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D IRE C TOR Y
Index...
PUBLISHER David Tingen
EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Victoria A. Schmidt
EDITOR EMERITUS Alejandro Grattan-Dominguez
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COVER STORY
“I REMEMBER…WELL” - Judit Rajhathy shares her memories of being a young Hungarian war refugee running from the Russian invasion with her parents, a sibling and her grandparents.
COVER IMAGE
VOLUME 38 NUMBER 10
Graphic Design Roberto C. Rojas Reyes Diana Parra Morales Special Events Editor Kim Le Mieux Associate Editor Sally Asante Theater Critic Michael Warren Roving Correspondent Dr. Lorin Swinehart Poetry Editor Mel Goldberg Sales Manager Bruce Fraser Carmene Berner
08 Most Famous Forum in America, by Lori Swinehart 12 Marlboro Men, In Honor of Father’s Day, by Don Beaudreau 16 Dear Dreamer, by Margaret Porter 24 Dr. Henscratch, by Tom Nussbaum 26 Jaltepec Preparing for a Successful Future, by Carole Baker 28 Local Profile: Maria del-Carmen Romero Aviña, by Daria Hilton 40 The Window, by Rico Wallace
Send all correspondence, subscriptions or advertising to: El Ojo del Lago www.chapala.com elojodellago@gmail.com
06 Editorial 18 Vexations & Conundrums 20 If Pets Could Talk 22 Life in the Laugh Lane
48 Togetherness, by Neil McKinnon
30 Lakeside Living
54 Anticipation, by Steve Griffin Autumn Years, by Gabriel Blair Latin Dancers, by John Sacelli Love is Love, by Michael Warren Morning Medication, by Bill Frayer 55 Perchance A Pandemic, by John Allet Silence, by John Thomas Dodds The Knife Sharpener, by Jack Vollar
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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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COLUMNS THIS MONTH
46 Father’s Day Without Rogelio, by Daria Hilton
50 Mirage de el Dorado, by Robert Bruce Drynan 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
By Maloy Murdock
El Ojo del Lago / June 2022
36 Streets of Mexico 38 Verdant View 44 Profiling Tepehua 54 Poetry Niche
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COLUMNIST
Editor’s Page By Victoria Schmidt
A Change in El Ojo del Lago
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n this month’s Ojo you will see two pages dedicated to poetry. It is the Poetry Niche, and we have added Mel Goldberg to the staff as the poetry editor. As you will learn, Mel has an extensive background in teaching as well as writing and is an international award-winning poet. The following is in answer to questions about submissions to the Ojo: Please save for future reference. We are the largest English-language magazine in Mexico, celebrating life and times in one of the highest concentration of expat locales in the country. We publish monthly, since 1983, via print and online at ojo.chapala.com. El Ojo del Lago is available for free at various locations Lakeside, in Guadalajara and for mail-out subscriptions globally. Our slogan is “The Best Publication Money Can’t Buy.” El Ojo del Lago accepts submissions from any level writer for a variety of topics: fiction, memoir, book reviews, poetry, personality profiles, creative nonfiction, political insights, culture, travel, history, and humor. Acceptance of a submission does not guarantee that it will be published immediately. Seasonal articles (e.g. Christmas) can be submitted at any time, but may be held for publication in the appropriate month. Authors will not be made aware of publication dates. We do not pay for content. If chosen for publication, the author is automatically placed in competition for the annual awards luncheon at Tango Restaurant, one of the premier restaurants in Ajijic, held in September of each year. Before submitting please follow these guidelines: 1. We accept completed, edited and polished manuscripts only. We recommend your submission follows proper grammatical, clarity, and punctuation guidelines as per Chicago Manual of Style version 16, The Elements of Style by William Strunk Jr. and E.B. White, Getting the Words Right by Theodore Cheney, or a comparable high quality style manual. There are many online writing style guides, e.g., www.grammarbook.com and www.grammerly.com. Basic mistakes will risk rejection. 2. Submissions must be received via e-mail as a Word document attachment, with the title of the piece in the subject line. Pdf formatted documents are not acceptable. 3. We do not accept requests for edits after submission. If you must edit, request withdrawal, edit your piece and re-submit. You may lose your place in the lineup of available articles. 4. U.S. spelling must be adhered to. For example, use honor, not honour. 5. Use Times New Roman font, 14-point type, 100% size, single spaced, unjustified at the right side, and one space between sentences. 6. In your e-mail, you must include your name and contact information, word count (not including title) of your piece, a brief synopsis and a short writer’s bio with a recent high-res headshot. Frequent and/or repeat contributors and columnists with bios and headshots on file are exempt. 7. Book reviews, once submitted to our book-reviewing board, will be considered for acceptance. 8. Directly at the top of your Word document attachment you MUST include your title in uppercase, your name, contact information, and word count, not centered, for example: FUNNY PAGES by Danny Dominguez 650 words e-mail address (PLEASE LET US KNOW IF YOU DO NOT WISH YOUR E-MAIL PUBLISHED.) You risk rejection without proper accreditation. This information is not to be included in your word count. 9. Accepted word count varies with high-low season publication. Minimum count is 600 words and maximum is 1,200. Longer pieces are subject to available space, may span two or more issues. Our editorial staff has complete discretion over if/when your piece may be published. 10. The deadline for regular columns is the 1st of each month.
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11. If you have been asked to submit, either verbally or via our e-mail mailing list, adherence to these guidelines remains in place. 12. Send all photos directly to El Ojo del Lago office elojodellago@gmail.com clearly marked as to which article they should accompany. Photos must be high res and in a jpg. format. 13. And last but certainly not least, send your submissions to victoriaAschmidt@ gmail.com. Helpful Hints: Italics vs. Quotation Marks book titles
italics (when a possessive precedes a book title that begins with an article, the article is omitted: The Hunt For Red October, but Clancy’s Hunt For Red October)
newspapers
italics (including the if it is part of the official title: The New York Times, but the Washington Post)
magazines
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movies, plays
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radio, TV shows
quotation marks
musical compositions
Roman
ballets, operas, musicals
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song titles
quotation marks
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ships, other vessels
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Victoria Schmidt
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The Most Famous Farm In America Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall And The Spirit Of Being “Teched” By Dr. Lorin Swinehart
“It is the duty of every citizen, for his own welfare, if for no other patriotic reason, to support and fight for and possibly initiate measures having to do with conservation of soil, water and forests.” Louis Bromfield A Primer of Conservation
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rom the 1,310-foot summit of Mount Jeez, the view of rich farmland and forested hilltops is certainly one of the most beautiful in the Midwest.
Many years ago, this hill was known as Poverty Knob, its soil so exhausted by poor farming methods and subsequent erosion that no one could make a living on it. That changed in the
1930s when the Pulitzer Prize-winning author Louis Bromfield returned to the Ohio countryside of his youth, purchasing 600 acres consisting of four depleted farms, and restoring the topsoil through methods regarded as newfangled and controversial at the time until the land became famously productive again. Bromfield blamed what he called whorish agriculture for the exhausted soil and eroded ground, much as he blamed the Dust Bowl of the 1930s on short-sighted agricultural practices. His methods of topsoil restoration included so-called “trash farming,” precursor to no-till agriculture, as well as strip farming, contour plowing and sheet composting. It has been said that he is responsible for the beginning of the organic food movement. Were he alive today, he would be scandalized by the horrors of factory farming and the world-gobbling practices of agri-business. Bromfield insisted that the first word to come to mind when anyone looked out over the valley from the summit was “Jeez!” Hence, the name Mount Jeez. From the summit, one can view parts of three Ohio counties, nearby Pleasant Hill Reservoir and Mohican-Memorial State Forest. He named his lands Malabar Farm, after the Malabar Coast of India, where he had spent time while writing his bestselling novel The Rains Came. For his home, he constructed a 19-room Greek Revival-style house, known ever since as the Big House. Bromfield became an outspoken advocate for sustainable agriculture, an enthusiastic horticulturist and larger than life promotor of ecology and wildlife management. Many of his works of fiction, most of which were made into movies, have been sadly forgotten over the years, but his nonfiction works continue to inspire generations of farmers and naturalists. Louis Bromfield was famous during that period from the 1920s through the 1950s. His novel Early Autumn won the Pulitzer Prize in 1927. Numerous of his other novels were turned into movies, like The Rains Came, featuring such luminaries of the silver screen of yesteryear as Tyrone Power, Myrna Loy, George Brent and Nigel Bruce. The movie premiered in his hometown of Mansfield, Ohio, in 1939. While much of his fiction has been neglected by more recent critics and readers, some, like The Farm, The Man Who Had Everything, The Wild Country and A Good Woman would seem to deserve more attention today. He also composed the script for Walt Disney’s nature classic The Vanishing Prairie and the animated film
Ferdinand the Bull. Given all that, Bromfield’s real passion was agriculture. He writes lovingly of farming and nature in his nonfiction books, such as Malabar Farm, Pleasant Valley, A Few Brass Tacks, Out of the Earth, Animals and Other People, and his autobiographical From My Experience. He attracted agricultural experts and countless others from throughout the nation and from overseas as he illustrated his successful farming techniques founded upon an ethic of working with rather than against nature, ideas explored in his book A New Plan for a Tired World. Bromfield writes passionately of such seasonal labors as mowing alfalfa, tapping maple trees to make maple syrup, planting vegetable gardens, harvesting wheat, oats, corn and other crops throughout the year, realities that our ancestors took for granted but that so many have now forgotten. Among the thousands of visitors to Malabar Farm today, societal naiveté sometimes raises its head. During the annual Maple Syrup Festival in February and March, visitors have been overheard by rangers complaining, “I don’t see why they have this at this time of year with all the cold and the mud,” clueless that it is only in late winter when maple trees produce. On one occasion, a bus loaded with school children from the city arrived as the park’s dairy herd was being milked. A common response was, “Ugh! I would never drink that stuff! We get our milk from the supermarket.” Some of Bromfield’s most kindhearted writings involve the many animals, both wild and domesticated, that shared his bucolic farm life. In such books as Animals and Other People, he writes warmly of the six dogs, four of them boxers, who follow him everywhere. When his oldest most beloved boxer Prince dies unexpectedly, he writes most movingly of his great sense of loss in the story “Goodbye to a Friend,” a sentiment that all dog lovers can share. Other animal friends and their antics fill the pages of Bromfield’s many volumes. He speaks of a herd of goats who will never go far from their beloved porch swing, of a duck who doesn’t realize that he is a duck, of a Guernsey bull named Sylvester and a mongoose named—what else— Rikki. He speaks of the joys of raising pigs in a chapter of Animals and Other People, entitled “A Hymn to Hogs.” His “Cycle of a Farm Pond” depicts the realities of the food chain by describing the relationship between food fish, such as bluegills and sunfish, and predator species like largeContinued on page 10
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mouth bass. When predators are too few, the bluegill population explodes. As the food supply is gobbled up by too many ravenous mouths, the bluegills become stunted and deformed; Malthusian theory at work in the real world. Humans could learn a thing or two about overpopulation from Bromfield’s writings. In fact, one chapter of his book Malabar Farm, an otherwise charming agricultural memoir, is entitled “Malthus was Right.” During the summer months, it was not unusual for a tourist to stop by a vegetable stand at Malabar and to their astonishment find a famous movie actor like James Cagney or actress such as Kay Francis selling sweet corn, watermelons or baskets of green beans. Bromfield was a lavish entertainer, and many celebrities of that day came to visit him at Malabar. He often put them to work. Among those famous visitors was the actor Humphrey Bogart, with whom Bromfield became best friends. Their relationship was defined by personal compatibility and good-hearted banter. Bogart said that he hated phonies, that he preferred the company of real people, like Louis Bromfield. While the two differed somewhat
politically, Bromfield becoming more conservative with the passage of the years and Bogart being more liberal, a supporter of Adlai Stevenson’s failed presidential campaigns, they respected one another’s views. When Bogart, then 45, announced his engagement to the 20-year-old actress Lauren Bacall, there was no question but that the wedding had to take place at Malabar Farm. There was also no question but that Louis Bromfield would serve as Bogart’s best man, while his business manager George Hawkins gave the bride away. The local and national press descended in droves upon Malabar Farm. For a wedding gift, Bromfield gave the newlyweds one of his boxer puppies and an acre of land should they ever decide to build a cottage there. Given that World War II was still raging in the Pacific, the wedding brought a bit of joy to Americans of all stripes, and it caused Malabar to become The Most Famous Farm in America. In his autobiographical volume From My Experience, composed toward the end of his life, Bromfield explains his philosophy by drawing upon Dr. Albert Schweitzer’s concept Reverence for Life. He comes to recognize that Schweitzer’s idea had energized his own lifelong passion for nature and animals, a spiritual relationship that he defines as being “teched,” a sense of kinship with the land and our fellow creatures. To be teched, Bromfield explains, is to love the land, animals, trees, and all living things and to understand them. Bromfield passed away in 1956 after a bout with bone marrow cancer. For a number of years, His beloved farm was managed by the Ohio Department of Natural Resources and the conservation organization Friends of the Land, founded earlier by Bromfield, the famous soil conservationist Liberty Hyde Bailey, and others. The tobacco heiress Doris Duke, once known as the “Richest Little Girl in the World,” donated money to prevent the land being invaded and destroyed by developers. Finally, in 1976, Malabar Farm became a state park, a place where thousands of visitors come each year to explore the fields and forests, learn of Bromfield and his passion for conservation, and thrill to the view from atop Mount Jeez. Louis Bromfield would be proud. Perhaps all of us who have come to love Malabar Farm over the years are now a bit teched. Lorin Swinehart
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Marlboro Men
In Honor of Father’s Day: June 19, 2022 By Don Beaudreau wbeaudreau@aol.com
The Marlboro Man is dead. Long live the Marlboro Man! In our dreams he remains the hero of a thousand billboards. The ultimate salesman. (opening lyrics to the song “Marlboro Man, Jr” by the American funk rock band World Entertainment War) Where there’s a man…there’s a Marlboro. (Philip Morris advertising slogan) ***** Death and Some Blueberry Pie, 1970s Mr. Ziegler was lost. Not something a driver of a hearse was supposed to be. Lost children and dogs, certainly; lost fortunes; lost virginity. But not lost undertakers. It became his excuse to stop at a diner advertising fresh pies. “I’ll have apple . . . a la mode,” the dapper, little man told our waitress who looked like a walrus. “I’ll have blueberry,” I said, looking out the picture window. “Naked?” the walrus honked at me. I took my eyes off the hearse in plain view of the restaurant patrons and employees, and looked at her, wondering what she meant. “You want a scoop or not?” Her tone of voice showed more than frustration at my lack of understanding. She did not look at me, but her Bic was poised over her note pad, ready to write down my answer to her lifealtering question. “Oh,” I said, thinking of my father fully dressed, lying in this parking lot somewhere in rural Maryland. “No,” I answered. “Thank you, though.” The left corner of the woman’s upper lip rose ever so slightly and began to tremble. I could tell she was pissed. She knew that the clown man hiding behind a mortician’s mask and I had been the ones to bring death into her parking lot. It was ironic. Dad, the traveling salesman, never got lost. But there he was – or what was left of him – waiting to continue on his way while we had dessert. At least he wasn’t strug-
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gling now. The tubes and machines that had become part of his body for the seven weeks it took him to die from a stroke were gone. He just couldn’t give up smoking five packs a day. Marlboro cigarettes. Mr. Ziegler brought me back to the present. “You know, it’s my birthday,” he said jubilantly. “I’m 67 today!” How strange, I thought. Dad had turned 67 only 12 days before he died. And here was this odd little man the same age, but so healthy. I felt a great unfairness sweeping over me. Still, I liked the man’s optimism. Especially so, considering what he did for a living. “Dad was 67,” I said. “The Marlboros killed him.” “You don’t say,” Mr. Ziegler replied, getting out a map and adding, “I never smoked.” I wondered what it would have been like to have had a happy mortician for a father. But I thought about this until the blueberry pie came. I gobbled it up, realizing that, after all, life must go on. The pie was so good that I ordered another one from the Walrus and asked if I could have it clothed this time. She looked at me as if I were crazy, and then started to laugh. “You mean dressed?” I looked at her as if she were crazy. Then I began to laugh. The first time I had laughed in many weeks. It was healing. Sometimes, getting lost can be a very good thing. ***** A Hollywood Funeral, 1990s He had been one of the original Marlboro Men, appearing in those old cigarette ads in magazines and on billboards. You know, tough guys dressed like cowboys, lassoing wild horses, and stuff like that. And always with a dangling cigarette. But that’s not all he had lassoed, for he was quite a ladies man. The reality is that “Fred” (not his Continued on page 14
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real name) had not been a real cowboy. He had been a professional model and actor. And when I encountered him, a deceased one. It was my ministerial duty to officiate at his funeral service, complete with his body on display, a body that had smoked too many Marlboros and had succumbed to lung cancer. There is something about a “Hollywood funeral”—and I did a number of them—that is quite different from other funerals or memorial services. Briefly put, it is like an audition for a big part rather than a celebration of a life. The service was held in a mortuary, but it could have been on the set of a Hollywood movie studio. Instead of quiet, meditative music, tranquil lighting effects, and paintings of bucolic and celestial scenes, Fred’s place of “slumber” had the theme from the television show “Bonanza” playing and bright lights that were purposely directed onto the countless 8½-by11- inch glossy publicity shots of Fred that adorned the entire front wall where Fred in his casket was dressed up like a Marlboro Man about to giddy up and go to his last roundup. I do not remember any of his family members who were present. But I do remember the many women who were there. All of them were blonde. All in deep distress at the loss of their Marlboro Man. Cecile B. DeMille would have been proud of this production. Anyhow, I hope that the Marlboro Man is now in a fire- and smoke-free environment – with lots and lots of flaming blondes! ***** A Goodbye Lunch, 1990s It was an announcement about my 25th year college reunion, saying something about a beer blast on the football field, being with the guys, and sweatshirts with our school mascot on them. Hardly an exciting pros-
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pect for me way back then or now, so I decided to return to my alma mater three weeks before the reunion. It was my way of coming to terms with the reality that a quarter of a century had passed. I went with a single purpose in mind: to reunite with my favorite professor. What style this English professor had had! What wit! What a lover of the English language! As a college student, I had admired and feared him, the latter because I had felt so intellectually inadequate whenever he was around. Also, I sometimes felt discounted by him. This for me was illustrated by his choosing to call me Bill. Even though William is my first name, I have always gone by my middle name Donald, or Don. I wrote him with some trepidation, telling him of my desire to take him to lunch. I feared that he would grade my letter, or at least blue-pencil in corrections. When I got a letter back with a witticism here, a witticism there, I figured he hadn’t changed much. He called me Bill when we met. His mind was still sharp, and everready with the next quip. What was different about him was that he kept telling me secrets. Things about the faculty twenty-five years ago; stories about past college episodes that a professor in 1967 would never had shared with a student. Although he was treating me like a peer, I couldn’t quite think of myself as one, nor could I believe myself to be a college student anymore. I also was surprised that he smoked. Marlboro cigarettes. Perhaps he had been a long-time smoker, but I didn’t remember seeing him do this before. The two-hour lunch turned into a four-hour one, with lots of beer for both of us, and countless well-turned phrases from him. He even talked about some personal things concerning his deceased wife and children. And then he told me that he had been diagnosed with a fatal blood disease. And then he quoted some Shakespearian line about the brevity of life. And then he laughed. When it was time for us to say goodbye, he seemed quite reserved, as if he were back in time playing his former role as the distant professor. I wanted to hug him, but decided I’d better not. I guess I was back in time, too. So I didn’t make the motion toward him, except to extend my hand and mumble something inane like “See you later.” He closed our reunion by saying, “See you around, Don,” which was far better for me than a hug.
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Dear Dreamer By Margaret Porter
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he woman regrets not listening better to the dreams her husband had shared with her almost every morning. He was a remarkably vivid, detailed dreamer, recalling every color, shadow, shape, and placement in the dream’s setting. She’d learned to cope by offering him a half-smile as he unspooled the dreams into the air in front of him, her trying to catch every fifth word so she could urge him on whenever he’d ask, “Oh, now where was I?” She thought it the polite thing to do. Some of his dreams were repetitious, the ones where they were all in a building that was about to collapse and he, by himself, had to find a way to get
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them all out. Or the ones where his exwife appeared, and they were young, and he was trying to get away from her but he couldn’t because she was everywhere, replicating, and he was terrified. Or the one where he had to make a presentation of his architect’s model for a fifty-million dollar building 10 minutes from now, and he had nothing to work with but a few index cards, scissors, and some Elmer’s glue. The problem wasn’t only that her husband’s dreams were a bit tedious in repetition. It was that after all the details were unspooled, he’d toddle off into his day, his imagination empty and ready for a refill, hers now full. She’d be left with the imagery inside her head,
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which would nestle deep inside of her and crowd out more important things, begging her for their meaning. Why did he dream so often about his ex-wife? Why did dogs always talk to him in his dreams, and not cats? Why did she only appear if they were in peril, and never in the recurring lingerie model dream? The woman never wanted to put him off by saying, “Enough with the dreams!” That was too great a risk. If she’d said that, he would apologize, cheerfully of course. He’d probably insist on a hug because he’d bored her, which she’d accept because she’d feel terrible for having said it in the first place. He’d had a career in measuring things, too, and would eventually realize that she had been putting up with the boring dream tales for all the long years of their marriage. This would cause him great consternation, so he’d alter his behavior. She feared this, because most of his behavior for all these years had been quite grand, and she’d noticed how other husbands had successfully changed one annoyance only to cause a domino effect of other changes. Hadn’t her friend Betty finally gotten her mate to stop picking hair out of his ears at the dinner table, only to have him suddenly grow hypersensitive about his grooming, dandying himself up so much that he’d attracted other women with his wife standing right there? So it was a critical responsibility that she shouldered – her words carried the power to change the him, and she didn’t want him to alter a thing except the dream download. The woman loved her husband as a butterfly loves a bountiful garden, and his kindness, and scent, and decency had settled pleasantly into her after all these years. Sure, he’d shrunk a full inch with age, and was sagging in places where he once had muscle, but this made him all the more cuddly. He was also totally bald now, which made her laugh. When she was a young career woman, she’d chortled to her friends that she didn’t find bald men attractive. And wouldn’t you know it, here he comes along, a man bald by 30 with a diamond ring and a powerful love in his heart. So, the woman had learned to nod interest when he’d told her of the dream where he found himself driving a butter-colored 1962 Karman Ghia all the way to Jocotopec, slamming into not one but three topes because, in his dream, they weren’t marked very well. His coffee went flying onto the beige leather passenger seat, which was empty save for the latest copy of the Guadalajara Reporter, the coffee soaking the main headline: “Mexico poverty reduced by half.” Then, a mule crossed the road and he had to stop, and he watched it wander down to the lake to
take a swim. Then he woke up, and that day, with painters arriving, she’d felt doubly grateful. Then, he’d giggled when he told of the dream about a birthday party for his daughter, still five years old, dressed in a green denim jumper and blouse of pink gingham. He’d baked the cake for the party – German chocolate, of course, as this was his daughter’s favorite – and how his ex-wife was sitting there, dressed in her finest Jones New York black wool suit, the one with the red velvet collar, still stewing about all the attention he was paying to the girl. He had smashed a piece of cake in his ex-wife’s face and a coconut had issued from her left nostril. Or, was it a pecan? He couldn’t really remember. Then he woke up. The woman had hoped it was a coconut. Kim Novak showed up in a dream once, dressed in the pink gown from the movie Picnic, and she was clapping her hands in anticipation of a dance with him, standing in a torn shirt, his chest scraped with claw marks from Rosemary-the-teacher’s desperation. Miss Novak had long been her husband’s fantasy, and he was thrilled that he’d finally had a dream about her. The woman, not so much. Still, after that dream, he’d reached out to her the next night and they’d made love, and he’d called her “Marge, the pretty one,” as his hands gently stroked her body. She so hoped he would dream that one again. Then all of a sudden, it was over. He’d woken up one morning and, while regaling her with the details of how, in his dream, he’d picked all the tangerines off the tree, one by one, until the entire bodega was full of them, the brilliant orange tumbling forth and overtaking Lena, the maid, who ran screaming in terror at the attack of citrus. The woman had stammered, “Dear, really – I have a telephone call to make.” He smiled and said, “All right,” then wandered into his office to check his email. He was awfully quiet, and when she went in with his morning tea, his head was on his keyboard and he wasn’t breathing. The woman took his ashes back to his native Vermont and tossed them into Chaos Canyon. She was alone that day, as his daughter couldn’t make it and his son was in Africa. As he floated away into the verdant valley below, she called out to him, “Farewell, Dreamer!” but no echo returned. Her life was too quiet after that, and she so wished that she’d caught at least every other word of his dreams. Margaret Porter
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Post-Pandemic Blues
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e’ve heard from Dr. Fauci that the “pandemic” phase is behind us, yet COVID cases are still occurring and one more surge could come this summer. I notice I’m still a tad jumpy around large crowds, where I grab my security mask, just to feel more protected. This reentry is not what I envisioned. I dreamed of a hard end to the plague and global celebrations akin to Mardi Gras. The reality is more brutal. First, we had to go to every medical checkup which had been postponed for over two years. I’d noticed a floating black spot in my vision. I thought it was a fruit fly, and I’d try swatting it away. I looked loopy to an observer, as I waved at nothing. Finally I realized the spot moved when my eyes moved. The optometrist saw a large floater, which I will soon get a second opinion on, as it may require retinal surgery. The dermatologist in Ajijic told me there was a dramatic increase in diagnosed cancers because people had not received medical checks during the pandemic. I had a small skin cancer removed, proving her point. I remarked that I’d watched the spot change during the pandemic, and she explained that “evolution” is a key marker of trouble in dermatology. When skin marks change, head to your dermatologist, the sooner the better. Diligence on dental care throughout isolation helped on this front. Our dental experience was much more positive. No issues. However, I know others who have had to have major, expensive procedures after the pandemic. Postponing routine medical visits can have dire consequences. My stepson knew someone who delayed going in for medical treatment due to COVID fear. This individual is no longer with us. He succumbed to a different disease. This anecdote is a motivating factor for me to plan for other checkups.
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These examples don’t even address those whom we lost to the pandemic. Almost everyone can share the loss of at least one friend or family member to COVID. The pangs of grief for those who are gone hits at the strangest times, and often. A simple reminder and being unable to call an individual to talk anymore, results in a heavy, homesick feeling. A family member who is a psychologist shared that there are increased mental effects from COVID. Heightened anxiety is one issue. Long COVID can have brain fog as an effect. I have my moments of forgetfulness without brain fog! I am grateful to be vaccinated, as this supposedly helps prevent Long COVID. So how are we to deal with this aftermath? One online workshop I attended recommended participating in activities which are not compatible with depression (Source, Lewinsohn and Graf, (1973) Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology.) We need to walk outside in fresh air (Jane Goodall is a proponent of “forest bathing,” which involves sitting in the woods, in the company of trees.) Music and friends are antidotes to dark moods. People watching is good too. The people sitting down on the malecon watching everyone’s activities are on to something. Animal watching in the wild is a healthy activity. The bird watchers in the village are exercising positivity. Planning peace and quiet and spare time are considered beneficial. How delightful that some lazy activities are good for us! I think I’ll go and play some of my favorite ’70s music, which always seems to transport me to a happier, more carefree time.
Katina Pontikes
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COLUMNIST
If Our Pets Could Talk By Jackie Kellum
Enjoy life’s journey
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ur pets do not have watches to keep track of time. Time doesn’t exist in a pet’s mind. The moment does! They do not worry themselves about being old. Our pet does not think: “Oh God! My life is almost over,” nor do they ask, “What have I accomplished in my life?” Time is a concept that we as humans have come up with to mark our place in our life, and measure and count our accomplishments, gauge our happiness, etc. We let time define us, when we should define “our time.” So when we see our pets, we should look at them like a little furry Buddha, guiding us and letting them teach us the way to a happier life. Pets establish boundaries, and we can do the same thing. Our pets are good at telling us verbally or by body language what they like or not, will agree to do something or not, etc. Humans, on the other hand, sometimes are hampered by being too “socially correct” about clearly and politely expressing what we don’t want others to do, what we are not willing to do, etc. We do this by tiptoeing around topics or softening our tone so as not to offend. While you shouldn’t feel the need to loudly broadcast your boundaries, it is okay to say no, and even say it again at times, to re-state (politely) your boundaries. Pets know and do prioritize things in their life. They know how to relax. Both cats and dogs, when playing, running around like crazy, chasing unseen things, full speed ahead, and then stop. They pick a comfortable place, and just relax and recoup. Animals instinctively know when they need to rest. We humans have this instinct too, but we too often ignore it in favor of getting more things crossed off our never ending to-do lists. Learn from your pet, and think about how you can make rest and relaxation more of a priority in your life. It might not sound productive, but the more rested and relaxed you
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are, the better you’ll be in every aspect of your life. Pets know how to focus on what is most important to them in their lives. Can we say the same about ourselves? A pet will tell you what is more important to him when he has to make choices. Like our pets, we only have just so much time, in a day, even in our whole life, so we need to be attentive of where we place our efforts and values. Take a moment, think of what is important in your life, and then consider on how much time and attention you’re giving to that part of your life. Pets teach us: Do the things that make you happy. One of the best lessons we can learn from our pet is: stay endlessly curious. As humans, many times we are too busy and stressed, or feel we do not have time to be curious. But curiosity is one of life’s greatest gifts—and it’s free. It doesn’t stop giving if you’re open to experiencing it. As a child you no doubt were curious about a lot of things, and it gave you joy. Enjoy that curiosity once again, with a fresh perspective and hopefully newly found wisdom. Our pets have much to teach us, we just have to be observant and open to learning. If you are fortunate enough to have a family pet – AKA a furry Guru - you have a teacher who willingly enhances your life each day in many ways. Jackie Kellum
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COLUMNIST
By Scott Jones
Why Chiangmai?
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002 I gave, threw or packed away my worldly possessions and set off to possess the world—ten countries for starters. After two weeks in Hawaii, two more in China, and two months in Vietnam, Thailand was next. Bangkok was abysmally busy and terminally polluted. I hit Chiangmai the next day. That was it. It felt like home. I’d always dreamed of living where I would vacation. The dream came alive. I took a trip back to America to scrape the mold off everything in storage I didn’t care about, retrieve motorcycle gear and visit family and friends. Besides them, the only thing I really missed about America was the promise of tissue paper in the toilet. Here I’m never sure what to do with all those hoses, bowls and bins of water. Once you’re sufficiently hosed with the “bum gun,” how do you dry? Why don’t you see locals emerge with big wet spots in the groin area? Are there secret Thai diapers? Should I carry a portable hair dryer? So I came back home—Thailand—with only one regret: I should have moved here years ago. I love Chiangmai’s blend of local and international flavors. Tall, sturdy, tank-topped,
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Viking girls with backpacks the size of water buffalo, but weighing a bit more. (The backpack, not the girls. Well, maybe.) Ageless, smiling, smooth-skinned Thais at the train station. (“Sawatdee. I’m 105 years old. I come to get my grandmother.”) And Chiangmai has over two billion, full-service tourist agencies. (“Where you go? Have special one-day trek/visa run with bamboo elephant rafting over waterfall while get massage during cooking course by completely hands on!”) The best part of life in Chiangmai is where it lives: northern Thailand. I’ve got a big bike, and I take great big trips. I wrote a song about it, but the words without music is like a bike with no wheels, a hair dryer with no electricity, or only one chopstick. Come on over and hear the song and the sweet sounds of Thailand. Ain’t it grand In northern Thailand? It’s like singin’ a song Ain’t it grand In northern Thailand? Home where I belong To temple bells at 4 a.m., the saffron monks arise. Then slowly sounds of songbirds and roosters fill the skies. The markets teem with friendly folks. You can see it in their eyes. The Land of Smiles just comes alive in this city of Chiangmai. The countryside’s a biker’s dream. It’s a living picture show. Jungle roads snake through bamboo past muddy buffalo. Climb the misty mountains where the cool rivers run. Hike a hidden valley where you hardly see the sun. Lisu hill tribe ladies look like human butterflies. Their multi-colored costumes are candy for your eyes. Tom yam takes your taste buds on a roller-coaster ride. A festival for all my senses, I take Thailand for my bride. Ain’t it grand In northern Thailand? It’s like singin’ a song Ain’t it grand In northern Thailand? Home where I belong Scott Jones
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Dr. Henscratch By Tom Nussbaum
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octors in the United States are known for, among other more positive qualities, their illegible handwriting. Their scribbles on prescriptions and instructions have been a standard joke in television sitcoms and stand-up comedy routines for decades. While frequently exaggerated, examples of doctors’ notorious penmanship causing problems do occur and true tales exit hospitals and clinics nationwide through the lobby and out the automatic doors. I recall many years ago, perhaps the late 1960s or early ‘70s, long before computers streamlined the
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medical world, rushing to the hospital to join my mother who had been admitted for sudden back problems. She was in pain and placed in the outdated practice of traction. On the wall, above the head of her bed, was the handwritten sign “E. Washburn.” When a nurse entered, I asked who E. Washburn was? She looked at my mother, then the handwritten papers on her clipboard and pointed. “Doesn’t that say Washburn?” she asked. “My mother’s name is Elizabeth Nussbaum.” “Oh, her name is Elizabeth. We couldn’t decide if it was Eleanor or
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Edith. So, we just wrote an “E” until her records were delivered or the doctor got here,” the nurse explained. “We were instructed to get her in traction STAT.” I eyed the notation. I didn’t see STAT. I saw 57A7. Had ASAP been written, I probably would have interpreted it as Teepee 5 Teepee R. When we checked Mom out of the hospital a few days later, I intentionally scribbled an illegible scrawl that looked just a little like “E. Washburn.” For the remainder of my American life, I flashed on that incident whenever a doctor handed me a prescription. How can the pharmacist read this? I thought. Drug names are complicated and often long. How do I know I’m getting cephalexin and not a misread ciprofloxacin or a laxative instead of Lamisil for a toe fungus? But this was one worry I shed at the border. Mexican doctors write clearly, often writing prescriptions in Spanish for the pharmacist and in English for the American patient, if necessary. It is as if part of Mexican medical training includes penmanship. And I am so grateful for that. But I wondered if American doctors could read their own writing. I had visions of Dr. Henscratch standing in a Piggly-Wiggly or Safeway aisle trying to decipher his shopping list, mumbling, “Does that say mozzarella or marshmallows?” I imagined the good doctor deciding “cookies and vanilla sorbet” was Carton of Virginia Slims. I pictured the MD puzzled by the two-word item that began with a possible “S” and “B” and deciding it was “several breads.” I envisioned the confused doctor arriving home and being confronted in the kitchen by a spouse or partner who stared with questioning eyes. “Why is a two-foot-long baguette sticking out of that shopping bag? And why the hell do you
have a carton of cigarettes trapped under your arm? We don’t smoke. We’re both doctors. We know the evil of addictions!” There was a pause. “You did get the sauvignon blanc, didn’t you? I really need it tonight.” My assessing and judging doctors’ handwriting came full circle some time ago, however, when I found myself center-aisle in a supermarket, staring at a cryptic shopping list item. “CEZOM3MUL” challenged my absent-mindedness from the bottom of the list. Is that an exotic fruit, rare mushroom, or cleaning product? I asked myself. Well, whatever it is, I’ll get it next time. I completed my shopping. As I inched forward in the checkout line, I came face-to-face, literally, with a seductive supermodel who flirted with me from the cover of Cosmopolitan Magazine. That’s it! I yelled internally. It says “Cosmopolitan.” But why? Did someone recommend an article in it? Oh, I’ll figure that out when I get home. And I snatched the periodical from the rack. When I removed the magazine from my shopping bag and lay it on the kitchen counter, I scanned the cover and noticed that among the content teasers scattered on the page was, “Why a collagen supplement is a must-have for women over 30.” I laughed. “For women over thirty? Yeah. Right.” And then it hit me! “CEZOM3MUL” was my needed vitamin and supplement list. Normally written in a stack, I had, this time, written “C, E, Zinc, Omega 3, Multi” in a perplexing, abbreviated, horizontal chain. I probably should have included something for my memory. Tom Nussbaum
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CENTRO EDUCATIVO JALTEPEC
The Judges then collaborated to decide on the type of recognition for each venture based on the most original business idea, its social impact, and the structured business plans. Three projects were selected as winners, although recognition was given to all students depending on the outstanding attitudes, skills and abilities they demonstrated during their presentations. To conclude the event, Education Director Lupita Cánepa congratulated the whole team and the parents with a heartfelt message of support for the students. In part…. “ As Gloria said, we want you to discover that you can achieve your dreams, but obviously with hard work. This work is the challenge that will enable you to dream and fly as high as you can go. Congratulations to each of you. Participants with Recognition Categories
PREPARING FOR A SUCCESSFUL FUTURE By Carole Baker The annual Entrepreneurship Expo at Jaltepec, now the Microenterprise Business Event was established in 2008 and is especially interesting. Its focus is on the student’s ability to plan and present a viable business plan for their future endeavours. It is an opportunity to utilize what they have learned about the hospitality service, and transform this knowledge into a professional strategy. This year’s event took place on Saturday, April 2, 2022 and was made available via Zoom for the sponsors of the participating students. Verónica Rojas was the Jaltepec Coordinator of the project and Linda Buckthorp, Community Facilitator for Jaltepec, was in attendance. The panel of three judges was led by Alma Rosa Rosas. Alma is a business expert on Jaltepec’s Board of Directors and is in charge of the recently established “Alumnae Entrepreneur Mentoring Program”. The second guest judge was Diego González Bonilla, with the Business Incubation Department for the Pan-American University in Guadalajara. Diego has been involved with the Expo for the past five years. His parents, Javier & Martha, have hosted our previous Christmas FOR Jaltepec events at their La Bodega Restaurant in Ajijic and are great supporters of Jaltepec. A special guest judge was Gloria Alejandra Rodríguez, a graduate of Jaltepec 2007, who owns and operates the Gourmet Mexican Restaurant, “Teocintle Maíz”, in Ajijic, considered the best in the Ribera de Chapala. Gloria contributed a motivational message about her life experiences as an entrepreneur. In part… “It is worth dreaming, but what is really important is to work for your dreams. Since I was a child, I dreamed of cooking, becoming a chef, and owning my own business. There is no doubt it was thanks to Jaltepec that I have succeeded”. Eleven of our second year students presented their business projects centered around a common theme, a baking challenge with different presentations and uses of cookies. Each student had two minutes to present their business plan, and win the judges’ hearts. The newly established Hybrid Learning Centres were put to effective use with the projects being shown on the gigantic TV screen. Each exhibited great poise using this new and innovative technique.
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Back row left to right: Wendy Gaspar, Academic Coordinator, Verónica Rojas, Project Coordinator, Zahira - Quality in the product, Lizeth Idaly - Empowered entrepreneur, Gloria Rodríguez, Judge and Alumnus, Daniela - Innovative product, Alma Rosa Rosas, Judge, Crystal - Taste and traditions, Rosa Nayeli - Innovative business idea, Belen - Business vision, Lupita Cánepa, Education Director. Front row left to right: Yosihary - High volume producer, Karla - Connection with the client, Ana Maraly - 2nd place Business viability, Alma Julissa - 3rd place Creativity and costeffectiveness, Alondra - 1st place Natural entrepreneur, Diego González Bonilla, Judge. MENTORSHIP PROGRAM The most feasible projects from the Microenterprise Business Event have access to the recently established Mentorship Program at Jaltepec. Alma Rosa Rosas, who participated as a judge in this year’s event, is also a very successful business woman and a member of the “Patronato”, or “Patrons of Jaltepec” who are working to develop the Mentorship Program. The ‘Programa Mentoría Emprendedoras Jaltepec’ provides professional guidance to the successful candidates from business experts every month for the first six months to get their own businesses established. The program has 3 specific objectives. 1. To identify the challenges or problems that each business may face. 2. To guide the student to avoid mistakes so they can establish their business as soon as possible. The Mentor will share his or her own experience. 3. To establish a good relationship between the student and the Mentor. The Mentor can support the student in the area of marketing, finance, publicity, etc. In addition, one of the strategies that this program is implementing is including graduates from Jaltepec who are business owners as mentors. In fact, they have already started to work with two of our graduates, and we are looking forward to seeing the results of this new endeavor! AND!!! We would like to remind you about the upcoming Departure Dates for our once a month Exclusive Tequila Tour: Thursdays, May 26th, June 23rd, July 21st, August 25th, & September nd 22 . This is an exclusive Tequila Tour like no other. It is NOT a tour to the town of Tequila. The Rancho Tequila Reserva de los González is located in the red highlands of Jalisco northeast of Ajijic and has never before been open to the public., For more information, please contact Linda Buckthorp at buckthorplm@ gmail.com or 333-407-8193.
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LOCAL PROFILE: Maria Del Carmen Romero Aviña By Daria Hilton
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ometimes it is hard to believe in the innate goodness of humanity. Fortunately, there are those people on this planet who radiate goodness with such profound and humble purity they restore your faith. Maria Del Carmen Romero Aviña is one of those people. A Chapala native who met and married the love of her life, Jose, at the tender age of 15, Maria faced unimaginable hardships as the young mom of a special needs son. She met these challenges with fierce determination, tenacious resourcefulness and, most of all, love. The many medical interventions her son, Juan, required led Maria to a career in nursing, but this path was more of a steep, boulder-strewn, densely forested mountain trail than the road more traveled. Juan Jose Vazquez Romero, affec-
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tionately known as Juanito, was born March 1st, 1990. Soon after his birth, he was diagnosed with a severe form of cerebral palsy. Juanito would never walk or talk and needed 24-hour care. He was prone to seizures and was prescribed expensive anti-convulsive medication in addition to a host of other medications and therapies. He could also light up a room with his smile and melt the most callous heart. He loved
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bright colored toys and the company of his family. The early years for Jose and Maria were financially tough. To save money, they lived in a crumbling brick and cement structure with a cardboard roof that barely qualified as a house. One year, the scorpions were so abundant they had to tack blankets to the ceiling to keep the baby safe. Jose worked hard only to see most of his income funneled into medical care for his son. Maria’s full-time job was the care of Juanito, but she sold fruit, churritos, and shave ice in front of her house to contribute to her family’s income. In addition to almost endless medical appointments, Juanito had therapy four times a week, two days in Chapala at the D.I.F. and two days in La Floresta. Sometimes scraping up the 10 pesos that the D.I.F. charged was a challenge. To this day, Maria is grateful to her American angel, Wanda, for driving her to the La Floresta therapies, thus saving her both the bus fare and the physical burden of carrying her son. Maria’s first foray into the nursing world came in the mid-1990s when the mayor’s office offered a small course in Tepehua teaching basic nursing skills, like how to wrap a bandage and how to give injections. At first, Maria’s interest in nursing lay only in being able to competently administer her son’s medications. A caring person to her core, a career in medical care simmered on some forgotten back burner for the next two decades. In the meantime, Maria’s parents and most of her siblings moved to the United States, where she herself had spent half of her childhood, and decided to stay North. Jose and Maria’s growing family, which would eventually include three daughters, moved into Maria’s parents’ house. Though the accommodations were better, the challenges remained. In 2001, the unthinkable happened; Juanito passed away. Despite the strength of her faith and the sure knowledge that she will see her son again in heaven, no mother survives the death of a child without deep anguish. Maria surely found strength in the love of her husband, the laughter of her surviving children, the beauty of nature, and her trust in God. But I think it is the fighter in her, the woman who defended and protected her son against all odds that got her through this dark time. As poet Caitlin Seida wrote about hope, “It’s what thrives in the discards And survives in the ugliest parts of our world, Able to find a way to go on When nothing else can even find a way in.” Hope, faith, and perseverance are not for the weak of heart. Maria has all
three in spades and a fierce heart that can contain them. It was this spirit that served Maria well when the opportunity to enter the nursing profession presented itself some years later when she worked at an Ajijic bed and breakfast. One of the usual tenants there was a plastic surgeon named Dr. Benjamin Villaran. On occasion, some of his patients would stay at the B&B to recover from their surgeries. Dr. Villaran enlisted Maria to assist him in their care and in doing so ignited the spark of her desire to become a nurse. Nursing school was prohibitively expensive. There was, however, a free course offered by Donna Hall that taught general nursing skills and geriatric care. Maria enrolled immediately and spent every Saturday for the next year learning new skills and volunteering at local nursing homes, all while keeping her full-time job and raising her three daughters. This training sufficed for a time, but Maria wanted to further her career with a more formal degree. She entered La Escuela de la Ribera de Doctores to become a certified nurse. The two-year program came with a 7,500 peso per year price tag. Maria worked extra hours to come up with the tuition. Buying the expensive textbooks was out of the question, so she photocopied chapters from her classmates’ books when finances allowed. She finished her program with honors and now works in the medical field in the office of an ophthalmologist. She also provides in-home care as the opportunity arises. Maria admitted that her dream is to open a nursing home but sees this as a near impossible goal. When Maria talks about patient care, her eyes light up and her passion for her profession fairly oozes out of her pores. When discussing her volunteer time at nursing homes, she teared up a bit recalling those patients who never had visitors. She envisions a place where human dignity is valued over profit, and senior patients are treated with the love and respect they deserve as elders. Every year on his birthday the family visits Juanito’s gravesite to bring him a healthy slice of cake. This year Maria’s granddaughter insisted they bring an even bigger piece than usual in case Juanito was extra hungry. This concern that a little girl has for the uncle she never met epitomizes the goodness that defines Maria and her family too. It is my scrappy hope that Maria does one day open that nursing home, and that she names it after her inspiration: Juanito’s. Daria Hilton
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Kim LeMieux Email: kimslakesideliving@gmail.com The Lake Chapala Society hosts Open Circle , a popular community gathering in Ajijic, every Sunday at 10:30 a.m., where attendees enjoy a diverse range of presentations. Enter by the side gate on Ramón Corona; gate opens at 9:30 a.m. We recommend bringing a hat and bottled water, and please remove containers upon departure. Use of mask is optional. Please make your reservation if you want to attend. https://opencircleajijic.org/ reservation_form.php Check their website for upcoming presentations, and if you missed a past presentation, you could still enjoy it on line. https://opencircleajijic.org/ June 5. Tran immigrants, The Rhizome Center for Migrants. “Despite the fact that Mexico receives, on average, more than 15,000 displaced persons each month, there are very few resources dedicated to serving their specific needs.” We believe that immigration status and citizenship do not form the basis for discrimination and abuse. Nor do rights terminate at the border. Our beliefs push us to enhance access to justice and to promote human rights and fundamental freedoms even after someone has been deported. We are the first and only legal aid clinic south of the border focused entirely on providing post-deportation legal services to the deported community. Our Mexico Project focuses on strengthening and expanding legal and reintegration resources for at-risk deportees and returnees. June 12. Kelly Bennett, Meditation on the Go! June 19. Daniel Acuff, Ph.D., M.S.P. (Masters in Spiritual Psychology) Extraordinary Living: A Personal Enhancement Presentation. With Dr. Acuff as a guide, as a participant you can expect to explore various important keys to creating an extraordinary life experience. You will be invited and sometimes challenged to look at questions related to how you are currently fulfilling your needs and how this leads to your level of happiness. A high and consistent degree of happiness is a goal of extraordinary living. Dr. Acuff has been a conference speaker and workshop leader in front of more than 6,000 participants around the globe, from South Africa to Norway. He has led seminars and workshops on Daniel Acuff topics such as relationships, breakthrough performance, success, excellence of communication, handling of breakdowns, integrity, creativity, self-expression, leadership, health and fitness, excellence, commitment and sex and intimacy. He is the author of 14 books and a variety of articles related to human needs and motivation, communication, and relationship. The titles of his most important works to date are: Project Happiness – 9 Keys to Creating Extraordinary Happiness; Relationship RX: 7 Keys to Creating an Extraordinary Relationship; and two life-transforming spiritual adventure novels: The Mysteries of Quan and God Lied –What’s Really Going on Here.
Symphonic Traditions with the Lake Chapala Orchestra June 17 and 18. During the past few months, the Lake Chapala Orchestra (formerly Lake Chapala Community Orchestra) has developed by leaps and bounds as a fully-fledged symphony orchestra, now capable of playing several standard symphonic repertoires. The appointment of some very experienced string players has had a significant impact on the overall technical ability of the ensemble. The orchestra’s conductor, Michael Reason, has carefully crafted the orchestra to a stage where they can tackle the symphonies of Beethoven and the concertos of Mozart. “The orchestra has come a long way in 3.5 years, and the Lakeside area now has a semi-professional orchestra that all residents can be proud of,” says Reason. The new improved and dynamic Lake Chapala Orchestra will showcase itself at its next concerts on Friday, June 17, and Saturday, June 18. A program entitled “Symphonic Traditions” will be the first time the orchestra has presented a traditional orchestral concert—an overture, a concerto and a symphony. Starting with the dramatic overture to the opera Der Freischutz (The Marksman), the central work in the program will be Bach’s ever-popular Brandenburg Concerto No. 4. Three soloists from the orchestra, Diego Miramontes, Juan Reyes and Susanne Bullock, will take center stage in this challenging piece. The final work will be Schumann’s Symphony No. 3. “The Schumann symphony is one of the most uplifting, joyful and popular orchestral works from the 19th century,” comments Reason. “It basically gives a musical portrayal of life on the Rhine River. Gorgeous melodies and a blazing finale that is just 100% excitement!” Preceding each piece Reason will provide background details to the music. Visual projections accompanying the music will give a multi-media element to the concert. The “Symphonic Traditions” concerts will be held at Lakeside Presbyterian Church, 250 San Jorge, Riberas, at 3:00 p.m. on both days. There are only 100 seats available for each performance. Tickets are $300 and can be ordered by emailing LCCOtickets@gmail.com June 24, 25 and 26. For June, Bare Stage Theatre’s production is Scenes from American Life by A. R. Gurney, who was born in 1930, attended the Yale School of Drama, taught literature at M.I.T., then moved to New York in 1982 to devote more time to writing for the theatre. He may be best known for his play, Love Letters, but he regards Scenes as the play that launched his professional career, winning him the 1971 Drama Desk Award for Most Promising Playwright. He is now a member of the Theatre Hall of Fame Scenes from American Life is a youthful look at the hypocrisy of adult life, told through a series of vignettes spanning four decades, ending in 1981 and involving over 100 characters in WASP-y New England. It journeys through the midcentury to a prophetic future, which, turns out to be today! The view is wry and satiric, sometimes wistful and, eventually, mordant. Despite its often-cheerful surface, in ‘Gurneyland’ complacency is its own nemesis. Rosann Balbontin directs Mark Donaldson, Sharon Jarvis, Kathleen Morris, Roxanne Rosenblatt, John Ward and Tony Wilshere in interchanging roles playing adults and their own children . . . a “tour de force” for actors! Shows are June 24, 25 and 26. Doors open at 3:00, curtain is at 4:00. Tickets are $200. 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. Seats are held till 3:50 p.m. We still request maskwearing out of respect for our fellow audience members and our actors. Curtains will be open for air flow, thanks. Facebook Page: www.facebook.com/barestagetheatre2018/ Continued on page 34
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June 17, 18 and 19. The next production for LLT will be Match by Stephen Belber, directed by Lynn Gutstadt. Show dates and times: Friday, June 17 at 7:30 p.m. and Saturday and Sunday, June 18 and 19 at 4:00 p.m. Match is a portrait of a charming, garrulous and profoundly sad Tobi Powell, an aging dancer, choreographer and teacher who enjoys knitting. “Uproariously funny, deeply moving, enthralling theater, Match has great beauty and tenderness, and abounds in wit.” – NY Daily News Tickets are $200 and may be purchased online (www.lakesidelittletheatre.com) or check our website for box office hours for this show. Reserved seating – McIntosh Auditorium. June 24. Alex Holland and Steve Montenko will perform June 24, and the last Friday every month, at La Pacena, Ajijic, starting at 12:30. All tips donated to FoodBank Lakeside Classic folk-rock. A gourmet seafood lunch in a garden setting. featuring Steve on acoustic guitar and vocals, Alex on bass, cover the legendary singer-songwriters of
Alex Holland and Steve Montenko
the 70s and beyond, plus a few tasty originals. All tips go directly to FoodBank Lakeside. Steve is the Volunteer Coordinator for the FoodBank. Alex is an internationally recognized expert in Traditional Chinese Medicine, and a former professional bass player. OH FATHER By Jenny Robertson Oh Father Blessed be the times together When large hands around small Would lead me on forwards To dreams and ambitions Brought to light by loving confidence Oh Father Blessed be the times together When the broad shoulders under tiny legs Would lift me above the clouds To beauty and truth Shown only through unwavering strength Oh Father Blessed be the times together When strong arms surrounding frail body Would carry me past tears To resilience and perseverance Revealed through unyielding devotion Oh Father How glad am I that you are mine And no one else will ever take your place Happy Father’s Day
Kim and her father, Joe Datzman
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COLUMNIST
Streets of Mexico By David Ellison
Maximilian
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here are no streets in Mexico named for Maximilian, but there ought to be. Certainly no Mexican history would be complete without him. Maximilian was an eminently likable, admirable, but hapless fellow. He was born second-in-line to the Austrian throne, and so believed he would never rule. He made the best of things, though, pursuing his wide interests in literature, history, poetry, painting, and science, especially botany. He learned to speak at least seven languages. A prankster as a kid, Maximilian was (unlike his dour older brother) charismatic, popular, and grew up to become quite liberal politically. When he accompanied his brother on European military campaigns to
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suppress rebellions, he was appalled: “We call our age the Age of Enlightenment, but there are cities in Europe where, in the future, men will look back in horror and amazement at the injustice of tribunals, which in a spirit of vengeance condemned to death those whose only crime lay in wanting something different to the arbitrary rule of governments which
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placed themselves above the law.” At the age of only 22, Maximilian assumed command of the entire Austrian imperial navy. With dreams of making it the equal to England’s, he worked diligently and quite effectively to modernize it, creating a battle fleet that his uncle would later deploy with great success. But Maximilian was unlucky with women. His first love, Portuguese Princess Amalia, died of tuberculosis. Bereft, he wore her ring for the rest of his life. He finally married Belgian Princess Carlota, but she eventually descended into complete, hysterical madness. Apparently, good luck finally found Maximilian. France’s Napoleon III had invaded Mexico, and both he and the Mexican conservatives offered Maximilian the throne. Even England’s Queen Victoria and the Pope endorsed the prospect of his coronation. Nonetheless, Maximilian insisted that the Mexican people accept him, and he initially believed the sham plebiscite the conservatives had concocted to fool him. He knew something was wrong when, upon arriving in Mexico, the liberal city of Veracruz received him quite coldly. Undaunted, Maximilian took up
residence in Mexico City’s Chapultepec Castle (the tragic scene of Los Niños Heroes) and, with the slogan of “Equity and Justice,” he got to work. First, he continued to implement the liberal policies of President-inexile Benito Juárez, such as land reform and religious freedom for all. In addition, he reduced the work day from 10 to eight hours, prohibited corporal punishment, and annulled peasants’ debts. He even offered to make Juárez his prime minister. (The conservatives clearly had not done their homework about him!) Finally, to demonstrate that the hereditary throne would become truly Mexican, he adopted Iturbide’s grandchildren as his heirs. All his well-meaning efforts spelled his doom. The conservatives, aghast, abandoned him, calling him a traitor. The liberals saw him only as an invader. When, at the end of its civil war, the United States was finally able to enforce the Monroe Doctrine, it marched an army to the Mexico border, threatening to invade in support of Juárez. Napoleon III blinked, and withdrew his troops. Maximilian should have fled with the French; but, honorable to a fault (and perhaps more than a bit delusional), he refused to abandon the generals still loyal to him. He fought Juárez’s forces bravely with them, was captured, and finally executed at their side. (Juárez, fed up with the conservatives’ and Europeans’ machinations, refused to show him mercy.) Maximilian’s noble, final words: “I forgive everyone, and I ask everyone to forgive me. May my blood, which is about to be shed, be for the good of the country. ¡Viva Mexico! ¡Viva la independencia!” Yes, there ought to be a street named Maximilian. This is a selection from David Ellison’s forthcoming book, Niños Héroes: The Fascinating Stories Behind Mexican Street Names.
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COLUMNIST
Verdant View By Francisco Nava
Celebrate The Solstice With A Full Day Of Gardening
T
uesday June 21, 2022 is this year’s summer solstice, which marks the longest day of the year. The term “solstice” comes from the Latin words sol (sun) and sistere (to stand still) or stitium (stopped). Close to the Arctic Circle we would find 24 hours of sunlight with which to garden. We can sneak in about 14 hours of gardening on June 20, so take advantage of the long daylight hours. Bringing warmer temperatures and extra sunlight the summer solstice also brings flowers blossoming, harvest in the vegetable garden and weeds. Keep on top of your bolting plants.
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Given all the work we have done in our gardens since fall, when June rolls around we are ready for a change in gardening schedule. We now sneak out in the cool of the morning, take cover in the mid day and return in the early evening hours to our gardens. What to plant in June The beginning of June is a great time to plant another round of annuals from seed. You can still directly sow into your garden a new crop of zinnias (Zinnia spp. and cvs.), sunflowers (Helianthus annuus), or even basil. Almost all the cucurbits (which include squash and melon) can be direct-seeded now to help ensure a longer cropping cy-
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cle. As older plants slow production or develop insect problems, you can replant and get a second crop. With the beginning of the rains in mid-June, the viveros will have dahlias, all types of begonias, impatiens and verbenas. Also rudbeckia and flor amarilla. It’s a good time to put in ferns. Maiden hair ferns are quite sensitive so be careful with pesticides. Stag horns should be kept moist and out of direct sun. All types of lilies will be blooming now. It’s a very busy time in the garden. Some flower seeds to plant in June are cosmos, marigolds, sunflowers and zinnias. Disbud dahlias for larger blooms. Stake tall plants before the rains begin. They will grow quickly. Plant beans, beets, peppers, okra, sweet corn and tomatoes. If your garden is small, plant tomatoes and peppers in pots. They will be fine. Just remember to water them frequently, as the soil in pots dries out faster. If you have not been spraying for pests, now is a good time to start. Many Mexican gardeners swear by a mixture of shaved Lirio soap, dissolved in water with a pack of El Faro cigarettes, as an effective spray for most insects, especially white fly. Strain the mixture before putting it through your sprayer. Weeds are growing faster now. Keep up with them. Don’t forget to
plant some herbs. Divide and replant iris. Keep deadheading regularly. Lavender, marjoram, rosemary, sage, savory, and thyme do fine in hot sun and poor but well-drained soil with minimal fertilizer. On the other hand, basil, chives, coriander (cilantro) and parsley prefer richer soil with more frequent watering. Choose transplants that aren’t root bound. Confined roots can’t spread out fast enough to absorb enough moisture and nutrients to survive summer heat now that the weather and soil are already hot, so they wilt frequently or die. When replanting areas where you’ve just grown vegetables, follow heavy-feeding leafy vegetables like spinach and cabbage with nitrogenreplenishing legumes such as peas, beans, and soybeans. Don’t fertilize the soil again before succession plantings of beans or carrots. Excess nitrogen results in forked and hairy carrots and lush bean plants with fewer bean pods. Add some compost before setting out spinach, kale, and lettuce, since you do want lush foliage in these crops. Francisco Nava
Saw you in the Ojo 39
The Window By Rico Wallace
I
t happened February 18th after coming off the graveyard shift, muscling freight, outside, all night, on the dock. Ragged, cold, and tired, Mr. Z unlocked the door to a quiet home and sat at the kitchen table for a drink. He looked out the window at the freshly fallen snow. “It looks nice, before the world mixes it up,” he thought. He noticed two sets of footprints along the house. “That’s not right, what are those doing there? It started snowing after I got to work and it stopped a few hours later. It’s Saturday morning. Nobody is ever out this early.” The footprints were close to the house. Z walked to the living room where the footprints tracked up to the window. Someone had been there earlier, looking in. He swept a spider web from the windowsill. He went outside to see where the tracks came from. He followed them down the street. They led up the stairs of a big gray house. Z stood in front looking up at the porch. The old lady that lived there was standing inside the doorway, smiling and waving at him. Z walked up the stairs. She opened the door. “C’mon in Mr. Z,” she said. “Are you the one who was by my window last night?” he asked. “Yes, that was us,” she said. “What were you doing there in the middle of the night?” “I’m sorry, I wanted to see if it was the same as I remembered,” she said. “I don’t understand,” Z said. “What do you mean? Did you know someone who lived there?” “Yes. I had friends that lived there. But before that, I went to school there.” She took Z’s arm, “Come here and sit down,” she said. “Your house was first built and used as a school. It was a pretty little white building with red trim. The roof had a cupola with a small brass bell. I was the bell ringer . . . teachers’ pet. You look surprised.” Z leaned back in the chair. “You know when I think about it, that doesn’t surprise me. I know the house is old, a hundred years. At times I’ve wondered
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what the town was like back then.” The old lady smiled. “It was mostly farmland and fields around here. There were houses and some shops by the railroad tracks; the hardware store, barbershop, a grocery, and the little town hall.” Z felt as if he was going into a trance. He squinted. Her face was transformed. Her skin was smooth. Her soft brown eyes were clear and bright. Her hair was long and curly with a rich auburn shine. “And I met my husband in your living room,” she went on. “When we would have a dance on Saturday, we would invite the kids from the next county and have a mix. It was love at first sight. Now you know why we were looking through your window last night. The first time we met he took me out to the front porch and we watched the full moon rise in the east. We could see to the horizon. Do you want something to drink, Z?” Z stood and rubbed his eyes. “I think I should go now,” he said. It was nice talking to you Mrs. . . .?” “It’s Mrs. McGuire,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to chat with you but you always seemed so busy, I didn’t want to bother you. I’m happy we finally had a chance to talk.” Z went home and sat at his kitchen table, looking out the window. A funeral procession was going down the street. His wife came into the room. “You’re home a little late today,” she said. “Did you work over in that awful weather, Hon?” “No, I was just down the street, but whose funeral is this,” he said. “That’s Mrs. McGuire. She passed away a few days ago. They’re doing a drive-by at the house. Remember her in the purple hat walking down the street. She never said much but, hello. She’s with her hubby now, again, I’m sure. Why are you looking at me like that?” Rico Wallace
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I Remember . . . Well. By Judit Rajhathy
I
“
bet you don’t remember” is something I am told by almost everyone who hears my story of how we escaped from Hungary—to escape the brutality of Russian soldiers, tanks, and Communism. I thank God every day that my parents chose freedom. I thank God every day that they fled, leaving behind everything they ever knew, to arrive in Canada with one suitcase, two small kids, and paternal grandparents. But not without consequences . . . My heart breaks for the Ukrainians who have to flee everything they have ever known. They were living normal lives just like you and me until bombs began falling all around them, when their normal, happy lives were instantly turned into hell on earth. I was four when the ‘56 Hungarian Revolution broke out, fleeing on top of my father’s shoulders, feeling my parents’ terror as we ran for our lives. I remember my father grabbing a heavy suitcase from my grandfather’s hands that he was dragging behind because it was weighing him down and we had to run! I remember turning my head only to watch our family photographs fly away in the cold December wind, proof that we had a history simply fluttering away in the wind. My grandpa had tried to bring his life with him. No wonder I was so obsessive about taking
photos of every little milestone when my own kids were growing up. We had so little proof of our lives before ‘56. I remember well. The nightmares ended when I was fifteen, but every single night for eleven long years I would wake up in a cold sweat reliving trauma—real or otherwise—of my father being shot repeatedly by Russian soldiers and my mother and grandmother being forced at gunpoint to do horrible things. Running in the cold winter night, dodging bullets and searchlights, away from everything that was my security, everything I ever knew. Leaving our home, our customs, habits, my favorite grandparents, and my doll, Sari Baba. I watched my mother cry every night from frustration of having to speak a new language in her new job. Every single night, my grandmother, with tears running down her face, made me recite Petofi Sandor’s freedom fighting poem. I watched the neighborhood kids stone my brother who thought he was weird because he spoke another language. Don’t get me wrong. I am forever grateful that we escaped Communism for freedom. We were so grateful to Canada and are so thankful today. As a result of being immigrants, my children and grandchild have the privilege of being raised in a democracy where opportunities are endless. But uprooting one’s life has scars that last a lifetime. I learned that nothing is safe. I learned that everything in life is transitory. I learned that my abandonment issues had everything to do with this early childhood trauma. Childhood should be filled with security and innocence, not with terror. Over 5.8 million Ukrainians have had to flee their country. The physical horror is one thing, but the psychological effects are there for a lifetime. I know. I remember. I, too, am an immigrant. Judit Rajhathy
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Saw you in the Ojo 43
COLUMNIST
PROFILING TEPEHUA By Moonyeen King
President of the Board for Tepehua
moonie1935@yahoo.com
N
ext year on Mother’s Day, take a bunch of flowers to the village and give one flower to every old woman you see. Perhaps you’ll bring a smile to her face. Great Grandma Jarvis, who lived in the United States in the late 1800s, had 13 children, of whom only four survived. One of the survivors was called Ann Jarvis. She herself was pregnant with her sixth child at a time when the mortality rate was still tragically high, and death seemed like a form of family planning. This high death rate angered Ann, and she started a workshop so that mothers could get together and learn home hygiene in the hope their children would live. This informally became known as Mother’s Day. One of Ann’s children, Ana Jarvis, in 1908 started a church meeting in which she carried a white carnation in honor of her mother, and this tradition caught on. In addition to the white carnation, the tradition of a visit to mother, if she were still alive, or a visit to the church if not, or both, because customary. It became very popular and every second Sunday in May was the unofficial Mother’s Day. Ana made it her work to promote this until, in 1914, President Woodrow Wilson declared it an
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official holiday honoring mothers’. The commercial hog picked it up and ran with it, and Ana Jarvis watched as Mother’s Day turned into the largest consumer spending day of the year. She spent the rest of her life outwardly denouncing it and suing any company using the title “Mother’s Day” to no avail. Ironically, she had no children of her own. Meanwhile, around the world Mother’s Day became entrenched in the curriculum every second Sunday in May, and continued to flourish. Unlike the rest of the world where the date is always changing, Mexico honors mothers but always on May 10th. Started in 1922 by Raphael Alducin, editor of the newspaper El Excélsior and who was sometimes called the Father of Mother’s Day, on this day mothers are celebrated with good food, loud music, and love expressed in flowers. As Mother’s Day in Mexico is not a national holiday, when it falls on a working day workers are usually allowed to leave early. The flowers for Mother’s Day here at Lakeside are so stunning that even Ana Jarvis would change her white carnation into a bouquet for Mum. Mother’s Day actually started with the Greek and Romans as they celebrated once a year the powers of the Goddess Rhea, the mother of the gods. Always, somewhere there are some forgotten angels or village mothers whose children never had the chance for adulthood, mothers too close to the ground to get noticed. This author had the experience of this on a dark day, on a lonely walk thinking through sadness, and a gentleman got off his bike, obviously a gardener, and gave me a rose but made me wait until he had broken the thorns off. By the last thorn the sadness was forgotten and my heart sang all week. As Rudyard Kipling said, “God could not be everywhere, and therefore he made mothers.”
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Father’s Day Without Rogelio By Daria Hilton daria_hilton@hotmail.com
I
was in California for Thanksgiving when I got the text from my dog sitter. My neighbor Rogelio had died. The tears came quick and fierce. All of my Chapala neighbors had made me feel welcome in the barrio, but none more than Rogelio. He and his wife, Mari, ran a small produce store directly across the street from my house. From day one, shopping there was not an ordinary experience. Rogelio never failed to ask after my family, my dog, my house, me. He and Mari consulted me before their weekly buying trips, catering to my weekly recipe whims. I was introduced to their grown children, Myrna, Ulises, and Carol, and their grandchildren. They invited my ex and me on a bus trip to the beach. I was encouraged to join the spontaneous karaoke nights that spilled from their storefront into the street on many a weekend night. Rogelio insisted no one could sing worse than he could. (This might be true.) Not since I was a kid in the small California town I grew up in did I feel like such an integral part of a neighborhood. Even the shocking news that I didn’t eat red meat was met with acceptance. I was forced to confess that I didn’t eat mammals when Rogelio noted that I never partook of his weekend pop-up taco stand. He encouraged me to bring alternatives and didn’t hesitate to toss chicken, tilapia, chayote squash, potatoes or whatever I might fancy onto the grill. I had to force him and Mari to let me pay for the tacos we created. We agreed on half price.
My bedroom window faces the street. Every morning I would wake up to my vecinos, Rogelio, his neighbor and brother-in-law Turi, and the other Arturo who runs the carniceria next door to me, bantering back and forth in rapid-fire Spanish that I couldn’t understand but which always ended in peals of laughter. This made me smile almost as much as Rogelio’s terrible singing. I felt so lucky to start every day this way. Christmas 2020 marked my first Christmas alone in Mexico. Rogelio and Mari were quick to invite me to their family’s Noche Buena celebration. Rogelio refilled my little cup of tequila so often that I spoke my Spanglish without hesitation. I had given their granddaughter, Sofia, a doctor’s kit for Christmas and she set about examining us with her stethoscope, proclaiming that none of us were well. We ate and sang and danced, and made gentle fun of each other all night. When his daughter, Carol, got married, he did everything in his power to make her day special. He allowed Carol and her sister, Myrna, to die his hair. They did this in the store during business hours, with Rogelio joining in on the teasing he endured from his customers and friends. Whatever my baby wants, he told me. He helped assemble the little wedding favors, writing her name by hand on ribbon after ribbon. No task was too small or too large, his love for his daughter unabashedly flowing forth. This will be the first Father’s Day that Myrna, Ulises, and Carol will not have their dad by their side. In this year of first withouts, which has already painfully included Christmas, New Year’s Eve, and Easter, Father’s Day might seem particularly painful, but grief doesn’t wait for big moments. Yes, there will be the unavoidable introspection and revisiting of the loss that these milestones bring. It seems to me, though, that the quiet moments are harder, especially because Rogelio filled the world with such joyful noise. Despite the roosters and the dogs and the nearconstant music, the neighborhood is much too quiet without him. Daria Hilton
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The End
Saw you in the Ojo 47
Togetherness By Neil McKinnon
R
ecently, Judy and I celebrated our 56th wedding anniversary. The event prompted a number of queries from folks wanting us to share some wise words on long-term relationships, queries that caused both of us to ponder the past. “What are the reasons for our marital longevity?” I asked. She hesitated, then mused, “Have you ever been so captivated by someone that your heart won’t beat without them?” I was flattered. “Is that how you feel about me?” “Oh no,” she said. “That’s how you feel about yourself.” “Maybe, it’s because we have an interest in each other,” I said. “Just how interested are you in me?”
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She shook her head. “Not that much. Your interest in yourself is sufficient for the both of us.” Then she continued, “We do have something in common, though. Food! I love to cook and you love to eat. Too bad your tastes and my creations don’t overlap.” I know what she means. She spends hours whipping up dining pleasures, ranging from Inari Sushi to Yorkshire Pudding. Unfortunately, I tend to salivate over Egg McMuffins and Big Macs. Once she attempted to instruct me in the art of the kitchen. I prepared a delicious repast of Grounded Cow on a Bun and invited our entire extended family to sample my first culinary delight. The decision was unanimous. If I cooked for myself for any period of time, I would suffer malnutrition and agonizing hunger pains before eventually dying of either starvation or food poisoning. All agreed that it would be best for everyone, including myself, if I were to die first rather than live alone. I won’t say that this consensus bothered me but the thought has crossed my mind that perhaps the mozzarella that Judy sprinkles on pasta is really rat poison, and I’ve come to believe that the three pills she puts by my plate every morning aren’t really vitamins as she claims. Does strychnine come in a capsule? She made one further attempt. “If you start going to the gym, we would share an interest in physical fitness. Maybe, it
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would make you better at other things,” she said wistfully. Judy walks, runs, lifts weights, bikes and does calisthenics. I also walk...from the sofa to the fridge to get beer and snacks during commercials. I make at least ten return-trips when a game goes into extra innings. I pointed out other things we have in common. She said that walking on the left side of the road, looking both ways before crossing the street, and preferring strong coffee don’t count. Maybe mutual interests aren’t the glue that binds us one to the other. Perhaps it’s mutual aversions. Again, she discounted my ideas. Apparently sharing a dislike of banana sandwiches, soft bacon and pet pythons also isn’t relevant. I decided to see if I could spot things that she avoided but kept secret. Perhaps we shared hidden dislikes. However, it was impossible to find things she avoided. Every time I came near, she went for a walk. I tried another approach. One thing that I dislike intensely are people who talk too much and, even worse, are the self-centered individuals who only talk about themselves. I wondered if Judy had an equal distaste for these blowhards and asked her directly. Communication proved difficult. She owns blue tooth earphones and tunes them to the highest volume. I know this because I see her turning them up whenever I enter the room. I decided to trick her into an answer. I woke early the next morning and hid the earphones. Then, I hid other items and waited. Soon she shouted from the bathroom. “Have you seen my toothbrush?” “No.” “What about my hairbrush? It’s missing.” “No.” “Oh, oh. Did you take my earphones?” “No, I didn’t. But that’s enough about me. Let’s talk about you. Do you think I have a great personality?” She locked the door and turned on the shower. I never did get to my question about people who mostly talk about themselves. So, it appears that what holds us together is not mutual interests or aversions. I needed to tack in another direction to search for our marital mucilage. Judy sometimes perches on a stool, earphones on and stares for hours at a painting. Then, like a circling boxer, she makes a lightning jab and a dot of paint appears on a corner of the canvas. When not painting, cooking, reading, exercising or napping, she sings and practices the ukulele. As a consequence, we communicate mostly on twitter. It’s become routine. I begin with a simple, “I’m sorry.” She replies. “You should be.” “You’re right dear,” I say.
“Very well,” she answers and turns off her phone. I sometimes try to get her opinion on important questions. However, issues of the day don’t seem to interest her. She rarely answers when I ask if she thinks the new waitress at the coffee shop is cute or if, in her opinion, I could see home runs better on a big screen TV. In all fairness, she sometimes does respond. When I mentioned that humankind’s carbon footprint is getting bigger, she replied, “So’s your bald spot, old man.” Obviously, there is a delicate balance between marital glue and marital stickiness. To help others find that balance, I’ve listed a few tips based on my own experiences: Don’t drink too much when visiting in-laws. In particular, don’t throw up into the goldfish bowl that sits on the TV, especially while the family is watching Jeopardy. Be as silent as possible if you have to pass wind at your granddaughter’s graduation banquet. Don’t put all your spouse’s savings on a sure thing at the race track, especially if you have access to her account because you promised to buy a new wheelchair for her grandfather. Don’t be a tightwad when buying birthday gifts. A wallet-size photo of you at a nude beach with a previous girlfriend is not an appropriate present for your mother-in-law. Never peer too closely into the machinery of family ties, especially if the machinery is old and beginning to clank. This includes asking your father-in-law if he knows a good divorce lawyer. Don’t stop to sanitize your hand after your spouse takes it when crossing a busy street. And finally, two rules for sex: (1) Never finish before your partner has entered the room, and (2) remember foreplay is not an elbow in the ribs accompanied by, “Hey, you awake?” When Judy read the foregoing, she penciled in one more tip: If your husband is talking, it’s not necessary to listen. He may be talking to himself. If he thinks it’s important, he’ll repeat it over and over and over again. Will we make it to 57 years? To 60? I believe it’s possible and so, I’ve saved the most important advice for last. During our long union, there have been two circumstances where our lives have been totally harmonious with a complete absence of wedded strife. Here are our two secrets to a long and happy marriage: Don’t live together. If you must live together, then for God’s sake don’t talk to each Neil McKinnon other.
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Mirage de el Dorado Complex Civilizations? By Robert Bruce Drynan
O
n 13 August 2005 two scholars, Eduardo Neves, a Brazilian, and James Peterson, Anthropology Department chairman at the University of Vermont, visited a roadside restaurant in the Amazon jungle. Two gunmen walked in and demanded their money. As a departing afterthought, one shot the American in the abdomen. Peterson died before Neves could get him to a hospital. It was a terrible irony, because Peterson was the man about to bring the true El Dorado to the attention of the world. What he and his colleagues had identified bore no resemblance to the shiny monetary metal, but it may very well offer greater benefit humanity than mere gold. During Francisco Orellana’s voyage down the Amazon River in 1542 seeking the legendary city of El Dorado, chronicler Gaspar de Carvajal, a Dominican friar, described densely populated settlements along the river’s banks, especially after the explorers had arrived at the confluence with the Río Negro, near present-day Manaos. The treasure awaiting the twenty-first century discovery was staring them in
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the face, but it was black, not golden. When Orellana returned a few years later, he found no sign of the settlements described in his earlier adventures. Attacked by indigenous warriors, Orellana was killed. Later adventurers and modern scientists exploring the river found no sign of the populations described by Carvajal and Orellana and dismissed the original accounts as exaggeration or fantasy. Scientists have argued that as lush as the rain forest growth is, it occupies extremely poor soils. Tropical flooding and rains leach the nutrients that might accrue in the soils. Such conditions could not support dense sedentary agricultural populations, only small groups of primitive stone-age hunter-gatherers. However, there is good reason to believe that the area where Orellana met his end is the large (15,500 square miles) Amazon estuary island of Marajó. Modern anthropological research has concluded that the Marajó Island supported a substantial sedentary culture, perhaps as great as 100,000 inhabitants that probably succumbed to disease brought by Orellana’s first
expedition. The hostility exhibited on his second visit may have resulted from that experience. In the early 1990s American anthropologist Michael Heckenberger of the University of Florida lived in a village of about 300 people who called themselves Kuikuro. Southeast of Manaos about 600 miles, they inhabited a region on the banks of Lake Kuhikugu in the Brazilian Mato Grosso, near the headwaters of the Xingu River, an Amazon tributary. Exploring the surrounding region, Heckenberger discovered that the Kuikuro inhabited a corner of an area of 7,700 square miles that as late as 400 years earlier might have supported a population of 50,000. He discovered remnants of bridges, roads and canals connecting large and small nodular settlements dispersed in a very orderly geometric design. He located vestiges of cultivated fields of grasses for thatching, maize and manioc, (still a staple of forest people in South America) and untended orchards of fruit trees. They uncovered evidence that suggested that earlier inhabitants may have created enclosures for fish farming. The Kuikuro themselves still retained cultural practices, social hierarchies and religious customs attributable to far more complex societies. This led Heckenberg to surmise that the Kuikuro were survivors of more advanced societies, earlier occupants of the region. Similar research conducted in the early 1990s by Carl Erickson, a University of Pennsylvania anthropologist, in the savannas of the Bolivian Amazonia (north-east corner of Bolivia) noted parallel strategies by Amerindian island settlements, (the savannas experienced seasonal flooding and dry spells), connected by straight causeways making use of canals, raised earthen fields for cultivation of maize and manioc and weirs for fish husbandry. Such complex social organizations in such diverse regions imply a widespread cultural exchange and probable lively trade across the breadth of the Amazonian region. Its reach may have extended to the north of the Amazon as far as the headwaters of the Río Negro, the Orinoco and the Venezuelan Tepuis. The Raleigh expedition’s description of Manoa, suggests similarities to the Mato Grosso and Bolivian Amazonia civilizations. Such connections may someday prove to have extended to Percy Fawcett’s Lost City of Z. Heckenberger and Erickson concurred that the depopulation of these complex societies occurred rapidly in the 16th century likely due to European diseases (smallpox, cholera, etc) for which the Amerindians had no
immunity. Enslavement by European invaders, warlike resistance to their incursions and finally, flight to more remote regions of Amazonia also must have contributed to their disappearance. Heckenberger and James Peterson (his former professor and mentor) exchanged visits. Peterson had been working on an archeological project on the peninsula formed by the union of the Negro and Amazon Rivers (Study Site indicated on the large map) where he had discovered vestiges of denser, much more complex settlements than earlier scholars had imagined. Their researches in their separate sites were about to raise gargantuan challenges to conventional scholarship, provoking a great deal of chestbeating and hair-tearing among their more conservative colleagues. Heckenberger later traveled to Açutuba, the site of Peterson’s researches. On a solo exploration of the near-by banks of the Río Negro he encountered a farmer turning up ceramic shards embedded in charcoal black soil. This soil extended for two miles along the shore. The discovery implied an extensive settlement on the site. The shards bore common links with pottery found in Heckenberger’s Kuhikugu site. Peterson’s investigations had unearthed more than 100 sites of deep black soils across the peninsula leading him to argue that the Amazon before the Europeans arrived supported complex communities with social hierarchies, “roads, agriculture, soil management, ceramics and extended trade.” These societies left few archaeological remains, because their principal construction material was not stone, but wood that would rapidly disintegrate in the humid tropical climate. But the inhabitants left one legacy, terra preta do indio, meaning “Indian black earth” in Portuguese. Involved scholars believe that the terra preta based cultures date from about the fifth century AD and lasted until their collapse following the arrival of Europeans. Terra preta has been defined as having a high to very high carbon content (more than 13–14% organic matter). Gardens close to dwellings received more nutrients than outlying fields. The variations make it unclear if they were intentionally created for soil improvement or whether the variants are a by-product of habitation. The varied nature of the dark earths suggests ancient native civilization dating back 500 to perhaps even 2500 years. Terra preta’s capacity to sequester more carbon, thus to expand its own volume—remains the central mystery Continued on page 52
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From page 51
of terra preta. The black earth evolved from a mixture of cooking middens, (plant, animal and fish remains), human and animal excrement and large quantities of charcoal, often referred to as “bio-char” that is especially rich in nutrients such as phosphorus and potassium. Notably limited in tropical soils, the charcoal residues from incomplete combustion absorb and retain nutrients that otherwise would be lost through leaching. Of human origin, these soils are referred to by scientists as anthropogenic (manmade.) These soils reach as deep as over six feet and have been found in extensions averaging up to 50 acres and in rare cases as great as 900 acres. In interfluvial (riverine) environments their extent averages much less, about 3.5 acres. Broadly stated, the black earths in all their variations support the arguments, (in fact have given rise to the arguments), for a wide-spread human occupancy of the Amazon Basin in complex societies carrying out extensive trade. Later in vastly depleted numbers they reverted to huntergatherers as a means of survival. In fact Heckenberger argues that the so-called pristine forest primeval has yielded to and been molded by the hands of men for centuries, if not millennia, well before the advent of modern Europeans. The indigenous inhabitants still retain vestigial social sub-structures that derive from their earlier cultures. The evidence also affirms the reports of high density populations in the region made by Carvajal, Orellana and Walter Raleigh’s subordinate, Laurens Keymis. And it may vindicate the reports of João da Silva Guimarães, Robério Dias, and Hugh McCarthy and the faith of Percy Fawcett. And above all it stands as a legacy of James Peterson, whose life was ended so tragically and pointlessly at age fifty-one. Perhaps in the twenty-first century, the 500 years of European adventures and exploitation, the sacrifices to avarice, the urge to explore, to see and experience things their contemporaries had never imagined, will come to fruition in the “black gold” of terra preta. Perhaps the modern adventurers of science will learn enough as they explore the chemical and the catalytic nature of the Amazonian black soils to initiate large scale sequestration of carbon from the atmosphere back into the earth and reproduce anthropogenic soils on a scale that will elevate the lives of the 800 million human beings classified by the UN who barely scratch out a living on lands
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that today cannot supply them with adequate nutrition. Author’s Note: The El Dorado series began as a two-part story, but research inevitably led to new avenues to explore, a likely metaphor for the El Dorado stories themselves. It led me to new insight and even a return visit to a personal adventure. There is something very basic underlying these separate, but entwined tales, legends and myths. The reports of those who went before were truth as they perceived it, through the litmus of their times and experience. And then the tales began to grow in the imaginations of those who followed, giving rise to great fantasy. El Dorado was born as a ritual to sanctify a Muisca priest-king and eventually led to the fantasy of a city of gold. Perhaps today the modern adventurers in the world of science will reveal a greater wealth, more redemptive than mere gold, for the benefit of mankind. Gaspar Carvajal told of battles with women warriors . . . “These women are very white and tall, and have hair very long and braided and wound about the head, and they are very robust and go about naked with their privy parts covered, with their bows and arrows in their hands, doing as much fighting as ten Indian men…” Among the facts in this tale Francisco Orellana and Carvajal’s chronicle so convinced the Spanish king that the “great river” was renamed “Río de las Amazonas.” And how about Hugh McCarty’s blue-eyed Indian lover? At the end of my researches a curiosity that had caught my attention years ago and returned to haunt me. There is some evidence, in linguistic vestiges of Brazilian indigenous languages and archaeological findings along the north coast of Brazil, especially the estuarine island of Marajó that argues for the presence of Phoenician merchant adventurers as early as 800 years before the birth of Christianity. Two of the legends, Hugh McCarthy’s missives and the 512 document in the Río de Janeiro Archive that describe lost cities with monumental stone masonry architecture that would not have come from the sedentary cultures of the savannas or from the rain forest dwellers simply for the lack of such building materials in their environment. Could adventurers from the Mediterranean and the Levant have arrived and brought with them those skills? Who knows what further confirmation of presumed legends or fabrications may emerge as scholars set out on searches for their own personal El Dorado? Robert Drynan
Saw you in the Ojo 53
Poetry Niche Anticipation by Steve Griffin
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.
Autumn Years by Gabrielle Blair
These last forty years you and I’ve been together. Spring has past, Summer’s gone, now Autumn weather. Note wrinkles, furrows, graying hair grown thin, Paunches, spare tires, flabby thighs, drooping skin. Our voices familiar, thoughts left trailing … Forgetting a name - call something a “thing.” Small kindnesses shown reveal that we care, Hurt feelings let go, still moments we share. Things left unsaid, sometimes deeds misconstrued; Sadness dispersed with a joke understood. Winter’s approaching, be mindful of cold! Keep home fires burning, as all must grow old. Smiling and laughing, we cling to the fun. For light-hearted joy’s kept loves web re-spun.
Latin Dancers by John Sacelli
Latin Dancers dance as ever the men erect and proud the ladies carried by the tempo of marimba, conga, castanet. Yet the rhythm of the dance has slowed at first almost imperceptibly and then more definite until the figures of the dancers seem more distant, moving less like men and women, than dolls, puppets, marionettes. They are retreating, falling into memory
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moving off into the darkness of old ideas, ideals and dreams. The motion of the dance remains yet flickers like the passion of the past.
Love Is Love by Michael Warren
A poet wrote that love is gold while others say it’s blind but all I know is what I hold when you, my love, are kind. Though words are whirling in my mind words can be bought and sold and gold’s a metal that was mined and made in bricks, so hard and cold – no, love is love, my love, as we grow old, then when you’re sitting by the fire where dying embers of desire flicker like stories often told, I’ll come and find you, touch your hand
Morning Meditation by Bill Frayer
Sliding silently into the murky pond my wooden paddle breaks the glass pushing ripples, gurgling softly, surging the kayak towards the cabin on the point nestled among the pointed firs emerging from the morning mist. Past a lonely, weathered dock waiting patiently on crooked greasy green slime-covered legs, shadows of fish, lurking furtively as the far-away loon hoots, as a hazy sun peeks with anticipation over the blackened hulk of the mountain. I feel my stomach growl. Smells like fresh cut grass as I push through the lily pads. I’m startled as a great heron descends gliding to his perch on a half-submerged dried needleless spruce sapling to resume his silent, wary vigil. My reel whirs, worm and bobber plop near a lone turtle sitting silently on an algae-coated rock. A dragonfly alights on the end of my pole joining our community of morning lake life we share at this moment. I think of the fish slithering beneath our loud silence.
Perchance A Pandemic
if but a millisecond to set us on our way
There he lay in hospital Aching from his head to his toes All because he couldn’t keep His fingers from his nose.
to be free
by John Allett
Or maybe the virus entered farther south Through the opening of his mouth Or perhaps on the fly The virus entered through an eye. Maybe, despite his many plans, He forgot to wash his hands Perhaps he was not insistent On keeping others distant. Or was it on some quick errand or task That he forgot to wear a mask. Anyway, this tiny point of entry For whatever reason it did happen Caused him to shiver, shake and sicken While the virus did multiply and quicken. But the virus lacking transport of its own Its quest for survival is ultimately blown So, in a battle long and hard fought It is the virus that will end up ‘de la mort’
Silence
by John Thomas Dodds From the collection: The Year of Living Dangerously since we are all going somewhere those not mired in the past are always ahead of themselves, living in an ever evolving future stop for a second put on the brakes it could change the world as we know it silence for one second only together in that moment a thought of kindness just one think of it/then don’t we have tried holding hands around the world it hasn’t worked in part because it need not be it’s our hearts and minds that have to touch
The Knife Sharpener by Jack Voller
we hear only his whistle at night, distinctive, unmistakable. but no customary cry of “afilador,” no litany of the tools to which his craft is given. only the enigmatic whistle, diatonic, rising and falling, haunting, plaintive, evocative, piercing the night air with brilliant clarity. but though we look we never see him. no one can. and we return to our houses in silence, the uncanny having left us mute some say he fell in love with a woman whose knives he sharpened, loving her fiercely though she was above his station, elegant and beautiful, fierce in her passions, haughty. his love for her was hopeless but helplessly it grew until one night, two nights, five nights she was not there. weeks passed. months. she was gone. some believe he went to find her, found her with a lover and in a storm of passion slew them both before taking his own life. others say he found her, declared his love, and they lived in bliss until her sudden death, tragic and unexplained, sent him back to the town of his birth in black despair. still others say he has never found her, that he wanders the night, his enigmatic whistle a signal to her that he still seeks her, still loves her, and that he will wander in search of her forever. ****** In a future issue I will discuss haiku poetry as well as senryu, tanka, and sijo. Here is an example of a classic haiku. freshly fallen snow opening a new package of typing paper Nick Avis. From “The Haiku Anthology. Revised Edition.” (Ed. Cor van den Heuvel, 1991) The image of the unblemished white snow reverberates with that of the new sheets of white typing paper. Imagine the fresh, start that looking at the new snow has instilled in the writer, suggesting he will begin a poem, story or even a novel. A perfect haiku to start a New Year! Mel was born in Chicago, Illinois, USA. After earning his Master’s Degree in English, he taught literature and writing in California, Illinois, Arizona, and at Stanground College in Cambridgeshire, England. For seven years, he and his wife lived in a small motor home, traveling the US, Canada, and Mexico. In 2018, he won the grand prize for a haiku in the Setouchi Matsuyama contest in Matsuyama, Japan. In 2019, Red Moon Press published his book of haiku, The Weight of Snowflakes. In 2020, Finishing Line Press published his book of free verse poetry, Memories. He is regularly published in magazines in the U.S, U.K, Canada, and Australia. Mel Goldberg
Saw you in the Ojo 55
The Ojo Crossword
ACROSS 1 One time 5 Plenteous 10 Excuse me! 14 Connect 15 Cook’s garb 16 Beckon 17 Mantel upon Dad 19 Kiln 20 Sixth sense 21 Marsupial bear 23 Separated 26 Produce eggs 28 Set up 31 Cation 32 Formal greeting (Female) 33 Teddy 34 Ability to read 37 Abhorrence 39 Twist 40 Teen disease 42 Tape 45 Fervently 49 To be in debt 50 Early American British supporters 53 Gorilla 54 Aced 55 Swelling 56 Publish 58 Throat infection 60 South southeast 61 American state 63 Ruddiness 69 Allows 70 Moses’ mountain 71 Alder 72 Removes the water 73 Dexterous 74 Perceives with eye DOWN 1 Klutz 2 BB association 3 Divide 4 Anesthetic
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5 Retired persons association (abbr.) 6 Car speed 7 Not against 8 Gaze (2 wds.) 9 Sets up for life 10 Truant 11 White Danish cheese 12 Adam’s wife 13 Males 18 Time zone 22 Any person 23 Feel badly 24 Luau dish 25 Picnic pest 26 Eat a sucker 27 Nose 29 Note of debt 30 Exercise place 32 Soup container 35 Stretch to make do 36 Defier of authority 38 Fox hole 40 The extent of a surface 41 Disks 42 Pledge 43 The other half of Jima 44 Thickness 45 Aspire 46 Siamese 47 Licensed practical nurse 48 Still 51 City 52 Gave back all of the money 56 Pounds per square inch 57 Leases 59 Stir a salad 60 Accommodate 61 Used 62 Possessive pronoun 64 North northeast 65 Opening 66 Anger 67 Ball holder 68 Affirmative
Saw you in the Ojo 57
Service
* ADVERTISING / DIRECTORY
* ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS Pag: 50
* ANIMAL CLINICS/PET SHOP - CLINICA VETERINARIA SAN ANTONIO Pag: 36 Tel: 376 766-0808 - LAKESIDE FRIENDS OF THE ANIMALS AC Pag: 15 Tel: 376 765-5544 - MASKOTA’S LAKE Pag: 40 Tel: 376 766-0287, 33-3448-2507 - PET PLACE Pag: 14 - ZAVALA - Animal Clinic Tel: 376 766-1604, Cel: 333-480-6686 Pag: 49
* ANTIQUES & FURNITURE - GALERIA ALFREDO Tel: 376 766-2980
DIRECTORY
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Pag: 36
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Pag: 11 Pag: 13
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58
Pag: 24
* CONSTRUCTION
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- COMFORT SOLUTIONS Tel: 33-1228-5377 Pag: 09 - GENERAL HOME SERVICES - Amancio Ramos Jr. Cell: 331-520-3054 Pag: 48 - MARBLE & GRANITE Tel: 376 766-1306 Pag: 46 - PIETRA FINA Tel: 333-105-0996, 33-3671-1713 Pag: 43 - REMODEL Tel: 33-3301-0875 Pag: 49 - SERVICIOS AGUILAR Tel: 333-393-4991, 333-021-0753 Pag: 40 - SIKA Tel: 376 766-5959 Pag: 46 - WARWICK CONSTRUCTION Tel: 376-108-8754, Cell: 33-1135-0763 Pag: 44
El Ojo del Lago / June 2022
Pag: 51
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- HECHT INSURANCE Tel: 376 109-1694 Pag: 42 - LAKESIDE INSURANCE - EDGAR CEDEÑO Cell: 33-3106-6982 Pag: 13 - PARKER INSURANCE SERVICES Tel: 376 765-5287, 376 765-4070 Pag: 08 - 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: 16
Pag: 02
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* MOVERS - BEST MEXICO MOVERS US/CANADA: (915) 235-1951 US Cell: (520) 940-0481 - LAKE CHAPALA MOVING Tel: 376 766-5008
Pag: 37 Pag: 09
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* MUSIC / EVENTS - BARE STAGE THEATRE - FESTIVAL DE MUSICA AXIXIC Tel: +52 33-3490-0340
Pag: 47 Pag: 53
* MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS - NOE ZALAPA SOLIS Cell: 452-203-6105
* LEGAL SERVICES - FELIPE GONZÁLEZ-Atorney at law Tel: 376 688-4563, (33) 3632-4689 - SOLBES & SOLBES Cell: 331-520-5529, Cell: 333-676-6245
- CENTRO LAGUNA Tel: 376 766-5514
* MEDICAL SERVICES
* HEARING AIDS
Pag: 10
* BEER & LIQUOR STORES - BETO’S WINE & LIQUOR Cell: 333-507-3024
Pag: 03
* CONSIGNMENT SHOP
* BED & BREAKFAST - CASA TRES LEONES Cell: 331-350-6764
- LAKESIDE - CompuShop + Repair Tel: 33-2340-7501
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* HARDWARE STORES
* COMPUTERS
* BEAUTY - CHRISTINE’S Tel: 376 766-6140, 333-822-5572 - CRISCO SALON Tel: 376 766-4073, 331-230-9994 - GLORIOSA Tel: 376 766-3372 - NEW LOOK STUDIO Tel: 376 766-6000, 33-3950-9990
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Pag: 18
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* MALL / OUTLET
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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
* LIGHTING
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Pag: 14
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directory.chapala.com
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EMERGENCY NUMBERS
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Pag: 46 Pag: 36
* REAL ESTATE - AJIJIC HOME INSPECTIONS Tel: 33-3904-9573 Pag: 24 - AJIJIC REAL ESTATE Tel: 37 6766-2077 Pag: 17 - AKALANI Tel: 33-3576-5658 Pag: 45 - ARELLANO DEVELOPMENTS Pag: 32 - AZABACHE HABITAT Tel: 333-405-0089 Pag: 25 - BAUERHOUSE PROPERTIES Tel: 33-2164-5301 Pag: 19 - BETTINA BERING Cell. 33-1210-7723 Pag: 21 - BEV COFELL Cell: 331-193-1673 Pag: 50 - 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: 64 - CUMBRES Tel: 33-2002-2400 Pag: 05 - EAGER REALTY Tel: 333-137-8447 Pag: 12 - FOR SALE BY OWNER Tel: +1 720-984-2721, +52 33-1395-9062 Pag: 52 - HAL FORSYTH Tel: 376 766-4530, Cell: 331-407-1917 Pag: 37 - JUDIT RAJHATHY Cell: 331-395-9849 Pag: 23 - KAT GARCIA Tel: 612-140-4935 Pag: 49 - LAKE CHAPALA REAL ESTATE Tel: 376 766-4530/40 Pag: 63 - RAUL GONZALEZ Cell: 33-1437-0925 Pag: 03 - SANTANA RENTALS AND REAL ESTATE Tel: 315-351-5167, 315-108-3425 Pag: 51 - VISTA ALEGRE Tel: 33-2002-2400 Pag: 05
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* SOCIAL ORGANIZATIONS - LOS NIÑOS DE CHAPALA Y AJIJIC Tel: 376 765-7032 - NIÑOS INCAPACITADOS
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* SPA / MASSAGE - GANESHA SPA Tel: 376 766-5653, 331 385-9839 - SPA GRAND Tels: 387 761-0303, 387 761-0202 - TOTAL BODY CARE Tel: 376 766-3379
Pag: 36 Pag: 43 Pag: 26
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* TREE SERVICE - CHAPALA TREE SERVICE Tel: 376 762-0602, Cell: 33-1411-0242
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* RENTALS/PROPERTY MANAGEMENT - COLDWELLBANKER CHAPALA REALTY Tel: 376 766-1152 Pag: 56 - FOR RENT Cell: 333-667-6554 Pag: 46 - SANTANA RENTALS AND REAL ESTATE Tel: 315-351-5167, 315-108-3425 Pag: 51 - ROMA Tel: 33-1075-7768 Pag: 53 - VILLAS DEL SOL Tel: 376 766-1152 Pag: 52
* RESTAURANTS / CAFES /BAR - AJIJIC TANGO Tel: 376 766-2458 - BETTO’S SHACK Tel: 331-347-3122 - CASA LINDA Tel: 376 108-0887 - GO BISTRO Cell: 33-3502-6555
Pag: 62 Pag: 45 Pag: 34 Pag: 07
Saw You In The Ojo! Saw you in the Ojo 59
CARS FOR SALE: Nissan Altima 2016, Its got 80,000 klm on its automatic and 4 Cyclinder, it is silver in color and in great shape. We are asking 12,500 USDOLLARS for it. Call 3767664971 or 3318931111. WANTED: Donate your car or truck to Have Hammer Will Travel A.C. woodworking school a Mexican charity. Your car donation not only helps the students at our school, but the environment as well by recycling your car! Donate that old Canadian or American vehicle that is sitting in the driveway and stop paying insurance and registration. Eliminate the cost for a car that rarely gets used or you do not want to nationalize it in Mexico. There are many reasons to donate your car or truck to the Have Hammer Will Travel A.C Woodworking School, (Escuela Artes Industriales). If you’ve never donated a car before, the process can seem daunting from the outside. However, we are here to make it easier than ever to donate your car. If you have an unwanted vehicle, just call our school 376-688-1282 or stop by and see Wayne in the school office next to S&S auto This means 100% of the proceeds from your vehicle goes to support our empowering women’s woodworking spring class. Help our school pay rent, salaries for our teachers, wood, tools and supplies etc. Avoid the hassles of selling the car yourself. Donate it to Have Hammer Will Travel A.C. Wood-
working School in Riberas Del Pilar. Prefer a car that is drivable and has proper facturas. If you donate a car or truck in good condition and we can drive it to the USA. It may be possible to get 501c3 USA tax deduction if you itemize on your tax return. FOR SALE: 2014, 4 Cyl, AutoAir-Cond. Nissan Versa, 4 dour low mil- 69986, radio, C.D Player, need to used till April 15 2022?? $315,000 pesos Cell. 33 1450 2994. Email: melcusson@hotmail.com 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. FOR SALE: Car must go to Canada, cannot stay in Mexico! 2004 Toyota Yaris, Red, 71,000 Km, Exc. Condition, $43,000 pesos. 333-6761715 (call twice). Email: dlorene123@icloud.com FOR SALE: Toyota FJ Cruiser Mexican Plated - Guadalajara Dealershop Invoice. Year: 2009. MIleage: 87,000 miles. Transmision: Automatic. Traction: 2 WD, AWD and 4 x 4 with assisted modes. Price: $315,000.00 pesos. Excellent Condition. Cell: 33-1424-1667. Email: pcabralk@gmail.com COMPUTERS FOR SALE: HP DESKJET 2540,
The Ojo Crossword
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El Ojo del Lago / June 2022
Scans, prints, all in one. Works perfectly and comes with a new cartridge. I prefer as Laser Jet, which I have purchased, so no longer need this one. $1,000 pesos. 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. FOR SALE: Selling our Internet routers. TP LINK, and UBIQUITI routers. My Internet tech knowledge is next to nothing, so I’m refer you to Luis at Lakeside Computer Repair and Service in Riberas next door to Panchos Deli. You can see them in person at his shop. Two routers are brand new in the box. The third router is slightly used. Why are we selling these? Because I bought the wrong devices for our new house. FOR SALE: EPSON PRINTER XP 211 214, works but needs ink. I have the empty cartrages to refill, 600 pesos. Call 376 766-1095. Will also through in some paper. PETS & SUPPLIES FOR SALE: Retractable Dog Leash. Flexi, 5 meter Classic Retractable Leash. $350. 3317857185. GENERAL MERCHANDISE 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. marjane2021@outlook.com FOR SALE: Hoover Presto Stick 2 in 1 cordless vacuum with attachments. Model 440002095. $1,700. 3317857185. FOR SALE: Lennox Model LE150HD. Includes one extra propane tank. $3,000. 3317857185. FOR SALE: Honeywell Portable Evaporative Cooler. Model CS10AE with remote control. $1,800. 3317857185 FOR SALE: Items: Oster large toaster oven hardly used 1000.00 pesos. Flojet bottled water system 5000 series 700.00 pesos. Camera tripod 100.00 pesos plthiessen@gmail.com FOR SALE: Pendant Lamp. New in box. Modern white pendant light fixture 30 cm (11.8 inches) dia. 1/2 globe shape suitable for any room. $600 pesos. 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: 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 FREE: Shaw/Motorola 630 HDPVR – Free. Used for a few years, top condition, it has been deregistered so it is ready to be registered by a new owner, no antenna. The rubberized coating on the remote has developed the “stickies” but still works fine. Just not using it any more. PM me if interested. FOR SALE: Grass Trimmer. Truper 1/2 hp plug in electric weed eater model DES-440. Like new $600 obo call 376 766 3170. FOR SALE: Mower, Light weight Black and Decker 12.5 inch plug in electric model GR1000. $1200 pesos obo. call 376 766 3170. FOR SALE: SHAW satellite TV receiver DVR-630 used in excellent condition. Includes 320 gb digital recorder function. Activated, can demonstrate on our antenna. Some programming available $4,000 pesos. Brand new Shaw dual LNB $2,500 pesos. 376 765-3030. Jonathan Kingson jkingson@newmexico.com FOR SALE: Gently used kitchen appliances. 1. Hamilton Beach food dehydrator - 5 drying racks, 1 finemesh sheet for drying small food items like herbs and one solid sheet for making fruit rolls, etc. The sheets fit inside the racks. $500 mxn. 2. Gotham Steel indoor smokeless grill w/non-stick ceramic surface - great way to grill meat indoors. $400 mxn. 3. Electric juicer - a simple little workhorse that saves time and energy -$50 mxn. 4. Salad spinner -handy after you’ve had to disinfect lettuce. $100 mxn. Buy each one separately or make an offer for the lot. 332-6173588 WANTED: Old used bike for stationary bicycle. I need an old used bike to make into a stationary bicycle. Doesn’t have to look good at all. One you have around that you thought would never sell, one you were about to throw away, been in your garage forever. It does have to have a back wheel and tire, chain and pedals and does have to work for my size but that’s about it. Send PM. FOR SALE: Karastan-America’s Finest Power Loomed Rug -Kirman #717, 12” X14’ $1,000 USD. FOR SALE: GULDMANN d 2000 Patient LIft. Perfect for a disabled
person with motor control. Ceiling mounted, hanging bolts, remote control, 2 slings, 35 feet of straight and curved track. $3000 USD. FOR SALE: Needlepoint Supplies. Tons of beautiful color fibers, silk, wool and cotton. 1,200 pesos. I also have other supplies and completed and incomplete hand painted canvases. FOR SALE: Oriental rug. Beautiful, hand knotted oriental wool rug. High thread count. $400 USD Size is 114 cm x 179 cm aka 45 x 67 inches. FOR SALE: Qty 2 Yamaha BR15 loudspeakers and qty 2 On-Stage SS8800B Crank-Up loudspeaker stands for sale. All in excellent condition. Loudspeakers 6000 pesos, stands 3500 pesos. Call 332-1564264 or 375-766-4389. FOR SALE: Push mower. Great shape. 1000 pesos. FOR SALE: Anyone need any of these cartridges. We have a friend that their printer died and they have 3 or 4 of each of these, pm me and I will forward the info. FOR SALE: Wrought Iron mar-
ble top coffee table, end table, and lamps. 1 Marble Coffee Table 36”W X 51”L X 18”H TOP 3/4” THICK. 2 Marble end Tables 23” x 23” SQUARE 22”H TOPS 3/4” THICK. 2 Lamps 16”H X 11” DIAMETER (No Lamp Shades). All Three Items For $12,500.00 MM. Call Richard at 33 2264 8972. FOR SALE: Crystal top forged dining table 3”×6”, with six chairs iron forged by Tonala artist. Simona 3877610047. Price 20000 pesos. FOR SALE: Resmed Auto CPAP humidifier model. It has pressure ramp programmable 4psi to 20 psi. Masks included are the Circadiance Sleepweaver Advance Medium cloth mask and the Phillips Respironics Medium mask. Additional new nosepiece for the Phillips Respironics mask included. FOR SALE: Left Hand Golf Clubs. Cygnet Edition, Driver, 3 Woods, 5 Irons, 2 Wedges & Putter. Pull Cart Included. $1,800 pesos. Not steel shafts. Call Ann 332 802 5135 or Joe 331 843 8913 in San Antonio Tlay. FOR SALE: Heavy Duty Moving
Cart, extra heavy Duty Wheels. Asking 600 Pesos. Call 376-766-4971. FOR SALE: Queen bedspread 900 pesos. Matching drapes 2 panels 35 inches wide x 95 inches long. 900 pesos. 376-766-4032. FOR SALE: Used 6 disc CD player. 885 Pesos. valeriekpearce@gmail.com FOR SALE: Over 250,00 karaoke songs on a WD My Passport Ultra 3TB external hard drive (with carrying case for hard drive). All styles of karaoke songs on many different labels in CDG+MP3 format. 5,000 pesos. Call 376-766-4389 FOR SALE: Off-Line Chlorinator preowned $1000 mn. Product Description Efficient and maintenancefree, these durable, corrosion-proof automatic chlorinators are ideal for new or existing pools or spas and work automatically with your pump and filter system. FOR SALE: Kitchen Aide Gas Cooktop. 5 burners, looks like new, no scratches or dents, 5 years old. Works great just traded for an electric one. 5 burners. Asking 25,000. Pesos. OBO Contact Arlene at 376
766 5545 FOR SALE: Genuine Honda type 2 coolant. Almost full container approx 4.5 litres. 400 pesos. Nissan wheel locks 99998-A7003 Google to confirm that they will fit your vehicle. 300 pesos 376-766-4032.
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El Ojo del Lago / June 2022
