pag: 14 - PROTEXPLAN U.S. Toll Free 1-800-608-5743 Mexico Toll Free 01-800-681-6730 Pag: 10 - TIOCORP Tel: 376 766-4828, 376 766-3978 Pag: 08
* DENTISTS
* LEGAL SERVICES
Pag: 20
Pag: 13
- AJIJIC DENTAL Tel: 376 766-3682, Cell: 33-1411-6622 Pag: 11 - DRA. ANGELICA ALDANA LEMA DDS Tel: 376 765-5364, Cell: 331-351-7797 Pag: 40 - MOJO DENTAL - Dra. Cristina Barreto Tel: 376 688-2731 Pag: 28
- FELIPE GONZÁLEZ-Atorney at law Tel: 376 688-4563, (33) 3632-4689 - SOLBES & SOLBES Cell: 331-520-5529, Cell: 333-676-6245
* ELECTRONICS/ TECHNOLOGY
- L&D CENTER Tel: 376 766-1064
Pag: 20
- STEREN Tels. 376 766-0599, 376 766-0630
Pag: 14
* FISH MARKET
Pag: 49 Pag: 39
- COSTALEGRE Tel: 376 108-1087, 33-1173-6144
El Ojo del Lago / August 2022
Pag: 51
- RAINBOW NOTARY & NUPTIALS Tel: 904-333-7311
Pag: 20
* OUTDOOR EQUIPMENT - MAQUINARIA Y HERRAMIENTAS PROFESIONALES Tel: 387-763-1232, Cell: 33-1892-2142
Pag: 16
* PAINT - QUIROZ-Impermeabilizantes Tel: 376 766-2311 - QUIROZ-Pinturas Tel: 376 766-2311
Pag: 49 Pag: 42
Pag: 23
* PHARMACIES Pag: 09
- FARMACIA EXPRESS II Tel: 376 766-0656 - FARMACIA MASKARAS Tel: 376 766-3539
* LIGHTING
Pag: 49 Pag: 12
Pag: 38
* LUMBERYARD - MADERERIA CHAPALA Tel: 376 765-2404
Pag: 51
* FUMIGATION - FUMIGA Tel: 376 688-2826, Cell: 331-464-6705
- NOE ZALAPA SOLIS Cell: 452-203-6105
* REAL ESTATE Pag: 18
Pag: 26 Pag: 38
Pag: 41
* NOTARY SERVICES
Pag: 13
Pag: 06
Pag: 06
Pag: 46
* INSURANCE
Pag: 10
Pag: 16
* MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS
* HOTEL
* CONSTRUCTION
* BOUTIQUE / CUSTOM SEWING - LA BELLA VIDA Tel: 376 766-5131 - MANOS DE AJIJIC Tel: 376 766-5640 - MI MEXICO Tel: 376 766-0133 - MIA’S BOUTIQUE Tel: 376-766-5706 - SO CHIC BOUTIQUE Tel: 331-762-7838
- M.D. CARLOS ALONSO FLORES VALDOVINOS Pag: 09 Tel: 376 766-5126, 376 766-4435
Pag: 11
* BEER & LIQUOR STORES - BETO’S WINE & LIQUOR Cell: 333-507-3024
Pag: 03
- BEST MEXICO MOVERS US/CANADA: (915) 235-1951 US Cell: (520) 940-0481 - LAKE CHAPALA MOVING Tel: 376 766-5008 - SEYMI Tel: 332-600-9282, 333-603-0000
* CONSIGNMENT SHOP
* BED & BREAKFAST - CASA TRES LEONES Cell: 331-350-6764
- FERRETERIA Y TLAPALERIA GALVEZ Pag: 58 Tel: 376 766-0880, 387 763-0341
* COMPUTERS
- TEPEHUA TREASURES Tel: 376 763-5126
* BEAUTY - CHRISTINE’S Tel: 376 766-6140, 333-822-5572 - GLORIOSA Tel: 376 766-3372 - NEW LOOK STUDIO Tel: 376 766-6000, 33-3950-9990
- ISHOPNMAIL Tel: 376 766-1933
- LAKESIDE - CompuShop + Repair Tel: 33-2340-7501
* BANK INVESTMENT - INTERCAM Tel: 376 766-5978, 376 766-4055 - MULTIVA Tel: 376 766-2499
* COMMUNICATIONS
* HEARING AIDS Pag: 14
- DR. BEN - CERTIFIED PLASTIC SURGEON Cell: 333-105-0402 Pag: 15 - DRA. CLAUDIA LILIA CAMACHO CHOZAOphthalmologist Tel: 33-3403-3857 Pag: 22 - HOSPITAL SAN ANTONIO Tel: 376-689-0911 Pag: 25 - LAKESIDE MEDICAL GROUP Tel: 376 766-0395 Pag: 29 - PLASTICA LIFT Tel: 376 108-0595, 376 688-1820 Pag: 39 - RIBERA MEDICAL CENTER Tel: 376 765-8200 Pag: 33 - SCLEROTHERAPY-Dra. Patricia Estela Jimenez del Toro Cell: 333-808-2833 Pag: 42 - SKYMED Cell: 333-661-3402 Pag: 38 - UNITED AMBULANCE SERVICES Tel: 376 688-3315 Pag: 27
* MOVERS
* HARDWARE STORES
* ART GALLERIES/HANDCRAFTS
EMERGENCY HOTLINE 911 CRUZ ROJA 376 765-2308, 376 765-2553 FIRE DEPARTMENT 376 766-3615 POLICE Ajijic 376 766-1760 Chapala 376 765-4444 La Floresta 376 766-5555
Pag: 44
Pag: 44
* MEDICAL SERVICES - BESTLAB Tel: 376 688-1174, 331-042-1411 - DERMIKA Tel: 376 766-2500
Pag: 40 Pag: 11
- AJIJIC HOME INSPECTIONS Tel: 33-3904-9573 - AJIJIC REAL ESTATE Tel: 37 6766-2077 - AZABACHE HABITAT Tel: 333-405-0089 - BAUERHOUSE PROPERTIES Tel: 33-2164-5301 - BETTINA BERING Cell. 33-1210-7723
Pag: 46 Pag: 17 Pag: 25 Pag: 19, 43 Pag: 21
- CHAPALA REALTORS Tel: 376 766-7000 Pag: 39 - CIELOVISTA Tel: 33-2002-2400 Pag: 05 - COLDWELL BANKER CHAPALA REALTY Tel: 376 765-3676, 376 765-2877 Fax: 765-3528 Tel: 376 766-1152, 376 766-3369 Pag: 60 - CUMBRES Tel: 33-2002-2400 Pag: 05 - DALIA ZEPEDA Tel: 331-112-3994 Pag: 39 - EAGER REALTY Tel: 333-137-8447 Pag: 12 - FOR SALE BY OWNER Tel: +1 720-984-2721, +52 33-1395-9062 Pag: 42 - FOR SALE BY OWNER Tel: 333-378-4741 Pag: 47 - HAL FORSYTH Tel: 376 766-4530, Cell: 331-407-1917 Pag: 37 - JUDIT RAJHATHY Cell: 331-395-9849 Pag: 23 - KAT GARCIA Cell: 612-140-4935 Pag: 45, 47 - LAKE CHAPALA REAL ESTATE Tel: 376 766-4530/40 Pag: 59 - NANCY ALLAN Tel: 332-646-7568 Pag: 39 - RADISSON BLU Tel: 332-225-5972, 376 766-4626 Pag: 02 - RAUL GONZALEZ Cell: 33-1437-0925 Pag: 03 - VISTA ALEGRE Tel: 33-2002-2400 Pag: 05
* RECYCLE / REUSE - REDUCE AND REUSE
Pag: 46
* RENTALS/PROPERTY MANAGEMENT - COLDWELLBANKER CHAPALA REALTY Tel: 376 766-1152 Pag: 51 - FOR RENT Cell: 333-667-6554 Pag: 34 - FOR RENT Cell: 331-115-6584 Pag: 51 - ROMA Tel: 33-1075-7768 Pag: 47 - VILLAS DEL SOL Tel: 376 766-1152 Pag: 49
- TRIPS BURGER - YVES Tel: 376 766-3565
Pag: 45 Pag: 16
* RETIREMENT/REST/NURSING HOMES - CASA ANASTASIA - Care Home Tel: 376 765-5680 Pag: 24 - CASA NOSTRA-Nursing Home Tel: 376 765-3824, 376765-4187 Pag: 03 - NURSING HOME LAKE CHAPALA S.C. Tel: 33-3470-3470 Pag: 19
* SATELLITES/ T.V. - SHAW SATELLITE SERVICES Tel: 33-1402-4223
Pag: 38
* SOCIAL ORGANIZATIONS - LOS NIÑOS DE CHAPALA Y AJIJIC Tel: 376 765-7032 - NIÑOS INCAPACITADOS
Pag: 55 Pag: 47
* SOLAR ENERGY - OPIERE SOLAR Tel: 376 766-6148 - SUN QUEST ENERGY Cell: 331-603-9765, 331-603-9756
Pag: 45 Pag: 37
* SPA / MASSAGE - RESPIRO SPA Tel: 333-157-7790 - SOL Y LUNA Tel: 376 109-1595, Cell: 333-232-6888 - SPA GRAND Tels: 387 761-0303, 387 761-0202 - TOTAL BODY CARE Tel: 376 766-3379
Pag: 51 Pag: 41
Pag: 43 Pag: 26
* TAXI / TRANSPORTATION - OMAR MEDINA Cell: 33-1281-2818
Pag: 51
* TREE SERVICE - CHAPALA TREE SERVICE Tel: 376 762-0602, Cell: 33-1411-0242
Pag: 57
* RESTAURANTS / CAFES /BAR * TOURS - AJIJIC TANGO Tel: 376 766-2458 - CASA LINDA Tel: 376 108-0887, Cell: 331-791-3211 - GO BISTRO Cell: 33-3502-6555 - LA PACEÑA Tel: 33-3743-1631, 33-3800-6263 - MANIX Tel: 376 766-0061, 331-065-0725 - MOM’S DELI & RESTAURANT Tel: 376 765-5719 - SOL Y LUNA Tel: 376 109-1595, Cell: 333-232-6888
Pag: 58
- CHARTER CLUB TOURS Tel: 376-766-1777
Pag: 07
Pag: 43
* WATER Pag: 07 Pag: 41
- TECNO AQUA Tel: 376 766-3731, 376 688-1038
Pag: 49
Pag: 28 Pag: 03 Pag: 41
Saw you in the Ojo 55
CARS WANTED: Honda Element. Car in good condition of course with Spanish owner. No grey or red -) Anja, 5514592394 FOR SALE: MAZDA CX-7 (2012), 149.567 Kilometers , $210.000 Mexican pesos, All documents are in order. Info: joencoza2019@yahoo.com FOR SALE: Ford Expedition, 1997, 5,4, automatic,benzin,Great car! Me and my dog travelled 6 months with this car. Now I don’t need such a big car anymore. The ford is almost completely restored. It started with an other engine. Therefore I can not give you km. I spend too much on this car, almost $5000. I have all the invoices. I ask just $ 4750. This car is not the cheapest of his kind, but very trustworthy! Take a testdrive. Reparations: other engine, transmission, exhaust pipe, new battery, new radiator, air conditioning, cooling system, brake booster, 4 brake pads, and more., good tires. Spanish owner. Everything paid until 2022. The car is in Ajijic. Anja 5514582394 WANTED: Looking for mx plated used car in good mechanical condition with required paperwork eg factura etc. Will have a local mechanic confirm no major mechanical problems. Budget 70.000 pesos. WANTED: 4 wheel drive with Jalisco license plates. Looking to buy a 4 wheel drive with good ground clearance,could be an older jeep cherokee, ford explorer, Toyota 4 runner suzuki or tracker prefer to stay under 60,000 pesos in price, please p m me if you have one. FOR SALE: SUZUKI VITARA BOOSTERJET 2019. $379,990 Mexican pesos. All services in Suzuki agency, has 26,000 miles traveled. Sole owner and all documentation in order. Jalisco license plates, It has the sticker the re-
sponsible verification review required by the Jalisco government and the 2022 tax paid. CONTACT: joencoza2019@yahoo.com. Engine: 1.4-liter turbocharged 4-cylinder, Maximum power: 138 hp @ 4,400 rpm, Max Torque: 162 lb-ft @ 1,500 rpm, Transmission: 6-speed automatic. Front-wheel drive, Brakes: Disc/ Disc, Weight: 1,160kg, Top Speed: N.A. Acceleration from 0 to 100km/h: 9.6s. Front suspension: Independent. McPherson strut. Rear suspension: Torsion bar. Length: 4.175mm. Trunk: 375 liters. City consumption: 9.5 km/I. Consumption on the road’: 22 km/l, Combined consumption’: 18 km/l, CO2 emissions: N.A. Tank capacity: 47 liters. FOR SALE: 2016 Suzuki Vstrom 1000 cc. Excellent running order, good tires. Very low Kms. Only two things it needs is a good bath and a battery. Bike wasn’t used much during Covid. $180,000. Call 376-106-1162 Ask for Ian. FOR SALE: Toyota Sienna XLE 2011, $4000 USD or $80,000 pesos. Fully loaded high end car, some minor body work, otherwise in excellent mechanical condition, underpriced due to issues with ownership papers. Otherwise would be asking close to $10,000 USD or $200,000 pesos. Seats 8 people, inboard TV, etc.
COMPUTERS FOR SALE: MAG 254 IPTV Box with Remote. I have a MAG 254 IPTV box for sale. It is about 3 years old. 600 pesos. I am open to reasonable offers. Phone: 376-765-2698. Sold new for 93.00 US. Here is some info from the net. MAG254/255 is a powerful Set-Top Box with efficient processor STiH207 and increased RAM memory, and it is an optimal solution for IPTV/OTT projects. The Set-Top Box is designed to fulfill busi-
The Ojo Crossword
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El Ojo del Lago / August 2022
ness projects of internet providers, OTT operators and content aggregators. The increased productivity of MAG254/255 enables to use resource-intensive interactive applications and support 3D-video. FREE: I have a bunch of brand new CDs still in the original packaging. I will give them away to whomever wants them. If not for computer use, a creative person can do something else with them.
PETS & SUPPLIES FOR SALE: I am looking for a folding dog ramp. My dog id medium size , 30 kg. Please contact me, Anja 05514592394. FOR SALE: Retractable Dog Leash. Flexi, 5 meter Classic Retractable Leash. $350. 3317857185.
GENERAL MERCHANDISE WANTED: Do you have an old Kawashima 26CC KWM26, weed eater you want to sell, or if not working can I buy the gas cap, the Company has gone out of business! FOR SALE: Sold my golf cart, I have three tires for sale and one inner tube, Chipper/Shredder for sale in good working condition US$200.00, Hardware for composting 40 gallon barrel US$30.00, Big dog kennel US$25.00 WANTED: If you have any boardgames, like domino, chess, etc. you don’t use anymore, please give me a reply. I would like to buy them from you. Thanks, Anja 5514592394. FOR SALE: Wrought Iron Headboard. 1.45 m height, 1.65 m width, 1,500 Pesos. 376-766-4084. FOR SALE: 2-Piece Bed Matress Set. SIZE: Queen: 59.06” x 74.80” (1.50m x 1.90m) Nearly New - Perfect Condition, 20,000 pesos. 376-766-4084. FOR SALE: Manual leather recliner only used a couple of times. My friend bought this from Costco and no longer uses it, he bought a new one that’s electric. Asking 11,000 pesos for it. call me or message me at 322-149-9217 e-mail me at gonzalez10diego@hotmail.com WANTED: Wanted sewing machine that Works. prefer a donation, if your not using it anymore. can pay something if necessary need it to make clothes and dresses volunteer at Have hammer school and grandson Daniel can drop off at school see Wayne. Daisy 331 287 8490. FOR SALE: Electric Hedge Trimmer Used. ISO. Used Electric Hedge Trimmer. I am looking for the 16 in or 17 in size can’t handle the gas powered ones. FOR SALE: Carry Case for large keyboard. Tepehua Treasures thrift store has a long (~60 in) metal case for sale. It was made for a keyboard, but might suit another purpose. There is a small separate space at one end. Inside totally lined with foam. Store in Riberas, open Mon-Sat 123pm FOR SALE: 12” inch cast iron frying pan. $320 pesos. Excellent condition. WANTED: Have Hammer school wants to build large wood slab table, do you want to buy it when we a done, we need unfinished wood slab to start with,
this coming winter. Do you have a wooden slab you would like to donate or sell. Can you lead us the wholesaler of wooden slabs locally. Wayne 376 688 1282 FOR SALE: Wheelchair-Never been used! Awesome chair. Never been sat in! Owner never had the opportunity to use it. “Active Xtreme” model. Lightweight. Cool fold back sides for unobstructed access! No more cramming your loved one into the chair like a sardine. Works as new of course (Milage is 12 feet). Paid over 6700 pesos on Mercado libre. Asking 4700 pesos (225 USD). Get a new wheelchair and save 50 bucks! This is evidently a “sport” model (street reflectors and a sticker that says it’s fast). Please obey all traffic laws and speed limits. Located at Brisas de Chapala, Brisas del Norte #7. PICK UP ONLY. Price is firm (it will go very fast). Don’t miss out! Send PM. WANTED: Golf cart in decent shape. charlesgreth@aol.com WANTED: Need a recliner, not leather, that reclines into a sleeping position. Cell: 331-116-6081 FOR SALE: Proform 325 csx recumbent bike, two years old in excellent perfect working condition. Smooth magnetic resistance. $6000 pesos ($14,000 new). Sunny Rowing machine, 4 months old. like new $4000 pesos ($7000 new). Send PM. FOR SALE: ShopSmith MK-IV Complete Woodworking System. I not only have the base system machine as seen in the link above but also the accessory items of the scroll saw, band saw, jointer and Vac system with cyclone prefilter. Many extras to be thrown in. $1600.00 USD. Call 376-106-1162. FOR SALE: Archery Equipment Package/Bows, Arrows Much More!!! Details: 35 lb Bear Montana Longbow new never fired. I Paid $400.00USD 30 lb Bear Minute Man Takedown Recurve Used I paid $120.00 USD Custom hand made leather shoulder quiver new. I paid $120.00 USD Arm guard new, I paid $45.00 USD 24 bamboo arrow blanks Arrow knocks Arrow tips Arrow feather fletches BPE - Series AF-1 Professional fletching jig 1 spool of bow string 1 spool serving line The WHOLE package only $10,000 Mexp for Everything! FOR SALE: Inogen one G4 portable oxygen concentrator. It weighs less than 3 lbs. I bought it gently used for 1800 usd and will sell at same price. It can be used on airplanes and has a jack for the car. And a special backpack extra. FOR SALE: Liquidation Sale - Prices in MXP. Deering Sierra Resonator Banjo as new, less than one year old and played very little, skin is still white $48,000. 54 inch Sanyo smart TV also 1 year old $14,000 new from Costco $10,000. Xbox One S $7000 new -$ 4500. GTA and StarTrek and Tanks games. Motorcycle riding gear pure leathers jacket and chaps size XL-Tall $3000 High top touring boots used little $1400. Honeywell standing swamp cooler/humidifier $1000. Samsung front loading washing machine 2 years approx $8000. Kitchen ware, pots pans, full cast
iron set including dutch oven mostly old quality only one Lodge pan, crock pot, All American Pressure Cooker, Pesto Pressure Cooker, Kitchen Aid Stand Mixer and accessories. Lodge brand cast iron Hibatchi BBQ $!200. Akorn Brand insulated charcoal smoker/cooker/BBQ $4000. Call 376-106-1162 ask for Ian. FOR SALE: Versa 2 Chargers. My Versa 2 died on me and the charger doesn’t fit the Sense. So I have 3 Versa 2 chargers for anyone that wants them (free). I hate to just throw them out when they work well. 332-617-3588. Note: if I don’t answer, please try the house phone, 376-765-5085. FOR SALE: WORKFORCE tile saw, THD Model 550 with spare ever used blade. Works fine. I did my job and don’t need it anymore. Has guides, straight and angles. In Chapala Haciendas. $2,750 (No rubles). Price firm. 376-765-6348. Email: Talosianx@protonmail.com. FOR SALE: CCTV security system; 8 cameras and CPU. New in box. Works fine (I tested the CPU and 1 camera). You can install yourself if you are a decent handyperson, or get it installed by someone else. There is one place in Ajijic, but I did my own 5+ years ago and no problems. In Chapala Haciendas. $4,120.55 firm price. Well less than Mercado Libre.
376-765-6348. Talosianx@protonmail. com. Mexican pesos, CDN or USD. No Rubles. FOR SALE: Makita 12v electric drill. Adjustable. With charger, case and new battery. Works fine. Used but not abused (Like my ex-wife). In Chapala Haciendas. 376-765-6348. $1,250.00 firm. FOR SALE: We have a queen size Mattress topper for sale, for a queen size Bed. asking 250 pesos, and a Brand New coffee Maker Cuisinart from the states, it makes 12 cups and I payed 129.00 dollars for it asking 800 pesos. If interested call 3767664971. FOR SALE: SKILSAW. 7”. Professional model. Heavy. Near two-dozen blades for metal/concrete. Old, dirty, and works great. $1,000.00. In Chapala. 1988jeopardychampion@gmail.com FOR SALE: Antique oak writing desk/ table with carved drawer. 29” (74cm) high x 36” (92 cm) wide x 19” (50 cm) deep $5,500 pesos firm can deliver. Email: marjane2021@outlook.com FOR SALE: Hoover Presto Stick 2 in 1 cordless vacuum with attachments. Model 440002095. $1,700. 331-7857185. FOR SALE: Honeywell Portable Evaporative Cooler. Model CS10AE with remote control. $1,800. 331-785-7185
FOR SALE: Portable Propane Space Heater. Lennox Model LE150HD. Includes one extra propane tank. $3,000. 331-785-7185 WANTED: If anyone has an inversion table in good condition they are not using and would like to sell it, please contact me. FOR SALE: Quetzals for trade. If anyone needs some Guatemalan currency I have some. I am willing to trade for US
or MXN. FOR SALE: BBQ set incarrying case. Excellent condition Offers on $650 pesos. 376 766 3170. FOR SALE: Like New Bissell Cordless steam multi surface vacuum. Used twice: Ideal for tile floors and can be used also on wood. Highly rated. Model number is 2544A. Reviews on the web and videos at Bissell .com Selling at $200 USD. Call Roger at 333 173 6605.
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